Alebrije is the happy result of a fervent love of Mexican food combined with a deep respect for Ontario's bounty. A place where Canadian ingredients find new homes in authentic Mexican dishes, the Toronto restaurant joyfully mirrors the unbridled creativity of its muse.

"Have you seen the movie Coco?," asks Alebrije executive chef and partner Adam Ryan, naming the Pixar classic about family, grief and tradition. Superfan? Perhaps. More importantly, it was through the movie that Ryan first learned about alebrijes.

"Alebrijes are mythical, fantastical creatures that combine elements of one animal with another. It's cool because we're making Mexican cuisine with Canadian ingredients. It describes what we're doing pretty well."

With its flying raccoon logo and moody room, dotted with kaleidoscopic sculptures (by artist Alejandro Van Munster), Alebrije feels both familiar and dramatically new. Opened in September, it adds a little mystery to Harbord Village's many charms.

Though the Mexican angle is new, the chef's local focus is anything but. "We try to use Canadian ingredients, no matter what kind of cuisine we're doing," he explains.

At Azura, a Michelin-recognized, blind tasting spot on Danforth Avenue, as well as at Osteria Scossa and Aphrodite's Taverna, in Chef's Hall, Ryan and his team have had plenty of practice. Fans of pickling and preserving, fermenting, foraging and adapting to the season's whims, they craft Canadian dishes inspired by a number of dreamy locales.

"This is a concept that I thought about doing at Azura," explains Ryan. "The reason we didn't is that we thought it would be a nice idea to play into the Mediterranean, Greek-town vibe of that neighbourhood. That's why we waited to do the Mexican here. But this is something we've wanted to do for a long time."

Drawn to its vibrant flavours, bright pops of acid, heat, and freshness, Ryan has had a lifelong attraction to Mexican food. "It's one of my favourite cuisines," he says. "I find that Mexican food has a very distinctive flavour profile. If I'm at home, I cook those flavour profiles."

To bring his menu to life, he relied on research, travel, experimentation and the guidance of his team. "They're very helpful at tasting things and making sure they taste like authentic Mexican food should. I don't want to get carried away with misinterpreting something."

So, while the Guacamole ($16) at Alebrije is made with tart sea buckthorn berries and fermented Ontario tomatoes to mimic the sharp twang of lime, it still tastes like guacamole.

Paired with velvety Sikil Pak ($14) and a Mandarina Sour ($16) — a spirit-free sipper sweetened with house tangerine syrup — it's a zingy, zippy way to start a meal.  

It's also a solid example of chef's commitment to culinary heritage. Yes, the recipes and preparations are novel, but scan the menu—from queso fundido and chilaquiles to a Tepache Spritz ($19)—and it's clear that tradition lies at the foundation of every dish.

Of course, there's also the option to kick off this Mexican meal the way so many great ones begin, with a flood of fruity, herb-smacked margaritas. Order a seasonal Margarita Flight ($24), and you'll sip on a sea buckthorn berry marg, one mixed with rosemary-scented apple cider, and a mango drink made with cazcabel coffee syrup and bitter orange.

It's hard to get more fiercely Canadian than chomping down on a maple leaf. For his Salmon Tartare Tostada ($16), the chef starts with foraged leaves and batter enriched with nixtamalized masa.

Fried to a brittle crisp, the leaf is then topped with maple salsa, avocado and Canadian salmon. Deliciously fun to eat, and just damn delicious, it's a dish that hints at the classic while standing firmly in its new identity.

Also from the "Mariscos" section of the menu, Albacore Tuna Crudo ($27) and Smoked Arctic Char Aguachile ($19) each offer layers of intrigue.

Smoky and rich, the first takes on a meaty appeal, thanks to its morita-spiked marinade. An elegant ribbon of heat, meanwhile, helps chef's aguachile hew closely to Mexico's standard.

A vibrant, briny coastal sauce, Veracruz is generally made with garlic-laced tomatoes cooked down with onions, chili peppers, capers and herbs. "We put a bit of a spin on it, but nobody would taste it and say, 'That's not what Veracruz sauce should taste like,'" declares Ryan.

Made with preserved unripe peaches and fermented local tomatoes, the sauce that accompanies his Red Snapper a la Veracruz ($38) cleverly retains the punch of the original, despite its unorthodox ingredients.

With its vast number of options, many of which vary with the seasons, Alebrije’s menu goes far beyond seafood.

Rich with Ontario black walnuts and brown butter, instead of the usual peanuts and oil, the team's salsa macha plays off luscious corn purée in a dish of Roasted Delicata Squash ($16).

Then, there's Birria Beef Short Rib ($48), a sophisticated riff on the stew from the Mexican state of Jalisco.

What begins with an overnight soak in a heady broth (made with guajillo and pasilla peppers, charred onions and tomatoes), ends with Canadian prime beef short rib cloaked in Quebec cheese curds, then broiled until said curds are caramelized and drippy; a stretchy, creamy blanket for meat that melts on the tongue.

Along for the ride are house tortillas, embedded artistically with flowers and herbs, plus fermented red cabbage and a pitcherful of broth, for dipping, drizzling and guzzling down.

Tiny bites to cleanse the palate, Dessert Tacos ($12) combine a corn cookie with chocolate mousse, strawberry granita and a trace of tascalate ice cream.

At Alebrije, says chef Ryan, "I'm trying to create Mexican food using what we have in Canada. We can manipulate a dish, we can change the plating, we can deconstruct it, combine different sauces, but I just want somebody to be able to taste it and say, 'Yeah, it still tastes like it should.'"

Alebrije is located at 119 Harbord Street.