HUNGRY GERALD

Green chile menudo and carne adobado tostadas at El Parasol. Red chile menudo, sopapillas and Christmas enchiladas at Sopapilla Factory. The sweet fragrance of freshly roasted green chiles circling around sweet peas and Japanese eggplants from Pojoaque Farmers Market. More roasted green chiles, shishito peppers, tiny potatoes and world’s best greens from Santa Fe Farmers Market. Watching the colorful fish in HG/BSK’s pond; long swims in the comfy warm water of HG/BSK’s lap pool; watching (with pre-dinner drink in hand) the sun coloring the Barrancas cliffs and mesas. Your guess is right. HG/BSK are back in New Mexico or as the state’s license plates proclaim: The Land of Enchantment. Adding to the joy is the presence of Gifted Daughter Lesley R. (for a too-brief visit) and Lovely Granddaughter Sofia R. (happily remaining to finish her prep school senior year at Desert Academy). BSK is planning to add a dog to the family. Though once opposed to such a plan (selfish HG likes all of BSK’s attention to be focused on HG), the aged hungry chap is now looking forward to meeting a new furry friend.

Espanola, a gritty town ten minutes drive from HG/BSK’s Jacona home, is much maligned. It has some social problems (it is known as New Mexico’s meth capital); a political system that is often criticized; much unattractive housing and numerous shopping centers built without an iota of soul or aesthetic foresight. Offsetting this is colorful, vernacular architecture (featuring some wonderful neon signage), a surprising amount of cutting-edge modernism and numerous good places to eat. Foremost among them is Angelina’s, a spacious place that draws a colorful crowd of New Mexicans–young, old, ranchers, cowboys, farmers, government officials, businesspersons. The food is solid Northern New Mexico. Red chile sauce is a specialty but the green is not far behind (on a recent visit, HG had a bowl of super assertive green chile menudo that chased away the chills and any lingering effects of a previous night’s overindulgence in alcohol). During the meal, HG/BSK shared some robust ground lamb burritos (the lamb had been grilled with pico de gallo and melded New Mexican and Middle Eastern flavors). Lamb is a specialty of Angelina’s (sheep have been raised in Northern New Mexico for many generations). At Angelina’s, you can have lamb in many forms. There are lamb burgers (plain or grilled with jalapenos and onions); lamb chops; lamb ribs (Costillas) and lamb fajitas. And, you can specify lamb in any of the traditional plates like enchiladas, flautas, tostadas, etc. for a $1.00 additional charge. Besides the lamb dishes, Angelina’s has another unusual twist. The restaurant serves traditional, down home diner favorites: Deep fried breaded catfish; pork chops; liver and onions; chicken fried steak. You can also get a big, ribeye steak; salmon, trout and shrimp. There’s wine (not exactly a Parisian carte de vins) and beer. Very nice flan for dessert. Yes, Angelina’s does it all. Big portions. Small prices. Lots of plain spoken comfort.

HG grew up in a racist United States that denigrated Mexicans and African-Americans. (It was a country that wasn’t too enthusiastic about Jews either). In cartoons and cheap souvenir knick knacks, Mexicans were usually depicted leaning up against a cactus while sleeping under a giant sombrero. Super lazy, was the implication. (This mirrored the racist Uncle Ben, Aunt Jemima, Stepin Fetchit, watermelon eating “pickaninny” images that characterized the African-American population). For most of HG’s New York life there were few Mexicans in the city. There was one Mexican restaurant, the mediocre Xochitll, and no taquerias. When HG/BSK moved to Colorado they encountered hundreds of Mexican-Americans and illegal Mexican immigrants (plus scores of authentically Mexican and Tex-Mex eateries). Hardest working people HG/BSK ever observed. Gardening, auto repair, landscaping, painting, masonry were among the many skills of this population (not to mention lawyering, doctoring, teaching, etc.). And, wow, did they work hard. No pause for a sombrero snooze. One of the toughest manual jobs is roofing. Both roof construction and repair is work done under a blazing sun and/or sharp winds. Precarious footing. This was a virtual monopoly of recently arrived Mexicans. Of course, restaurants of all types were dependent on Mexicans. Outside of the chef, virtually the entire staff of most Colorado kitchens were Mexican (Restaurateur Daughter Victoria and her husband, chef Marc M., own three New York restaurants and couldn’t compete in that brutal arena without their talented Mexican crews). Now that HG/BSK live in New Mexico, they are immersed in a Hispanic and Mexican-American world. There are Hispanics that have lived in New Mexico for countless generations (including the descendants of Jews who fled Mexico during the Spanish Inquisition). The Governor of New Mexico is a Latina (HG doesn’t like her). The previous Governor was a Latino (liked by HG). HG/BSK’s Congressman is a Latino. There are more recently arrived Mexican-Americans. All seem to share a remarkable work ethic and unfailing courtesy. As far from that snoozing caricature as can be imagined.

Sometimes the best meals are the spur of the moment, improvised dishes you put together using what’s in the freezer, the refrigerator, the pantry and the kitchen counter (yes, it helps if you have an herb garden). The dishwasher is malfunctioning (repair guy expected soon) so HG and BSK decided to dine out rather than hand wash dishes. But, first…A long swim in the lap pool followed by chilled white wine with a splash of Aperol. Ahh. Rostropovich on the Bose. Sun dappling the trees and cliffs outside the windows. HG and BSK exchanged a glance. Why go out? Why leave heaven? So. A half dozen kumato tomatoes were chopped. Garlic and Italian olive oil sizzled in a pan. Linguine was brought to a proper al dente state. BSK brought back a big handful of herbs (parsley,chives, tarragon, basil, mint) from the BSK garden and chopped them coarsely. From the fridge came some greens which were briskly washed. Plus some fresh mozzarella. It all came together in a big bowl. Sizzling olive oil and garlic were poured over the top. Heavenly aromas. Mixed in the pasta, red pepper, Malden Smoked Sea Salt Flakes and an extra splash of olive oil. Served it with lots of Spanish red wine, a lightly dressed green salad and a bit of Manchego cheese. Great food. Didn’t mind the hand washing a bit.

HG/BSK’s Colorado buddies, Mike R. and Trish L., have left snow packed Crested Butte for a visit to sunny (parched) New Mexico. So, What’s for dinner? HG/BSK decided upon robust food for this robust couple (they ski, ride horses, hunt and probably wrestle bears). A tagliata, steak prepared the Italian way. A thick (one and a half inches) rib steak was marinated for a few hours in some olive oil after being covered in crushed pepper corns, sliced garlic and sprigs of rosemary. The oven was revved up to 450 degrees. A big, black, well used cast iron pan got a light layer of coarse sea salt and was popped into the oven to heat for some 35 minutes (wanted to give the steak a good seared black/brown crust). Steak went into the hot pan and back in the oven for six minutes and then turned for another four minutes of cooking. An important step is to let the meat rest for a good 8 minutes of so before slicing so as to let the natural juices settle. Result was rare and delicious (and, as a bonus, smokeless unlike stove top preparation.) BSK surrounded the sliced meat with arugula enlivened with lemon juice and shavings of parmesan. Served it with penne topped with sauteed oyster mushrooms. Happy carnivores drank lots ot pinot noir and barbera d’alba.

Morels are the kings of the mushroom world. They have a unique, sponge-like interior and a honeycomb shape. They taste musty, woody, earthy. A sensual mouth feel. They have many names. Among them: Hickory chickens, merkels, miracles.

In the Department of silver linings: They can often be found in areas that have had a recent forest fire. Grizzly bears like to eat morels and so does HG. They were a luncheon special recently at Santa Fe’s Compound Restaurant. Simply sauteed in butter, tiny bit of cream and some fresh herbs. HG ate them and drank some chilled Gruet Blanc et Noir. Nirvana.

Daffodils. Tulips. Forsythia. Hyacinths. Greening grass. Budding trees. Green willow fronds. Spring is upon us here in New Mexico and it’s Row-Zay time. Yes, it’s time to sit outdoors beneath brilliant blue skies and drink lots of friendly rose wine. Hey, that’s what they do in Spain and HG enjoys paying homage (if it involves drinking and eating) to New Mexico’s Hispanic heritage. Ancona almonds. Kalamata olives. Piquillo peppers. Anchovies. Thin slices of a ciabatta loaf. These are nice accompaniments. French Tavel is HG’s favorite rose but it has become too pricey for everyday drinking. HG makes out just fine with six bucks-a-bottle La Ferme Julien (French) and Albero (Spanish). California’s despicable White Zinfandel has given rose a bad rep. Ignore it. Buy HG recommended roses and have lots of fun in the sun.

Simple, perfect dinner at “O” Eating House. Tempura fried zucchini with a garlicky aioli. Grilled eggplant topped with an herb laden tomato coulis. Roasted, succulent quail on a bed of couscous. Dessert: A wedge of flourless chocolate cake studded with pine nuts. The last, a perfect companion for a final glass of red wine.

I have posted previously about “O” and I will continue to, as meals there keep getting better and better. Steve Lemon is the chef and he is a major talent. “O” is located in Pojoaque, some 15 minutes north of Santa Fe and about one hour from Taos.

Says HG: If your travels take you to New Mexico make “O” a destination (and if you have kids with you, Steve Lemon’s pizzas are superb).

Farewell dinner for Glorious Granddaughters at Gabriel’s in Tesuque, NM (a few miles north of the Santa Fe Opera). Guacamole Especial is big time at Gabriel’s. A cart is wheeled table side and a skilled specialist with a P.H.D. hand mixes avocados, tomatoes, onions, fresh oregano and cilantro, lime juice…and some secret ingredients. The sublime guacamole is served with appropriate ceremony in a Molcajete bowl made of volcanic rock. All agreed this was the best guacamole ever. It was followed by carnitas (shredded marinated roast pork) topped with lightly stewed tomatoes and squash; beef chimichangas (deep fried burritos); charro beans; corn tortillas; more guacamole and pitchers of sangria. Sopapillas (Mexican popovers) with honey and flan for dessert. Much tasty fun. Gabriel’s has a beautiful terrace (opens in May) and HG intends to spend some hours there sipping margaritas and dipping into Guacamole Especial. La dolce vida in The Land of Enchantment.

Big disappointment in Taos today. Promised Glorious Granddaughters Ms. A. and Ms. S. a trip to Taos, NM to see the famed, still functioning Taos Pueblo. Alas, when we pulled up to the Pueblo road it was roped off and a big “Closed” sign was prominent. This often happens at the Native American pueblos in New Mexico. Their website says “Open” but when you get there all is closed. Getting even with the palefaces? A bit of inconvenience to combat a policy of genocide?

Of course, the gaming casino next to the Pueblo was open and busy. Consoled ourselves with some super green chili smothered breakfast burritos in the Doc Martin’s Restaurant in the historic Taos Inn. Went to the Millicent Rogers Museum to see the superb collection of silver, torquoise, pottery, weavings, santos, etc. A lovely overview of New Mexico’s complex culture. Saw a beautiful group of Doel Reed’s acquatints at the Fechin House/Taos Art Museum. Ended the day by visiting the most painted and photographed church in the United States: San Francisco of Assisi in Rancho de Taos. It is pure sculpture, always changing as the light changes. Glad we saw it at the end of the day because Taos itself, the town and region of artistic glory, has become a mockery of itself, a tourist trap. A pity.