Chef Armando Hernandez is my new hero. In an interview with the Phoenix New Times, he was asked about “authentic Mexican cuisine.” His retort was scathingly brilliant: “It’s very difficult for me to have these conversations, especially among our own people, about what’s considered authentic. “They’ll be like, ‘Well, my Grandma-’ and I’m like, yeah, I’m not your Grandma though.” Those of us who grew up in the Land of Enchantment when our distinctive cuisine was widely labeled “Mexican” remain somewhat in the dark about differences between New Mexican cuisine and that of our Southern neighbor. It was only rather recently that cognoscenti determined New Mexican cuisine is different enough from Mexico’s to warrant its own label–New Mexican.
Perhaps because of the mislabeling, commonly held misperceptions persist as to what constitutes Mexican food. Most New Mexicans insist virtually every one of our sacrosanct dishes has to include red and (or) green chile. That brownish-red stuff Mexican restaurants serve doesn’t look or taste like the “real stuff” that comes from Hatch, Chimayo, Deming, Lemitar and other communities whose sacred earth bestows its blessings on us every autumn. New Mexicans tend not to know what mole is. Chile that’s gone bad? Red or green glop with a weird flavor? Fallacious notions are numerous.
That’s why I admire Chef Hernandez so much. He knows opinions vary widely as to what constitutes “authentic” Mexican food. He clarified for the Arizona Republic: “I was born in Chihuahua, but I grew up [in Arizona],” “So Nadia (his business partner Nadia Holguin) and I are in this weird limbo of just trying to create something that’s ours.” Without the evolution of Mexican food over the centuries, there would be no chiles rellenos en nogada (circa 1821), Caesar salad (1904) or even enchiladas (19th Century). So what’s to say Chefs Hernandez and Holguin aren’t creating dishes that won’t someday become essential elements of Mexican cuisine. Frankly, that would suit me very well.
Similar to her partner, Chef Holguin was born in Chihuahua. Both trained in some of the Valley’s most prominent kitchens. They partnered in the creation Tacos Chiwas, a drive-through taco shop that has since expanded into a mini-empire of critically acclaimed restaurants. In recent years, they teamed up with Rene Andrade and Roberto Centeno to launch Bacanora and Espiritu, both among the toughest reservations to get in the Valley. Both have also garnered national accolades–including a James Beard “Best Chef” nomination for Bacanora in 2022. Their latest concept, Cocina Chiwas, opened in Tempe in February, 2023.
Failing for the third year in a row to secure reservations at Bacanora, a restaurant my sister Anita speaks very highly of, we decided to keep it within the Chiwas family. “Chiwas,” by the way, has two potential meanings, neither of which our server was able to confirm. Chiwas could mean “the act of running swiftly and gracefully, resembling the movement of a deer.” That term originates from the indigenous language of the Tarahumara people who are renown as tremendous distance runners. The second definition–and this is all mine–is that “Chiwas’ could be a diminutive for “Chihuahuans” as in people from the Mexican state of Chihuahua.
Scour Cocina Chivas’ menu and you’ll glean immediate confirmation as to what Chef Hernandez told the Phoenix New Times. This is definitely not your grandma’s menu. Nor is the restaurant’s ambiance fit any tired stereotyped template. The menu is more contemporary than it is traditional, more avant-garde than it is time-honored and classical. There are familiar elements to the menu, but they’re interpreted just a little differently. You’ll see that in dishes you’ve probably been enjoying for a long time: enchiladas, quesadillas, chile rellenos. They’re definitely not interpreted the way your grandmother would have.
To your immediate right as you walk in is an exhibition kitchen. Naturally we started up a conversation with one of the chefs who was prepping ingredients for some of the salads. Those ingredients are placed into gleaming stainless steel containers organized for easy compilation on salads, appetizers and entrees. Further down the line, we espied the cynosure of the kitchen–a wood-fired grill (built by the multi-talented Chef Hernandez). That grill hisses and spits with mesquite and pecan wood that fill the air with a captivating bouquet. Unfortunately we were seated in another section of the restaurant, immediately next to the bar.
One of the first things we espied as we walked past the prep station was all the ingredients used to prepare chile con queso (blend of Anaheim, jalapeño, tomato and white onion covered in Asadero and Menonita cheese). We’ve ordered chile con queso as a starter many times. There’s a remarkable “sameness” (boring, if you will) to this dish. Not so at Cocina Chiwas. This is chile con queso with personality. That doesn’t necessarily mean piquancy. In my book, the “heat” wouldn’t register high on a Scoville scale. In terms of flavor, however, the con queso was excellent. Alas, the chips were rather brittle and snapped in half as we tried to scoop up the con queso.
Much better–as in maybe the best we’ve ever had–is the roasted beet salad (arugula, honey pecans, crema Jocoque, roasted elote, poppy seed vinaigrette). Its become almost inevitable that we order beet salad when it’s on the menu. We love the sweet earthiness of the beets along with any accompanying ingredients. Crema Jocoque, a buttermilk-style cream with a balance between cream and yogurt was a first for us both. It’s got a flavor somewhat between creme fraiche, sour cream, and Lebanese labneh and provides a wonderful counterbalance to the honey pecans and roasted elote, both of which are pleasantly sweet. The roasted beets were superb in their earthiness and sweet profile. Then there’s the poppy seed vinaigrette with sweet and mild notes reminiscent of citrus.
Seeing “Ibeico bone-in pork chop” was a no-brainer as to what Kim would be having. Available on the daily specials menu, it’s a dish that showcases the capabilities of the wood-fired grill. Ordinarily served with a morita chile glaze (which my Kim eschewed), mashed potatoes and a cucumber, jicama and cilantro salad, this is a magnificent plate. The pork chop is sliced into half-inch thick medallions with the bone detached so diners can gnaw on it. Flame-kissed with just a hint of sweetness, the pork was as tender as my Kim’s heart and were moist and delicious. The mashed potatoes were whipped to within an inch of their lives (the way we like them) and were enhanced with cracked pepper and sesame seeds. Very few restaurant-made mashed potatoes have impressed us as much.
My dear friend Bruce “Sr. Plata” Silver made it my mission to scout the Valley for Korean beef short ribs. Ironically, we found them at a Mexican restaurant. Cocina Chiwas calls them “Costilla de Res,” but by any other name they’re Korean-style beef short ribs served with rice, whole beans, sweet salsa macha, cebollitas and a flour tortilla. Unlike galbi, the Korean version of beef short ribs, these don’t have a sweet barbecue-like marinade. Instead, they’re glazed with a sweet salsa macha that carame’lizes when kissed by flame. This is one salsa that should be bottled and sold at your favorite retailer. The ribs are meaty and absolutely meant to be picked up with your hands and eaten. Only snobs (the type of which eat a Snickers bar with knife and fork) will eat them otherwise. The beans and rice are exemplars of how beans and rice should be prepared. Only the tortilla (too thin and insubstantial) was lacking.
My Kim has never liked carrot cake (which might explain her need to wear glasses and contact lenses). My vision (20/15) is almost the equal of Bugs Bunny’s though you can’t attribute my acuity to carrots. Maybe I can develop x-ray vision by eating more slabs of Cocina Chiwas’ tres leches carrot cake (with candied pecans, cajeta and berry compote). Even if all it does is make me more rotund, this is one carrot cake not to be passed up. We didn’t get much conventional “tres leches” out of it in that it didn’t leak profusely as we pressed our forks down on it, but hey, this isn’t grandma’s tres leches cake. It’s still one of the very best we’ve had especially when we came upon candied pecans and cajeta, an unbeatable combination.
Cocina Chiwas may not cook like your Mexican grandmother, but you’ll walk away wishing your abuelita cooked like Chefs Hernandez and Holguin.
Cocina Chiwas
2001 East Apache Blvd.
Tempe, Arizona
(480) 916-3690
Website |
LATEST VISIT: 27 December 2023
# OF VISITS: 1
RATING: N/R
COST: $$$$
BEST BET: Tres Leches Carrot Cake, Costillas de Res, Iberico Bone-In Chop, Roasted Beet Salad, Chile Con Queso
REVIEW #1368
uhm, are there really people who eat a snickers bar with fork and knife?
you are yanking our chains hard, right?
I saw it on Seinfeld so it must be true: https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x80fjmt