Ramona’s Mexican Cafe – Albuquerque, New Mexico

“No one who cooks, cooks alone. Even at her most solitary, a cook in the kitchen is surrounded by generations of cooks past, the advice and menus of cooks present, the wisdom of cookbook writers.” ~Laurie Colwin, Novelist Watch virtually any episode of Kitchen Nightmares and you might just be convinced that families can’t possibly work together in a restaurant.  Kitchen Nightmares, one of Gordon Ramsay’s eight-hundred or so television shows, is rather formulaic–Ramsay spends a week with a failing restaurant in an attempt to revive the business.  Almost invariably, the failing restaurant is owned and operated by a family.  Almost invariably, the drama falls just short of Homer strangling Bart.  Arguments on Kitchen Nightmares are loud and intense.  Copious…

La Zenita – Albuquerque, New Mexico

In his immortal play Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare used two lines to convey that the naming of things is irrelevant: “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet.”   My friends Bruce and Loren Plata like to remind me that in Hebrew, the name “Gil” represents a “small goat,” an animal that definitely doesn’t smell quite as fragrant as a rose.  My retort, of course, is that “goat” is an acronym for “greatest of all time.”  So, relevant or not, names do have meanings and can provide a lifetime of notoriety.   Most of us just hope our names aren’t something that can be made fun of. In…

La Sirenita – Albuquerque, New Mexico

Our friends, John Martin and Lynn Garner and I couldn’t help but laugh. There before our very eyes was the depiction of a meme come to life. In the dining room of la Sirenita was a papier Mâché reproduction of the bottom half of a mermaid. It reminded us of a meme we recently shared.  That meme depicted a grizzled sailor marooned on a desert island.  On the first panel of the meme the sailor smiled lasciviously as a beautiful and buxom mermaid approached the island.  The second panel shows the sailor cooking the bottom half of the mermaid on a rotisserie.  Yeah, it’s gruesome, but come on, it’s funny, too. The bottom half of a mermaid wasn’t the only…

El Guero Canelo – Tucson, Arizona

If asked to participate in a word association exercise, any well-traveled foodie undergoing psychoanalysis would find it easy to name the first food that comes to mind when a city is mentioned: Philadelphia – the Philly cheesesteak sandwich; Boston – baked beans; Chicago – Italian beef sandwiches; San Francisco – sourdough bread; Milwaukee – butter burgers; San Antonio, New Mexico – green chile cheeseburgers.  You get the point.  Some foodies might not know that Philadelphia is the birthplace of liberty, but they know about Geno’s and Pat’s King of Steaks and their decades-long battle for Philly cheesesteak supremacy. You might find it strange that seemingly pedestrian foods would be the defining cuisine of burgeoning cosmopolitan cities, historically significant metropolises and…

Los 6 Hermanos – Bernalillo, New Mexico

Once upon a time (how many of you remember when seemingly all ancient fables and stories began with these four words?) there was a family of six Chinese brothers, each with a unique and amazing power. One of the brothers committed an infraction against Chinese law and was sentenced to death by the emperor. By asking for one last night at home the brothers were able to take each others place and thwart the king’s executioner’s attempt to kill them.  Eventually the executioner ran out of ways to run the execution and had to call it off. There are no cuentos or corridos, sagas or stories in Mexico involving six siblings imbued with exceptional abilities.  In fact, just about the…

El Charlatan – Socorro, Texas (CLOSED)

Everyone should have a friend like Steve Coleman, the erudite owner of Steve’s Food Page. Not only is he a great guy and a lot of fun to spend time with, he’s a superb host and tour guide.  During a two-day sojourn to “El Chuco,” Steve not only showed us the sights, he gave me a much-needed lesson about history New Mexico and Texas share.  He explained that during the Pueblo Revolt of 1680, members of the Isleta Pueblo in New Mexico were displaced to El Paso along with Oñate and the Spaniards.  Today, descendants of those Native Americans reside in a Native American Pueblo in the Ysleta section of El Paso just about three miles from El Charlatan, our…

Los Olivos – Albuquerque, New Mexico

For many New Mexicans, Durango, Colorado is much more familiar than Durango, Mexico.  In truth, however, Mexico’s Durango may actually have more historical significance and ties to the Land of Enchantment than its like-named resort town in Colorado.  That’s especially true for the Catholic Churches of New Mexico. Episcopal jurisdiction for the Catholic church in New Mexico was placed in 1797 under the stewardship of the Bishop of Durango. New Mexico remained part of the Diocese of Durango until 1850 when Pope Pius IX created the Vicariate Apostolic of New Mexico and appointed Father Jean Baptiste Lamy as its first Bishop.  Yes, that’s the same Father Jean Baptiste Lamy on whom Wila Cather’s Death Comes For the Archbishop is based.…

El Cotorro – Albuquerque, New Mexico (CLOSED)

There’s a scene in the 2006 lucha libre (Mexican professional wrestling) comedy film Nacho Libre in which Nacho’s ectomorphic tag team partner Esqueleto (“the skeleton”) orders two grilled, buttered and chile-dusted elotes (corn-on-the-cob) from a street vendor. Esqueleto graciously attempts to hand one to Nacho who rebuffs the offer, knocks the elotes to the ground and bellows “get that corn out of my face!” That antagonistic act so enraged Esqueleto that he leaped on Nacho’s back and attempted to throw his corpulent partner to the ground. The sight of the two golden elotes tinged with red chile on the ground was funny at the time, however, after consuming the elotes at El Cotorro, we would consider knocking elotes to the…

Los Potrillos – Santa Fe, New Mexico

Faced with a situation that renders us incredulous, many of us might yammer incoherently, complain vociferously or maybe even utter colorful epithets. Such moments, it seems, are best expressed with succinct precision, a rare skill mastered by a select few wordsmiths from which eloquence flows regardless of situation–polymaths such as the late Anthony Bourdain, a best-selling author, world traveler, renowned chef and “poet of the common man.” Flummoxed at the discovery of a Chili’s restaurant a mere five miles from the Mexican border, I might have ranted and raved about another inferior chain restaurant and its parody of Mexican food. With nary a hint of contempt, Bourdain instead compared the spread of Chili’s restaurants across America to herpes. How utterly…