La Nueva Casita – Las Cruces, New Mexico

Heading east on I-10 from Deming, we espied several billboards touting Las Cruces as “The Real New Mexico.”  Yeah, it’s a branding effort designed to attract more visitors to the City of Crosses, but there’s a lot of truth to the city’s official new slogan.  New Mexico’s second most populous city does have A LOT going for it.  For culture, weather, history, beauty and cuisine, it’s easy to build a case that Las Cruces may well be the real New Mexico.  That may especially be true about New Mexican food.  Every time we dine at a restaurant in the Las Cruces area, I extol the deliciousness, piquancy and authenticity of the food and lament the “dumbing down” of New Mexican cuisine in the Albuquerque area.  Mostly I lament that we don’t visit often enough. My friend Steve Coleman, an El Paso resident who shares his reviews on Steve’s Food Blog visits far more often.  I’ll admit to a bit of jealousy when I read his entertaining and thorough reviews.  That’s especially true when he visits New Mexican restaurants and indulges in red and green chile that actually bites back.  Most of it comes from area purveyors who  seem to send…

The Dhaba – Tempe, Arizona

I joked with our friend Kris Lincoln about the irony of introducing an Indian to Indian cuisine.  I’m going to pin that paradox on Christopher Columbus.  Legend has it that Columbus used the term “Indian” to refer to the original inhabitants of the American continent.  It’s widely believed (though more romanticized than accurate) that he used the term “Indian” because he was convinced he had landed in “The Indies” (Asia) where he hoped to discover a new source of wealth,  Whether attributable to confusion or an education system that often perpetuates mistaken beliefs, the label “Indian” has stuck. That misnomer is widely used across the fruited plain–even by many indigenous peoples of the western hemisphere.  In the 1960s, the term “Native American” was coined to replace “Indian” with a “more appropriate name.”  This new term is also fraught with inaccuracy, not to mention political incorrectness.  As we know, “America” is derived from Amerigo Vespucci, a 16th century Italian navigator who was once said to be the “discoverer” of the continent. How can the name of people who were already here be named for him? Kris is a proud Dine‘, literally meaning “The People.” Dine’ is what Navajos call themselves.  It…

Joe’s Farm Grill – Gilbert, Arizona

When primitive men, women and asgender people crossed the Bering Straits to escape global freezing, they eventually made their way to the Phoenix area.  Ever since, their progeny has been trying to figure out how to escape global scorching which transpires on most summer days (seven or eight months a year).  They built Biosphere 2, the world’s largest controlled environment.  They built a swimming pool in Chase Field, home of the Arizona Diamondbacks.  When compelled to leave the air conditioned confines of their homes, Phoenicians risk third-degree burns from their car doors and  flee to their summer homes in Prescott and Heber where instead of 130, the temperature is only 99. They also join hordes of tourists in a utopian concept called Agritopia.  Though that sounds like the name for a 60s hippie commune, Agritopia is an area devoted to an urban agriculture community.  At the heart of Agritopia are fields owned and tended to by the Johnston family.  Perhaps realizing they could make more money hawking burgers than selling vegetables, the family converted the 1960s era farmhouse.  Today it’s the site of Joe’s Farm Grill.  It’s supposed to be a “take on a modern design of avery large 50’s…

The Chuck Box – Tempe, Arizona

“I’ll have the great big one,” the barrel-chested behemoth behind me chortled.  One of his companions, a bookish nerd followed up with “I’ll have the big one.”  Not to be outdone, several male Arizona State University (ASU) students took turns ordering either the “great big one” or the “big one.”  Each order was followed by raucous laughter as if they were the first students ever to place their orders for burgers named for their respective sizes (the burgers, not the students’ manhood).  Not one of them dared ask for “the little one” for fear of being humiliated or even ostracized by their fellows.  “What a brilliant marketing strategy!,” I thought as I, too, ordered a “great big one” even though I wasn’t that hungry The great big one, as you may have surmised, is the biggest burger available at The Chuckbox, an ASU area institution and one of the oldest businesses in Downtown Tempe.  Now in operation for nearly half a century, it’s been continuously owned by Frank, formerly an executive for a now defunct burger chain.  When the chain wanted him to move, Frank decide to remain in Phoenix to focus on his family, and create a new, and…

Cocina Chiwas – Tempe, Arizona

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?…

Sugar Jam – Scottsdale, Arizona

I often describe my youth in rural, agrarian Peñasco as “bumpkinly naïveté.”  I may have been book smart (and insolent) enough to intimidate some of my teachers, but insofar as experiential smarts, I was one pretty sheltered guy.  The very first black people I ever saw up close were Drew and Shane Roebuck, gazelle-quick running backs for Menaul High School.   I wanted to kill them…not because they were black, but because I couldn’t catch them.  You see, I had a reputation as a fierce tackler.  It didn’t matter the race, ethnicity, religious affiliation or favorite breakfast cereal, I wanted to tackle everyone in a uniform that didn’t have Peñasco’s blue and gold. In basic military training for the Air Force, I shared close quarters with young men of every demographic.  It was the start of many beautiful friendships.  Over the course of an entire military career, many of my best friends were black.  Some of those friendships were borne of proximity and job, but flourished from the heart.  Even today–some 28 years after my retirement–fond recollection of such wonderful black friends as Dwayne (not The Rock) Johnson, Patrick Fields, Michael Gordon, Moe Myers and so many others remind me…

Source – Gilbert, Arizona

When Chef Claudio Urciuoli posed for a photograph with Source’s baker Ryan and chef Trevor, he sported a smile.  I joked with him about his stern countenance and he assured me that he really does have a sense of humor.  Despite the dissolution of his partnership at Pa’La, the acclaimed chef has every reason to smile.  He’s once again doing what he wants to do, operating a restaurant whose approach and raison d’etre are encapsulated in this statement from the restaurant’s website:  We are an ingredient driven, community centered, counter service restaurant, wine bar, and retail shop. Chef Urciuoli does indeed have a sense of humor and a personal warmth that really came across during our conversation.  He shared his vision for a casual Mediterranean restaurant where it’s all about the quality of ingredients.  He pointed out that Source is a counter-service affair with baked goods front and center at the counter and a menu suspended overhead.  All tableware is compostable save for wine glasses.  That speaks to his commitment to doing his part for the environment.  It irks him how relatively little the water-starved Valley is doing to conserve water.  He also believes much more could be done to…

On The Flip – Albuquerque, New Mexico

Though I pride myself on having a sesquipedalian vocabulary, very often pop culture vernacular escapes me.  Even food memes borne of pop culture are well over my head.  If you’re familiar with or use such terms as “good soup,” “cheugy,” “phone eats first,” “glizzy” and “caviar bump,”  you must be from the Gen Z generation.  Were I to use these terms, it would make me seem like a patronizing old fossil trying to be cool. During a December, 2023 visit to the Tin Can Alley, my Kim and I came a restaurant with a curious name neither of us could comprehend.  We quickly dismissed the notion that “On The Flip” had something to do with Albuquerque drivers extending their middle fingers in a salute denoting that other drivers are number one.   We then agreed the name has something to do with food that’s flipped.  Pancakes maybe.  Burgers probably. It turns out On The Flip is subtitled “beach grub perfected.”  My first experience with beach grub came in Massachusetts where beach grub consisted of lobster rolls, fried clams and tuna grinders.  In Mississippi beach grub was oysters, shrimp and crab.  None of these sumptuous seaside favorites–perfected or otherwise–appear on On…

Mesa Provisions – Albuquerque, New Mexico

When I started Gil’s Thrilling…way back in 1996, my goals were to celebrate New Mexico’s restaurant scene and to provide an escape from the mean-spirited dialogue so prevalent among petulant politicians who have long forgotten they work for us.  I’ve tried not to lash out against politics through this medium I’m privileged to steward, but sometimes my frustration leaks out.  For those occasions I apologize.  I promise to try harder to focus on the joy I experience every time I dine with good friends.   When I’m upset with the latest shenanigans in Washington, D.C. and Santa Fe, those friends buoy my spirits with convivial discourse over a great meal. Such was the case when I met Linda Johansen (my former boss and the doyenne of Information Technology at the University of New Mexico) for dinner at Mesa Provisions.  You might think when IT propeller heads get together we’d talk shop for hours on end, but that’s not the case when Linda and I break bread.  Linda may be even more passionate about gastronomy than this self-glossed gastronome.  As a certified Kansas City Barbecue Society (KCBS) judge, she recently had the privilege of judging at the American Royal World Series…

Joseph’s Culinary Pub – Santa Fe, New Mexico

Although ducks don’t have a church sanctioned patron saint, if the Catholic church ever deemed one worthy it would be Saint Cuthbert, a 12th Century Anglo-Saxon monk.  According to legend, Saint Cuthbert tamed a large population of nesting eider ducks so well that they would nest even next to the chapal altar without fear.  Cuthbert placed the ducks under his protective grace so that no one would eat or disturb them.  Monks who mocked (mocking monks) Cutbert’s curse and ate or harassed the eiders were said to have been struck down. It’s a good thing Chef Joseph Wrede didn’t ply his trade in proximity to Saint Cuthbert or he would probably have been struck down by Cuthbert’s curse.  Diners like me who have enjoyed Chef Wrede’s menu would have incurred a similar fate. Even if you’re not familiar with Chef Wrede or his menu, you’ve probably figured out that duck figures prominently on that menu.  We first learned that about the 2008 James Beard “Best Chef Southwest” nominee at Joseph’s Table, his eponymous restaurant on the Taos Plaza.  When we visited Joseph’s Table, the special of the day was a “seven way lucky duck” dinner entree that included duck breast,…

Piccolino Italian Restaurant – Santa Fe, New Mexico

When I asked Gaby (our server Gabriela) what the Italian name “Piccolino” translates to, she didn’t have a clue.  She asked Olga Tarango-Jimenez, the restaurant’s co-owner who also seemed at a loss, but shared the restaurant’s very interesting history.  When my Kim Googled “Piccolino, she found it translates to “little one” and has such slang alternatives as “teeny weeny.”  Talk about a fitting name.  I joked with Gaby that if she ever called her diminutive in stature boss “teeny weeny” she’d probably find out her boss has a giant temper. Just how small is Piccolino?  Before its transmogrification into one of Santa Fe’s most popular Italian restaurants, its Liliputian digs housed a Church’s chicken and before that a gas station.  Piccolino is situated off the beaten just a few blocks north of heavily trafficked Cerrillos and a hair or two east of Siler.  Square footage not withstanding, Piccolino optimizes its space while still managing to provide better than personal space proximity.  Somehow it looks a whole lot larger when you marvel at all the “Best of Santa Fe” awards accorded by readers of The Santa Fe Reporter.  All but one of those certificates designate Piccolino as Santa Fe’s best Italian.…