Is it disingenuous for restaurants to label themselves with titles and sobriquets they don’t quite (or at least not quite honestly) live up to? (Politicians do it all the time, so why not restaurants?) Is it pretentious and haughty to use labels with which English-speaking diners might be impressed even though we don’t know what they mean? Is it instead great marketing, a clever way to increase the number of guests? It’s something I actually ponder when visiting Italian restaurants. For example, when our friend Greg Hamilton introduced us to “Joe’s Restaurant” in Farmington, I momentarily wondered if it could possibly be good considering its humble name.
Far too many Italian restaurants label themselves as trattorias, osterias and tavolas. Not knowing what those labels mean, many of us are impressed, believing those terms must signify much more than an “ordinary” restaurant. In truth, a trattoria is just a type of informal Italian restaurant known for its traditional, home-style, and regional cuisine served in a relaxed, family-like atmosphere). An osteria is a simple Italian establishment traditionally focused on serving wine and light snacks, similar to a wine bar or pub. A tavola calda (literally “hot table”), is an Italian cafeteria-style establishments that offer a variety of pre-made, ready-to-eat hot dishes, similar to a deli or buffet, where customers select their food from a counter). Not so impressive now are those terms.
As English-speaking diners are prone to do, we’re impressed by such labels as trattoria, osteria and tavola calda. Surely, those terms ascribe quality and greatness that an Italian eatery calling itself just a restaurant couldn’t possibly live up to. Normally, even I (ostensibly a fairly savvy guy when it comes to dining) might call into question an Italian eatery that isn’t prefaced or suffixed by “one of those fancy Italian terms.” What diffused that fallacious reasoning was the fact that our friend Greg spoke so highly of it.
Greg is not only one of the most genuine and generous people we know, he’s been a very successful restaurant impresario among all the entrepreneurial ventures in which he’s been involved. He knows his stuff! To me, Greg and his brother Tom are like the 1970s slogan for the brokerage E. F. Hutton: “When E. F. Hutton speaks, people listen.” Greg and Tom are like E. F. Hutton to me. With full confidence in Greg’s taste buds, we visited Joe’s Restaurant on a rare (for the 2025 monsoon season) evening in which torrential rain pelted the parched earth and lightning illuminated ebony skies.
Befitting its unassuming name, Joe’s Restaurant is located in a nondescript shopping center in what some have termed “the bad part of town.” There’s not much flash and panache in its exterior, no pristine veneer and effusive, over-the-top flamboyance. It’s a humble restaurant with humble signage and lots of clean windows. Step inside and nothing screams “fancy” restaurant. A red and white checkered pattern adorns each tablecloth. Yes, that’s a stereotype, but quite often that stereotype speaks of delicious food and generous potions at a reasonable price.
Joe’s Restaurant is an eponymous eatery founded by Joe Haliti, an Albanian immigrant (to New Jersey) who learned to cook from his father. He owns a number of restaurants in Texas where he’s earned a reputation as a community leader, serving more than 70,000 meals to hospital workers and first responders. That bodes well for Farmington. Joe wasn’t on the premises when we visited, but his staff spoke very highly of him. So did other diners with whom we spoke as they stopped by our table to ogle The Dude, our debonair dachshund and devoted service dog. Joe’s specializes in southern Italian cooking and also makes brick-oven New York-style pizza, homemade pasta and chicken, seafood and veal dishes. New Mexico law doesn’t allow the restaurant to serve alcohol due to proximity to a church, but Joe’s allows guests to bring in your their beer or wine.
Joe’s menu is broken down into familiar categories: pizza (eight types, five of which are listed as “best sellers), appetizers, salads, sauces and sides, wings, calzones, hot subs, pastas, house specialties, main menu, seafood and kid’s menu. There’s also a lunch menu, but it’s not available on Saturday or Sunday. We were in Greg’s capable hands. When planning our Farmington visit, he described the calamari as “some of the best calamari I’ve ever eaten.” Indeed, it’s been many years and on the East Coast since I last had fried calamari this good. Deep-fried ringlets of battered squid with a golden hue decorated a large plate. The calamari was firm though not overly chewy and its flavor was mildly sweet with absolutely no “fishy” taste. The calamari was served with a peppery, acidic (in the best possible way) red sauce. Every bit of this appetizer was first-rate and earns my highest recommendation.
As we perused the menu, our gracious server ferried over a basket of garlic bread knots and asked what type of salad dressing we would like to have with our salad. Both the bread and the salad are complimentary (when is the last time you experience that). The bread knots are yeasty and fluffy with just a modicum of garlic, just enough to provide a delightfully nuanced flavor. We took three of them home and enjoyed them almost as much a day later. Our server took it as a challenge when I asked her to bring me “as much blue cheese as you can carry” for my salad. Yes, I could probably have a blue cheese dressing salad.
Greg is also fond of the seafood combo with mussels, clams and shrimp though Wednesday must have been a veal night for the two of us. He also told us the “veal marsala is very tasty, but not occasionally not pounded well enough.” That’s a mortal sin! Before ordering the veal Marsala (sautéed fresh mushrooms in a marsala wine sauce over your choice of pasta), Greg emphasized that the chef needed to pound the veal thinly. He chose spaghetti for his pasta. As with the calamari, it’s been a very long time since I’ve savored veal Marsala this tasty (though shamefully I didn’t photograph it). Even though the sliced, boneless veal cutlets weren’t pounded as thinly as Greg requested, these pan-fried gems were as tender as a bird’s heart. The distinctive flavor of Marsala wine (a fortified wine from Sicily) gives this dish a distinct flavor. Marsala wine is simmered with such ingredients as tock, shallots, garlic and mushrooms which create a sweet, almost caramelized flavor balanced by earthy mushrooms. Indicative of just what a great guy he is, Greg let me take home what he couldn’t finish (did I mention portions are generous).
As is my approach at new restaurants we visit, I scoured the multi-page menu for a dish I’d never or have rarely had. Though the menu surprisingly had several such dishes, my choice was christened “Diana” (sautéed fresh mushrooms and artichoke hearts with a special sherry wine pink sauce over your choice of pasta). My sister-in-law Diana Calabrese Garduño would have been proud. If you don’t see “Diana” on a restaurant’s menu, that’s because it’s a regional- even restaurant-specific dish. There is no classic dish named Diana served throughout Italy. Like Greg, I reiterated the need for pounding the veal, asking our server to “pound it within an inch of its life; run it over with your car if you need to.” Even though the veal wasn’t pounded mercilessly, it was outstanding. The sauce was rich and flavorful, the type of sauce you’ll remember for a long time. The mushrooms were perfectly prepared, lending their earthiness to the dish. Penne pasta is a great choice.
Increasingly a turophile like her cheese-loving husband, my Kim’s selection was manicotti (pasta sheets filled with ricotta, mozzarella, and parmesan cheese) baked in a casserole dish. With three cheeses on any one dish, there’s a risk that dish will be a one-note bore. Not so with this rendition. That’s because each cheese lends something unique to the pasta, both texturally and in terms of flavor profile. Joe’s fantastic red sauce cuts the richness of the cheeses, giving the dish much-needed acidity and personality. This manicotti was worthy of a meal with The Sopranos, my Kim’s favorite television drama. In The Sopranos, manicotti is a signature dish frequently featured in the family’s traditional Sunday dinners.
Joe’s offers a number of desserts. It’s hard for me to ever resist tiramisu. In Italian, “tiramisù” means “pick me up” or “cheer me up.” The name comes from the phrase tirami su, which literally breaks down to tira (“pull”), mi (“me”), and su (“up”). Boy does a great tiramisu have that effect (both picking me up and cheering me up) on me. A great tiramisu is chracterized by a light, yet rich, layers of espresso-soaked ladyfingers interspersed with a smoth, creamy mascarpone and egg-yolk cream, all finished with a dusting of cocoa powder. Ideally, tiramisu balances the bitter coffee flavor with the sweet, tangy cream, creating a luxurious, airyl texture that melts in your mouth. Mission accomplished, Joe’s.
The terms average Joe, ordinary Joe, regular Joe, Joe Sixpack, Joe Lunchbucket, Joe Blow and Joe Schmoe are used throughout North America to refer to a completely average person, typically an average American. There’s nothing ordinary about the cuisine at Joe’s Italian Restaurant, an exceptional eatery in Farmington.
Joe’s Italian Restaurant
(505) 716-0893
Website | Facebook Page
LATEST VISIT: 10 February 2025
# OF VISITS: 1
RATING: N/R
COST: $$ – $$$,
BEST BET: Diana, Manicotti, Veal Marsala, Tiramisu, Salad, Bread
REVIEW #1488
OMG, that calamari looks amazing! I know where I’m going if I find myself in Farmington!
It’s outstanding calamari. I suspect it’s on par with the calamari from M’Tucci’s Bar Roma which (shamefully) I still haven’t tried. You’re a man of discerning tastes so I’ll have to defer to your opinion on that one.