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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?…