Scalo – Albuquerque, New Mexico (CLOSED)

Contrary to popular belief, Scalo was not already a Nob Hill fixture in 1706 when Don Francisco Cuervo y Valdés, governor and captain general of New Mexico, named a new settlement for the Duke of Alburquerque, then viceroy of New Spain.  Scalo didn’t actually open until December, 1986, but during its lengthy tenure it has such a degree of permanence in our memories and taste buds that it’s hard to believe it wasn’t one of the fabled paradors (an establishment where travelers could seek lodging, and usually, food and drink) along the Camino Real.  It would make sense because the word “Scalo” itself translates from Italian to “stopover.”  Then there’s Scalo’s revered spot on the now defunct Albuquerque Monthly.  On its tenth anniversary, the magazine created a “Best Of” Hall of Fame, listing the ten establishments–restaurants, bars, card stores, clothing stores, computer stores, galleries and more–which had received more “best of” votes during the decade of the 90s than anyone else. The first establishment listed was Scalo Northern Italian Grill, which was also perennial selection on the magazine’s annual listing of the city’s top ten fine-dining restaurants (other mainstays still serving the city include the Artichoke Cafe, Prairie Star and…

JOE’S PASTA HOUSE – Rio Rancho, New Mexico

Once a year, despite my protestations and whining, I agree to take my Kim to the Olive Garden. It’s a deal we have, albeit one that makes me feel like Faust in the Christopher Marlowe play. Faust, for the non-English majors among you, was a scholar who sells his soul to the devil in exchange for unlimited knowledge and worldly pleasures. In my case, the deal is a visit to Olive Garden once a year in exchange for all the strange and exotic restaurants I want to visit the rest of the year. I sure got the rotten end of that deal. On a list of things I’d rather do, my annual visit to the Olive Garden for a meal of cheese glop or tomato torture ranks somewhere below visiting a proctologist or watching The View. Kim likes the salad and bread sticks and I suspect derives a bit of sadistic satisfaction in hearing me mutter polysyllabic epithets about the “Evil Garden’s” food. The cultural anthropologist in me finds it both amusing and tragic that teeming masses congregate for pathetic pasta, mediocre marinara and boring bread sticks. It makes me long for a visit to Joe’s Pasta house in Rio…