After decades of reviewing other people's cooking for newspapers in Syracuse, Dallas, and Austin, I'm now doing the cooking myself in Santa Fe — where the air is thin, the chile is serious, and every recipe needs a little altitude adjustment. Pull up a chair.
Eat through Santa Fe with me Meet DaleWhat to grab first, which vendors sell out by nine, and why you should never skip the chile roaster in September.
The official state question of New Mexico deserves a serious answer. After a year of field research, I'm ready to rule. (Hint: "Christmas" is not a cop-out.)
Everyone who visits asks the same question. Here's my honest short list — from old-school institutions to the new places earning their reputations.
Is a restaurant worth more than an hour's drive for lunch or dinner? Road-trip reviews from across New Mexico — the first photos are in, and the drive, the meal, and the honest verdict are coming.
Confessions of a cookbook addict: every new book that joins the shelf gets read, cooked from, and reported on — the book and the dish both.
Roasted Hatch chiles, pork shoulder, and patience. The one-pot dish that convinced me New Mexico was home — with notes on adjusting the simmer for altitude.
Nutty, tender, and unmistakably New Mexican. Blue cornmeal behaves differently in dry air — here's how to keep the batter from fighting you.
A critic's habit dies hard: I still taste everything twice. These ribs earned the second helping. Braising times run longer up here — plan for it.
At 7,000 feet, water boils cooler and everything simmers slower. What that means for pasta, beans, braises, and your morning egg.
Santa Fe humidity hovers in the teens. Your flour is drier than the recipe assumes — a splash more liquid saves many a loaf.
Dough rises noticeably faster up here — and over-proofs before you know it. Cut the yeast, watch the dough, not the clock.