Time in Taos, Day 3

Catch up here! Time in Taos, Day 1 and Time in Taos, Day 2

Our final morning in Taos began with another plate of assorted mini muffins and scones, as well as a plate with kielbasa sausage, two cheese blintzes drizzled with passionfruit sauce and chocolate sauce, and fruit arranged along the rim. Orange juice, coffee, and a bowl of granola with honey made the meal more than complete.

We checked out of our room after breakfast, but not before walking around the Adobe & Pines Inn a bit longer to say hello to the goats and chickens. In the reception area, I held a tiny baby chick in my hand before putting him back into the warm, lit cupboard I'd taken him from. I'm a city girl at heart, but being around so many sweet farm animals made me fantasize—just for a moment—about raising some of these creatures myself.

We left the Adobe & Pines Inn with reluctance, but fortunately lunch at Ranchos Plaza Grill was still ahead. ES and I stuck to what we loved at our first meal there and split a plate of the Carne Adovada, smothered in a red chili made from crushed red chile pods and served with rice and beans. The pieces of marinated and grilled pork were just as smoky and delicious as when we'd eaten it in burrito form.

We also asked for two side orders of green chili, wanting to enjoy New Mexico's version to the fullest. The one at Ranchos Plaza Grill was smooth and buttery and swimming with little pork bits; it was strong with green chile flavor, and tasted more like a sauce than anything else. We did notice that in New Mexico red and green chili seemed to be more often served as an accompaniment rather than a main event; anyone know if this is actually true? Does anyone in this area just offer a big ol' bowl of the stuff with tortillas on the side?


Before getting on the highway we made one last stop, at a truck on the side of the road peddling roasted piñon. Having seen similar trucks lining Alameda Ave in Denver, I'd been curious about just what the nuts were and what they tasted like, so I dashed out of the car and purchased a bag.

Back in the passenger seat, I tried them. The woman had assured me that the shells could be eaten, but when I had more than a few in my mouth the shells proved to be sharp and gritty, an unpleasant sensation akin to swallowing rough shrimp shells. Still, they weren't cheap—the bag had cost a good ten dollars—and I was determined to enjoy them somehow. I ended up shelling a bunch of them one by one, though the shells weren't easy to get off and the whole process slow going. ES even went so far as to stockpile the nutmeat so as to savor an actual mouthful. With enough patience, it was possible to get a real hit of piñon flavor as the nuts dissolved in tiny bursts of fragrant oil on the tongue.

And then, finally, we were off. ES had planned this trip to celebrate the completion of my thesis, and though the semester still wasn't over at this point, it was a welcome and much-needed weekend away from home. Even now—a few months later, as I write this—I remember the road stretching out into the horizon, leading us farther and farther south, away from the work and the grading and the lesson plans—just a few days of sun, sleep, sightseeing, and gloriously little else.

Time in Taos, Day 2

Catch up here! Time in Taos, Day 1

When ES and I awoke the next morning, we wandered down to the sunny, open patio room of our B&B for breakfast and were greeted with glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice, hot coffee, and a plate of assorted mini muffins and scones.

Jars of wildflower honey, collected from beehives on the premises, graced each table.

While on the side there were cold cereals and milk for the taking, the main attraction of breakfast was this entree of huevos rancheros with bacon. As you can see, pieces of fruit were beautifully arranged all around the edges of the plate, creating a cheerful presentation that set the tone for the rest of the day.

And what a day it was! We went to the Rio Grande Gorge, a breathtaking sight behind the rails of the bridge we stood on. Vendors in the parking lot just before the bridge sold handmade goods as well as local honeys and jams, and I ended up getting some beads and a necklace with a teeny, stone pendant on copper chain (you all know I love jewelry).

We also went to check out Earthship headquarters. "Earthship" refers to a completely sustainable, self-contained home built entirely from recycled and re-purposed materials—for instance, glass bottles embedded into walls provide both light and structural support; electricity and water come solely from sun, rain, snow, and wind; food comes from vegetables and fruit grown on the premises. I'll admit it's a bit kooky, and the buildings do look like a somewhat odder version of something Gaudi might have built, but I admired the devotion to sustainability that Earthship homes demonstrate.


Later, in the tiny little town of Arroyo Seco, we shared a cup of ice cream at the ice cream shop Taos Cow. Ours was half blueberry flavor and half Cherry Ristra: dried cherries, piñon nuts, and chocolate chunks in a rich vanilla base.

The word ristra came up again when we visited Taos Pueblo, a living Native American reservation. Turns out ristra refers to the huge bundles of red chili peppers hanging from the awnings and doorways of the homes we saw all over New Mexico, placed there for both functional and decorative purposes. At the reservation we didn't eat anything with chilis, but we did share a freshly made frybread drizzled with honey, as well as a piece of prune pie.

With all that snacking, it took ES and I a while before we felt hungry, but after going back to our B&B, lying around in the two-person hammock, raking the giant zen garden, and strolling the on-premises labyrinth, it was dinner time. We headed over to La Cueva Cafe, a small, relatively new Mexican restaurant that used to be called Rellenos Cafe. We started off with an order of the Ceviche Mexicano, consisting of lime-marinated fish chunks mixed with pico de gallo, topped with avocado, and paired with chipotle mayonnaise. I'm more familiar with the Peruvian style of ceviche, but I was delighted with the flavor and extra creaminess that the avocado and dipping sauce added to the dish. 'Twas a large bowl of deliciousness, and cheap, too!

Our entrees were less notable, though not bad. I went with the Plato Combinado, consisting of one chile relleno, one enchilada, and one taco all smothered in green chili, while ES went with a two-taco plate.

Once our meal was done, we wandered over to the Adobe Bar at Doc Martin's Restaurant. A live band was playing in the main area, and we managed to snag a small table by the window, close enough to hear the music but far enough so that we could still chat. With eminently sippable margaritas in front of us—classic for ES, pomegranate for me—hanging out in the bar was the perfect wrap-up to a long and busy day in Taos.

Time in Taos, Day 1

We'd miscalculated. Armed with Spam musubi for an on-the-road breakfast on our way down to New Mexico for the weekend, ES and I had planned our pass-through of Pueblo, Colorado to coincide with lunchtime, a plan entirely based around both an episode of Food Wars and this article on Serious Eats about the city's local specialty, the Slopper: a whole hamburger or cheeseburger smothered in green chili. But having misjudged the driving time, ES and I found ourselves in Pueblo at ten in the morning, far too early to actually eat lunch.

How else to pass an hour? We went to the Pueblo Zoo, where we watched some really cute otters diving in and out of the water. We also saw sad ostriches, sad lions, sad monkeys, and sad llamas (but no sad panda). Oh, the things we do for a meal.

The clock ticked past eleven and it was finally a respectable time for lunch. At Sunset Inn, one of two places in town famous for their Slopper, the menu offered two versions—one with beans (red chili) and one with pork (green chili)—and the waitress couldn't tell us which one was better. So we ordered both, along with a side of onion rings.

Unfortunately, through some kind of miscommunication we ended up with two green chili Sloppers instead of one of each. And in this case, two green chili Sloppers = two dishes of disappointment. The bun was tough and the beef patty dry and tasteless; the green chili was okay, but still did nothing to elevate the crappy burger sitting in the middle of it. The whole thing was kind of cold, too. After several bites, I concluded that this particular venture was a bust. Maybe Sunset Inn's competitor, Gray's Coors Tavern, should have been our destination instead.


Little else to do, then, but speed our way out of Pueblo, leaving our fallen Slopper dreams behind. And in a mere three hours, we reached the Adobe & Pines Inn, our very lovely bed and breakfast in Taos, New Mexico. Just look at our room! A fireplace, a private patio on the roof, an oversized jetted tub, and the most charming decor you could ask for.

We were also greeted by a bottle of chilled champagne and a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries, part of the package we'd booked our reservation with.

Given how comfortable and cozy the room was, we ended up lazing around in there until it was time for dinner. Ignoring the book of menus laid out for guests in the reception area, we headed instead to Ranchos Plaza Grill based on MSJ's recommendation, a restaurant less than a half-mile away from Adobe & Pines.

Based solely on the restaurant's excellent salsa and guacamole, the meal would have already sent our sad memories of lunch into oblivion. But bring in an enormous carne adovada burrito stuffed with pieces of smoky, marinated grilled beef and ladled with a buttery green chili, and the wretched Slopper didn't stand a chance. ES was thrilled with his dish, and even suggested that we come back to Ranchos Plaza Grill another time before leaving.

I wasn't inclined to argue, since my mixed plate of enchiladas and chili rellenos in red chili was proving to be equally delicious. Sopapillas, which had arrived hot along with our entrees, were good even eaten at the close of the meal, especially once we doused each bite with honey.

Bellies satisfied, we left the restaurant and walked next door to the San Francis de Asis Mission Church, a beautiful and humble adobe structure immortalized many times by various artists and photographers. The church is still in use by the community, and we happened to arrive around the beginning of one of the services; I took advantage of the opening and closing doors to step inside to take a peek. If I were ever one to worship, this just might be the kind of setting I would want to be in.

As night fell, we went back to our room and built up a fire in the fireplace, using the wax-and-sawdust fire starters and wood thoughtfully stashed right in the corner. It took a little while to get things really blazing, but once it was going we were rewarded with the warmth, sweet smell, and crackles of a cozy fire, just the thing to eventually lull our tired bodies into sleep.

Exploring the Mile High Marketplace

One Saturday, ES and I were trying to figure out how to entertain ourselves when one of us brought up the Mile High Marketplace, Denver's year-round, outdoor amusement park, farmers' market, and flea market. We've both heard or seen a lot of the commercials (you probably have, too), and checking it out seemed as good an activity as any to while away a sunny weekend afternoon.

I wouldn't go to the Mile High Marketplace expecting to do any serious, high-quality shopping, as the place seems to specialize in cheap clothing and sunglasses, used power tools and toys, and just a bunch of overall junk. While we did find ourselves attracted to some enormous duffel bags selling for less than twenty bucks apiece, it might be better to simply think of the place as something like an oversized yard sale (and indeed, the marketplace encourages people to rent out a booth for the day in order to get rid of household items).

However, the place is good for cheap beers and carnival fare like turkey drumsticks, funnel cake, sausages, and corn on the cob. The temperature that afternoon was too high for ES and I to be enticed by the hot food, but we couldn't resist getting a cold beer and an enormous bag of freshly made kettle corn to keep us company while we browsed.

Aside from the flea market, Mile High Marketplace also boasts an extensive farmers' market, most of which is centered around Mexican produce. This grocery store, in the middle of it, carried rows and rows of canned and packaged imported goods.

The outdoor section of the farmers' market seemed to be less about variety than quantity, with identical arrangements of the same fruits and vegetables repeating at every other table. If I'd known what the heck to do with thirteen different types of chili peppers and endless rows of nopales, I'd have been all over this place. But since my Mexican cooking skills need a lot more work before I can tackle a meal, we simply picked up a few onions and avocados, brushed the kettle corn crumbs from our lips, finished the beer, and called it a day.