See that blue stuff streaked with a wisp of white? That, Paris people, is what the sky looks like.
In Santa Fe, New Mexico, at least.
Somehow the temperature doesn’t seem as chilly when the sun’s out with a sky like this. Or when it’s coming up or going down against a mountain backdrop, looking like an over-saturated photograph…or painting by an artist with a too-heavy hand with the pinks and oranges. It’s just beauty, beauty, beauty, everywhere. Green chile on everything. Burgers. Breakfast burritos. Pizzas. Then there’s the posole. Blue corn. Piñon-laced air. La la la la la.
Now, I did not take this train — the cute Roadrunner that connects Albuquerque and Santa Fe — but managed to catch this photograph as it was chugging by. I snapped this as was standing there, sipping a très tasty coffee from the Station at the Railyards, where the barista (who greeted me with “I hope you’re having a groovy day!”) swirled a heaping big spoonful of HABANERO FUDGE SAUCE into my coffee, and I took one sip and thought to myself, JEEEEEZ, this just might be the best thing. Ever.
Or maybe the best thing was the 120-minute (!!) “Mountain Spirit Purification” treatment that I got upon arrival at Encantado Resort (after our 10-hour road trip from Texas), which started with a brisk sage smudging, then moved onto a cocoon-like adobe clay body mask/wrap thingy, and ended with a juniper and hot stone massage…far too soon.
See this photo below? This is the view from the balcony of my suite at Encantado, and these are the Jemez mountains. I know you’re jealous.
And this is the view from the other side of my room. I was still in my jammies so I didn’t walk up the hill to get a better shot, but I think you get the idea.
Gorgeousness. All around, every damn where you look. This may be the best thing, now that I think about it.
Or these words, which I found on the side of the New Mexico historical records building. Talk about a sign.
It was an easy, lazy trip, with no real itinerary, lots of late mornings, even later lunches, a great afternoon hike one afternoon, and a long overdue visit with my pal Nathalie Kent, who owns the Frenchy-Cowgirl boutique Nathalie on Canyon Road.
After five days, we set the alarm for 5:30 am and drove back to Texas, and watched the landscape flatten as we ticked off the miles, canyons transforming into cotton fields…and cattle feed lots closer to home.
À bientôt, Santa Fe.
This is Rose Trujillo and she’s one of the founders of the Santa Fe Farmer’s Market, considered one of the top farmer’s markets in the U.S. See that sack in her right hand? That’s a package of her buffalo tamales, handmade the night before, she told me. Rose and her daughter also make the anise seed bizcochitos (below), now New Mexico’s state cookie. (Yes, that’s right – a state cookie — any state with the good sense to have its own cookie is my kind of place.)
I realize that visiting a farmer’s market in January probably isn’t the best time of year, but what makes this market special is the abundance of homemade goodies baked by the people that are selling them, like Ruth, along with the farmers selling their produce, or cheese, or yak jerky, or whatever. At the markets in Paris, these people have signs that say “producteurs” above their stands. Here, everyone is a producer.
In other words, there are no stacks of boxes of fruits and vegetables in the back marked with “Mexico.” Not one single one. What’s sold here is grown here. Simple as that.
Of course we don’t have piñon fudge in Paris, but we do have pains au chocolat; there’s also homemade lavender soap at lots of Paris markets, and I’ve seen lots made from honey, but I’ve not seen any made from goat milk – aren’t these sweet?
You say empanadas, but in France, these would be called chaussons, because they look like house slippers…well, sort of.
I love the idea of these mini quiches, and of course, if green chile’s involved, I’m already sold. The bright yellow eggyness of these also tells me that these eggs are super-fresh. Speaking of, when you order an egg anything in Santa Fe, it’s likely that your server will ask “And would you like your eggs to be organic?”
Oh yes, please. Organic, local, free range…and served on a plate that’s been either recycled or upcycled.
Naturally, there’s lots of red chile for sale, too, along with the green. And this being Santa Fe, there’s also a good selection of smudge sticks to scare off evil spirits and hangover nonsense from previous trouble-making souls…something that Paris, a city that’s been around since 500ish B.C. or so, could definitely use.
Jugglers instead of mimes, though really, it’s been ages since I’ve seen a mime in Paris (thank god).
I stopped and chatted with the hydroponic tomato farmers, who supply tomatoes to Chef Charles Dale at Encantado Resort’s restaurant, Terra, and I would’ve bought the organic chicken at Pollo Real if I could’ve taken some home. I saw beets as big as Texas Ruby Reds at one stand, and at $1.50 a pound, I thought about filling up a sack, but the truth is I didn’t have my own sack, and this isn’t the sort of place where people would overlook that sort of thing.
So I stuffed my sage smudge stick into my purse and walked a few blocks west to the Tune-Up Cafe, and ordered my usual breakfast burrito with green chile inside and red chile out, and made a note to bring my own sacks next time. For beets, smudge sticks, and some really cute bars of soap.
