A couple weeks ago, my sister and I were on the Plaza holiday shopping
for our parents, feeling both uninspired and hungry. It was really cold
that day, and nothing sounded nicer than tucking into a warm bowl of
Around noon on a clear, chilly December day, Steve Schmidt stands in front of
his custom-built barbecue smoker in an empty lot on Cerrillos Road,
country music playing from a small radio, the aroma of meat and hickory
smoke filling the air.
The cathedral-ceilinged spot at the entrance of the Pacheco Street Lofts
reminds me of cafés in Napa, where healthful and mindful living feel
bright, spare and fresh-faced instead of funky, Boho-cluttered and
More and more, I find myself in far-flung reaches of town in the middle of the day. I’m usually running around for work, meeting with clients or vendors, and need to find a tasty lunch on the quick—and preferably, cheap.
Once upon a time, I lived in New York City—that lovely, messy town where food trucks reign supreme. The city teems with them, and my friends and I established a sort of game around the hardest-to-find mobile-food outposts.
Pampered Santa Fe pooches can now join the afterschool crowd that gathers daily at Ellie’s Yoberri Park. While their owners indulge in the classic tart frozen yogurt, canine snackers get to lap up two-buck cups of probiotic goodness made especially for dogs.