The scent of roasting chiles in autumn is one of the great pleasures of New Mexico. It’s a sign of nature’s annual cycle as sure as the turning of the Aspens. 

I would have been pissed if Agave Lounge hadn’t any mezcal. Too many tequila bars ignore the less refined, purer and more flavorful product of the agave plant, so if a joint called Agave Lounge had given it a pass, I would have gotten my bitch on.

One of the unwritten but inalienable rights of Americans is to take rare and rich treats and transform them into objects of everyday gluttony.

Anyone who strayed from the Plaza during the week of Fiesta de Santa Fé may have been momentarily alarmed by the taiko drumming that briefly dominated Burro Alley.

Zozobra has exhaled his last fiery, dying groan—at least until this time next year—but even if Fiesta de Santa Fé is over, fiesta season is just beginning.

As a south side resident, I don’t take the same dim view of the city’s left-of-downtown amenities as some among us.

Young men are jealous of each other’s muscles, cars, athleticism, girlfriends, etc.—almost everything superficial when it comes to evaluating real pride and self-worth. Now that I’m no longer so young, I wonder if it can be considered a sign of maturity that I covet another man’s garden.

Heritage Hotels and Resorts, the hospitality company with an addiction to stretching the bounds of history and culture in its boutique properties, has opened a Chimayó-themed hotel in downtown Santa Fe, complete with a complementary restaurant and a lowrider bar.

My thoughts about Santa Fe’s newest vegetarian and vegan lunch spot have to begin with a list of complaints. Mostly, though, I just wish they were open more often.

When the first group of my friends told me about their rabid fandom for HBO’s Game of Thrones, I didn’t hesitate to condemn them: I thought them cable whores and TV bitches and proclaimed without hesitation that I would not be party to their madness.