We think it's super cute that Denver has tried to lay claim to green chile as if New Mexico isn't the undisputed winner of the war that never was, but the folks at Denver alt.weekly Westword at least have some smart readers. Not a year goes by, however, wherein we don't hear-tell about some New Mexcian who moved someplace else and either imported the stuff through their moms, set up some find-a-roast website or opened a restaurant like the Green Chile Kitchen in San Francisco.
True story alert: When The Fork was living in the South Bay of Northern California (Santa Cruz) during our glorious early 20s, we visited a restaurant touting its New Mexican food called the Green Chile Kitchen. We obviously missed chile and Califnornians just don't get it (which we say having been born and raised in Los Angeles). But we were sad about the paltry tablespoon of chile placed daintily on our burrito. "We'll pay you to smother that," we said, to which the woman behind the counter replied, "That's not how they do it in New Mexico, but OK." The Fork, knowing full damn well that that IS how they do it in New Mexico, also ordered a beer and the woman, upon examining the New Mexico state driver's license, she was forced to relent and admit The Fork was right, as The Fork usually is. And we got that smothered burrito. And for a fleeting and glorious moment, we felt like home. And then that made us feel weird. And it was good.
The point, however, is this: We're so bad at so many things in New Mexico, from schools and affordable housing to streets that can be easily pronounced by non-locals. Why, then, must Denver—with all of its legal cannabis and businesses that stay open at night and bands you actually wanna go see—try to take this from us? Chile is ours, jerks—deal with it.
-We wonder how everyone's Easter brunches went. Sharon? Did it go OK? Let us know.
-Meanwhile, we're over here in the office devouring Robin's Eggs, a candy that's somehow worse for you than just regular Whoppers. All the same, they appeared here and we're eating them. Deal with it like you're Denver dealing with the chile situation.
-It's a ways out and we'll try to remind you again, but the Santa Fe Master Gardener's Association has a pretty cool fair coming up in May that has numerous speakers on topics about how gardens be good for cooking food.
-A student from the Institute of American Indian Arts kicks off a pretty cool project this year with Strawless Santa Fe, a mission to get people to ditch single-use plastic straws. We think this is great and salute you, Amber Morningstar Byers. The Fork already didn't use straws that much because we like the feel of moisture in our beard, but we will get on this train. Find more info here (about the project, not The Fork's beard).
-If you're dealing with a surplus of post-Easter ham, HuffPo has a ton of recipes for you right here. As for us, we had no idea Easter was such a big deal, which really messed up our plans last Sunday. What were these plans? To engage with society on a meaningful level. Instead we had to stay home reading Michael Chabon like some sort of college junior. Dang.
-Meanwhile, in Canada, some punk-ass chef who works for a place that does, like, game meat and stuff, stuck it to vegan protesters by cutting up a deer right in front of them. Seems unnecessary to us.
-We also learned from Twitter that some American heroes put together a dinner party based on jokes from The Simpsons. Wise. Quite wise. Here's hoping they all felt embiggened by the online reception. We don't know why you've never heard the word "embiggened." It's a perfectly cromulent word.
-Elsewhere, this Tumblr blog hates Food Network. Or loves it? It somethings Food Network, that's for sure.
-There's a website/food museum that recognizes historically significant restaurants, and three from New Mexico are on the list. Horray!
-Pretzel buns are amazing. That's all. We just thought you should know. The ones we like best? The Pretzilla ones at Whole Foods. Get some. Trader Joe's also has pretzel bagels, and we bought some, but haven't tried them yet. Maybe tonight we'll slap some turkey on one of 'em.
Laissez les temps de la fourche rouler!
PS: It’s “chile,” never “chiles.” Jeeze.