If I had to choose one person in Albuquerque who has earned the right to be called a chef, I would adamantly, and without hesitation, say Jennifer James. If there’s still anyone left in town who wishes to argue, allow me to present my case.
I’d read more than enough to know that as far as local diners were concerned, JJ could do no wrong, and I’d eaten at Graze. Sure, the food was great. In fact, her blueberry pie was a life-altering experience.
But is it possible for a chef in Albuquerque to be as infallible as all the hoopla suggests? Other kitchen-dwelling hometown heroes had managed to disappoint in rather inexplicable ways, so I braced myself for a similar performance from Burque’s patron saint of culinary excellence.
I’m going to knock out the negative stuff first. Hmm. I ordered Pouilly-Fumé (a dry, Loire Valley white wine) and was presented with stemless goblets. I requested appropriate glassware, and it was delivered—graciously. And that’s it. Seriously.
The menu is short and sweet: A smattering of primary and secondary courses followed by dessert. While perusing JJ’s offerings, a small bowl filled with ever-so-thin pickled cucumbers gives a hint of what’s to come. Sweet with a nuanced tartness, they’re an instant pick-me-up. Each meal is also served with warm bread that sent me back to my childhood. Growing up in Germany, my daily bread was a crusty roll called brötchen that I’d crack open and eat inside-out. JJ’s tasted exactly like the bread I remembered. And it gets better. There was no simple butter, but rather a compound curry butter. Brilliant in color, flavor and idea.
Screw black bean burgers; this dish doesn’t treat herbivores as an afterthought.
A breaded chicken fillet, pounded thin, was juicy, tender and more, well, chicken-y than any bird I’ve eaten in a long time. A New York strip similarly displayed a true beef flavor. Oceanside, tuna simply melted in my mouth, and served with wet-earth tasting beets, “surf and turf” was redefined.
I need to make special mention of the vegetarian dish, which normally I avoid like Spam and Velveeta. Three garbanzo bean cakes, each dressed with its own salad and brought together by a pool of yogurt, left me speechless. A scant crust encased the silky-smooth center of the cakes, bringing just a touch of toastiness to the plate. Each salad lent uniqueness to the cakes. Walnuts tossed with pea shoots were earthy and rich, marinated peppers and olives brought taste buds to attention and shredded carrots with minced cilantro shocked with unexpected fire. Screw black bean burgers; this dish doesn’t treat herbivores as an afterthought.
Dessert continued JJ’s education in sincerity. Most notably, a strawberry rhubarb crisp, served in a miniature crock, approached divinity. Sweet, juicy strawberries that softened the astringent rhubarb and a crumbly top all come together in a frolicking flavor and texture voyage.
I could wax ecstatic indefinitely about the taste and quality of JJ’s food, but more importantly, I’d like to point out what truly sets her apart. There is a lack of pretension and deception in her food. She avoids distracting diners with fanciful platings—though the dishes are immaculately presented—and instead focuses on delivering purity. Flavors aren’t hidden; they’re coaxed out and put on display. Beets taste like God intended and rhubarb like it only can in the hands of someone who loves and respects it.
Jennifer James, along with sister Kelly Burton, partner Nelle Bauer and a dedicated staff, has definitely set the bar high. The question is, will Albuquerque’s other chefs step up to the plate?
The Alibi recommends:
• Foie gras
• Any entrée
• Strawberry rhubarb crisp
• Really, just trust the chef and order with confidence.
Jennifer James 101, 4615-A Menaul NE, 884-3860. Dinner hours: Tue-Sat 5-10 p.m. Price range: Varies with menu changes, but expect mid-$20s per entrée. Ambience: Clean and cool, with a splash of Target. Credit cards, booze, reservations.