Each time I show up at a growers' market, it’s like coming home. Even if it's one I've never visited. As soon as it comes into view, I feel like I already know the people I'm about to meet, like I've slipped into a recurring dream that’s always different yet familiar. That’s why if, during the next few weeks, you don’t find yourself reading about too many restaurants in this space, I hope you understand. I haven’t been eating at restaurants much. Instead I’ve been haunting the markets, bringing home the goodness and cooking it into 10,000 permutations of green chile, corn, calabacitas, garlic and meat, and washing it down with melon juice.
Ten miles north from Bernalillo, right by theexit ramp for the San Felipe truck stop and casino, the San Felipe market convenes on Wednesday evenings. The vibe is funky, jovial, relaxed and no-nonsense, with a slightly lawless feeling: Some vendors drive into the market while it’s going full-swing to set up their booths. It’s also a reminder of what an amazing melting pot New Mexico is.
A good Alfredo has a kiss of nutmeg in the sauce. Masala means an amalgam of spices. Traditional Peking duck requires infusing the bird with star anise and other flavorings. What they all have in common are spices.