Albuquerque’s stretch of the old Mother Road is home to the Route 66 Malt Shop, a restaurant that attempts to capture the spirit of a storied era while also addressing the foodie concerns of the Nob Hill neighborhood it calls home.
Actual quote from Julia: "You had me at emo hamburger."
If you want to take a peek at the creative process behind an Alibi illustration now is your chance.
Superstar artist Julia Minamata posted a blog about designing her fantastic emo-hamburger illustration in this week's music section. She also posted one about the Gov. Martinez as Jeannie illustration from last month.
Albuquerque doesn’t have any professional sports teams. And while the Duke City Derby, los Lobos and the mighty Isotopes give us a strong tradition of amateur action, what few pro athletes we have tend to be cage fighters. Maybe we should call it “Put Up Your Dukes City.” But since there aren’t major pro Mixed Martial Arts competitions held here, our only public forum is to gather at sports bars and cheer the hometown fighters. This week’s column is the second installment of an occasional series on the best Albuquerque sports bars in which to watch televised hand-to-hand combat. The first installment in the series, in April, covered the Fox and Hound. The third installment, probably sometime next year, is a secret because I’m still actively researching and don’t want to tip anyone off. But if you want to suggest a sports bar in which to watch MMA, please do. Just remember it has to serve good food.
Earlier this week, my husband and I went to a used appliance store on Central near Atrisco and purchased an early-Aughts Kenmore washer and dryer set. As we made our way back Downtown we passed a Bob’s Burgers and decided to celebrate our thrifty purchase. Having been vegetarian for many, many years until recently, I’ve still not had (or really desired) the chance to feast on the world’s cornucopia of meaty delicacies. Therefore, I’d never eaten a taco burger, which seems like a ridiculous food, so I was skeptical of its reported deliciousness.
I have to say, eating a taco burger for the first time was like when I gave into the fact that Steely Dan is an excellent band—so processed, so cheesy, so good! I wouldn’t indulge in a cheese food and chile-covered hamburger patty inside of a taco shell, or the jazz rock of Can’t Buy a Thrill every day, or every month. Maybe not even every year. But it’s nice knowing these things are there waiting for me.
Steely Dan performs “Reelin’ In the Years” on Midnight Special in ‘73.
[By the way, the new appliances are swell, and we spent $300 (with free delivery and a lifetime warranty) instead of $3,000. Go bargains.]
It's a well-worn American story: ketchup meets burger. But this version is better. The stars of the show are beyond homemade—they're dirt-made, from the ground up: handmade ketchup from homegrown tomatoes, served on ground beef raised by good friends. It's a story about the potential of simple pleasures, carefully crafted—and how the history layered into food adds complexity and flavor, creating a terroir to rival the finest wine. It's a drama you could re-enact at home with a little legwork, and if enough people did, we could put McDonald’s out of business.
Sixty years ago last month, when John Kerouac walked out the door of his mother's house in Ozone Park, Queens, America was a different place. Gas cost 23 cents a gallon. The minimum wage was 40 cents an hour. And simple pleasures came a la mode.