After a meal at Rancho de Chimayó in Chimayó, N.M., I sat down with owner Florence Jaramillo—affectionately known by all as Mrs. J—and asked her how she characterized New Mexican food. She took a contemplative pause, then simply said: "By the chile."
Rancho de Chimayó opened its doors in 1965 and has been serving traditional New Mexican fare to hordes of locals and tourists ever since. In 2016, the restaurant won the James Beard Foundation's America's Classics award. There is no better place to indulge in staples such as caldillo, a green chile and beef stew; sopaipillas, puffed fried dough stuffed with meat and beans (or just drizzled with honey); or carne adovada, a garlic- and red chile–marinated pork dish.
Mrs. J was spot on. Every time I ask a local to explain New Mexican food to me and how it's different from Mexican or even Tex-Mex, they answer by proudly invoking their red and green chile peppers, which they just call "chile." The Land of Enchantment leads the United States in planted acreage of the pepper with 42.8 percent of the country's total, according to a 2015 USDA report. The state doesn't harvest quite as many chiles as California, though, coming in second in production, with 33 percent of the U.S. total.
"They have the same chile in California, the Anaheim one, but it doesn't taste the same," insists Mrs. J. New Mexicans' pride in their chiles takes its root in the town of Hatch, N.M., where the pepper was first commercially grown in the late 19th century. Chile varieties then spread further into New Mexico and the southwest.
Purists see Hatch-grown chiles as the ultimate cream of the crop—owing their superiority to the terroir of the surrounding Mesilla Valley, where the town of Hatch sits at 4,000 feet. "Hatch is to chile as Montrachet is to Chardonnay," Jared Fischer, a New Mexico native who now runs the beverage program at Locanda Verde in New York City, once said to me. The area is not a protected designation, although growers are lobbying to change that with a certification and a 2013 state law does prohibit chile products from being labeled "New Mexico chile" if the peppers have not been grown within the state's borders.
The chiles are planted in March and April; green chiles are harvested in August and September, with some being kept on the plant until October and November when they turn red. Every New Mexican dish comes smothered in either red or green chile sauce. Tangy, hotter green chile tends to go better with chicken, and sweeter, mellower red with beef, but you can also ask to have your meal "Christmas."
Mrs. J can recall when the term started to be commonly used. Some customers couldn't make up their minds whether they wanted red or green, so they started asking for both. Servers would write "Christmas" on orders as shorthand for the kitchen, and the saying caught on. It's my personal order—mainly because it's fun to say.
Because of the chiles' heat, locals typically enjoy these dishes with area brews such as the high-hopped Happy Camper IPA from Santa Fe Brewing or a full-bodied, exotic wheat ale like the one from Marble Brewery. But if you want wine, New Mexican producer and sparkling wine specialist Gruet can be found almost everywhere you go in the state. Offering plush blanc de noirs and rosé styles that fare well with the regional cuisine, Gruet is among the best producers of sparkling values in the U.S., with its bubblies retailing for around $15 and consistently scoring in the very good range.
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