Amuse-bouche Maize, reviewed; Yucatán: Recipes
From a Culinary Expedition
ON
a recent weeknight around happy hour, the scene in the bar at Maize — the successor to Georgia in the spot adjacent to the O’Keeffe Museum — was rare for Santa Fe. Amid warm light and earthy wood and brick surfaces, a gaggle of dapper youngish professionals ringed the bar, sipping cocktails while reconnecting with friends after the holidays. Vintage Maxwell pulsed seductively through the speakers. From my seat at a high-top table, I detected the faintest whiff of Nag Champa incense, which might’ve been a turnoff if the whole vibe hadn’t been so groovy. Maize is one of a slew of restaurants newly launched by the New Mexico Fine Dining group (LeRoy Alvarado of Georgia remains as chef, while Charles Dale of Bouche acts as a culinary “overseer”), and in this cozy corner, I’d be inclined to make cocktails and casual bites there a regular thing. The menu’s list of “Shareables” — what passes for a bar menu here — includes some lively, if not exactly groundbreaking, concoctions. There are wings — not chicken but larger, richer duck in a sweet-spicy honey-chipotle glaze, sliding tenderly off the bone — and a quesadilla stuffed with creamy asadero and pungent wild mushrooms. The Smokin’ nachos aren’t a victim of silly menu-writing lingo: They arrive in a lidded earthenware dish, which when lifted releases a steamy cloud of woody smoke. That flavor comes through in the clusters of saucy pulled pork, which, along with a scattering of black beans, three-alarm-fire charred jalapeño, pico de gallo, and dabs of guacamole and sour cream, are peppered across the stacks of wide melted-cheddar-clad tortilla chips. Nothing is flippant about the Tongue ’n Cheek tacos: tender dice of lesser-used cuts atop small corn tortillas and garnished with dainty cubes of mango and a tangle of microgreens. These are all interesting, satisfying bar snacks, but their prices are relatively rich, too — none of them (or anything else on the menu, for that matter) comes in at under $10.
That’s kind of my main beef with Maize. I appreciate the comfortable upholstered chairs, the warm yellow palette of the dining room walls, and the eyecatching decor — particularly a stretch of framed branches and a quilted portrait of what looks like somebody’s abuela. The ambience is welcoming, the menu has creative leanings, staff members comport themselves professionally and attentively, and portions generally aren’t miserly. I’m not convinced, though, that Santa Fe needs another high-end establishment where dinner will require you to lay down a couple of Benjamins.
Timing is also an issue. Bar food arrived rapidly, but during dinner in the main dining room, we waited a half hour for first courses (a basket of charming but stale corn muffins and flatbreads arrived 20 minutes in) and nearly 40 minutes for our mains. I’m all for leisurely nights spent lingering around the table, but not when you spend it twiddling your thumbs.
Some of the food is well worth waiting for. The menu pays homage to corn, but more broadly to the cuisines of the Southwest and foods of the Native American Pueblo people. It adheres to this theme in both predictable and playful ways, with dishes like the Caldo Verde: pork tenderloin, pintos, and Hatch chile in a robustly spicy posole broth. There’s a beautiful elk carpaccio, delicate discs laid out on a rectangular platter, strewn with fried capers, sprinkled with gin and balsamic, and paired with a cluster of frisée. An impressively artful plate consists of a mild tamale tumbled with plump pink prawns, the plate painted with deep red mole coloradito and lightly dusted with ash. Gorgeous garnet roasted beets and a pool of rusty red pepper sauce accompany the cornmealcrusted ruby trout. The fish’s skin, delicately curved and perfectly crisped, is dramatically poised atop it all like a big aquatic chicharrón. In an arrangement that echoes its namesake, the Dreamcatcher dessert features a cuff of tempered chocolate that rings quenelles of delightfully nubbly chocolate-pecan mousse and pistachio ice cream and is topped with a web of spun caramel threads.
Fetching a slightly shocking $42 is the more traditional rack of lamb chops with wilted greens, grits, and an addictively sweet-and-meaty reduction with a balsamic tang. Our highly anticipated Three Sisters
soup (the timeless trio of corn, squash, and beans) was without explanation replaced by a bowl of generictasting butternut squash. The vegetarian-friendly wild rice arepas with calabacitas were filling, but their texture was oddly rubbery. Putting aside its unfortunate name, Two Birds, One Bush is a pleasing plate of quail — exceptionally seasoned and full-flavored but disappointingly overcooked — kaleidoscopically positioned around a colorful tangle of matchstick russet and sweet potatoes.
In keeping with the regional theme, several New Mexico beers (namely from Bosque Brewing Company and Marble Brewery) are available on draft, and a handful of wines (including Gruet’s sparkling Sauvage) are served by the glass. The two-page wine list is thorough but not overwhelming. Signature cocktails are also offered. The Bee Sting (blanco tequila, spicy honey, lemon, and chartreuse) delighted with its refreshing fruit lilt, mild anise-and-herbs aroma, and balance. On another night, though, the intriguing MAIZEcal (mezcal, piñon liqueur, grapefruit, and agave syrup) was overly tart, and the Abiquiú Rose (Citroen vodka, elderflower liqueur, and pomegranate and lime juices) was shockingly undersweetened and brashly hot with alcohol. The garnish of whole rose petals was pretty, but are you supposed to eat them?
Thematically, Maize lives up to its name, honoring its token food artfully, even sometimes playfully, with occasional nods to our area’s Continental influences. Yet another fine dining venue may not be what Santa Fe really needs now, and there are kinks to work out. But if it can gather Santa Feans around a table or the bar to enjoy each other’s company, a warm and thoughtful ambience, and the food that has sustained this part of the world for centuries, that might make it the creamed corn of the crop.