adobe chic
AMAYA
Under the battering rain of a Northern New Mexico thunderstorm, staring down into the intricate ruby center of a perfectly seared venison medallion, I wondered if there was a lovelier — or stranger — place to be in Santa Fe than the covered patio at Amaya. It’s not just that the main room of the restaurant at the Hotel Santa Fe has a premium on the region’s trademark enchantment, with its viga-striped ceiling, warm yellow walls, central fireplace, flagstone floors, and pocket doors opened to a lush garden — or that on the evening in question, the hallowed strains of Ronald Roybal’s Native flute were echoing elegantly through the space while nearby, a family of five was happily, if bizarrely, eating dinner in a teepee.
No, what made this dining experience especially weird and wonderful was that on that particular Friday night, Zozobra’s cousin, the 50-foot-tall puppet Tío Coco, was being roasted in Fort Marcy Park to entertain the National Governors’ Association conference. Between bursts of thunder and cracks of lightning, his amplified moans of agony echoed eerily through the otherwise tranquil dining room, while a table of tourists to our left wondered aloud if a bear was prowling around the hotel’s backyard.
Along with the uniquely Santa Fe moment, we enjoyed a couple of fantastic meat dishes. My venison was rich with umami, served in a pooled soy-orange reduction with roasted purple potatoes, carrots, snap peas, and Brussels sprouts. My pal relished a buttery charred ribeye with grilled asparagus. Our server was charming in a down-to-earth way, professional yet relaxed. I felt like I was on vacation in my own city.
In 1991, the Picuris Pueblo opened the only Native-owned hotel in downtown Santa Fe on the corner of Paseo de Peralta and Cerrillos Road. The Hotel Santa Fe has always aimed at conveying the romance of Pueblo culture to visitors, offering a stunning complex of high-walled adobe architecture, Native American art and sculpture, graceful gardens, and
spa amenities, all of which feels very removed from the busy corner of the Railyard it occupies. Amaya, the hotel’s only restaurant, focuses on New American cuisine with a slight nod to indigenous roots. In addition to Southwestern classics like green chile chicken enchiladas and au courant crowd-pleasers like a tuna poke bowl, Amaya’s diverse dinner menu and specials offer lamb chops, quail, salmon, and duck. Tourists seeking a novel dining experience, probably with their kids, can be served in the teepee — a structure used by Plains if not Pueblo people — for an additional cost of $50.
The restaurant mostly delivers on the promise of its refined environs. The Taos Lightning Manhattan packed a well-mixed wallop, its searing flavors an apt match for the late-summer storm outside. A glass of the 2015 Manteo Red Blend from Sonoma County opened up with currant and plum complements to the grilled meats. Tumbled with pistachios, sharp pecorino, and a light, minty vinaigrette, a bright salad of spring peas and pale green arugula impressed us with its delicate flavors. A forest-green poblano pepper — stuffed with corn, diced tomato, and black beans and served over a bed of rice ringed with a creamy red chile sauce — was too tame, though its elements were all nicely cooked and arranged. The side dish on my companion’s ribeye plate — a bland mélange of farro, red and yellow peppers, and a variety of lettuces — confused us both, as did the rather stale bread basket that began the meal. But an impeccable crème brûlée — crunchy and creamy in all the right places, served with a tangy smear of mango coulis — provided a grand finale.
The lunch menu is more relaxed, and more evenly executed. While a few items on the dinner menu went missing from our plates, substituted for others without explanation, all the tasty elements of the grilled mahimahi tacos were present and accounted for: achiote-rubbed, tender fish encased in sturdy flour tortillas, crunchy jicama and red pepper slaw in a citrusy vinaigrette, avocado-jalapeño crema, rice studded with corn kernels, and a succulent pico de gallo. The lump crab cakes were an excellent midday pick-me-up, with blue-corn-crusted crabmeat patties seared dark-brown and delicious, sided with red-and-yellow pepper sauce and a lightly dressed salad of crisp fennel and lacy watercress.
The hotel’s harmonious décor and ever-refreshing waves of tourist traffic make Amaya a strong venue for people-watching, while the art collection and gracious staff, both in the restaurant and around the hotel, provide a reason to linger. There’s an ideal state of mind involved in visiting a local hotel to eat — you want to be both in town and far, far away at the same time, feeling the otherworldliness of travel within the confines of the familiar. Even if most dining experiences here don’t involve the dramatic bass of a thunderstorm or the exaggerated groans of a burning puppet, Amaya’s always got ambience to spare.