If your local grocery store isn't fulfilling your culinary needs, you just might want to try a different venue. Like the dog track.
Volcanic rock molcajetes (grinding bowls), imported moles, hard-to-find cheeses and illegal fruits all are part of what makes the Phoenix Greyhound Park Park 'n Swap a fun day at the races. If it's from Mexico, you are very likely to find it here. Especially on the twice-weekly "Mercado" days.
Every Wednesday night and Sunday morning, vendors line the dog track parking lot at Washington Street in Phoenix to fight for your dollar and provide you with the best, most obscure and most unique items. If you're adventurous and willing to go to almost any lengths for good and hard-to-find ingredients, you'll likely find them, along with other cool stuff, like leather belts from Mexico and pirate CDs. Just be warned: There's a lot to look through, so wear comfortable shoes and bring a nice, big bag for all those purchases you'll find yourself making.
BEST BOOKSTORE -- NEW TITLES
Borders Books & Music
several Valley locations
BEST BOOKSTORE -- USED TITLES
Bookman's Used Books, Music and Software
1056 South Country Club Drive, Mesa
480-835-0505
BEST SECONDHAND SHOP
Buffalo Exchange
227 West University, Tempe
480-968-2557
730 East Missouri
602-532-0144
BEST BIKE SHOP
Tempe Bicycle
330 West University, Tempe
480-966-6896
BEST MOVIE THEATER
Harkins Theatres
several Valley locations
BEST PLACE TO RENT A SUPERHERO COSTUME
Bert Easley's Fun Shop
509 West McDowell
602-271-9146
Boojum is long known as a premier nursery for beautiful, exotic plants. Named after a tall, spiny tree known only to the Sonoran Desert and Baja, the gardening shop is evolving into a romantic escape for get-togethers. After 18 years, the family that owns the spot is transforming the five-acre property into lush gardens for special events. We love the mini Mexican village, resplendent with artifacts, fountains and greenery. We love the greenhouse, lush like a tropical island. We can't wait to see what's coming soon: a lake, an English garden and a Zen garden. We love knowing that once, Boojum was surrounded by raw desert, and now, as civilization grows, it will still proudly carry forth our Southwestern spirit, rich with indigenous plants and local charm. Boojum, you're beautiful.
If you're a book freak and you have some time left over after tucking into that brown-bag lunch, it's hard to find a brainier downtown work break than the Book Island. Nestled neatly at the foot of the Luhrs Building, the Island is a triple treat for any nerd with some spare time to kill. Not only is it a decently stocked secondhand book shop, but it's laced with some especially unique antique volumes. And to make the trifecta complete, if you look hard enough, you can sometimes find some jaw-dropping bargains.
Looking for a copy of Robert Payne's Life and Death of Lenin? Probably not, but they have it. Interested in an original edition of O. Henry's Roads of Destiny from 1922? It can be yours for eight bucks. And while most libraries may be complete without the first edition of Charles Knight's William Shakspere [sic]: A Biography -- circa 1880 -- it must be said that the Book Island not only has it, but it has it for a mere $25. Also keep your eyes open for its small stash of Little Leather Library books from the 1920s; tiny leather-bound classics, like Man Without a Country and Courtship of Miles Standish, each about the size of a cigarette pack, go for $10 apiece. Just the right size for you to devour during your next sack lunch.
If you like lowriders but the family car isn't ready for the change, how about just starting with a model? That way, you can get as elaborate as you like, as you customize your plastic dream, and not worry about how the family's going to get around in the meantime. Homies Hobbies is the perfect place for fulfilling your mini lowrider dreams.
When you're ready to work on a more human scale, Homies Hobbies can also help you build a lowrider bike. Custom seats, frames, springs, whitewall tires embossed with the word "lowrider" and a ton of chrome can be found here to help you make or customize your own low-to-the-ground bike.
And if playing with Barbie and Ken is becoming too boring for the kids, then Homies is still the way to go. It has a huge selection of the addictive and collectible "Homies" dolls. From Smiley to El Flaco, the complete collection of little homies is available, as well as the stickers, key chains and doll houses -- but we'd rather call them mini-cribs. And forget Barbie's Corvette -- you can lowride your Homie in your own customized minicoach!
In the bastion of beauty and newness that is far north Scottsdale, it's only fitting that the neighborhood's shiniest new resort, perched in the foothills of Pinnacle Peak, showcases the Valley's most stunning views.
Though it's unquestionably classy, this Four Seasons isn't your typical Scottsdale resort. Rather than rooted in glitz, its grandeur rises from nature. The patio adjacent to the Lobby Lounge and the elegant Acacia restaurant presents a postcard-perfect view of the High Sonoran Desert, which -- wonder of wonders -- still looks like a desert. The resort's construction emphasized efforts to preserve the land's natural beauty. (Natural beauty? In Scottsdale?) Even the few surrounding developments are earth-toned and modest, designed to complement the terrain.
Beyond the resort's lawn, the entire Valley stretches in the distance, framed by mountain ranges rising like fortress walls. On the right, the sun sinks behind Pinnacle Peak, painting the sky over the facing mountains. Order a fuchsia prickly pear margarita and watch the sky take on its color. Sit a bit longer and see that, in Scottsdale, even the stars show off.
Our friend parked at a high school football game in Mesa, then returned to his car to find his Jaguar stripped of its hubcaps. It seemed too easy that we might find the wayward caps at Hub-Cap City, itself a Mesa establishment. The grungy looking store is an endless array of gleaming chrome Frisbees, and the owner, after being pressed, nervously laughed that we didn't want to know where he got his inventory (he was kidding, really; a lot of his merchandise comes from manufacturer closeouts). No merchandise, he said, is accepted from high school students.
No Jags available today; turns out they're more precious than gold. But floor to ceiling is every other option, and priced at much, much less than a dealer. Crime doesn't pay, but when it happens, it's nice to know we can solve it for a few dollars less.
A recent newcomer to downtown, Red is the furniture boutique to satisfy your demanding inner Barbarella or George Jetson. It offers a swingin' assortment of mid-century modern chairs and couches, sleek lamps and streamlined tables, and you'll recognize a lot of the still-stylish classics, from Eames to Nelson. Conveniently located right next door to beloved vintage shop Spine, it rounds out a one-stop shopping experience for all of your retro needs.
Every owner of a lunky old professional Nikon or Canon has at one time dreamed of using his camera as a mace. This dream is the old bravado of old shooters in commune with the simple, perfect steel girth of the old pre-digital bodies.
But while most of us talk the talk, Jess Wells actually clocked a prospective thief with his Nikon FTN during a walk years ago back in New York City. A guy wanted his camera; Wells gave it to him upside the head. Major cred. Great story.
Try to find anything like it while buying a memory card at Best Buy.
Wells works at Lewis Camera Exchange, a store full of a little bit of digital but mostly soulful old F1 lenses and F4 bodies and Ilford paper and dangerous developing chemicals and oodles of institutional knowledge.
Vince Ruggiero started the store back in 1972. Most of his business still comes from ASU and other college students learning the fundamental arts and crafts of photography.
The digital age is hurting them. Five other real camera stores have folded in Arizona in the last five years because of lost revenue to megastores selling digital cameras and their memory cards.
But Ruggiero continues to survive, thanks to a loyal clientele. And clients are loyal because Ruggiero offers reasonable prices and, more important, staffers who know what they're talking about and love to talk about what they know.
Contrary to popular belief, you don't need a million bucks to look like a million bucks. In fact, if you have some groovy threads that you're willing to part with, you don't actually need any bucks, because Buffalo Exchange gives credit or pays cold hard cash for cool clothes. A steady stream of starving -- but apparently well-dressed -- ASU students keeps the racks at the University Drive location full of the latest in trendy, twentysomething fashion, some of it in mint condition and all of it for a song. How about a DKNY shirt for $15 or Abercrombie jeans for $20? You'll also find vintage stuff, tons of great shoes and purses, plus brand-new knickknacks like colorful tights, lip gloss and novelty books.
A Playboy Bunny stands in the entryway, holding a sign: "Playboy Presents: Bo's Funky Stuff." While she looks just as fetching as a five-foot cardboard cutout can, she's got nothing on the grass-skirted mannequin in the back, who -- with her dark hair and fringy eyelashes -- is a perfect, plastic, posable Catherine Zeta-Jones.
Pop goes the culture weasel at this ever-so-funky haven of '50s decor and soda fountain memorabilia. Nowhere else will you find a funky Mork & Mindy card game, a funky Clash of the Titans metal lunchbox, and funky old posters touting entertainment ranging from Vic Damone on the Pet Milk Show to Whitesnake's "Return of the Snakes" tour. A funky Hamm's sign features the beer's motto, "Born in the Land of Sky Blue Waters," next to a groovy moving picture of said land. Bo's funky animal selection includes a life-size stuffed camel with a moving head, and a ceramic dog with a Hennessy keg protruding from its neck.
Funky '50s fun includes an enormous Bob's Big Boy sign, a huge soda fountain and jukeboxes, one actually containing a song called "Cruisin' With the Fonz." Sure, Fonz was cool, but was he funky?
Materialist hell on Earth is having good taste without the means to acquire good things. Well, enlightened losers, now you can have your career passions while still wearing Cole Haans. Welcome to Last Chance, the final resting place of all the stuff Nordstrom couldn't sell for what it was almost worth.
If you don't mind the swap-meet frazzle, and you are mindful of watching for flaws, you can make a killing here. It's not uncommon to pay $29 for shoes here that are selling for $130 within a mile of the store. Ten-dollar shirts are $50 anywhere else.
Again, though, being smart is the key. Most every Last Chance aficionado has reveled in a purchase only to find a hidden tear or stain at home.
After all, Last Chance isn't just a name, it's a dire warning. But it's also a challenge.
Even girlie-girls need a place to buy their pipes, screens, pokers and papers, and some are intimidated by shelves of monster-size bongs, ultra-pierced salespeople, tweaker gear, and other non-girlie things liable to adorn the inside of the typical head shop. If you're more tree-huggin' than skull-wearing, you can literally spend days in this Valley looking for a good selection of "pretty" ways to smoke your herbal tobacco blend amongst the angry-looking wares of most shops. The Hippie Gypsy has pipes shaped like flowers, embedded with glitter, and sporting seashells in their shanks. The salespeople are friendly, and let you browse through the incense accessories, clothing, and Jerry artifacts as long as you like. They have an incredibly diverse selection of hand pipes, water pipes and everything else you need to make the 4:20 meeting in style, but they cater to people who are looking for a bit more "pretty" in their paraphernalia.
Cherries happen to be particularly "in" this season -- not as sustenance, but rather as a style element -- and count on Petit Chateau to offer up baby wares adorned with whatever's of the moment, and in the prettiest way possible. This is a great place for moms and baby-gift seekers who need a break from the uniformity of Baby Gap and Babies "R" Us. Each piece of furniture and every baby tee is a treasure, and most likely an heirloom. Pretty baby!
Michael Robertson's latest furniture boutique remains the best place to find great deals on well-worn bibelots. On our most recent visit, we brought home a pair of mahogany-veneer bed tables, a mid-century modern desk lamp, and a Bionic Woman styling head (the spitting image of Lindsay Wagner!), all for less than 50 bucks. A return trip netted us a set of slightly worn vintage gardening tools, an overstuffed deco-era armchair, and a rusty old apothecary that we cleaned up and turned into a quirky spice rack. We've recently developed a sick affection for weird old oil-on-canvas portraits, and there's always at least one waiting for us. And we're not ashamed to admit that we get up extra early for Michael Todd's quarterly truckload sales, during which we elbow our way through a crowd of local designers and antique dealers for some of the best furniture deals in town.
You're nobody, darling, if you don't know Fleur de Lis. It's the florist of choice for the rich and famous in the Valley. An average wedding runs $5,000 with Fleur de Lis flowers. Regular clients are said to spend as much as $525 a week to decorate their mansions. That charity ball designed to funnel funds to cancer? Perhaps $25,000 of the contributions goes to pay the flower bill at the dinner.
Owners John Johnstonbaugh and Sandra Sanchez are on to something. Within the carefully cluttered rooms of a former ranch house, the duo creates daring flower sculptures like a re-creation of the Cirque du Soleil. Their biggest job involved some conspicuous consumers who spent $35,000 just on a New Year's Eve party. "Lavish" and "decadent" are the words du jour here, with the most exotic flowers of the world arriving daily, then sprinting out the door to the melodic ching-ching of the cash register. It's a lucrative game, this petal pushing.
These days, the cycle of fashion is so speedy that the amount of time it takes for a piece of clothing to run the full course -- from chic to tacky, then to vintage status -- is barely more than a decade. Not every vintage store owner seems to be aware of that, and some shops' selection is stuck in a certain era. But the people at Spine have their fingers on the pulse of vintage trends, catering to everyone's tastes. A person seeking out 1950s cocktail dresses may not pounce on the same things as someone who favors Dynasty-era pouf dresses. Yet you'll find both at Spine, along with '60s bowling shirts, glam '70s leather jackets and timeless, comfy cords.
It's a guy thing: sitting in an old, hand-crank chair, talking weather and politics with some fellow your dad's age while he trims your hair. For those of us who disdain salons, who want to relive our childhood ear-lowerings, or who just really like the sound and feel of a good, old-fashioned electric razor cut, Sal's Barber Shop is the place to be. It's a follicle-friendly blast from the past, all the way down to the red-and-white-striped barber pole and the big jar full of combs floating in that weird blue stuff. Jersey native Sal Gurrieri has been cutting hair for 50 years, and his shop continues the time-honored traditions of barbery -- among them a talcum-powder brush-down and a waiting area stacked with back issues of Playboy. Even better news: A shave and a haircut -- or a dye job, permanent or beard trim -- will run you only a little more than they did in the good old days.
Lately, we've been spending more time at Boxers Men's Salon than we have at home. That's because, at home, we can't get a clipper cut, a full-body massage or a shoeshine. At Boxers, on the other hand, we can have our backs waxed, our teeth whitened and our beards trimmed. We can get shaved, have a facial and get a pedicure, too, because this downtown, full-service salon is overflowing with professionals who like nothing better than to manipulate us into looking and feeling better. In between appointments with our hair stylist (or our barber, who's headquartered in a separate room) and our manicurist, we can shoot some pool, play the glossy upright piano, or do some quick banking at the ATM in the corner. We like to finish off with a one-hour workout with Boxers' in-house weight trainer, followed by a relaxing hot-stone massage. All of this comes pretty cheap ever since we bought our own membership, which allows us almost all of the salon's super services for one low monthly fee.
This place isn't just a store -- it's a lifestyle. That is, if you're into all things "sleazy vintage." We're not talking straight-up Elvis, James Dean and Marilyn. Go Kat Go caters to the cheetah-clad Bettie Pages, the leather-loving greasers and the cocktail-swilling lounge dwellers of the world. Proprietors Chris and Brandi fill their store with a revolving selection of super swanky sofas, matching tables and chairs, too many gotta-have-'em lamps and candy-colored kitchen dinette sets. Shelves are stocked with space-age tchotchkes -- ashtrays, shot glasses, kooky figurines -- that make stylish gifts. There are racks of vintage clothes to help you look the part, and a case full of hot rod necessities like badass skull gearshift knobs, '50s-style hubcaps and rubber shrunken heads. And if it weren't for Go Kat Go, we just wouldn't know where to go to outfit our tiki bar.
Before you're halfway through the door, the litany begins: "Hi, welcome to Pink Flamingos. Today all yellow-glazed ceramic from the 1950s is 10 percent off, except for ashtrays and lamps. Also, all Stengelwear, except for serving bowls, is 5 percent off, and anything with a blue-striped price tag -- but not a green-striped tag or yellow-striped tag -- is 30 percent off, but only until 2:30!" Or something like that. The sale items may change every day, but one thing is constant: The pitch is always relentless, and it always makes us feel like extras in a zany Seinfeld rerun. While most folks visit Pink Flamingos for its well-organized selection of handsome old furniture and near-mint dishware, there are those of us who go there just to hear this astonishing greeting. No matter how often we go -- we've been shopping at Pink Flamingos for years, and have the cool loot to prove it -- we never tire of this zany mantra of merchandise.
Feeling lost, purposeless, out of touch with the angels flitting about inside your soul? (And, really, who isn't?) Get thy seeking self to downtown Gilbert, where the folks at the Enlightened Heart can arrange an Archangel Realm reading to "reveal what training your soul has, and the strengths and challenges inherent with your angelic experience." Finally!
The shop's other Intuitive and Spiritual Consulting services range from full-body aura photography -- pics snapped by the Aurastar 2000, naturally -- to chakra analyses to numerology readings.
Peddling "gifts, books and education for the conscious mind, body and soul," the Heart also hosts an array of classes and workshops. Trendy topics include belly dancing, astrology, dream interpretation, Feng Shui and tarot reading; yoga classes are held thrice weekly.
In-store gift options include "Colour Energy" bath products, bamboo bonsai plants in Oriental wisdom vases, and Zen alarm clocks. And should the answers you seek exist outside yourself, the Heart's Sacred Travel Partner Program coordinates journeys big and small, from the Sedona Vortex to Nepal.
This boutique -- barely a chain, as there are only a couple in the country -- is the place to find distressed wood furnishings and frames, casual linen clothing and beautiful beaded necklaces, earrings and even shoes: the essentials of the Shabby Chic ethic. But our favorite find is the gorgeous, straight-from-the-estate-sale-but-these-actually-work chandeliers. Adorned with colorful metal flowers and beads, each unique fixture is a work of art. They don't come cheap, but subtle style rarely does.
We had to drive by several times to make sure of this one. Some night, if you're barreling south past Camelback on 15th Avenue, you'll see a Mexican juice and taco stand making the most out of a gleaming Arby's sign that happens to be alongside it. Where's the beef, you ask? It's hiding in enchiladas, salads, soups, tortas and tacos. Imagine the mortified old couple who stops in for a roast beef sandwich and cheese sandwich and comes face-to-face with head and tongue burritos! Now that's roasting worth boasting about!
There actually is an Arby's on Camelback -- the dubious sign is directing you to Arby's drive-through lane -- but it's half a block away, obscured in two directions by a sprawling car wash and a window-tinting shop on the corner. So, in the interest of equal time, we think the Arby's people should put a sign directing them to Jugos y Licuados' parking lot and its equally lost-in-the-shuffle La Salsita annex. Perhaps this exchange of neighboring cultures can be beneficial to both sides. Arby's can pass along those calves' feet they don't use in their Big Montana half-pounders, and La Salsita can suggest other things to serve with rice besides broccoli!
We'd given up on getting anything other than attitude from men's department sales clerks until one recent afternoon, when we stumbled into Macy's at the Biltmore in search of a new necktie. We left with armloads of trousers, a new pair of Santoni loafers and a renewed respect for retail sales help -- all thanks to Gordon Joines, whose warm, gentlemanly assistance harks back to the days when Dad shopped in finer establishments in towns more stylish than this one. Gordon manages the nearly impossible: He points us toward more and better purchases without a single sales pitch. We leave feeling like we've had a pleasant visit with an old friend who happens to have impeccable taste and a store full of menswear at his disposal. During our first encounter with Gordon, he surprised us by knowing our collar size at a glance, and astonished us by gently suggesting a cut and color that proved more flattering than the costly rag we had planned to buy. We sometimes shop elsewhere, but we never find service we like as well as that provided by this stylish Southern gentleman.
Music salespeople can sometimes get snotty if you don't instinctively know the difference between Gibson, Fender and Taylor. That's why we love Central Music. They know their stuff, but it's no problem if you don't know yours. Whether you know everything or nothing about your instrument of choice, they will help you get what you need. And they should be good at it by now -- this place has been an institution in the Valley for more than 50 years. Central Music is the musician's music store, with a fantastic selection of sheet music, on-site instrument repairs, and a great retail selection of instruments and accessories, from capos to pedals. This is the ultimate place to upgrade or start your music career, whether you're a concert pianist, a future rock star or a junior-high band member.
Just for the record, this is decidedly not a jazz town. That said, here's a tip: You don't know what you've been missing. In Europe, Japan and a few more enlightened pockets inside the States, appreciation for jazz rarely has been greater, and with good reason. It's a far fresher genre than you know, especially if you limit your listening to the pabulum on KYOT-FM and the wonderful if predictable old-school fare offered at nights on KJZZ. If you'd like to see what's really up in jazz -- we're talking such artists as Greg Osby, Cassandra Wilson and Avashai Cohen, as well as such masters as Miles Davis, Duke Ellington and John Coltrane -- head to any of the four locations of Zia Records and start digging. They've got a great selection of used stuff, with an adequate number of new CDs on the shelf. For Phoenix, that is.
Those of you who bemoan the behemoth chain stores conveniently forget the many times Tower Records has saved your ass by having the record you were looking for at the last -- and we mean very last -- minute. Sure, when you're buying CDs for yourself, you can take your sweet time shopping around and getting a used copy of a Nick Cave album at half the list price. But when you're buying your little sister that copy of *NSYNC's first album, the cool, smaller shops won't have it. What if you have to give it to her today? Even last-minute Internet enablers like
Amazon.com can't get it to you the same day and, let's face it, that's when the very last minute falls.
Tower's airy new location at the Desert Ridge Marketplace has 14,000 square feet of CDs, cassettes (yes, places still carry them), videos and DVDs, plus an array of current magazines and stereo equipment. If you want to buy a Puccini CD for your dad, or that Raffi CD for your mom that she enjoyed playing more than you did, chances are it's in stock. A recent last-minute inspection to fill holes in the ol' record collection found the store carrying a dozen Hole CDs -- and six by a blues guy with the unfortunate name of Dave Hole. Their prices ranged from $12.99 to $14.99, with imports hovering just below the $20 range, besting the everyday regular price of your mark-up mom-and-pop fave.
Heck, why stop there? Check Tower's Web site to see what they have in stock; you can pretend it's Amazon and special-order a title. So cross yourself, ask your mom-and-pop outlet's forgiveness, clutch that Ziggy Stardust 30th-anniversary set that no one else in town has, and go to bed without any supper.
Who are the real music lovers? Some would say it's the MP3 people who obsessively download music from the Internet. This would be true if they actually
listened to half the glut they burn, print labels for and file away. No, these are just people who want something for nothing -- and who are never going to listen to all that much Dave Brubeck. Truly obsessive music fans spend their lunch hours poring over catalogue books, looking for a Martin Denny or Marianne Faithfull album they might have missed, and then hunting it down.
Most hunts end here at Tracks in Wax, where Blue Book value goes out the window if an item's not exactly flying off the shelves. While the list of vinyl albums finding their way to CD continues to grow, it's never going to encompass this shop's inventory of waxworks. Where else can you get failed experiments like the Kasenetz-Katz Singing Orchestral Circus or Chuck Berry's psychedelic dalliances at the Fillmore West with the Steve Miller Band? And both are priced according to desirability, at $5.99 and $15.99, respectively.
What of the countless soundtracks such as In Like Flynt and Out of Sight that have yet to make it to CD? Usual collector staples like the Beatles and the Stones are well-represented, with a large selection of 45 picture sleeves and 12-inches from around the world. Plus, the walls are lined with treasures you've never seen, except in grainy reproductions in a Goldmine magazine, priced at considerably less than the shaft prices that publication lists them for. Not in plain view are the thousands of 45s stashed in the back, listed in two yellow-and-green three-ring binders on the counter, which rarely exceed $5, even on an original label. Plus, you have knowledgeable owners Dennis and Donnie, who've been at this locale for ages and know the kind of stuff you've collected since you were a snot-nosed runt. With sections divided into jazz, punk, R&B, and male and female vocals, it'll take mere seconds to find what you're looking for, but you'll still inevitably be late coming back from your lunch break.
We love to travel, but leaving behind our menagerie (four cats and an obstreperous Dalmatian) can make for tough times away. Or it used to, anyway, before we discovered Angel Pet Nanny. These bonded, insured, animal-loving pet sitters come to call as many times a day as you like while you're off traipsing, and nothing -- not even a doggy diaper or a bathtub full of baby alligators -- will scare them away. Proprietors Ginger and Lori will keep the company of most any kind of four-legged pet, and will spend at least 45 minutes per visit combing, petting, walking and bathing it. They'll also take in your mail, water your plants or scoop out the cat box -- all at no extra charge. They leave behind a meticulously detailed journal (a nanny diary, if you will) of your pet's every move and, if you want, will call you every day or leave you a daily voice mail update on your pet's well-being. We never leave home for more than a day without them.
If you love something, set it free; if it doesn't come back, hunt it down and have it stuffed at Ron's Taxidermy Studio. In the Valley for 20 years, Ron Cowper is a state and federally licensed master taxidermist with more than 30 years' experience. At Ron's, all work is guaranteed for life -- or for the remainder of death -- and his habitat scenes will make your kill look serene or ferocious (depending on the mood) while hanging on your mantelpiece or sitting next to your bed. Prices range from $150 for a fox half-mount to $3,500 for a life-size moose. But Ron's not limited to big game. So bring in your weasels, badgers, ducks, quails, fish, snakes and sparrows, and he'll make a trophy of what the cat dragged in. And yes, he can even make the famous jackalope. A word of warning: Never cut a deer's throat if you want the head mounted and, if possible, bring in your heads no more than two days after death.
The Autom store is not only a great place to stock up on anointing oil, monastery incense, rosaries and crucifixes, but smart shoppers find the real bargains with proper direction. What Would Jesus Do? He'd bypass the shelves bursting with virgins and saints and head to the back of the store. There, a cart holds large brown paper grab bags, for $3 each, and announces that 5 percent of the bags contain cash. On a recent purchase, we got lucky for a buck, as well as inundated with almost enough Jesus merchandise to redeem the entire staff. While we were purchasing the Jesus Playing Soccer figurine, the clerk accidentally broke Jesus from the porcelain playing field. This broken Jesus would be repaired, then sent to the way-back, we were told, the secret Jesus outlet portion of Autom cluttered with a hodgepodge of holiness at rock-bottom prices.
Before visiting this "permanent safe haven for beads," our knowledge of beads was limited to two facts: 1) beads have holes in them; and 2) beads are easy to lose. We had no idea that an entire subculture is devoted to promoting the "appreciation of the historical and cultural significance of beads . . . from ancient, ethnic and contemporary cultures by means of collection, documentation, preservation and display."
Let there be no doubt: These people take their beads seriously. Exhibits include "The Shape of Beads to Come," "Learning Bead Lingo," and the undoubtedly divisive "Common Bead Names and Misnomers," while the museum's calendar features appearances by guest artists and an extensive array of classes and workshops. Almost 50 courses are offered this fall alone, ranging from the introductory "Basic Beading" to the advanced "Wedding Series," in which the expert beadhead crafts a necklace, earrings and headband to wear at her own wedding.
And the bead goes on. . . . The museum store is a truly international experience, peddling Chinese glass beads, Japanese seed beads, handmade Peruvian animal beads, German glass beads, Czech seed beads and Navajo-made jewelry.
Okay, so they're not exactly weeds, but master gardeners we are not. Outside the Glendale Main Library, nearly 1,000 different plant varieties grow on four acres. This collection of rare and unusual flora focuses on native and adapted plants that can be used in xeriscape design, including 600 varieties of low-water-use plants. The shrubs, trees, cactuses and sprouts are sectioned into handy categories, such as Cacti of Mexico and South America, Agaves of North and Central America, Berry Walk, and Medicinal Garden. (Suggestion: Add a "smokables" section.) Next to each plant is a sign listing its number, common name and scientific name -- sometimes even a book title for further reference.
As well-organized as this garden may be, some of these plants are practically begging for further categorization. Such as? 007's favorite plant: goldeneye. Plant that most sounds like a recreational drug: euphorbia. Plant most likely to sign for $252 million: Texas ranger. You get the idea.
Gifts Anon carries merchandise for every incarnation of the anonymously recovered, from sparkly "NO CAINE NO PAIN" bumper stickers to kids' books. Look especially for
Gangs and Drugs from the "Tookie Speaks Out Against Violence" series -- Tookie being Stanley "Tookie" Williams, co-founder of the Crips, who currently sits on death row, writing children's books in which he introduces the young to terms like "sherm" (PCP), "weed" (marijuana), "slinging drugs" and the dangers of "set-tripping." Self-help books in English and Spanish line the shelves, and behind the counter are coins for every anniversary (beginning with 24 hours) as well as videos such as
Rush,
28 Days and
Groundhog Day.
Also, with each purchase you are allowed to pull a "positive thought" from a fishbowl by the cash register.
Our monthly visit to cranky Aunt Betty on the west side always necessitated a calming visit to one of the better day spas in the tonier part of town. That is, until we discovered Savant, a full-service salon with all the comforts provided by better-known beauty stops. Now we save ourselves a drive to Scottsdale by dropping in at Savant's new 2,400-square-foot west-side digs (they've been teasing and curling and toning for 15 years), where we're given the full spa treatment and released, fully recovered from Auntie's sour attitude and prune Danish. We get a haircut, a massage and a manicure, and if we wanted to, we could also get a dye job, a pedicure, and a waxing. Savant's long list of treatments includes facials, glycolic peels, scalp treatments and expert makeup consultations. We're tempted to look into aroma wraps and salt rubs, and we may yet. Because even though Aunt Betty is gone now, we're still making monthly visits to Savant.
Few things excite us like the phrase "by the pound." Imagine walls of fabric -- piles and shelves of it -- everything from leather to lamé, stacked, hung and rolled into every nook and cranny of SAS's orderless shelves, sans any recognizable categorical system. True, you can't go in looking for something specific unless you have three hours to search every shelf, but if you're a crafty type looking for inspiration for your next project, just walk into SAS and you will be instantly transformed into the most creative person you know. Besides the fabric at rock-bottom prices, they have buttons by the cupful that are older than your mom, as well as scraps, trim, notions, ersatz jewels and our favorite: the famous aisle of grommets. SAS is a costumer's delight, a craftmaker's paradise, a stitcher's wet dream . . . but a warning: It also can be an OCD sufferer's version of the seventh level of hell.
Sharing a block with a Mexican restaurant and a row of showrooms shilling Southwestern furniture, it sits there like the visiting bumpkin cousin at Christmas dinner. Maybe it doesn't fit in, but we have to count it as one of our own. Big Red of the Desert is a place of safekeeping, a source of succor, for a very specific set of people in the Valley -- misplaced Nebraskans. Inside, you'll find all manner of material devoted to the NCAA's perpetual naturals, the University of Nebraska Cornhuskers.
You heard right. All they sell is Huskers gear: sweat shirts, jogging pants and every possible riff on the tee shirt, from tank top to toddler size. Collapsible tailgate chairs are in long supply, too, and so are Husker stickers, license plates and foam beer can coolers. Why do they call the team "Big Red"? Because it beats the shit out of "Cornhuskers." But more important, why is this store here, in a city known not for football but for its sunny climes? Well, if you've ever been to Nebraska, you might understand that it's an even trade.
Since the deregulation of the taxi business, the streets of south Scottsdale, Mesa and central Phoenix have been filled with colorful taxis bearing Spanish names and plastered with advertising for everything from Food City to chiropractic doctors. And Mayas Radio Taxis are one of the first and largest squads on the streets. Their cars are clean, colorful and come in a bunch of sizes, all bearing the large Aztec pyramid logo. Flag one down and you get more than a lift; you get a guide. Hop in and ask the Spanish-speaking driver to take you to the best local eatery or dance club. They seem to know everything! Their rates are $5 minimum and $1.25 per mile thereafter. And unlike their counterparts in Mexico, these taxis, for the most part, obey traffic laws.
Hands full? No car? No problema! The best place to catch a Mexican taxi is outside the Food City grocery store at 20th Street and McDowell. But for that matter, most Food Citys in Mesa and Phoenix now have lines of cars ready to provide you with their services, whether it's Taxi Azteca, Mayas or one of the many independent cabbies. And there are enough there that you know you'll find a cab big enough to fit your load of groceries, ranging from the family minivan to SUV to economy car. You rarely have to wait, and the drivers are often ready to help load your groceries for you. With such service, who needs a car?
Once you step inside the doors of La Michoacana, it's like you're transported back to Mexico. And with good reason. The ice cream recipe it uses is from the original and famous La Michoacana from Michoacán, Mexico -- creamy and flavorful with exotic flavors, like pia, melon, mango, mamey, coco, limon, durazno, horchata, jamaica, tamarindo and sandia, to name a few. There's also a giant selection of flavorful fruit Popsicles made from either a cream or a water base. Another favorite is the sweet and spicy pico de gallo, a giant fruit cocktail with powdered chile, lime and salt over a selection of watermelon, cantaloupe, strawberries, pineapple and fresh peaches. Also try the Mexican version of berries and cream topped with a light drizzle of whipped cream -- now that's cool.
Sometimes it's good to find yourself surrounded by suckers. Like when you're at a dulceria candy store as cool as Dulceria Pico Rico. Inside you'll find suckers, suckers and more suckers. Some are made to look like a mango and are sprinkled with chile and lime, others are made of goat's milk caramel. How about some watermelon-flavored hard candy with more chile and lime? Tamarind and chile? Every imaginable combination of candy from Mexico, with a whole range of sweet, exotic tastes, sits in row after row of large plastic bags just waiting for you to dig into. You can also find a great selection of piatas and other party favors to round out whatever event you're hoping to sweeten up. The cashiers mostly speak Spanish. But when you have the international language of candy, who needs English?
You can find a Mexican carniceria on just about every corner in downtown Mesa, Phoenix, Avondale and Chandler. But if you're in the mood for making some Salvadoran tamales or popusas, then the unique Pan Americano can come to your rescue. Aptly named for the Pan American highway that runs through Central and South America, this is your number one source for those hard-to-get ingredients you need from south of south of the border.
Goya products are abundant, as well as elusive ingredients, like fresh banana leaves for making those succulent tamales. You can also find delicious Salvadoran and Venezuelan specialty baked goods, made fresh daily. Plus, Pan Americano is clean, centrally located and nicely stocked with other wares, like flags, magazines and music from most Latin American countries. And if Latin American cuisine is where you're palate takes you, be sure to check out the Pan Americano restaurant at Seventh Street and Camelback.
Past the pretty wooden façade and row of split rail fencing at Ranch Market sits the Valley's most exciting selection of Mexican staples, desserts, produce, meats, cheeses, seafood and more. The quality is supreme, even if sometimes shocking (a whole beef head, eyes still in, stares at us from the meat case, its open mouth stuffed with an ear of corn). Anything we could ever want is available in beautiful form: fresh coconut, mango, papaya, peppers of all kinds, fresh herbs, tamale husks, guava gel, carne seca, whole buffalo fish, beef lips, pork feet, and on and on.
But since cooking isn't our favorite thing, we're thrilled with the skills of the cooks at the take-away food court. The bakery churns out rainbows of pan dulce, postres, cakes, bread, rolls and cookies. The "Oasis" sells salads, fruit waters and salsas (wonderful shrimp cocktail, ceviche, pico de gallo, tropical frescas). And the busy restaurant next to it swarms with people scrambling for Styrofoam containers of first-class Mexican favorite dishes, immensely cheap at just $2 to $5 for a full meal.
You can take your pick at a long, enticing buffet line set up in front of the flaming gas grills where quick chefs cook everything from scratch: chile Colorado tacos, toothsome tortas, fat sandwiches and enormous burritos.
And for the ultimate, the Ranch prepares family and party packages serving six to 18. There's a choice of roasted chicken or carnitas, paired with rice, beans, salsas, macarron, tortillas, chips, ceballos, cilantro and Coca-Cola. Just know that this isn't gringo Mexican -- meats are drier, spices are hotter, every part of an animal often is used.
There's no question -- this takeout takes us away.
Selection and ingredients are what make La Estrella stand out as the Valley's best Mexican bakery. Considering how tiny it is, it has an impressively varied selection of breads that are just too tasty to pass up. The pan de huevo is soft and delicious (because of, we think, the powdered milk Estrella adds to the recipe). Plus, hard-to-find pan fino, fleite and resposteria are found here fresh daily. A second location in south Phoenix, on Central Avenue, is also making La Estrella label tortillas and wonderful white masa and serving a small selection of Mexican culinary specialties. And at the original location, there's a large assortment of Mexican household products to go with those loaves, like magazines, medicines, soaps, detergents and CDs, all crammed into the small storefront. To our eyes, La Estrella is a true Panifidora Mexicana.
Forget the leaden treats served at the state fair. Fry bread here is the real thing -- virtually greaseless, a pillowy puff peeking through the softest veil of vegetable oil. But that's the lightest thing about these two-hand monsters, folded over in fat tacos and stuffed with lots of good, goopy fillings. Favorites include a vegetarian, with smoky beans, green chiles, produce and sour cream; or a chorizo beef combo crammed with truly spicy pork sausage and the usual accompaniments of melted Cheddar, beans and lettuce. When fillings run low, we tear off hunks of plain bread and dip it in thin, fiery hot sauce.
And we can never say no to dessert, fry bread topped with our choice of golden honey, powdered sugar, chocolate and butter. Fattening, but who cares? It's our party, and we'll fry if we want to.
Although Mexico can claim the origin of some really beautiful pre-Columbian art, Fine Art Tattoo can stake a claim to having one of the best selections in the United States -- especially if the artwork you're talking about is a perfect Virgen de Guadalupe tattoo. In its Thomas Road shop, Aztec, Toltec and Mayan art is beautifully displayed, ready for the willing body canvas. Jesus and the Virgin, in various poses, present lots of other options, too. You can also customize a drawing or a photograph, and resident artists Jesus and Gerardo will help bring your vision to your skin.
