La Vida
To paraphrase an old saying about a dead cat, you could swing a baseball bat in this town and hit a piñata. Many grocery stores sell them, and you can easily cruise 16th Street in central Phoenix and find a wide selection. But would it be wide enough? This year, our little princess didn't want a princess piñata. She wanted a piglet. And not just any swine would do; she wanted Piglet — you know, from Winnie-the-Pooh. After exhausting our brick-and-mortar possibilities, we got online and found Arizona Piñatas. We called, and a cheerful employee complied, agreeing that Piglet would be ready by Friday. And would we like it delivered? What? We just about dropped the iPhone, we were so happy. Yes, absolutely. And, sure, throw in the matching stick to whack the thing with. This endeavor wasn't cheap, we'll warn you. But, boy, was it worth it. Piglet arrived on our front porch on time as promised and was the life of the party until, well, until he wasn't.
People often refer to Phoenix as a young city, but our burgeoning metropolis has a pretty old soul. That's why our hearts delight when we have the opportunity to drive past what used to be the El Mural bar in west Phoenix. It's been years since anyone's hoisted a drink there, but the outside is still emblazoned with the beautiful work of Victor Caldee. Though of Cuban origin, the artist (with the help of Miguel Dominguez) brought together a bevy of Mexican icons: music and entertainment heroes Beatriz Adriana, Lola Beltran, Vicente Fernandez, and Jose Alfredo Jimenez, and revolutionaries Pancho Villa and Emiliano Zapata. The spirit of old Phoeniquera barrios is further connected to a past long gone via the depiction of a Mayan figure and pyramid surrounding El Mural's entrance.
For the past several years, the Desert Botanical Garden has thrown the best Dia de los Muertos party in town. This year, the festivities — held Halloween weekend and the first week of November — promise to be grander than ever, with performances, food, and hands-on crafts for the kids. Oh, and a mercado! We'll be sure to stop by to check out the wares offered by Bets and Nancy Nenad, two adventurous Phoenicians who travel through Mexico to bring back a fine, fun selection of skeletons in many forms — from plastic to papier-mâché. Hey, it's a living.
The Hispanic equivalent of the bat mitzvah or "Sweet 16" party, the quinceañera marks a Latina girl's coming of age. It's easy to find a respectable dress for the event, but only at a true tiendas de bodas can you get service to fit a quince's exact needs. Owner Ofelia Martinez understands the Hispanic market and, more importantly, understands young Hispanic women. Her shop carries a wide range of colorful gowns and specializes in "plus sizes," which means girls with curves won't have to stretch and tug their way into a stick-girl dress. Fluffy, traditional quinceañera dresses in shades of peach and robin's-egg blue are plentiful. If the quince is a modern gal, perhaps a more contemporary sheath dress — in ivory white to please la familia. The shop also does in-house alterations and carries latilla veils, rosaries, crowns, and gloves to accessorize the little princess. Whether the quince wants to look like Cinderella or J-Lo in The Wedding Planner, Ofelia has her covered.
At one end of this cavernous, winding mishmash of spaces is a room packed with all kinds of crosses — metal, tin, wooden. At the other end, there's a room full of hand-tooled gun holsters. In between is just about any Mexican tchotchke you can dream of: small wooden guitars, leather wallets, ceramic pots, embroidered dresses. We felt like we'd died and gone to Nogales. Beware: The neighborhood, across the street from the Arizona State Hospital, is in a rough part of town near Van Buren Street. Obviously the owners are aware of their surroundings. The place opens at 9 on weekdays, but whatever the time of day, you'll need to ring the bell before they'll let you in.
Let's be honest: Too much that goes on in Sand Land stays in Sand Land. That's to say, if a saguaro falls in Cactus Country, unless news of it reaches beyond the borders of the state, it sometimes seems as though it never happened — no matter how great the injustice involved. So when a rock star like Zack de la Rocha champions the fight for civil rights in Arizona, it's a big deal. De la Rocha, formerly of the incendiary L.A. band Rage Against the Machine and currently of the duo One Day As a Lion, has infused the struggle against Sheriff Joe Arpaio with energy and passion, drawing a whole new crowd to the pro-immigrant marches demonstrating against Arpaio's racial-profiling sweeps and the federal 287(g) agreement with ICE that empowers them.
On February 28, a march de la Rocha participated in, from Steele Indian School Park to downtown Phoenix, drew nearly 5,000 demonstrators. Then, on May 2, he led 2,000 in a seven-mile walk from downtown Phoenix to Arpaio's Tent City. During both stays in Phoenix, he signed hundreds of autographs to raise money por la causa, and he gave speeches and impromptu concerts. De la Rocha's participation in Arizona activism appears truly selfless and guided by the memory of de la Rocha's own immigrant forebears from Mexico. More important, his efforts here have garnered press for this struggle far beyond Maricopa County, where folks know too little of the truth about Arpaio's reign.
Scottsdale resident Dennis Gilman is used to being threatened by nativists. They've called his house. Posted his address on the Internet. And whenever he shows up at, say, the Macehualli Day Labor Center in north Phoenix, where vicious nativist groups such as United for a Sovereign America keep vigil with their guns, he attracts them like a magnet, and the verbal abuse often seems close to spilling over into violence.
Being that he's as Irish as a pint of Guinness, Gilman doesn't like to back down. Also, as he'll tell you if you ask, you'd get better footage when you're up in their faces. See, Gilman is the Michael Moore of the local pro-immigration movement. His weapon is a video camera, and he uses it to expose the hate and prejudice in Arizona that seem as plentiful as scorpions. The footage he edits ends up on his YouTube channel HumanLeague002. Because of his efforts, thousands have seen the raw ugliness of the immigration debate at ground zero. Activists from around the world now seek out his mini-documentaries. And he often scores footage that the local and national news media pick up after the fact. He's what more journalists used to be: scrappy, defiant, and beholden to no one.
We have to give it up to former state Senator Alfredo Gutierrez for creating this bilingual Web site, one representing the future of Arizona and the Southwest. La frontera refers to the border, and Gutierrez stretches the meaning to encompass the exchange of culture, news, and language that occurs in states like ours — where America meets Mexico, English meets Spanish, and Anglo meets Hispanic. There's immigration, Sheriff Joe, and Arizona politics from a Latino perspective, but there are also pieces on art, literature, popular music, and food. Much of the site is in English, but there's plenty in Spanish as well. The result is a Web site that brings people together — in a cool, non-schmaltzy way — rather than pushing them apart. And if we gabachos pick up a word or two of español in the process, that can't be a bad thing, now, can it?
Nogales Hot Dogs #2, Sonoran-Style Hot Dogs
There's nothing quite like dining al fresco. The fresh air, the stars, and a killer view are all part of the deal. At Nogales Hot Dogs #2, the view may consist of cars whizzing by, but, hey, that's all part of the charm. For seven years, Pablo Perez has been dishing up a little slice of heaven known as the Sonoran-style hot dog. Tucked into a fresh bun and wrapped in bacon, these babies come smothered in beans, mayonnaise, and chopped tomatoes. Feel free to load up with guacamole, salsa, two kinds of cheese, and more. Meaty, messy, and marvelous, these pockets of perfection are a measly $2.75 a pop. Pablo's even got a TV tuned to the latest telenovela, so take a load off and stay a while. We never said dining in a parking lot would be fancy, but these dogs sure make it worthwhile.
Fast-food joints like to get their dictator on whenever a non-automobile attempts to order at the drive-thru. Not so at Antonio's, which won't discriminate against folks who roll up on two wheels. Basically a Filiberto's clone, this spot on 16th and Roosevelt streets serves bicycle-riding or walk-up customers 24 hours a day as they look to satisfy their cravings without a car.
We're not saying you shouldn't keep buying a couple dozen tamales from your grandma's friend's neighbor at Christmastime. It's just that you might want to branch out a bit. Year-round, along with its location on Cave Creek Road north of Cactus, The Tamale Store operates stands at several Valley farmers markets (check their Web site for where and when). Sample a short list of flavors, buy a warm tamal or two for a strolling lunch, and stock up on easy-to-prepare frozen tamales in such flavors as chicken mole and blueberry cream cheese. They're the real deal, with corn-husk wrapping and fresh meats, cheeses, produce, and carefully chosen spices. Fluffy masa, no lard, and love and pride in every bite . . . Is there any occasion when a tamal is not the perfect food? No, friends, there is not. And it's not just our little secret, so you might want to call, fax, or e-mail ahead to make sure The Tamale Store can set aside your favorites for you.
Carolina's is legendary. A Phoenix institution. A family-owned business for more than 40 years. And now, it's bigger than ever. While the Mohave location remains ultra-busy, serving the downtown business crowd as well as hungry locals, and Carolina's on Cactus keeps people well fed in the North Valley, this past year has seen the addition of a third Carolina's, in Peoria. The expansion was inevitable, we think, because Carolina's tortillas make everything taste good. They're deceptively thin and fragile-looking but, boy, do they ever make good burros — somehow, they can wrap up a shocking amount of green chile with beans or chorizo with potatoes in one of the hot-off-the-griddle tortillas. Once upon a time, we're sure that Carolina's had a cult following. But these days, it's a full-fledged tortilla army.
We're not sure which is more fun: walking into La Tolteca to catch a whiff of fresh bread and the mouthwatering selection of baked goods displayed in cases at the front of the restaurant, or walking out with a bag full of fragrant confections that we'll inevitably devour as soon as we hop in the car. We're talking huge cookies, macaroons, rolls, fruit-filled empanadas, tortillas, and irresistible tres leches cakes, available in regular sizes and party-worthy sheets. No matter what kind of sweets we're craving, La Tolteca always has what we're looking for. And when we're lucky, it's still warm.
We're never too busy to get our grub on at Los Compadres. That's because this institution makes it easy to grab our favorite Mexican dishes to go. Counter service is quick, and everything's packaged to take home, even if we end up snagging a table to eat on the premises. We love the top-notch beans and rice, 10 different kinds of soul-satisfying burros (machaca's a good pick), and anything with their mouthwatering green chile beef. Better yet, the prices are so cheap that we can come here all the time and still spare a couple bucks for an order of hot, puffy sopaipillas with honey. Reliable, delicious, and cheap? It's really no wonder Los Compadres has been a local fave for more than 50 years.
For as long as we can remember, Comedor Guadalajara has been the place in South Phoenix to throw a bangin' dinner party for all of your nearest and dearest — without the hassle of straightening up around the house and actually, uh, cooking. Once you set foot in this sprawling restaurant, you'll understand why it was made for a fiesta; one spacious, colorful dining room leads into another, and then another. And the menu is all about splurges, particularly the jaw-dropping parilladas, surf-and-turf grilled plates heaped with carne asada, carnitas, whole fish, lobster tail, and more. Other specialties include chicken in red mole sauce, steak picado, and chiles relleno, along with combination platters that cover the standards, like flautas, tacos, and tostadas. And don't worry if you're dining solo — Comedor Guadalajara is so festive that you'll feel like the celebration's just for you.
There's a reason this cozy, family-run restaurant is such a success — it makes gluttony seem not only acceptable, but pretty much mandatory. Love the chips and salsa? They'll keep 'em coming as long as you keep munching. Got a craving for a chicken burro or a crispy chimichanga? You'll gasp when you see the size of one, stuffed almost to the point of bursting. The enchiladas are great, too, slathered in spicy sauce that's lick-the-plate good. But our favorite thing on the menu is so scrumptious that our tummy rumbles at the thought of it. It's Pedro's machaca-stuffed quesadilla, lightly grilled and oozing with meat and cheese. Pure hedonism in every bite. And at Pedro's, that's what they aim for.
For such a tiny little spot, El Molino Mexican Café has a surprisingly large menu — and everything on it is delicious. How do they make it so good? Consider it the wisdom of five generations of family cooks who've passed down the recipes that El Molino still uses today. Its discreet location makes it seem off the radar, but it's actually a Valley institution that was founded in 1937. Fans come here for mouthwatering specialties like luscious machaca and top-notch red or green chile beef, tucked into burros, quesadillas, and more. Another plus about this place is all the stuff available to go, like masa by the pound, tamales by the dozen, and everything you need for a feast at home, from salsa and tortillas to taco fillings. It's enough to make you feel like you're part of a big Mexican family, which is why we love this place.
You have to give props to Restaurant Mexico for being a survivor in the Tempe dining scene. In more than three decades in business, this humble but determined eatery has had to pack up and move three times (alas, blame it on development). In an area where so many beloved institutions are now just the stuff of legend, Restaurant Mexico's longevity really is something to applaud. But, of course, the real reason it's still around is because of the food, which is pretty novel in these parts. While Sonoran-style dishes are the default at most Mexican joints, this place dishes up the cuisine of Mexico City. That means outstanding sopes topped with chorizo, quesadillas that defy the ordinary (they're deep-fried masa, stuffed with goodies), and plenty of crumbly white cheese instead of the gooey yellow stuff. Students naturally flock here because of the modest pricing, but it's really the food that has a following.
What a classy little spot this is, located right along downtown Chandler's bustling restaurant row (fitting, since el zócalo refers to a quintessential Mexican town square). Given the airy high ceilings, the crisp white tablecloths, and the rustic tiled roof over the kitchen, you'll think you stumbled into a stylish bistro in a hip Mexico City enclave. There's even a lush patio out back, the perfect place to sip margaritas on a balmy Arizona evening. The menu is just as sprawling — from casual bites like tortas, tacos, and quesadillas to lavish entrees like shrimp chile relleno and pork green chile. And mole de pollo is a must-try, with moist shredded chicken slathered in a creamy sauce of chocolate, red chile, and ground nuts. Trust us, you'll want to hoard the tortillas so you can slurp up every last drop of it.
It's finally the weekend, and after last night's overindulgence, we need hair o' the dog, big-time. A Bloody Mary sounds like the ultimate cure, so we're on a mission to get to The Mission for a perfectly crafted version of this classic a.m. cocktail (or maybe a mimosa if we have a sweet tooth). Then we can dig into a scrumptious Latin brunch that never fails to make us smile. At this stylish Old Town spot, decorated with chandeliers and dripping candles for a decadent vibe, morning munchies get a glamorous spin. Think corn pancakes with Dungeness crab, cilantro, and smoked pasilla crema; chorizo scrambled eggs with chipotle grits; and cinnamon pecan waffles with dulce de leche crema. In the midst of a long workweek, The Mission's satisfying brunch is the light at the end of the tunnel.
Yeah, yeah, we know we're giving away one of central Phoenix's best-kept secrets here, but more people need to know about this splendid little nook. Who knows how many people drive right by Mariscos Playa Hermosa's humble storefront without knowing how charming it is inside — friendly service, a full bar, and colorful, tropical décor? Even more appealing is the presentation of the seafood dishes here. Everything's lavishly served with limes and avocado slices and fresh vegetables, almost too pretty to eat. But eat we will — zingy camarones culichi in a punchy tomatillo sauce, tender red snapper in a heady garlic sauce, tostadas heaped with cold ceviche, and beautiful cocteles brimming with shrimp, oysters, and octopus in cilantro-tinged tomato broth. It's a refreshing taste of the ocean, right in the middle of the city.
Once you get a taste for ceviche, you'll find that it's as habit-forming as sushi. Although this fish isn't quite raw, you see — it's gently marinated in citrus juice for a little extra zing. And Deseo's got the most creative ceviche in town, thanks to the wizardry of chef Douglas Rodriguez (a James Beard Award winner considered by many to be the inventor of "Nuevo Latino" cuisine), who developed the menu. Deseo offers nine different spins on ceviche, including ahi tuna with candied citrus, lime sorbet and mustard oil, and lobster escabeche with avocado, chives, aji, and chips. Our favorite is the "Millionaire Tacos," with lobster, ahi, and hamachi on tiny yuca tacos. We're not sure how the dish got its name, although we do feel like we've hit the jackpot when we eat it.
The 99-cent fish taco night at Las Glorias Grill in Phoenix is a long-standing and deservedly popular Wednesday tradition. The tender whitefish is grilled rather than deep-fried, then folded inside a warm corn tortilla, garnished simply with crumbly white Mexican cheese, lettuce, and a surprisingly light sauce. Two or three will fill you right up. A Corona or two at a buck-fifty a pop, and a decent tip for the very friendly servers and, what, you're out a whopping $7. We promise, you'll be back for more next time you're near the neighborhood.
Before you yawn at the thought of eating a quesadilla — one of the most run-of-the-mill Mexican dishes around and, perhaps, the most frequently gringo-ized — we want you to think beyond the generic cheesy creation that's stuck in your head. Think of something more substantial, with a savory masa crust around chicken and cheese filling. Imagine the whole thing slathered in tomatillo sauce, piled with shredded lettuce and crumbles of cotija. And now think of sinking your teeth into that. It doesn't sound like a quesadilla at all, really, but it's just a regional Mexican specialty. Like so many other tasty dishes at Huauchinango, the quesadillas are cooked in the style of Puebla, in Central Mexico. Different is delicious, and Huauchinango is proof.
Si Señor really brings the heat. An Arizona spin-off of the Castillo family's restaurant in New Mexico, this place specializes in tantalizingly tongue-searing dishes that put our neighboring state's famed Hatch chiles to good use. Free chips and homemade salsas get your taste buds primed, but prepare to rev things up even more with the spicy, luscious red chili con carne. Sure, it's hot, but it's got a complex, roasted chile flavor that shines, accented by chunks of melt-in-your-mouth pork. (If you want to go nuclear, order the chunky green chili con carne; it's just as addicting.) Cool off between bites with a refreshing, unusual sangria margarita (a house specialty), and you could ride the heat wave all day.
There's something about Rito's that feels like an insiders' club — maybe it's the lunchtime line snaking out the door or the complete lack of signage on the building, which is off the beaten path in a central Phoenix neighborhood. And, indeed, there is a very special secret about this place, although it's one we share with everyone who loves good Mexican food. It's the unforgettable green chili burro, packed with tender chunks of pork. Wrapped in a fresh tortilla, it's comfort food at its best. But there's something else you should know about it: Be careful when you take your first bite, or you'll wind up with green chili all over your shirt. And then you definitely won't look like an insider.
The unforgettable carne adovada at Los Dos Molinos is doubly seductive — slow-cooked, melt-in-your-mouth pork combined with the heat of red chile marinade. What's the kitchen's secret? It uses New Mexico red chiles, whose distinctively rich flavor takes the dish to a whole new level. If you're impatient to get a taste of it, the easiest plate-to-mouth delivery method is a Los Dos burro, neatly wrapped in a fresh flour tortilla. But if you have the time and appetite to splurge on a mountain of fork-tender pork, order the adovada ribs. They're a house specialty here, and they're so good that we can hardly shut up about them (unless we're in the middle of eating them, of course).
Thanks to La Barquita's lengthy, covers-all-the-bases menu, there are plenty of reasons to stop by this affordable, no-frills neighborhood joint on McDowell. From crispy chicken-stuffed flautas to chile verde with pork to mouth-searing camarones rancheros (shrimp in spicy ranchero sauce), there's a dish for just about any craving. The real reason we come here, though, is to eat a dish you just can't find anywhere: birria. To put it less eloquently, in English, it's goat meat. The way La Barquita serves it up is al estilo La Barca, Jalisco — that is, Jalisco-style. Cooked until it's falling off the bone and served in its own lightly spiced juices, the meat comes with steaming tortillas, diced onion, fresh cilantro, lime wedges, and hot sauce. No rice, no beans, no distractions. Just how we like it.
We doubt many folks would drool over any menu description that mentions corn smut, because it sounds like something gnarly that Bizarre Foods host Andrew Zimmern would seek out on his Travel Channel show. But call this fungus by its Nahuatl name, as they do in Mexico, and it has quite an appetizing ring to it: huitlacoche. This is the magic ingredient in Sierra Bonita Grill's scrumptious mini-quesadillas, with menonita cheese, spinach, and huitlacoche wrapped in fragrant corn tortillas. Pico de gallo and black bean and hominy relish make tasty embellishments, but we prefer them plain — the better to savor the mushroom-y taste of these "Mexican truffles."
The Salvadoran specialty called a pupusa is one of our all-time favorite budget eats, usually ringing up at about two dollars each. But that's hardly the reason we can't resist 'em. Truth is, they're so satisfying to sink our teeth into — thick corn masa patties filled with cheese and other flavorful ingredients, like black beans, pork, or loroco, an edible flower native to El Salvador that tastes sort of like broccoli or dark leafy greens. Restaurante Salvadoreño's pupusas, fresh off the griddle, have a light, toasty crispiness on the outside and just the right amount of gooey melted cheese inside. We dare you to eat only one.
We're pretty convinced that the more ingredients there are in a mole recipe, the quicker you'll be hooked on it once you try it. But of course, we'll never know for sure because the best mole recipes also happen to be the most closely guarded — and for good reason. The flavors are so rich and complex that it takes only one taste to fall under mole's charms. There are numerous styles of the sauce in Mexico, all made with various kinds of chile peppers, herbs, spices, and other ingredients. Luckily for us, Barrio Café cooks up not one but two fantastic versions: a zesty mole rojo and a dark, potent mole negro, which contains chocolate. Slathered on a juicy chicken breast or rolled up in enchiladas, either one is worthy of licking the platter clean.
Awesome tacos on made-to-order tortillas? Top-notch tortas on fluffy telera bread? Thirst-quenching homemade aguas frescas? It's hard to pick just one thing from Gallo Blanco Café to rave about. Still, we think the elote callejero represents everything that's great about this hip but unpretentious eatery inside the Clarendon Hotel. The grilled Mexican street corn is simple, fresh, and ridiculously tasty, a huge cob of juicy kernels kissed with smokiness from the grill. It's covered with a handful of salty cotija cheese, with just a dusting of smoked paprika to enhance the sweetness of the corn. Chef-owner Doug Robson would surely protest that this is humble, everyday fare in Mexico City, and maybe he's right. If anything, though, that's only more reason to love it.
At this point, Tortas El Güero has a cult following. Why? Once you take a bite of one of its enormous Mexican sandwiches — stuffed with meat, thick slices of ripe avocado, pickled jalapeños, lettuce, tomato, and mayo — you can't help but inhale the whole thing with giddy delight. The soft, lightly toasted telera bread gives way to succulent fillings like moist chicken or juicy cochinita (sort of a Mexican pulled pork), which pair well with a cold cup of horchata or a bottle of Mexican Coke. These beauties are plenty filling (and remarkably cheap, too), but if you're feeling extra-hungry, try the extra-hearty Cubana, layered with sliced ham, breaded beef, roasted pork, and cheese. Before you know it, you'll be part of the cult.
A jaunt to Rocky Point may seem like the quickest route to an authentic Mexican street taco, but it turns out that the real thing can be had a lot closer to home. Of course, you'll still be logging a lot of miles heading to El Nopalito, but only because of the many repeat visits we're sure you'll make once you taste their fantastic tacos. Tucked into tiny, fresh corn tortillas that you can in eat a couple of bites, the homemade fillings range from spicy al pastor and rich carne asada to succulent pollo, and they're all topped with diced onion and fresh cilantro. Served with tiny halved limes just like the ones at streetside taco stands in Mexico, they'll make this spot on 24th Street feel just like south of the border.
America Corrales doesn't mess around. At her adorable little restaurant — tucked into an old house, like so many of CenPho's quirkiest eateries — she's totally up-front about what her kitchen does best, and that's carne asada, pure and simple. The delectable smell coming from the grill will clue you in before you even get a taste of the smoky, perfectly seasoned beef. Step up to the counter and let them know your preferred delivery method. Do you like a sturdy burrito, wrapped in a thick, fresh tortilla? Or how about a few tacos, easy to gobble in a few bites? If sandwiches are your thing, try the carne asada in a torta, or get your cheese fix with some of the chopped meat in a quesadilla. Bottom line: If you're ready to satisfy your primal urges to eat some sizzling beef, you can't go wrong here.
With a name that translates as "100 agaves," this Scottsdale restaurant's specialty is crystal-clear. Approximately 100 tequilas, including almond- and pomegranate-tinged varieties and Gran Centenario Rosangel hibiscus tequila, are available by the shot or in margaritas with flavors such as cucumber and prickly pear. Guests can even sign up for a Tequila Club and receive drink specials and event news in their e-mail in-boxes. Tequilas are available in four varieties — blanco, reposado, anejo, and extra anejo — in order of aging, with blanco being fresh out of the plant and extra anejo being oak-aged for three years. If you're not sure which variety suits your palate, sample a tequila flight, offered for $18. Lightweights, just be sure to grab a few of Cien Agaves' tacos and tostadas while taking this flight, or you'll soon learn the true meaning of "one tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor!"
Listen closely: There's this drink in town. It's a drink you must try. It's a drink we hear calling our name in the summer months. We'll catch a whisper of the word, "Sangriaaaa" in the winds of the monsoon. In this heat, a boozy iced beverage is just what we all need to make life manageable. And we've found the best white version of it in the Valley. It's at the quaint Lola Tapas restaurant in the Camelback Corridor. Once the thermometer reaches 100, you may well see us parked at the family-style tables, gnawing on traditional Spanish tapas of shaved jamón or a slice of tortilla as the ice melts in our pitcher of white sangria. The folks at Lola keep it simple (white wine, lemon juice, and Triple Sec), then spice it up with sliced peaches and whole sticks of cinnamon for an aromatic teaser. Be sure to ask your server for an extra fork to fish out the peach slices if you really want a healthy buzz to set in. And if you're with a companion, go ahead and shell out for the $28 pitcher because one glass each will just leave you panting for more.
Wine-lovers are the first to line up for good sangria, but getting a beer drinker to try the fruity wine cocktail is like getting a child to eat foie gras instead of chicken strips. That's why we're sold on Ticoz's passion fruit sangria. Everyone we've cajoled into drinking the stuff — from our beer-swilling husbands to Harley-riding, whiskey-drinking Cousin Lou — can't get enough. Cloudy magenta in color, Ticoz's red sangria is made with Oak Creek Cabernet and a splash of real passion fruit, pineapple, and orange juices. The citrus notes are the highlight, masking the bitter taste some wine-haters complain about. It's also light and refreshing enough to accompany Ticoz's awesome weekend brunch. But don't be fooled. It's way too easy to down a couple or three of these before you even notice the buzz, so take your time and feel free to load up on Ticoz's massive taco salads or a hearty gringo breakfast of chicken-apple sausage and farm eggs before driving home.
We've consumed many a silly mojito in our day — including, heretically, one with an umbrella in it — and we held out no great hopes for the interpretation of the national drink of Cuba served up by tiki-couture chain Trader Vic's. But this Trader Vic's ain't your mom and dad's kitschy '70s version of the island restaurant. The new-millennial Trader Vic's, while still plenty of fun, is damned serious about its high-end surf-and-turf and its extensive repertoire of tropical drinks.
The Vic's mojito is an unadorned but perfectly crafted blend of the five sacred ingredients (white rum, sugar, lime, carbonated water, and mint leaves), served in a plain, tall highball glass. It's lip-smacking good and as deadly as a voodoo snake. We downed a pair of the blessed vipers in the sublime open-air lounge. The first knocked us loopy. The second had us dancing in the fire pit. Ah, Polynesian paradise.
We usually go to this ravishing canal-side eatery to see and be seen — not to drown our sorrows. But then we stumbled onto a gorgeous new twist on the classic margarita that has us second-guessing our sobriety. The white peach and hibiscus margarita is a lovely soft pink, served on ice in a tall glass. But don't let its pink-lemonade looks fool you: This drink packs a tasty punch, with subtle tequila blanco, hibiscus syrup, and such an authentically delicate white peach flavor that you could never mistake it for the cloying nectar you get in a can. It's the perfect drink for a special occasion — but down too many, and it'll be an occasion you won't want to remember (not that you'd be able to).
With the economy dragging, we've become a little less shy about pinching our pennies in public. If we're hitting a bar or a club, then we're pre-gaming at the Circle K around the corner with our friend, the tallboy. If there's something a bit dressier popping, we're filling our flask and hitting the lavatory to indulge between slow sips of overpriced wine at the table. Thankfully, Mi Patio exists to alleviate some of our shame. Their $1.75 margaritas are a good way to drink in the company of others with no shadiness. The refreshing cocktail of choice at the Mexican grub house is like our cad-in-arms, Hugh Grant — it doesn't necessarily pack a huge wallop, but it certainly does the trick. At the cost of your average 24-ounce beer cannon, you can actually afford to have a few and act the fool.
The margarita can be a tricky mistress. Ordering one on a per-glass basis, really, is only going to lead to one or two more. So, you might as well ante up and go hard with a full pitcher. That goes double if you're cavorting with friends. And if it's been a hell of a week for your crew, then you should probably triple up. If you do resort to ordering margaritas by the pitcher, then we can give no greater recommendation than the cocktail that Oaxaca slings by the gallon. Its homemade margarita concoction is a bit more limey than the average margarita around town — but who wants average?
We've long been fans of horchata, the delightful, delectable Mexican rice milk. But even our affection for that sweet drink did nothing to prepare us for the joys of the White Rabbit, an horchata-based cocktail at the downtown hotspot SideBar. A sweet yet never cloying mixture of horchata, Frangelico, and White Godiva liqueur, the White Rabbit is served in a giant "up" glass with a sugar rim — kind of like the adult version of the last sweet drops of milk in your bowl after a breakfast of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Yummy!
If your weekend plans involve a trip to Club Rain in Scottsdale, it'd be wise to apply a few extra coats of Axe body spray, because the pulsating Latin dance warehouse (situated in the same McDowell Road mini-mall that houses the lively Club Tropicana) gets quite muggy with its wall-to-wall levels of writhing bodies. To paraphrase the Fergalicious one, there are lots of girlies wiggling their fronts in the go-go cages or moving to the beats that will surely make "ya bump ya rump." During Sexy Saturdays, the club's biggest night, that means plenty of dollops of reggaetón and pop en español emanating from DJs working the ones and twos at a claw-like booth. By the end of the night, it's almost guaranteed you'll leave Club Rain a few pounds lighter, que no?
Weekends are traditionally prime time for Latin dance nights around the PHX, with discotecas like DWNTWN and Scottsdale's Club Rain making serious scrilla by spinning up tropical sounds and other muy caliente beat treats for hundreds of Hispanics. Club Silver also gets in on the action with its self-described "urban Latin night" every Saturday night, and it's a supersize Sábado smackdown featuring chicas aplenty grinding their collective culos to the music emanating from DJ Skandalis' turntables. (Ladies also get in free before 11 p.m.) The Power 98.3 spinster's mix of reggaetón by artists like Wisin y Yandel and Hector El Father goes with dollops of cumbias from Pee Wee and Kumbia Kings, as well as some salsa and merengue for good measure. Skandalis recently brought in his bro Kyko to help out on the decks, which means there's double the DJ action.
It's been three years or so since the proprietors of Karamba broke many a scenester's heart by pulling the plug on the infamously wicked Hot Pink! electro/glam night. But the hipster community's loss has proved to be the gay scene's gain, as the notorious night was replaced with Vertigo Fridays, which has become a big hit with the Latin LGBT crowd since launching back in 2006. The club becomes a virtual "body shop" during the evening as a bounty of booful barrio boys come out to show off their ab-fab abs and soak up the Latin dance jams and reggaetón broadcast by the talented DJ Melo. If that doesn't satisfy your man-candy cravings, a variety of go-go boys are featured and are usually seen dancing atop several platforms. After last call, the 18-and-over crowd can also join in the fun, as high-energy dance music is spun until 4 a.m. for those who wanna party long into la noche.
Even though they're not very active in the sleepy resort town, warring Mexican drug lords have put a damper on things in Rocky Point. But Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers still put on one of the best parties you'll ever attend. Clyne, who's made a career out of mythologizing the restless beauty of life in the border towns in the Sonoran Desert, gives his diehard fans ("Peaceheads" they're called, much to their chagrin) from across the country a chance to live his songs for a weekend with this now-annual event. Even for non-fans, it's a blast: Circus Mexicus is like partying in Key West with Jimmy Buffett during his deadbeat years. The event culminates in a three-hour show in which the Tempe-bred former Refreshments singer and his band play pretty much every song in their catalog while fireworks periodically explode overhead, but the entire weekend is a blast for anyone who enjoys Tecate, tacos, or the beach.
Competition is stiff among markets catering to the local Hispanic community — heck, even Wal-Mart's entered the fray this past year. But the hands-down best place to get your Mexican shop on is still Phoenix Pro's (formerly Phoenix Ranch) Market. To call it a grocery store just doesn't do it justice. It's an experience that turns stocking your pantry into a full-on fiesta. Conventional wisdom would tell you not to go shopping on an empty stomach, but we recommend bringing your appetite, so you can feast on a burro at the busy food court, snack on ceviche at the seafood counter, slurp up an agua fresca, or grab an ice cream cone before you start filling your cart. From there, you'll be busy raiding the well-stocked produce department, watching fresh tortillas being made, and ogling an array of meats, perfect for making carne asada or fajitas at home. Whether you show up with a list of Mexican specialty items or just feel like wandering the aisles, we dare you not to have a little fun while you're here.
Immigrant raids, detentions, deportations. We read about it in the local news, but rarely do we get to know the people behind the headlines. That's where James E. Garcia comes in. A journalist, Arizona State University professor, and playwright, Garcia uses his literary talent to put a human face on the immigrant drama that is played out every day in downtown Phoenix.
The characters of his plays include day laborers, children torn from their families by immigration raids, and Mexican-Americans struggling with their own identities. We particularly liked Dream Act, a play about a smart young woman brought to the United States as a child by her undocumented parents. She aspires to go to medical school, but is blocked by her immigration status. Then there's Garcia's new play, The Tears of Lives, which follows three children who are left to fend for themselves when their father is caught up in an immigration raid. Based on true events, the children survive on their own for nearly a month before they are finally discovered and helped by local activists.
Garcia started writing plays in 2004, drawing upon his experience as a journalist. "Writing plays is the perfect combination of letting your imagination run wild and having an editorial opinion about the climate," he says. "Pretty much everything I've created onstage is also a commentary on the world I'm living in." Sounds good to us.
Macayo's is more than just a nice place to have dinner. This renowned Mexican restaurant is a great place to go to relive your lunchtime past over a plateful of flautas and a bowl of pico de gallo, because it's been standing on North Central Avenue for decades, and there's hardly anyone who can't recall having dined there "back when." Macayo's is also a traffic hazard, at least for out-of-town visitors or newbies who can't help but take their eyes off the road to gaze in shock (and possibly horror!) at the restaurant's gaudy façade. Its multi-hued, step-down front — which emulates the over-the-top stylings of a Mayan temple — has been screaming to passing traffic for decades.
This tarted-up Mexican mainstay is also a movie star, having appeared rather infamously in the 1969 movie Chastity, starring Cher as a hippie hitching rides in front of Macayo's. And, perhaps most notably, Macayo's is a leading chapter in the history of Mexican-American cuisine, because it is allegedly the place where the chimichanga was invented.
But we digress, because while Macayo's may be a local landmark, it's mostly a restaurant where people both famous (Bill Cosby, Fleetwood Mac, the Obamas) and infamous (Elvira, Liberace) have dined. Those of us outside the spotlight have also eaten at this garish Central Avenue location, which threw open its doors in 1952. When we're not dropping in for chips and salsa and quesadillas, Phoenicians can feast their eyes on the spectacle of our very own downtown Mayan temple.
If there's anything going down in Guadalupe, William Robles is the first to know about it. That's one reason why so many reporters stay in contact with the local community activist, who can often be seen doing security for different private and city events or patrolling the square-mile municipality of 5,000 souls on his bike.
If Robles spots something happening, like a fire truck pulling up to a blazing home or MCSO deputies arresting a fellow Guadalupano, the 40-year-old acts as a one-man news outlet, firing off e-mails to local TV and print reporters. He also keeps them apprised when there's an important town hall meeting, a religious celebration, or a festival coming up.
Robles seems to be at every protest and every community gathering of note. And his activities are not just confined to Guadalupe. When the MCSO did a sweep of faraway Avondale, Robles was there to protest the sheriff. When Zack de la Rocha came to town last time, Robles was there, too, marching with his big drum, banging out a beat that seems to keep the nativists and Minutemen at bay.
In fact, days before the big May 2 march led by de la Rocha, Robles walked all the way from Guadalupe to the Wells Fargo Building in downtown Phoenix, where Sheriff Joe Arpaio keeps his offices. It was his personal protest for those suffering in Arpaio's vast incarceration complex. Dressed in black on a hot spring day, he carried before him a flag bearing the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe.
When he's not on patrol or involved in a demonstration, Robles is usually studying computers at South Mountain Community College or spinning a combo of hip-hop and Yaqui music as "DJ BigWill" on the Yaqui tribe's radio station, KPYT 100.3 FM in Tucson. Robles is part Yaqui, like Guadalupe itself, which is half Yaqui Indian and half Mexican-American.
An easygoing guy, Robles is quick with a laugh and a joke. He likes Dr. Pepper and Chinese buffets and razzing his friends. Truth be told, it would be hard to imagine Guadalupe without him.
If Phoenix human rights activist Lydia Guzman has ever had a lazy day in her life, we haven't seen it. Guzman, who heads two vital immigrant rights organizations, Respect/Respeto and Somos America, is usually a blur of motion. You might hear her voice on Spanish-language radio, urging listeners to call Respect/Respeto about being racially profiled. Or you might get the seat next to her when she's at the Legislature keeping an eye on hateful, anti-immigrant bills being considered there. And if Arpaio's doing a raid of a local business, collaring mothers and fathers and other regular workers at candle-making factories or car washes, Guzman will be there, too.
You might catch her on the evening news, talking about the hunger strikers in Joe's jails or the MCSO's atrocity du jour. But you won't catch her for long. Part of her duties at Respect/Respeto is gathering "testimony" of civil rights abuses and racial profiling. So she spends a lot of time on the phone with moms weeping because one of their grown children has been nabbed by the MCSO for being in the country sans papers, or interviewing crying children who've lost their moms and dads in the same manner. Often, she ventures into the jails, like to Estrella, to visit with Hispanic women who allege injuries at the hands of Arpaio's detention officers.
Best of Phoenix 2009 In Photos
Guzman also cries a lot. The tears flow when she sees others recounting the pain or abuse they've endured. As you can imagine, it's emotionally draining, less a job than a calling. Something she has to do. Ask her what she wants for her birthday, and she'll tell you, "Joe Arpaio indicted and the 287(g) program ended." She's a selfless individual. But, hey, she ain't no saint. She can cuss up a storm when she's pissed. But she never forgets to give you a bear hug when you bid her goodbye.
Earlier this year, Guzman was elected president of Somos America ("We Are America," in English), a patchwork quilt of local organizations that came together during the 2006 pro-immigrant marches and demonstrations. The organization's prime directive is "to mobilize for social justice and equal rights for immigrant communities in Arizona." In other words, Guzman has her hands full. Again. Here's hoping she remembers to take a vacay once in a blue moon. Because one thing's for certain in "Ari-bama": the suffering and injustice will be here when she returns.
Alberto Alvaro Rios is a writer with a keen eye and an open heart who knows how to get out of the way of his own material. And the man's got some material. Born in Nogales in 1952, the son of a Mexican father and an English mother, he chronicles the real and imaginary borders that divide us as well as the unlikely things that bring us together. Regarding his childhood, Rios once said, "Spanish was all around me, but my mother was there, too — with a British accent. I had a zoo of sounds." His memoir about growing up on the border, Capirotada (it's the name of a popular Mexican bread pudding), won the Latino Literary Hall of Fame Award, and was designated the One Book Arizona choice for 2009. He's also written 10 books and chapbooks of poetry, the most recent of which is this year's The Dangerous Shirt, and three collections of short stories.
If you've been to the Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art, you've probably seen his poem "The Museum Heart" engraved on the wall in the building's lobby. In 2005, when Vicente Fox, then the president of Mexico, visited Arizona, Governor Janet Napolitano asked Rios to write a poem commemorating the occasion. He did, in English and in Spanish. The poem concludes: "Let us turn the map until we see clearly / The border is what joins us / Not what separates us." For over 27 years, students at Arizona State University have had the benefit of his instruction; these days, he's a Regents' Professor there, with an endowed chair in English. He's also tried his hand at playwriting, and he hosts Books & Co., the locally produced PBS show featuring interviews with contemporary authors. Rios has lived all over the state, and now resides in Chandler. Fittingly, the Arizona Historical League has bestowed its lifetime achievement award on him, designating him an Arizona HistoryMaker. Gracias, Alberto. Thank you.
It's the coolest clique in town — a group of female artists who practice their craft(s) in the name of their heroine: Frida Kahlo. Once a year, the Phoenix Fridas throw a birthday party for the enigmatic late artist (she would've turned 102 this summer) and every day, they make art that — in one way or another — honors her spirit. The best-known member is Kathy Cano-Murillo of "Crafty Chica" fame, but local painters Tracy Dove and Emily Costello are also members, as is Leticia Amezaga, who does everything from playing in a band to designing a line of clothing — and she's a pro at the Bedazzler. ¡Viva la Frida! And long may the Phoenix Fridas craft.
There is only one chef in the Valley who would have no qualms about referring to the majority of the men in the culinary world as "10-foot-high tokes."
With her cropped hair, unedited demeanor, eclectic art collection, and some of the best leg tattoos around, Silvana Salcido Esparza is clearly as badass as they come. Oh, and she's also one of the Valley's best-known and most respected chefs. Esparza owns and runs Barrio Café with her partner, Wendy Gruber, and serves up some of the best "Mexican-inspired" cuisine, as she calls it, that we've ever had.
It says, "Save water, drink tequila" in a footnote on her menu, but Esparza's secret, she says, is love. From the enchiladas del mar to the decadent slow-roasted pork with achiote rojo and sour orange with salsa Yucateca, Esparza puts her heart and soul into her food. "You cook with love," she says, and she makes sure of it every day (if she's angry or upset, she says, her food refuses to turn out right).
A baker's daughter from Merced, California, Esparza has her mother's recipes memorized on her heart, as she puts it, and she puts her father's bread on the table for every meal served at Barrio Café. She spent six years working in a bank in Miami, Florida counting the cash brought in daily by cartels, before she gave it up and went home when her mother was diagnosed with cancer. She spent a year learning about her Mexican roots through her mother's food and helping her fight the disease before taking her place at the Scottsdale Culinary Institute in the early '90s.
Then, in 2000, just as she turned 40, she quit her job, cashed in her 401(k) and sold or gave away everything she had but her '68 VW. She headed to Mexico to spend the next year of her life learning from — and cooking with — the people of Mexico. She slept on mats in huts in tiny villages and went from place to place by bus. She told the people she met that she had come to Mexico to get in touch with her soul, and to find her voice. She did.
Esparza has taken a true Phoenix barrio, at 16th Street and Thomas, where her restaurant is located, and turned it into one of the Valley's culinary draws — all without selling out, or compromising her roots, or becoming any less badass.
"We put it together with love," she says of the restaurant. And we love to eat there.
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