Long before it became popular to take homeopathic remedies, Mexicans have used herbs as a natural, ceremonial alternative to traditional medicine. The problem is finding the yerberia that supplies just what you're looking for. But for an inexpensive cure to your every ailment, Yerberia San Francisco is a one-stop homeopathic shop. Stomach hurt? Some yerba buena (or "good herb," otherwise known as peppermint tea) will soothe that pain. Baby crying and won't let you sleep? Try some manzanilla tea with honey. Ear ringing? How about some ruda herb wrapped in a paper tissue and placed in your ear for 24 hours? You'll also find jars and jars of other herbs, along with dried snakes, and religious and ceremonial items that are used in traditional healing. There are eight locations throughout the Valley.
BEST SPANISH LANGUAGE TV/RADIO PERSONALITY
Johnny Dilone (Mas Channel 55)
480-607-9222
BEST SOUTHWESTERN RESTAURANT
Z'Tejas Grill
several Valley locations
BEST SALSA
Macayo's
several Valley locations
BEST MEXICAN RESTAURANT
Garduño's Margarita Factory
8787 North Scottsdale Road,
Scottsdale
BEST MARGARITA
Garduño's Margarita Factory
BEST TEQUILA SELECTION
Garduño's Margarita Factory
BEST SPANISH LANGUAGE TV/RADIO PERSONALITY
Johnny Dilone (Mas Channel 55)
480-607-9222
BEST SOUTHWESTERN RESTAURANT
Z'Tejas Grill
several Valley locations
BEST SALSA
Macayo's
several Valley locations
BEST MEXICAN RESTAURANT
Garduño's Margarita Factory
8787 North Scottsdale Road,
Scottsdale
BEST MARGARITA
Garduño's Margarita Factory
BEST TEQUILA SELECTION
Garduño's Margarita Factory
There's no better way to relieve stress than to bash the shit out of someone with a large stick, and you can do this legally at Reyna's Party Place. With a few days' advance notice, and for around $25, Reyna's people can provide you with a custom-made piata -- just bring in a photo or a description of the character you would like to create. Stuff the offender with tiny plastic airplane bottles of scotch and beat your papier-mâché nemesis into a newsprint-and-crepe-paper pulp. Reyna's also rents bouncy castles, helium tanks, tables, chairs and other festive necessities, including mini-handcuffs and stink bombs.
There's no better way to relieve stress than to bash the shit out of someone with a large stick, and you can do this legally at Reyna's Party Place. With a few days' advance notice, and for around $25, Reyna's people can provide you with a custom-made piñata -- just bring in a photo or a description of the character you would like to create. Stuff the offender with tiny plastic airplane bottles of scotch and beat your papier-mâché nemesis into a newsprint-and-crepe-paper pulp. Reyna's also rents bouncy castles, helium tanks, tables, chairs and other festive necessities, including mini-handcuffs and stink bombs.
Boss on your case? Feeling hexed? If you're in need of a quick spell removal -- or a spell installation, for that matter -- Las Potencias Africanas might be able to help. The small storefront next to the Azteca Cafe offers just about anything you might need for a self-help take on the ancient Catholic-and-African-fused method of Santeria -- including its darker cousin, Palo Mayombe. Some practices might call for frog legs and dried hummingbirds, so it's a good thing it has them on hand. Plus it has original artwork by local Latino artists, incense, religious items, soaps, candles and music, along with readings of tarot cards and chamalango (coconut shells). And just to round out your expertise, there are even classes available in spiritual candle- and soap-making, for the more advanced spell-it-yourselfers.
Boss on your case? Feeling hexed? If you're in need of a quick spell removal -- or a spell installation, for that matter -- Las Potencias Africanas might be able to help. The small storefront next to the Azteca Cafe offers just about anything you might need for a self-help take on the ancient Catholic-and-African-fused method of Santeria -- including its darker cousin, Palo Mayombe. Some practices might call for frog legs and dried hummingbirds, so it's a good thing it has them on hand. Plus it has original artwork by local Latino artists, incense, religious items, soaps, candles and music, along with readings of tarot cards and chamalango (coconut shells). And just to round out your expertise, there are even classes available in spiritual candle- and soap-making, for the more advanced spell-it-yourselfers.
Long before it became popular to take homeopathic remedies, Mexicans have used herbs as a natural, ceremonial alternative to traditional medicine. The problem is finding the yerberia that supplies just what you're looking for. But for an inexpensive cure to your every ailment, Yerberia San Francisco is a one-stop homeopathic shop. Stomach hurt? Some yerba buena (or "good herb," otherwise known as peppermint tea) will soothe that pain. Baby crying and won't let you sleep? Try some manzanilla tea with honey. Ear ringing? How about some ruda herb wrapped in a paper tissue and placed in your ear for 24 hours? You'll also find jars and jars of other herbs, along with dried snakes, and religious and ceremonial items that are used in traditional healing. There are eight locations throughout the Valley.
From 10-inch heels to cowboy boots, you can find it all at Paco Paco. Gay or straight, you can dance to the beat of Shakira, Ricky Martin and cumbias all night long Tuesdays through Sundays, usually for just a $3 cover. The dance floor is small but often packed tight with a lively crowd jamming to the techno beat of the latest Spanish hits. Plus the bar is long, the music is always loud and driving, the barstools are squeezed together tight and the crowd is usually all Latino. If you ask us, that's more than enough to make Paco Paco a good bet for a love connection.
From 10-inch heels to cowboy boots, you can find it all at Paco Paco. Gay or straight, you can dance to the beat of Shakira, Ricky Martin and cumbias all night long Tuesdays through Sundays, usually for just a $3 cover. The dance floor is small but often packed tight with a lively crowd jamming to the techno beat of the latest Spanish hits. Plus the bar is long, the music is always loud and driving, the barstools are squeezed together tight and the crowd is usually all Latino. If you ask us, that's more than enough to make Paco Paco a good bet for a love connection.
Better get some extra padding for that black lace outfit! Seedy, dark, loud and desperately in need of a face-lift, Club Zarape is home to beautiful, campy drag shows that are a blast to watch. On weekends, a cover charge gets you in to dance to cumbias, salsa, mambo, Tejano or just about anything else that gets you going. Or you can just sit back and enjoy a stage show featuring fake Latin divas like Shakira and Paulina Rubio. It's always jammed, and for our money a trip to Zarape is most fun with a group of friends. Just give your straight guy friends this word of caution: The stunning, beautifully dressed and perfectly made-up women are not quite women.
Better get some extra padding for that black lace outfit! Seedy, dark, loud and desperately in need of a face-lift, Club Zarape is home to beautiful, campy drag shows that are a blast to watch. On weekends, a cover charge gets you in to dance to cumbias, salsa, mambo, Tejano or just about anything else that gets you going. Or you can just sit back and enjoy a stage show featuring fake Latin divas like Shakira and Paulina Rubio. It's always jammed, and for our money a trip to Zarape is most fun with a group of friends. Just give your straight guy friends this word of caution: The stunning, beautifully dressed and perfectly made-up women are not quite women.
Start polishing those cowboy boots and dusting off that big sombrero, because if it's Tejano or norteo music you're looking for, El Capri is waiting. For a $5 cover charge on weekends, you get admission to Tejano heaven. Inside you'll find two massive dance floors packed with couples moving and grooving quebradita-style -- like a Mexican tango -- fun to dance to and even more fun to watch. Plus the bar's got a vast assortment of Mexican and domestic beers, and the service, like the clientele, is strictly Spanish-speaking. Want to sing instead of dance? The always-packed Sunday nights are Noche de Aficionados featuring open mikes with live music.
Start polishing those cowboy boots and dusting off that big sombrero, because if it's Tejano or norteño music you're looking for, El Capri is waiting. For a $5 cover charge on weekends, you get admission to Tejano heaven. Inside you'll find two massive dance floors packed with couples moving and grooving quebradita-style -- like a Mexican tango -- fun to dance to and even more fun to watch. Plus the bar's got a vast assortment of Mexican and domestic beers, and the service, like the clientele, is strictly Spanish-speaking. Want to sing instead of dance? The always-packed Sunday nights are Noche de Aficionados featuring open mikes with live music.
Love to sing? From Julio Iglesias to Enrique Iglesias, you can give it your best shot -- in Spanish.
Whether you're after some karaoke or real live mariachi, either way you can start warming up your vocal cords for Casa del Mariachi. The new-from-the-ground-up Casa stays true to its name, featuring nightly live variety shows; check out the open mikes on Thursday nights featuring Noche Bohemia and the live mariachi on Sunday afternoons. Watch as dozens of sober and not-so-sober amateurs attempt to serenade you with both good and shaky voices. And take advantage of the well-stocked bar with its assortment of beers and tequilas, no matter what the music is like. Tequila, you'll find, can help you either enjoy or endure.
Love to sing? From Julio Iglesias to Enrique Iglesias, you can give it your best shot -- in Spanish.
Whether you're after some karaoke or real live mariachi, either way you can start warming up your vocal cords for Casa del Mariachi. The new-from-the-ground-up Casa stays true to its name, featuring nightly live variety shows; check out the open mikes on Thursday nights featuring Noche Bohemia and the live mariachi on Sunday afternoons. Watch as dozens of sober and not-so-sober amateurs attempt to serenade you with both good and shaky voices. And take advantage of the well-stocked bar with its assortment of beers and tequilas, no matter what the music is like. Tequila, you'll find, can help you either enjoy or endure.
In Mexico, the streets are full with street vendors, shoppers and folks just out for a stroll. And we get flashbacks of that whenever we're traipsing along 16th Street in Phoenix. The stretch from Van Buren north to Thomas has quickly become a district of one-stop shopping for everything Mexican, with lots of foot traffic at all hours of the day or night. This is where you'll find one of the best Mexican bakeries, as well as a candy and piata shop, bridal stores, automotive repair shops, a Spanish-speaking locksmith, a very large Goodwill, butcher shops and even a grocery (an especially rare find downtown).
This lively street also boasts some of Phoenix's best Mexican eateries. Starting from the south end, you can visit Asadero Hermosillo -- a mesquite-fired grill serving a wonderfully marinated chicken, steak and ribs. Restaurante Hacienda serves authentic Mexican food, as does the Guadalupana, which also serves southern Mexican. Tacos Mexico has live mariachi on weekends and, of course, a great selection of tacos.
In Mexico, the streets are full with street vendors, shoppers and folks just out for a stroll. And we get flashbacks of that whenever we're traipsing along 16th Street in Phoenix. The stretch from Van Buren north to Thomas has quickly become a district of one-stop shopping for everything Mexican, with lots of foot traffic at all hours of the day or night. This is where you'll find one of the best Mexican bakeries, as well as a candy and piñata shop, bridal stores, automotive repair shops, a Spanish-speaking locksmith, a very large Goodwill, butcher shops and even a grocery (an especially rare find downtown).
This lively street also boasts some of Phoenix's best Mexican eateries. Starting from the south end, you can visit Asadero Hermosillo -- a mesquite-fired grill serving a wonderfully marinated chicken, steak and ribs. Restaurante Hacienda serves authentic Mexican food, as does the Guadalupana, which also serves southern Mexican. Tacos Mexico has live mariachi on weekends and, of course, a great selection of tacos.
Chips and salsa. They go together like love and marriage. A horse and carriage. Like Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, Batman and Robin, Britney Spears and her belly button, they're inseparable.
We're addictive dunkers, never able to stop at just one basket. But we're highly particular about our chips. They must be thin, crispy, lightly salted, blooming with rich corn flavor, not greasy, and served warm (cold chips, bleh). We're stuck up over our salsa, too. No puny tomato purée will do -- some pico de gallo is always welcome, but at least one of the dips has to be a flame-thrower.
We've found the perfect combination at Cantina!, the upstairs restaurant next to the Boulders resort (they can't keep us off the pretty patio, sipping margaritas and double-dipping like nobody's business). Chips are yellow and blue corn, airy crisp. Salsas are inspired, both in variety and in macho flavor. We start with the complimentary servings of salsa dulce (mild) and salsa media picosa (regular), both thick with fresh vegetables.
Five others flavors beckon, and they're all dramatic: salsa picante (sweet and spiced), salsa verde (sharp, metallic jalapeos and tomatillos), salsa tejana (gutsy garlic, cumin and spice), salsa arbol (seriously hot) and salsa habanero (bring-us-to-our-knees fiery). For just $5, we get a variety pack, a thrilling taste-bud tour of picante, arbol and verde.
These chips are champs, and these salsas sure sizzle.
Chips and salsa. They go together like love and marriage. A horse and carriage. Like Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, Batman and Robin, Britney Spears and her belly button, they're inseparable.
We're addictive dunkers, never able to stop at just one basket. But we're highly particular about our chips. They must be thin, crispy, lightly salted, blooming with rich corn flavor, not greasy, and served warm (cold chips, bleh). We're stuck up over our salsa, too. No puny tomato purée will do -- some pico de gallo is always welcome, but at least one of the dips has to be a flame-thrower.
We've found the perfect combination at Cantina!, the upstairs restaurant next to the Boulders resort (they can't keep us off the pretty patio, sipping margaritas and double-dipping like nobody's business). Chips are yellow and blue corn, airy crisp. Salsas are inspired, both in variety and in macho flavor. We start with the complimentary servings of salsa dulce (mild) and salsa media picosa (regular), both thick with fresh vegetables.
Five others flavors beckon, and they're all dramatic: salsa picante (sweet and spiced), salsa verde (sharp, metallic jalapeños and tomatillos), salsa tejana (gutsy garlic, cumin and spice), salsa arbol (seriously hot) and salsa habanero (bring-us-to-our-knees fiery). For just $5, we get a variety pack, a thrilling taste-bud tour of picante, arbol and verde.
These chips are champs, and these salsas sure sizzle.
Phoenix is only four hours from the Mexican border. You'd think we'd be swamped with excellent, authentic Mexican restaurants. Not so -- unless your idea of real Mexican cuisine is that bloated chain stuff topped with a tiny paper flag. For the real deal, we go to Acapulco Bay, where we can sample some of the finest comida Mexicana y mariscos found -- dare we say it -- in all of Maricopa County.
It's a long menu, and everything is extraordinary, from the camarónes ahogados (fresh, whole raw shrimp "cooked" in lime juice with cucumber, tomato, red onion and spices) to the parrillada for two (a combo of Baja chicken breast, marinated pork steak, tender carne asada, juicy carnitas, grilled vegetables, guacamole and pico de gallo).
And where else can we get such succulent seafood as whole red snapper, cabrilla, tilapia, shrimp, octopus or lobster tail prepared seven different ways? Our favorite presentation is the garlic sauce, the infernal pepper sauce, the salsa ranchero, the salsa Veracruz, the cracker breaded, the spice grilled, and the crystal, spiked with mushrooms and cheese. Oops -- how many favorites are we allowed to have?
Phoenix is only four hours from the Mexican border. You'd think we'd be swamped with excellent, authentic Mexican restaurants. Not so -- unless your idea of real Mexican cuisine is that bloated chain stuff topped with a tiny paper flag. For the real deal, we go to Acapulco Bay, where we can sample some of the finest comida Mexicana y mariscos found -- dare we say it -- in all of Maricopa County.
It's a long menu, and everything is extraordinary, from the camarónes ahogados (fresh, whole raw shrimp "cooked" in lime juice with cucumber, tomato, red onion and spices) to the parrillada for two (a combo of Baja chicken breast, marinated pork steak, tender carne asada, juicy carnitas, grilled vegetables, guacamole and pico de gallo).
And where else can we get such succulent seafood as whole red snapper, cabrilla, tilapia, shrimp, octopus or lobster tail prepared seven different ways? Our favorite presentation is the garlic sauce, the infernal pepper sauce, the salsa ranchero, the salsa Veracruz, the cracker breaded, the spice grilled, and the crystal, spiked with mushrooms and cheese. Oops -- how many favorites are we allowed to have?
Even when we have no money, we still can eat like royalty at El Norteo. The most expensive thing on the menu at this casual, counter-service shop is a Mexican pizza, and for $6.75, it's huge, loaded with ground beef, beans, guacamole, sour cream, tomatoes, jalapeos and onions. Most everything else comes in at less than $5, with flavors and portions worth twice the price.
Who can beat a burro grande, just $4 for a hefty handful of red or green chile, sour cream or guacamole, cheese, lettuce, tomato and onion plus a 44-ounce drink? Actually, El Norteo beats itself, with a staggering display of daily specials. Breakfast is just $1.99 (huevos rancheros, beans and tortillas on Monday), lunch is just $2.99 (like a red or green burro enchilada-style, beans, salad and drink), and dinner is just $3.50 (perhaps beef chimichanga with beans and rice).
That's one hot tamale, for just a tiny little bit of cold cash.
Even when we have no money, we still can eat like royalty at El Norteño. The most expensive thing on the menu at this casual, counter-service shop is a Mexican pizza, and for $6.75, it's huge, loaded with ground beef, beans, guacamole, sour cream, tomatoes, jalapeños and onions. Most everything else comes in at less than $5, with flavors and portions worth twice the price.
Who can beat a burro grande, just $4 for a hefty handful of red or green chile, sour cream or guacamole, cheese, lettuce, tomato and onion plus a 44-ounce drink? Actually, El Norteño beats itself, with a staggering display of daily specials. Breakfast is just $1.99 (huevos rancheros, beans and tortillas on Monday), lunch is just $2.99 (like a red or green burro enchilada-style, beans, salad and drink), and dinner is just $3.50 (perhaps beef chimichanga with beans and rice).
That's one hot tamale, for just a tiny little bit of cold cash.
For so long, "upscale" hasn't been a word associated with Mexican cuisine. Just this year, though, we've had several restaurants open, hoping to tap into a moneyed clientele who realize that Mexican is so much more than tacos, enchiladas and burros.
But it's still that grande dame of south-of-the-border that wins our heart. La Hacienda even looks delicious. We imagine we're royalty, reigning over a Spanish Colonial estate in the foothills of the McDowell Mountains. The food is even better. We certainly know we're special when we're served up such exciting fare as spit-roasted suckling pig carved tableside, camarónes Culiacán (baked Gulf shrimp, smoked bacon and jack cheese), chile ancho en nogada (wood-roasted chicken in an ancho chile, dried fruits, nogada sauce) or mezcla de carnes y mariscos (mixed grill of beef tenderloin, sautéed shrimp and chicken, with three sauces).
Bring on the competition. It'll take a lot of it to inspire us to call anywhere but La Hacienda our home.
For so long, "upscale" hasn't been a word associated with Mexican cuisine. Just this year, though, we've had several restaurants open, hoping to tap into a moneyed clientele who realize that Mexican is so much more than tacos, enchiladas and burros.
But it's still that grande dame of south-of-the-border that wins our heart. La Hacienda even looks delicious. We imagine we're royalty, reigning over a Spanish Colonial estate in the foothills of the McDowell Mountains. The food is even better. We certainly know we're special when we're served up such exciting fare as spit-roasted suckling pig carved tableside, camarónes Culiacán (baked Gulf shrimp, smoked bacon and jack cheese), chile ancho en nogada (wood-roasted chicken in an ancho chile, dried fruits, nogada sauce) or mezcla de carnes y mariscos (mixed grill of beef tenderloin, sautéed shrimp and chicken, with three sauces).
Bring on the competition. It'll take a lot of it to inspire us to call anywhere but La Hacienda our home.
Sometimes we wonder if we've gotten boring when, year after year, we award the same "Best of" designation to the same restaurant. But when the category is Mexican seafood, and the restaurant is San Carlos Bay, we know we'll never apologize for the repetition.
How does this tiny, white stucco shop keep in stock such an ocean of riches? Who cares, as long as it keeps enough on hand for us -- the sparkling fresh shrimp, octopus, squid, abalone, oysters, snapper and crab. Such choice of preparation, too -- will our seafood be in a cocktail, in a stew, hot and spicy marinated, baked, machaca with green chiles, in garlic sauce, whole and fried, or breaded? We know our absolute favorite is the buttery garlic octopus, served atop French fries with rice, beans, salad and soft flour tortillas. But it's also the whole fried snapper, torn in fleshy chunks from the bone, wrapped in warm tortillas, spread with creamy beans and rice, then dunked in zingy salsa. Each visit is an adventure.
San Carlos Bay -- no matter how many years go by, you'll always be new and beautiful to us.
Sometimes we wonder if we've gotten boring when, year after year, we award the same "Best of" designation to the same restaurant. But when the category is Mexican seafood, and the restaurant is San Carlos Bay, we know we'll never apologize for the repetition.
How does this tiny, white stucco shop keep in stock such an ocean of riches? Who cares, as long as it keeps enough on hand for us -- the sparkling fresh shrimp, octopus, squid, abalone, oysters, snapper and crab. Such choice of preparation, too -- will our seafood be in a cocktail, in a stew, hot and spicy marinated, baked, machaca with green chiles, in garlic sauce, whole and fried, or breaded? We know our absolute favorite is the buttery garlic octopus, served atop French fries with rice, beans, salad and soft flour tortillas. But it's also the whole fried snapper, torn in fleshy chunks from the bone, wrapped in warm tortillas, spread with creamy beans and rice, then dunked in zingy salsa. Each visit is an adventure.
San Carlos Bay -- no matter how many years go by, you'll always be new and beautiful to us.
So owner Richardson Browne has a sign in his restaurant that reads, in Spanish, "Restaurant critics can kiss my ass." So he celebrated a former
New Times Best of Phoenix designation by mounting the plaque on a toilet seat in his rest room. So he bluntly warns diners that his chile policy is: You Order It, You Own It. It's all fair warning that Richardson's isn't about pandering to fussy clientele. Here's a restaurant with food so good it stands on its own merits, take it or leave it.
We'll take it, and gladly, welcoming the foghorn blast of searing Hatch chiles that sounds through almost every dish. Such New Mexican cuisine is painful but addictive, from a glorious fiery green chile stew stocked with beef tenderloin, potatoes, carrots and Cheddar to a classy chimayo chicken, plump with spinach, sun-dried tomatoes, poblano chile and Asiago cheese.
Everything is so good that Browne has been known to get in fights with copycat restaurateurs over his trademark touches: green chiles stuffed with mashed potatoes, tomatillo toast with sautéed chicken and ham, and red chile primavera topped with artichoke hearts, portobello mushrooms, spinach and goat cheese in a white wine tomato broth.
There's no argument in our minds. Let others copy away. Our original is always Richardson's.
So owner Richardson Browne has a sign in his restaurant that reads, in Spanish, "Restaurant critics can kiss my ass." So he celebrated a former
New Times Best of Phoenix designation by mounting the plaque on a toilet seat in his rest room. So he bluntly warns diners that his chile policy is: You Order It, You Own It. It's all fair warning that Richardson's isn't about pandering to fussy clientele. Here's a restaurant with food so good it stands on its own merits, take it or leave it.
We'll take it, and gladly, welcoming the foghorn blast of searing Hatch chiles that sounds through almost every dish. Such New Mexican cuisine is painful but addictive, from a glorious fiery green chile stew stocked with beef tenderloin, potatoes, carrots and Cheddar to a classy chimayo chicken, plump with spinach, sun-dried tomatoes, poblano chile and Asiago cheese.
Everything is so good that Browne has been known to get in fights with copycat restaurateurs over his trademark touches: green chiles stuffed with mashed potatoes, tomatillo toast with sautéed chicken and ham, and red chile primavera topped with artichoke hearts, portobello mushrooms, spinach and goat cheese in a white wine tomato broth.
There's no argument in our minds. Let others copy away. Our original is always Richardson's.
The first time we went to Rito's, we spent more on gasoline than on our lunch. That's because we drove by a few times before realizing that, yes, this cozy stucco house in a residential neighborhood was what we were seeking. There's no sign outside; the only giveaway is the side yard of primary-color picnic tables packed with people putting away topnotch, rock-bottom-priced red chile burritos, velvety refried beans, Sonoran-style tacos, chimis and whatever the feisty if somewhat unfriendly kitchen staff decides to grace us with on any given day. It's casual and decidedly sweaty in the summer months, as we order at the counter and cart our meal outside. But one taste of the cheese, the chiles, the full-flavored rice -- and a glance at our bill of less than $5 -- and there's no cause for complaints of any kind.
The first time we went to Rito's, we spent more on gasoline than on our lunch. That's because we drove by a few times before realizing that, yes, this cozy stucco house in a residential neighborhood was what we were seeking. There's no sign outside; the only giveaway is the side yard of primary-color picnic tables packed with people putting away topnotch, rock-bottom-priced red chile burritos, velvety refried beans, Sonoran-style tacos, chimis and whatever the feisty if somewhat unfriendly kitchen staff decides to grace us with on any given day. It's casual and decidedly sweaty in the summer months, as we order at the counter and cart our meal outside. But one taste of the cheese, the chiles, the full-flavored rice -- and a glance at our bill of less than $5 -- and there's no cause for complaints of any kind.
Gringo-friendly Sonoran-style Mexican food -- isn't that an oxymoron? Not if it's in the hands of the Moreno family. Then it becomes reliably safe even for the most timid taste buds, yet still so well-prepared it gets a rise even out of us.
We're in for standard tacos, tamales, enchiladas, burros, tostadas and such, minus too much spicing or surprises. But we're also in for honest, well-flavored dishes that rely on fresh ingredients instead of gussied-up presentation or overpowering heat to wake us up.
The meals start with a freebie ramekin of bean dip, all creamy and deep with a vibrant chile punch. Then we head to the specialties, like an appealingly offbeat shrimp quesadilla, folded and stuffed with healthy portions of shrimp, cheese, silky seafood sauce and the unexpected spark of fresh mango cubes. Rellenos are superb, too, the roasted chiles plump with crab and creamy white sauce or bloated with cheese under a mild-mannered green sauce. And we're smitten with the spinach enchiladas, two slender bundles tucked with juicy leaves and draped in a delightful jalapeo cream cheese sauce.
For soul-satisfying Sonoran-style comfort food, we just call the Gecko: "Here, lizard, lizard . . ."
Gringo-friendly Sonoran-style Mexican food -- isn't that an oxymoron? Not if it's in the hands of the Moreno family. Then it becomes reliably safe even for the most timid taste buds, yet still so well-prepared it gets a rise even out of us.
We're in for standard tacos, tamales, enchiladas, burros, tostadas and such, minus too much spicing or surprises. But we're also in for honest, well-flavored dishes that rely on fresh ingredients instead of gussied-up presentation or overpowering heat to wake us up.
The meals start with a freebie ramekin of bean dip, all creamy and deep with a vibrant chile punch. Then we head to the specialties, like an appealingly offbeat shrimp quesadilla, folded and stuffed with healthy portions of shrimp, cheese, silky seafood sauce and the unexpected spark of fresh mango cubes. Rellenos are superb, too, the roasted chiles plump with crab and creamy white sauce or bloated with cheese under a mild-mannered green sauce. And we're smitten with the spinach enchiladas, two slender bundles tucked with juicy leaves and draped in a delightful jalapeño cream cheese sauce.
For soul-satisfying Sonoran-style comfort food, we just call the Gecko: "Here, lizard, lizard . . ."
Mezcal's mole is, in a word, magnificent. It's hard to choose among the distinctive varieties -- mole rojo, mole amarillo, or mole verde -- each served over chicken and paired with fresh vegetables plus sweet potato purée, Swiss chard, rice or chochoyotes (masa dumplings).
So we do the smartest thing and get them all in the appetizer tamale combo: three moist, chicken-stuffed masa bundles steamed in banana leaves and each topped with a different mole. Rather than chocolate-heavy, Mezcal's blends are celebrations of dozens of herbs and chiles. Mole rojo is complex and sweet, mole amarillo is light and aromatic, and mole verde exudes fragrant notes of tomatillo. They're all distinct, like fine, cocoa-hued wines.
Mezcal's mole is, in a word, magnificent. It's hard to choose among the distinctive varieties -- mole rojo, mole amarillo, or mole verde -- each served over chicken and paired with fresh vegetables plus sweet potato purée, Swiss chard, rice or chochoyotes (masa dumplings).
So we do the smartest thing and get them all in the appetizer tamale combo: three moist, chicken-stuffed masa bundles steamed in banana leaves and each topped with a different mole. Rather than chocolate-heavy, Mezcal's blends are celebrations of dozens of herbs and chiles. Mole rojo is complex and sweet, mole amarillo is light and aromatic, and mole verde exudes fragrant notes of tomatillo. They're all distinct, like fine, cocoa-hued wines.
When we're in Rocky Point, we start most of our days with a steaming hot cup of coffee and a handful of made-that-morning flour tortillas. We pull them one by one, still warm in their plastic bag, delivered right to our doorstep.
Since 1968, Arizona's closest contender for a Rocky Point tortilla experience has been Carolina's. And to this day, it still is. Carolina's delicate wraps are made on an endless line of hot griddles, hand-tossed until paper thin and stretchy. We can get them by the dozen, by the half-dozen, or individually. We can get them plain, topped with cheese, with red, green or machaca meat, or slathered with butter.
Carolina's, mother of all tortillas, you've turned us into your very own flour children.
When we're in Rocky Point, we start most of our days with a steaming hot cup of coffee and a handful of made-that-morning flour tortillas. We pull them one by one, still warm in their plastic bag, delivered right to our doorstep.
Since 1968, Arizona's closest contender for a Rocky Point tortilla experience has been Carolina's. And to this day, it still is. Carolina's delicate wraps are made on an endless line of hot griddles, hand-tossed until paper thin and stretchy. We can get them by the dozen, by the half-dozen, or individually. We can get them plain, topped with cheese, with red, green or machaca meat, or slathered with butter.
Carolina's, mother of all tortillas, you've turned us into your very own flour children.
We have a friend who drove in all the way from far southeast Gilbert to our neighborhood Arriba in north Scottsdale. It took them about an hour, but they'd been told there was something really special going on at this New Mexican cantina. They're right. Chalk it up to generous portions, fresh ingredients and lots and lots of Hatch green chiles, those fiery peppers found only in New Mexico.
We turned them on to the pozole, a hearty stew with some fire, but not enough to scare these first-timers away (they got it mild; we order it extra hot, since every dish on this menu can be adjusted). It's a simple but substantial dish, uniting tender pork loin, hominy, chile, onion and garlic. It's slow-simmered, served topped with red onions, cabbage and cilantro, and paired with warm flour tortillas and lime. Paired with an ice cold margarita, it's bliss for our bellies.
We have a friend who drove in all the way from far southeast Gilbert to our neighborhood Arriba in north Scottsdale. It took them about an hour, but they'd been told there was something really special going on at this New Mexican cantina. They're right. Chalk it up to generous portions, fresh ingredients and lots and lots of Hatch green chiles, those fiery peppers found only in New Mexico.
We turned them on to the pozole, a hearty stew with some fire, but not enough to scare these first-timers away (they got it mild; we order it extra hot, since every dish on this menu can be adjusted). It's a simple but substantial dish, uniting tender pork loin, hominy, chile, onion and garlic. It's slow-simmered, served topped with red onions, cabbage and cilantro, and paired with warm flour tortillas and lime. Paired with an ice cold margarita, it's bliss for our bellies.
What is it that makes a quesadilla so compelling? There's not much to it -- a flour tortilla smothered in cheese, maybe some meat, maybe some vegetables, folded and grilled. But when a chef gets creative with those fillings, a quesadilla can be a real creation.
And in the case of Tequila Grill, that chef is us. It's like building our own pizza, with a stunning list of custom ingredients. Start with the tortillas: spinach and herb, sun-dried tomato, Southwest chile pepper or flour. Then the meats: marinated beef or chicken, ancho pork or shrimp. Veggies are next: spinach, red onion, jalapeos, portobello mushroom, corn, roasted garlic, roasted peppers, green chiles or tomatoes. Finally, there's the cheese to bind it all together: Monterey Jack, smoked Gouda, Cheddar, or jalapeo havarti. Delicious work, if we do say so ourselves.
What is it that makes a quesadilla so compelling? There's not much to it -- a flour tortilla smothered in cheese, maybe some meat, maybe some vegetables, folded and grilled. But when a chef gets creative with those fillings, a quesadilla can be a real creation.
And in the case of Tequila Grill, that chef is us. It's like building our own pizza, with a stunning list of custom ingredients. Start with the tortillas: spinach and herb, sun-dried tomato, Southwest chile pepper or flour. Then the meats: marinated beef or chicken, ancho pork or shrimp. Veggies are next: spinach, red onion, jalapeños, portobello mushroom, corn, roasted garlic, roasted peppers, green chiles or tomatoes. Finally, there's the cheese to bind it all together: Monterey Jack, smoked Gouda, Cheddar, or jalapeño havarti. Delicious work, if we do say so ourselves.
We could do without the party crowd here, like the kids who drink tequila out of each other's belly buttons. But there's no discounting the quality of the tacos, served Rocky Point-style with seasoned cabbage and cilantro. The six-inch tortillas are cheap and hefty, $1.70 for marinated steak, charbroiled chicken or chorizo sausage. For just a few pennies more, we get fresh fish or ceviche. And if we're really hungry, we pony up a whopping $2.95 for a fajita taco, twice the portion of steak or chicken, paired with pico, sautéed pepper and onions. Even better, Dos Gringos serves until 1 a.m. every day. Just remember, it's BYOBB (bring your own belly button).
We could do without the party crowd here, like the kids who drink tequila out of each other's belly buttons. But there's no discounting the quality of the tacos, served Rocky Point-style with seasoned cabbage and cilantro. The six-inch tortillas are cheap and hefty, $1.70 for marinated steak, charbroiled chicken or chorizo sausage. For just a few pennies more, we get fresh fish or ceviche. And if we're really hungry, we pony up a whopping $2.95 for a fajita taco, twice the portion of steak or chicken, paired with pico, sautéed pepper and onions. Even better, Dos Gringos serves until 1 a.m. every day. Just remember, it's BYOBB (bring your own belly button).
Coyote Grill's menu warns us that mescal is a "less smooth" tequila. We wonder if owner Chris Harter will step up and pay our dentist bill when we need to have the enamel on our teeth replaced after kicking back a shot of his Dos Gusanos. The liquor -- plumped up with two worms per bottle -- is a taste we haven't quite acquired. Likely the worms aren't too thrilled about it, either.
That's okay, though, because Harter gives us some 110 other tequila varieties from which to choose. And most of them are so smooth that we actually savor them, sipping them slowly to nourish their agave character. There's blanco and plata (silver and white, not aged), reposado (aged in oak for up to a year) and anejo (under the strictest scrutiny of the Mexican government to ensure its superior quality). For the big spenders, the Coyote also offers $145-a-shot super-premium José Cuervo 1800 Colección, of which Cuervo releases only a few hundred bottles a year.
Mescal usually is doctored with sugar, fruit, herbs and nuts to make it more pleasant to drink. When we're really wussy, we go for the less bitter dessert tequilas -- coquila (coffee, chocolate and cream), rose (strawberry and cream) and almendrado (almond). And hold the worm.
Coyote Grill's menu warns us that mescal is a "less smooth" tequila. We wonder if owner Chris Harter will step up and pay our dentist bill when we need to have the enamel on our teeth replaced after kicking back a shot of his Dos Gusanos. The liquor -- plumped up with two worms per bottle -- is a taste we haven't quite acquired. Likely the worms aren't too thrilled about it, either.
That's okay, though, because Harter gives us some 110 other tequila varieties from which to choose. And most of them are so smooth that we actually savor them, sipping them slowly to nourish their agave character. There's blanco and plata (silver and white, not aged), reposado (aged in oak for up to a year) and anejo (under the strictest scrutiny of the Mexican government to ensure its superior quality). For the big spenders, the Coyote also offers $145-a-shot super-premium José Cuervo 1800 Colección, of which Cuervo releases only a few hundred bottles a year.
Mescal usually is doctored with sugar, fruit, herbs and nuts to make it more pleasant to drink. When we're really wussy, we go for the less bitter dessert tequilas -- coquila (coffee, chocolate and cream), rose (strawberry and cream) and almendrado (almond). And hold the worm.
What makes a margarita so exquisite, paired with a basket of crisp, salty chips and an assortment of salsas? No doubt it's the bullish grip of lots of good tequila, tart and dusty to complement the earthy tones of our chips and dip. But most important, it's the add-ins that make or break a margarita.
We like a little character with our cocktail, which is why Cabo gets top billing for its oh-so-fine margs. We can build our own from the very best ingredients. First, we've got a choice of almost 20 tequilas. Then, we get a choice of flavors, depending on what's seasonal in fresh fruit. The fruit -- on display in great heaps atop the bar -- is hand-squeezed, including the limes. Best of all, these margs aren't too sweet (although you can get them that way if you want).
The traditional margarita is topnotch, served in a hefty, multicolored glass with a salted rim and a fresh lime wedge. We're partial to the mango, too, puréed like a slushy with a wicked back bite of alcohol. It comes rimmed in sugar, but we get it with salt (trust us, the contrasting flavors are out of this world).
Just two of these strong drinks, and we swear we can hear the waves crashing in our heads.
What makes a margarita so exquisite, paired with a basket of crisp, salty chips and an assortment of salsas? No doubt it's the bullish grip of lots of good tequila, tart and dusty to complement the earthy tones of our chips and dip. But most important, it's the add-ins that make or break a margarita.
We like a little character with our cocktail, which is why Cabo gets top billing for its oh-so-fine margs. We can build our own from the very best ingredients. First, we've got a choice of almost 20 tequilas. Then, we get a choice of flavors, depending on what's seasonal in fresh fruit. The fruit -- on display in great heaps atop the bar -- is hand-squeezed, including the limes. Best of all, these margs aren't too sweet (although you can get them that way if you want).
The traditional margarita is topnotch, served in a hefty, multicolored glass with a salted rim and a fresh lime wedge. We're partial to the mango, too, puréed like a slushy with a wicked back bite of alcohol. It comes rimmed in sugar, but we get it with salt (trust us, the contrasting flavors are out of this world).
Just two of these strong drinks, and we swear we can hear the waves crashing in our heads.
We remember many years ago when Rubio's arrived in Phoenix. You'd think people had gone nuts. Food writers lauded the simple fish taco served by this California-based chain, swooning over the deep-fried, mayo-sauce-slathered, cheese-drenched fish bits. We just shook our heads. Hadn't these people ever made it over to Rita's, where chef-owner Rita Aramburo has been fashioning authentic fish tacos forever? It's no complicated recipe, but God, it's good. Fresh catfish takes a tumble in the sauté pan with tomato, onion and a dash of seasoning. Warm vegetables release their rich juices, melding with the firm fish and soaking into a grilled corn tortilla. The finishing touch comes from a squeeze of lemon and a dunking in Rita's homemade spicy salsa. No cheese, no mayo, no marriage in the deep fat fryer required.
Rita's fish tacos are the best. Of that, there's no de-bait.
We remember many years ago when Rubio's arrived in Phoenix. You'd think people had gone nuts. Food writers lauded the simple fish taco served by this California-based chain, swooning over the deep-fried, mayo-sauce-slathered, cheese-drenched fish bits. We just shook our heads. Hadn't these people ever made it over to Rita's, where chef-owner Rita Aramburo has been fashioning authentic fish tacos forever? It's no complicated recipe, but God, it's good. Fresh catfish takes a tumble in the sauté pan with tomato, onion and a dash of seasoning. Warm vegetables release their rich juices, melding with the firm fish and soaking into a grilled corn tortilla. The finishing touch comes from a squeeze of lemon and a dunking in Rita's homemade spicy salsa. No cheese, no mayo, no marriage in the deep fat fryer required.
Rita's fish tacos are the best. Of that, there's no de-bait.
