Santa Fe is an iconic American city, as unique as New Orleans with a history as long and rich. The city’s cultural and natural attractions are legend—the restaurants, the world-class opera, the ski mountain, the Canyon Road galleries, the gorgeous Ten Thousand Waves spa. I have eaten, shopped and toured my way through Santa Fe many times. Recently I went with no 4-star agenda (and no 4-star budget!), for a laid-back weekend with a friend from high school. As the city celebrates its 400th anniversary this year, I had the opportunity to check out a side of Santa Fe that I had never seen before.

If that intro sounded too slick for regular visitors to this site, you are right. I started this piece as a guest post for a major travel journalism site that I found out no longer accepts guest posts. Now back to our regularly scheduled doggerel:

Several years ago a friend of mine moved to Santa Fe to work in one of the city’s legendary restaurants. (Actually, he moved there chasing tail, and ended up working at a great restaurant.) It is hard to imagine that a city of only 60,000 people is home to so many nationally acclaimed restaurants. The Compound, Santa Café, Geronimo, Coyote Café, to name a few. The number of high-end restaurants (just like the number of art galleries, and the caliber of the Santa Fe Opera) is disproportionate to the city’s diminutive size. With all of this fabulosity comes a fabulous price.

Though I was feeling fabulous when I flew out there (with no small assistance from the in-flight cocktails which make the hassles of modern air travel endurable), I wasn't feeling so fabulous about my wallet, and so we decided to take a low-key approach. Check out some of the places that the locals patronize. Spend some time in a couple (okay, a dozen +) thrift stores. Maybe eat out of a "chili bag."

Located in the former Woolworth’s building is Five & Dime, which is about 50% tourist trap and 25% general store, with the remaining part taken up by the real reason to go there, which is the Frito Pie. Nothing innovative here, it is just a treat to be able to order this self-contained delight somewhere outside of a Little League game. In fairer weather, patrons take their “chili bag” outside to enjoy it in the plaza in front of Santa Fe’s oldest building, the Palace of the Governors. In this weather, your butt would have frozen to the park bench, so we ate inside.

This frito pie was a gut bomb, but I'm glad I tried it. Not too many places serving meals in a chip bag these days.

I should mention another unique factor in my recent trip. In addition to my lilliputian budget, this adventure was marked by another oddity for me--SNOW. A native of central Texas I have only ever been around falling snow a few times in my life (although, ironically, it is snowing in Austin right now). When I landed in Albuquerque, it was snowing in Santa Fe and dumped the better part of a foot on the city over the course of the day. It was really beautiful seeing the city under a blanket of white. It made me want to have a cocktail. And a big-ass burger.

A few short miles out of town, and well worth the drive, is Bobcat Bite. Known for enormous burgers, the Bite has operated in a historic trading post on the edge of town for more than 50 years.

I believe that Bobcat claims to have invented the green chili burger. Regardless of the veracity of this claim, it is a good eat. If I have one complaint, it's that the meat:cheese ratio is off when the patty is this big. Part of the beauty of a cheeseburger is a harmonious meat:cheese ratio, which this burger does not have with only one slice of cheese for that big ass patty. Also, I would take a pass on the potatoes next time. Bobcat has no fryers and there's something just not quite satisfying about a griddled potato with a cheese burger.

Because of economic constraints that I have already discussed, we decided to take a brief respite from pricey Santa Fe and drive to nearby budget-driven communities of Española and Pojoaque, which are noticeably short on fine dining and art galleries, but make up for it with other cultural treasures, such as drive-in liquor stores.

Red's in Española is awesome, something you just don't find in Texas--Drive-in liquor store in the front; old-school lounge (pool tables, paintings of nekkid ladies) in the middle; and rustic steakhouse in the back.

Kokoman is a bad-ass liquor store in Pojoaque. One of the best selections I've ever seen, orders of magnitude more thorough than any liquor store in Austin. I found some real treasures there--Pappy Van Winkle 13yr rye, Cocchi Americano vermouth; a bunch of rums and ryes that I couldn't fit in my suitcase. And one of the best anti-hot check policies I've ever seen:

Whatever you do, don't write us a hot check or we will put your bitch ass up on the marquee!

One of the things that really impresses me about Santa Fe is how many quaint bars there are. For a city that famously shuts down early, even on weekends, there are a lot of great comfortable bars that seem to host a pleasant mix of tourists and locals.

Tiny's was by far one of my favorite stops on this trip. Though it does not have its own Web site, it has been identified by Esquire magazine as one of the best bars in the country. A nondescript storefront in a nondescript shopping center does not belie the treasure to be found within: A bar that seems apparently trapped in time, wrought iron decor and all. There was a live blues rock band playing to a crowd of mostly 40-, 50-, and 60-somethings, who were dancing and having a festive time. I was really amazed by this--I don't think I could name a bar in Austin that caters to a mature set such as this, that swings at such fill tilt. It was great, and a scene in which to be seen--we were honored to meet the mayor of Albuquerque that evening at Tiny's. But my favorite part about Tiny's is the decor--on shelves all around and above the bar you can behold what is alleged to be the Largest Decanter Collection in the Southwest. I don't even know how many contenders are for this distinction, but it sounds as impressive as it looks. Decanters in all manner of shapes and sizes, with an emphasis on woodland wildlife, Indians, Elvis, and leprechauns.

That's some nice taxidermy, right? PSYCH!!! It's just more Jim Beam decanters. Come to think of it, the whole crowd here, both ceramic and human, was more Jim Beam Decanter than, say, Crystal Skull Vodka, or whatever the kids are drinking these days. In fact, the place is so vintage that when Jenna Lane, the foxy associate publisher of Edible Austin magazine, asked to be dropped off there, the shuttle drivers were like, "You want to go WHERE?" Yes, boys, she wanted to go to Tiny's. Because decanters are hot.

El Farol is located on Canyon Road just down the street from Geronimo. The intimate bar was packed on the night we went, and a great blues band played on the unusual “split” stage—divided in the middle by the front door to the bar. In addition to the denizens of the local hospitality industry, we found ourselves in the presence of Hollywood greats Mickey Rourke and Bill Murray. Mr Murray was lit up like Christmas (in more ways than one, but specifically by the illuminated lei he wore) and declined a photograph. Mr. Rourke was more accommodating.

Your Tipsy Texan (left) with the Wrestler (center) and my host and very good friend Michael (right)

El Charro is another one of those quaint little hotel bars. A comfortable place to relax with friends and drink beer by a fire place.

This about how things looked like by the time we got to El Charro

Edible Communities is the group of magazine owners to which Edible Austin belongs, and they were having their annual publisher's conference was in town that weekend. They were shacked up at the Bishop's Lodge, a few miles outside of Santa Fe.

The Bishop's Lodge under a blanket of snow

La Posada is a luxury hotel with a great restaurant and a cozy, quaint bar. Peeking through the window of Fuego I noticed that the restaurant no longer offers the luxury of eating brunch from the comfort of a plush sofa, though it still promises to be one of the best in town. The last time that I ate there, one of the brunch "courses" consisted of a bloody mary cart that rolls to the table, whereabouts the server prepares your drink and garnishes it with such luxuries as pickled green bean, pickled caper berry, and either crab leg or prawn.

Just outside of town is Camel Rock, the namesake monolith of the Camel Rock Casino, affectionately known as the Camel Toe Casino. I wonder what they called the rock before they knew about Camels? (important historical note: in 2002 I had the pleasure of seeing Poison play at this very casino)

Early New Mexican Barbed Wire Technology at Camel Rock

Now for the real reason I went to Santa Fe: I had been fantasizing about guest bartending at Coyote Cafe for a long time, and my friend Michael hooked me up with the beverage director, Quinn Stephenson, and we put the deal in motion. I wrote a short menu of my own cocktails and some of my favorite classics, and smuggled in some hooch from Texas, and we did a little expo. It was super cool.

One of the cocktails I did was the Green Hour, which I created with my ffriend Ryan Ffrench when we were at Annie's in Austin: Gin, Absinthe, Herb Syrup, Lemon, Egg White. Topped with bitters from the Misto, a trick which I learned from Bobby Heugel of Houston's Anvil

My menu for the evening. Those of you who saw us out & about in Austin this past season may recognize some of these cocktails, indeed may blanche at the thought of having to tipple another cup of Harvest Punch. But to Santa Fe on that evening, everything was new, even that tired White Buffalo shirt that wore out its welcome by November in the Austin scene. I am really not a one trick pony, as I have often claimed, so much as a one stable cowboy:

Coyote Café was at one time synonymous with high-end southwestern cooking, being as it was the restaurant that put that cuisine on the map. Opened in 1987 by Mark Miller, Coyote rose to national and international prominence, the type of attention that draws in huge crowds, and with that attention comes the requisite ire of self-anointed critics of Yelp and that ilk. A few years ago Miller decided to sell Coyote to a small partnership of former coworkers and colleagues, including Geronimo chef Eric DeStefano and beverage director Quinn Stephenson, also from Geronimo. It is understandable that a restaurant that has been in business for more than 20 years has had ups and downs. After my recent dinner there I can certify that they are definitely UP right now. One of the best meals I have ever eaten.

Me with Coyote beverage director/co-owner Quinn Stephenson

Note: This blog cannot unfortunately accept comments at the moment but we're hoping to adopt that technology once we roll in to the 21st century with our new site in the next few weeks. -DA

If you are fortunate enough to be in Marfa this weekend, be sure to stop by the Blue Javelina to behold the mixological sorcery (more like forgery) of the Tipsy Texan. We will be whuppin' up fresh cocktails from 5-10 pm Friday and Saturday nights.

Also, I will be doing an interview with Tom Michael of Marfa Public Radio at about 3:30 this upcoming Friday afternoon. Listen to the live stream at their Web site.

Last week I traveled to New York for the national final for the Cocktail World Cup, which takes place next week in New Zealand. The bad news is I didn't make the winning team. The good news is one of my fellow Austin boys, Nate Wales, did. And I had a great time, got a free trip to New York, and all I had to do was make a cocktail.

Here are the highlights of my brief bid for the national team:

In January, Austin hosted the regional quarterfinal for the Cocktail World Cup on the back patio of Lustre Pearl. I made a sensual drink called the Showgirl, and mine won along with the crazy ass bubble tea-inspired cocktail of Nate Wales (La Condesa/Malverde).

The Showgirl
1.5 oz 42 Below Passion
1 oz Fresh-squeezed Grapefruit Juice
.75 oz Housemade Orgeat Syrup
.25 oz Fresh-squeezed Lime Juice
Barspoon St. Elizabeth's Allspice Dram
2 Dashes Bitter Truth Jerry Thomas's Own Decanter Bitters
Nutmeg, garnish
Combine liquid ingredients in a mixing glass and shake vigorously with ice to chill. Strain onto crushed ice and garnish with fresh grated nutmeg, straws, and citrus/herb "headdress". Luscious, ripe, and festive!

Last week we flew to NYC for the big shindig. 42 Below put us up at the Ace Hotel, a groovy SOHO boutiquey hotel that seems to have wedded the aesthetic of a faded glory eastern bloc palatial hotel with that of a very well appointed dorm room.

Bathroom view from the Ace

42 Below is a class act when it comes to putting on events. The food at the Ace is some of the best event food ever--artisan meat & cheese boards and a never ending parade of treats including handmade corn dogs, poppycock, doughnuts, etc. Open bar goes without saying. But the real highlight, besides the bartenders, was the entertainment. Contortionists and burlesque girls have become somewhat commonplace if you go to as many cocktail events as I do. I was particularly taken with the performer who brought an oversized Champagne flute on the stage and proceeded to bathe herself with its contents (and bathe anyone on the first few rows).

Without question, the showstopper for this event was the LP Michael Jackson. After being lifted on to the bar, he rocked out a perfect miniature impersonation of the King of Pop that brought down the house. I apologize for the shitty iphone pics that scarcely do this artist justice.

After the contest I went up to my room with some friends and made cocktails while they watched the end of the Oscars. Thanks to my friend Michael's ingenuity, he squirreled away a buffet's worth of snacks from the event downstairs, and we were able to avoid the cost of dining out or partaking of the minibar. Eventually the show was over and I was snoring in my seat, so my guests left and I missed the obligatory post-contest celebration with the group downstairs, which usually lasts until the wee hours or dawn, and on some occasions (such as the Bacardi Legacy event in Dallas) results in contestants missing their flights home the next morning.

Cups 3 and 4 of 5 cups I would have at the Stumptown location at the Ace

This time I woke up the morning after the contest with a clear head. I made my way downstairs for the coffee drinker's Valhalla experience, partaking of a cup at Stumptown Coffee. Or in my case, many cups. I went through the line once and got an espresso and a 12 oz cup of french press. After I finished those, I saw that there was no line, so I went back and got a latte and a 12 oz to-go. I know that drinking Stumptown out of paper is like drinking a Martini from a water bottle, but I have done both and am none less for wear.

I ate lunch twice on Monday, once at Yonah Schimmel's Knishes, and once at Cafe Sabarsky.

Cafe Sabarsky is an elegant Viennese cafe in the Neue Gallery. I had the Käsekrainer mit Sauerkraut & Röstkartoffeln (Smoked Bratwurst w/ Cheddar Cheese). It was awesome and I have fantasized about it since

After lunch I went back to the coffee bar and got another roadie for my ride to JFK. It was really stupid and I don't recommend it. I love extreme caffeination, but felt like a real freak when I was sitting on the plane, still high as a kite from all the Stumptown, but simultaneously drunk from all the beers I drank w/ Nate Wales in the airport lounge. This sequence of events is not recommended. Best of luck to Nate as he travels to New Zealand next week to defend the American title at 42 Below Cocktail World Cup!

GW steps off the plane. Not quite the Beatles landing at JFK but still pretty f'ing hot

Today / yesterday (whatever it is when you wake up in one city and land in another city the next morning, w/o officially ever ending the previous day) I left for France with my friend and colleague Graham Wasilition, who owns Tenneyson Absinthe Royale. Graham is based in Austin, but his product is made in the spiritual homeland of absinthe in Pontarlier, France. Our mission this week is to travel to the historic Emile Pernot distillery where Tenneyson is distilled, but also to spend some quality time with David Nathan-Maister (author of the Absinthe Encyclopedia, and developer of the Tenneyson formula) and other personalities in the absinthe world, ahead of the Boveresse absinthe festival in Switzerland at the end of next week.

After three planes, a bus, and a grueling car rental experience, we arrived at our destination, a villa outside of Grasse overlooking the French riviera. Our generous hosts served a nice Mediterranean lunch, complete with no shortage of wine (and absinthe, given the company). We napped, and woke up just in time for... more drinks and dinner. I loved finishing up dinner with a massive chunk of Roquefort washed down with a glass or 2 of Sauternes. And maybe an absinthe nightcap. I posted some more pics at the TipsyTexan.com FB page.

Firing up the BBQ. If you look closely, you can see P-Diddy and other famous people lounging on their yachts in the harbor in the background

Monday morning we awoke and departed for St. Tropez. St. Tropez is one of those places that you see at the bottom of a high-end fashion ad, along with Tokyo and Monte Carlo—exotic destinations where they open branches of boutique stores, but not places you actually visit. Apparently it is the playground to the world’s super-rich, a lot which I am a few cocktails shy of joining these days.

Much to my disappointment, we did not see P Diddy or Jay Z, and if we saw any European roayalty it must have been some second or third-stringers, as it was not anybody I recognized. I didn't even see Adam Lambert, though if I did I might have yacked. On the sidewalk, which might be illegal in France.

We did see a lot of fancy boats, though, and ate lunch right across the street from the harbor where all the fancy people dock. It’s pretty fascinating to watch, for example, as a lady comes home from her shopping, hands off her bags to one of the waiting attendants, then walks up the steps to greet her corpulent husband.

I was particularly impressed by the folks on board the Makira, who leave their shoes on the dock on a specially marked Makira shoe landing pad before stepping aboard

We ate lunch at a lovely seafood restaurant, though I ate beef carpacio because that was the only thing I recognized on the menu, being as I do not speak French. We had a nice coffee and then headed back to the crib for a fabulous sunset and dinner.

The Hell's Angles don't look especially intimidating as they stroll the shopping lanes of St. Tropez

Day 3

We woke up yesterday morning and headed for Antibes. Antibes has been settled since at least Roman times, with a historic city center surrounded by a more conventional and modern city, which would probably be historic by American standards since we don’t have much old stuff. Antibes has a fabulous farmer’s market featuring a bunch of things you can’t find at our local market: Iberian black hog and other charcuterie, foie gras, all manner of olives and tapenades and cheeses and fresh lavender and other goodies.

Spice Girl! at Antibes farmer's market

Across the street from the big farmer’s market is the Absinthe bar. On the street level is a boutique full of absinthes, absinthe supplies and other herbal spirits. Down the curved staircase to the basement is a vaulted room that dates back many centuries, and which now houses an absinthe bar.

Several dozen absinthes are on tap, but the show-stopper is the collection of historic absinthe and pastis artifacts on display at the far end of the room. The arched ceiling is covered in vintage absinthe posters, and a fountain sits on every table. We sampled an assortment of absinthes formulated by and distilled for Frederic, the establishment’s proprietor.

Some antique bottles in the Antibes Absinthe Bar collection

The street between the Villefranche harbor and its buildings. The little restaurants have tables on both sides of the street, requiring them to cross over to bring you your food

From Antibe we drove down the coast to Villefranche sur Mer. A beautiful fishing village/luxury alcove that is home to the legendary seafood restaurant La Mere Germaine. David Nathan Maister and I decided to go in for the Bouillabaisse. This was an epic bitch of a soup. First they brought out a board displaying all of the fish that had been cooked in the soup, before taking it back to the kitchen for the final preparation. When the server placed the bowl in front of me, he explained that "this is the first plate, there is one more." For eating, you rub a little piece of toast with garlic to season it. Then slather it with aioli and a little grated cheese, then dunk that in the broth. It was an awesome production, which required a bib to consume. And at 72 Euro ($103 at the current exchange rate), it is as much a financial commitment as it is a gastronomical one.

What's up mofo! I will eat you

From Villefranche we proceeded down the coast to Monaco, a town of many superlatives. The second smallest country in the world (second only to Vatican City). The oldest life expectancy (almost 90). The most densely populated country, but most importantly, one of the richest places on earth. The main attraction of course is the Monte Carlo Casino, star of the silver screen. You have to be properly attired to enter the gaming floor, but any broke dick schmuck can check out the luxury automobiles parked out front. That's where we came in

For a bunch more pics check out the FB page

The problem with attempting to cover a big and boozy adventure in somewhat real time is the big booziness of the adventure: by the time you get back to the hotel, passing out is a higher priority than blogging and tweeting.

On Day Four we left the Cote d' Azur for Voiron, where we had a date with the monks. Actually, the monks don't really get involved with the tourists, as they are committed to their monkly duties of worship, contemplation, and mercifully, distillation. The monks themselves reside in the mountains outside of Grenoble, as they have for centuries, at the the Grande Chartreuse monastery. The distillery is located in the nearby town of Voiron.

So how do monks get in the booze business? Actually Monks have been in the booze business, making mead and wine and beer, since as long as there have been monks. But the Carthusian monks specifically began distilling local herbs and other botanicals for their purported health-giving properties. According to alchemical legend, the monks were presented with an elixir of long life, which eventually they refined in to the product they now make as "Elixir Vegetal." The Elixir is not available in the US, but has a loyal following in Europe as a digestif. The Elixir was elongated and sweetened and eventually evolved into the Chartreuse liqueur we see today.

Supposedly only two monks at a time know the entire recipe of 130+ secret herbs and spices that go into the spirit. The herb room is located at the monastery, where the monks weigh and blend them before they are taken into town for distillation. When we were in the distillation room, we saw one of the hooded figures going about his work, but no photos are allowed inside the still room.

The Chartreuse cellars are apparently the longest in the world. The aging casks, as you can see, are taller than a person (save for a few NBA players, none of whom were present on this trip)

Whenever you've got a good thing going on, imitations are a fore-drawn conclusion. In the distillery museum there is a substantial collection of Chartreuse knock-offs from across time and around the world.

One of the exciting things about visiting the Chartreuse distillery was the tasting room--of course the green & yellow Chartreuse in their regular and VEP form, but also a number of variations such as the 1605 (a less-sweet Green, amped up with Elixir); the Centenaire edition, and a yellow variation that was blended by a group of France's top sommeliers. Of course I had to bring one of each of these home. The Chartreuse distillery, as I would learn, also makes a number of fruit and herbal or floral liqueurs that are limited to local distribution. Lots of pictures at our FB page.