Amanda Rae Was Here...

0new states (and that’s A-OK with me)

21 states total (MA, CT, NY, NJ, DE, PA, MD, WV, OH, MI, IN, IL, WI, IA, MO, KS, NE, SD, WY, NM, CO)

502 miles driven since last Friday

6, 208 miles driven total (give or take)

58 days on the road total

4, 900 - 6, 700 altitude of Albuquerque, New Mexico—the geographic center of the state

5,280 altitude of Denver, Colorado, the Mile High City

14,000 altitude of Mount Evans, which features the highest paved road in North America

5 old friends from the Berkshires seen in Denver

1 Busch family visited in Denver

2 barbecues with top-notch homemade eats enjoyed in Denver

2 live music performances enjoyed in Denver (Carbon Leaf at the Bluebird; Mayer Hawthorne and Peanut Butter Wolf)

2 times a cupcake and candle was sent to our table at Root Down (the second time we pretended it was Jayme’s birthday)

1 birthday cake (baked for me by Jayme—karma?) enjoyed

1 celebratory glass of absinthe at sultry French bistro enjoyed

2 unusually awesome air beds slept on this week (thanks, girls!)

Somewhere in New Mexico between the gastronomic whirlwind in Santa Fe and pensive moments in Taos, Torrey and I breezed by this lot strewn with vintage junk on Route 285.

Not two seconds passed before we both chirped, at the same time, “Oh, we have to turn around!”

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My trip with Torrey from Albuquerque to Denver yesterday was totally unplanned yet full of surprises. We dawdled in Santa Fe, sampling good food and browsing street art and turquoise jewelry, so this what we saw when we finally arrived at Taos Pueblo around 6 p.m.

No matter, because there was a field of beautiful (if under-nourished) horses to admire.

PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH THE CHILE.

After a spicy, wholly satisfying stop at Cafe Pasqual’s, we walked around the corner and ran smack into another sensory paradise: Santa Fe Olive Oil.

What luck! I’m a sucker for good olive oil, as is Torrey, who founded the New England Epicurean Society, so this boutique was quite the find with its long tasting table stocked with an encyclopedic array of flavored oils and balsamic vinegars for sipping solo or mix-and- matching. Even though we’d just enjoyed a good meal, we slurped up balsamic+oil pairing after pairing—Black Walnut + Jalapeno; 18-year + Black Truffle; Strawberry + Vanilla—until sensory overload kicked in and, glassy eyed, we called it quits.

Blood Orange, Basil, Persian Lime…those varieties taste like you think they might. The Bacon Olive Oil, however, can only be described as luxury overshadowed by gimmick. But the Chocolate Balsamic, in my mind, evades that plight: it’s rich, syrupy, zingy—yet not too much of any of the three.

I broke down and bought a bottle, to pour over freshly sliced California strawberries, of course.

Specifically, Cafe Pasqual’s, where we stopped for sustenance yesterday during what turned into a foodie pit-stop on our drive from Albuquerque to Denver. Torrey always knows just where to go!

The New York Times has crowned the New Mexican eatery “a national landmark for breakfast lovers,” and that it is. Super fresh ingredients prepared lovingly but not too perfectly in a charming cantina sans pretense. Low key, but with top-notch cuisine. Everyone around us seemed intensely focused on the food. That’s how it should be, no?

Feeling under the weather, we started with KK’s Elixir—chunky, mildly spicy gazpacho topped with garlicky croutons—before I dug into a dish of griddled, green-chile flecked polenta piled with roasted corn, crumbled chorizo, and poached eggs, all nestled into a deep pool of red chile sauce. Sinuses, all clear!

Aside from the excellent food (including a top-notch halibut ceviche with avocado and enough lemongrass to make your mouth curl into a Cheshire Cat smile) were good stories.

Our waiter, Robert, delivered a ginger-oatmeal cookie dusted with sea salt and regaled us with tales of his own confection escapades over the winter holidays: he whips up 95 dozen white-and-dark chocolate chip cookies for friends and coworkers—a feat he has down to a precise science thanks to four cookie sheets and a home kitchen outfitted with nothing fancier than marble countertops. The endeavor requires a full day of baking—about nine solid hours, not including prep work—but, as he said, “I’d rather make something with heart and soul than spend hours at the mall.”

Spoken with passion, like the poet he is. That is Pasqual’s.