I can't say that the existence of this place will be a surprise to any of you. In the past few years, this Eastside eatery has developed a ferociously loyal clientele. They could easily seat twice the folks they have the actual room for at any given time. People feel blessed to be endowed with a bumpersticker and proudly slap it on their Prius' and pickups alike as a canary yellow badge of honor, the secret handshake announcing membership in a club one vainly hopes is exclusive.
Poco and Mom's fills a niche. They found a need. And they filled it. And they keep filling it. Over and over.
What is that need? New Mexican food. They do other things. But New Mexican cuisine is their thing. New Mexican food is their mission.
What is New Mexican cuisine? How does it differ from our Arizona border food? Braised meats instead of grilled. Carne adovada, pork slow simmered in red sauce. Green chile stew, pork lathered in scorching green chile. Two sacred sauces, the green and the red. Heavy reliance on the meat of the blessed pig. A spectrum of salsas, maybe more often stewed than chopped as is common in Border cuisine. Sopapillas; golden pillows of fried doughs. A vaguely Mexican cuisine that owes more to the New Mexico's numerous pueblos than Puebla. A cuisine that grew in a colder climate. A higher climate. An amalgam of Native, cowboy and pure home-cooking of local ingredients. I love this stuff.
I'm not claiming to be an expert in New Mexican cuisine. But my wife is from Shiprock. And business often calls from Albuquerque. Each and every trip, we make time for a pilgrimage to Rancho Chimayo. For the food. And Saltillo weaving. But mostly the carne adovada. When we trek to Phoenix, we go to Dick's Hideaway. For the grilled shrimp. But mostly the carne adovada. I'm devoted to this food.
I would suffer no pretenders.
Thankfully, Poco and Mom's, bare blocks from my home, satisfies a space within me that is precisely the size and shape of a roasted Hatch chile.
A good diner is a place to hang out, have a cup of coffee. It's a reliable spot for a harmless breakfast and lunch. A better diner is a place you will travel to for the food when other options are available. A great diner is a compulsion, a need, in and of itself. Consider.
About two weeks ago, I had a guacamole omelet at Poco's. That's three eggs, a big helping of homemade guacamole, scattered nuggets of bacon and a slice or two of swiss cheese. Was it good?
The next day I went back. And had another. That Saturday, I took my wife to Poco's. And had another.
Poco and Mom's is the truth. This is New Mexican soul food. The real deal. Made by people who know. I suggest you go there. Now.
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