Being here I couldn't help contemplate the contrasts that Phoenix offers, now even more than when J. and I lived here. As spacious and comfortable as our friends' house in Chandler is (their patio in particular, tiny by Arizona standards and shockingly pool-less, is the Platonic ideal of a patio for me), I do not like the uniform sterility of the outlying parts of the area today any more than I did five years ago. Endless miles of pink stucco houses, barely six feet apart, corralled into gated communities with equally pink walls separating them from arrow-straight six-lane thoroughfares, each major intersection dominated by four standard-issue strip malls. The areas surrounding downtown, however, is a completely different story. It has always been full of old houses (built in the teens and twenties, mostly) with amazing amounts of character, each one unique, and most of them small enough to be manageable even for a die-hard apartment dweller like me. A handful of random highrises look completely out of place but only add to the mosaic-like character of the neighborhoods. The problem, even as recently as five years ago, was that that's all there was. There was no street life to speak of. You had to get in the car to buy a quart of milk, and unless you were willing to drive a fair distance, you ended up buying the milk at a rather frightening-looking convenience store in a dilapidated gas station. In may areas, the houses were separated by large, empty, wind-blown lots that were beyond creepy at night. A few apartment complexes downtown, built when downtown still had a trace of a pulse, remained, their residents not inspiring confidence, to put it mildly.
All this started to change, very slowly, right around 2002-2003 as Phoenix was reluctantly swept into the reurbanization/gentrification movement that an increasing number of American cities was embracing. A few condo complexes started to go up along Central Ave., intrepid non-conformists like M. bought and restored some old houses, and a few trailblazing businesses like Portland's started to make a cautious foray into the wasteland surrounding downtown. Happily, the momentum continued. Phoenix is still a far cry from a truly vibrant, walkable city, and to be honest, I have my doubts that something like that can be created effectively from scratch, but I must admit I feel chastened – the areas surrounding downtown Phoenix seem like a very attractive place to live today, and hopefully, with the opening of the light rail and more construction, will continue to improve.
M. caught us up on his frenzied life. The Chamber Series was a major topic of discussion, and while it is demanding tons of his energy, it seems to be going really well. He lectured a bit on the importance of keeping it small and simple, and of having realistic expectations for its success. I found his discussion of the challenges of attracting audiences interesting. He is, of course, enthused about the revival of the downtown area, but concerned that as more money is being poured in, and more luxurious housing gets built, its denizens will not necessarily increase his pool of potential concert attendees. “Condo people,” in his words, “do not go to classical concerts. They've been raised on U2. They watch DVDs on their fancy entertainment systems. They might go see the Nutcracker at Christmas time.” I thought that he was being a little too simplistic by saying that, and that he was falling victim to the demographic compartmentalization in which the marketers he claims to dislike so much routinely engage. More generally, though M. is one of the most optimistic, energetic and positive-thinking people I know, I got a sense that he was feeling overwhelmed and frustrated. Between his regular job playing for the Phoenix Symphony, the Chamber Series, which he still does mostly single-handedly, and raising two kids with his wife who works only occasionally, he feels chronically short on both time and money.
Our plans for the rest of the day called for hiking in the Supersition Mountains. When we got back to C.&S.'s house, however, S. informed us that there was a marathon taking place in the very area where we were going to hike, so we had to resort to Plan B – Camelback Mountain. Camelback is right in the middle of Phoenix and features two trails to the top, both relatively challenging. It is perpetually crowded, but it does offer Southwestern hiking in microcosm without having to drive far, and as beautiful as true Arizona wilderness is, the views of Phoenix (and, unfortunately, its smog) from the top are something to behold, too. S. stayed behind as she still wasn't feeling well, and the three of us set out for the mountain. By the time we got there, the morning crowd had come and gone, and while there was still a lot of people, it was manageable. The weather held beautifully. The whole trail is only about five miles round-trip, but with a 2700-foot elevation change, the last third of it scrambling up some serious boulders, it's more fun than most five-mile trails offer. There is little point in describing the hike mile by mile, suffice it to say we loved every second of it. The hike also offerred the only meaningful wildlife sighting of the entire trip – two adorable desert hares, unfazed by groups of noisy hikers, munching on fresh grass at the foot of the mountain.
Photo courtesy of C.
Back at the house and cleaned up, we whiled away a couple of hours on the patio over a beer before heading to dinner. It was great to have some of the local beers again. You would think that in this day and age, in a consumerist furnace that is the US, every product would be available everywhere. Nothing could be further from the truth when it comes to microbrewed beers. Antiquated liquor laws and an arcane system of distributors makes many excellent beers unavailable in many parts of the country. Add to that truly local breweries that do not produce enough to sell outside their immediate surroundings, and every city of any size has its own little world of artisan beers, some of them amazingly delicious and utterly unique. In the event, C. had two of my favorites in his fridge – 1554 Black Ale from New Belgium Brewing Company in Ft. Collins, CO, and the Kilt Lifter from Phoenix's own Four Peaks Brewery. Neither is available East of the Mississippi. The 1554 stuff, in particular, is fantastic – nominally Belgian-style (Belgian yeast and secondary fermentation in the bottle), it is actually a style onto itself – pitch-black, yeasty like a good Belgian but with a heady all-American dose of hops. The Kilt Lifter is less intimidating but no less delicious – ostensibly a Scottish-style ale, it is lighter and more refreshing than classics like Bellhaven or McEwan's – perfect for sitting on C.&S.'s patio, listening to their burbling fountain and soaking up the last warm rays of the Arizona winter sun.
Our main motivation for coming to Phoenix was, of course, to see friends. But of all the things on this trip not directly related to people, our dinner on Sunday has to take the cake (though no cake was actually consumed). We went to Richardson's, a New Mexico-style Southwestern restaurant off of 16th Street that is hands-down our favorite restaurant in the entire Phoenix area. New Mexico, Santa Fe in particular, has a distinctive style of Southwestern cuisine – superficially similar to Tex-Mex, it is actually utterly unique once you get to know it. Most of the dishes rely heavily on fresh chiles grown near Deming and Hatch, NM. It is the only regional cuisine that I have not been able to find outside of its native habitat – in fact, Arizona is about as far from Santa Fe as it gets. When done well, as it is at Richardson's, it is ridiculously good.
Richardson's menu is extensive, and they always feature several specials on the large chalkboards. Those tend to be the more creative, “gourmet” entrees – nut-crusted fish and such – but there is really no reason to go beyond the basics, printed right on the paper placemats. One of our favorites has always been posole – a pork and hominy stew that has its origins as a celebration dish in the Southern parts of Mexico. Richardson's version is perfect. It is clearly done the way it should be – stewed slowly for many hours, with no shortcuts. The pork is amazingly tender, and the thick, rich sauce of red chile and tomato has the perfect amount of heat and smokiness to it. J. ordered a bowl on Sunday – it was as good as we remembered it. I almost went for a bowl of posole myself, but opted for the chiles rellenos – two large roasted green chiles, stuffed with cheese and deliciously tender pork similar to that in the posole. I remember seeing the chiles being roasted in New Mexico years ago – it is usually done in large steel mesh drums with mesquite fires underneath. I don't know if Richardson's has one of those in the back, but my chiles tasted authentic – tender but firm enough to retain their shape, with a deep, smoky, peppery flavor. The cheese used for the stuffing was excellent as well. Even the best Tex-Mex restaurants can't seem to avoid gloppy, rubbery cheese, but Richardson's does it somehow – my cheese was perfectly white and oozed out of the chiles as a thick liquid, not clumps. The whole assembly was served with the classic New Mexico red chile sauce – thick, flavorful and quite hot – and a side of pinto beans that were actually good, not the refried gunk that passes for beans in so many restaurants. C. opted for a more “modern” dish – stuffed chicken breast – that he gave high marks. It came with one of Richardson's signature sides – green chile potatoes. They look like regular mashed potatoes, but they do taste strongly of green chile. Quite good. S., being a somewhat picky eater, played it safe with a chicken quesadilla, but I'm sure that even something as prosaic as that was delicious in the hands of Richardson's chefs. The wine list was actually quite extensive and interesting, but this was beer cuisine through and through, and we went with Anchor Steam that Richardson's had on draft.
From here, it was, unfortunately, time to wind down the trip. The following morning, C. and S. went to work while J. and I drove to the airport, returned the car, and flew home on another amazingly on-schedule, trouble-free flight.
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