Molly Boyle takes a road trip to Charlie’s Spic & Span in Las Vegas; The Best from New Mexico Kitchens
the way to Las Vegas, New Mexico, you’ll hear songs on the radio that you rarely hear anywhere else. On the road to or from Rough Rider country, I know I can usually count on a spin of Ricky Van Shelton singing “From a Jack to a King,” as well as Cal Smith’s “Country Bumpkin,” a tearjerker about the circle of life. It’s quintessential road-trippin’ music — the kind you probably wouldn’t put on at home — but it sure sounds sweet and free when you’re barreling up I-25 on a spring morning toward one of the most fascinating towns in the state.
Charlie’s Spic & Span Bakery & Café, the most wellknown restaurant in Las Vegas, sits on Douglas Avenue in the heart of the old railroad town. A cartoonishly giant creampuff protrudes from its storefront next to the Historic Serf Theatre Hall and across the street from a stunning mural called The People’s History of El
inspired by the work of historian Howard Zinn and painted by students in town. “The Spic,” as older locals call it, has been open since 1950, billing itself as “The meeting, eating, greeting place of Las Vegas.” Owner Charlie Sandoval’s classic New Mexican fare has been featured by the Cooking Channel and NPR, and the café is a must-stop for state and local politicians. Gov. Susana Martinez didn’t dare dine and dash when she stopped into Charlie’s on the campaign trail in 2014; she wanted her panza llena and corazón contenta, as another slogan for Charlie’s goes. I
It is here, on any given weekend morning, that the circle of life in Northern New Mexico is on full display. Grandparents order eggs and papitas for their grandbabies; a room in the back is filled with supporters of a candidate for sheriff; hungover Highlands students mainline coffee and chile; ranchers in Wranglers and boots hunch over bowls of posole; and tourists pore over the menu, gaping at the homemade tortilla operation behind the counter, where puffy, perfectly browned flour discs stretch over a somewhat juryrigged conveyor belt.
Sandoval’s son, Isaac (who runs the new restaurant The Skillet, nearer to Las Vegas’ picturesque plaza), has filled the rooms with his bright Pop art, which includes floor-to-ceiling paintings of sundaes, chiles, burgers, pancakes, and one rather risqué textured work of a woman covered in whipped cream. The enormous creampuffs are a Charlie’s signature —
editorial page editor Inez Russell Gomez, who grew up in Las Vegas, recently remembered standing as a wide-eyed child in front of the bakery case, staring at a creampuff that seemed as large as her head. They’re still there in all their glory, crowned with bright maraschino cherries next to equally obscene cinnamon rolls, homemade donuts, big old biscochitos, cupcakes, brownies, empanadas, and lemon and key lime squares.
More is more at Charlie’s — all the booths are usually taken, and there is often a line. Afterward, you won’t really need to eat for the rest of the day. One breakfast favorite is the H-Art Attack, a mountain of papitas or hash browns smothered in chile and cheese, crowned with three eggs any style (mine were scrambled to fluffy perfection). Charlie’s green and red chile is the main event, with perfectly smooth textures and a slow, creeping, impressive heat. The papitas con chile and huevos are a similar but less formidable and more manageable breakfast avenue to take, and most everything is served with piping hot tortillas fresh off the belt.
About those tortillas — don’t forget to buy a bag to take home. They’re as thick as pita bread in some cases, nicely salty, available in white or whole-wheat flour, and there is nothing like them anywhere else.
Breakfast is served all day, but should you find yourself there for lunch, don’t miss the stuffed sopaipillas. The shredded chicken sopa contains enough tender white meat for three meals, as well as nicely browned papas covered in a mountain of melted cheddar-Jack cheese with scattered iceberg