This Tequila is tough to swallow

By Lori Midson, Special to the Rocky

Thursday, May 8, 2008

Long ropes of chile ristras, the hue of ruddy red bricks soaked by rain, dangle from the rafters at the Santa Fe Tequila Company, an attractive New Mexican restaurant in the heart of Denver's Santa Fe arts district. Rugged vigas stretch across the ceiling, interspersed with wrought-iron chandeliers that cast a shadowy glow.

The curved booths, upholstered in Southwestern fabric, are comfortable and cozy, while the cushioned straight-back chairs, their dark wood scratch-painted with vibrant splashes of reds and blues, seemingly showcase the work of an artist with a vivid color palette.

And the buttery stuccoed walls, affixed with stern portraits of American Indian women, might make you believe that you're dining in the desert, at some gilded restaurant in the Land of Enchantment.

But if I were a regular here, I'd be a fixture in the dimly lit cantina, with its undeniably gorgeous bar, loungy sofas, unique pottery, twinkling candles and cobalt blue garage door that opens to a small, unfussy patio.

The effects are simultaneously warm and inviting, kitschy and curious, although the blaring television in the corner - an obsessive play toy for the servers who channel-surf through the music stations in a frenzy - seems intended to mute your conversation.

Unfortunately, I have no intention of becoming a devoted barfly at the Santa Fe Tequila Company, in part because the house margarita ($6), concocted with Sauza Gold tequila, tasted inexplicably like dishwashing detergent.

Not just the first margarita, but the second and third pours, too. I didn't think much of the Life Savers-sweet red sangria ($6), either, and the fact that the bar was out of the Gruet sparkling wine ($38), which actually hails from Albuquerque, an hour's drive from Santa Fe (but available just down the street at the local liquor store), was another eyebrow-raising puzzlement.

So much for getting lubricated on libations.

I had hoped that the food, billed as Santa Fe-style, would be more successful, but alas, the kitchen turned out more spills than thrills.

The basket of housemade chips - blue corn, naked white corn and white corn gregariously dusted with chili powder and paprika - were cold, and the current trend of pairing aggressively spiced chips with equally assertive dips, such as the guacamole ($8), amply flecked with cilantro, onion and tomatoes, is intrusive.

The aguacate ($6), half a fried avocado crisped to a golden brown and heaped with pico de gallo, is, I suppose, the restaurant's idea of flashy artistry, but after a few forkfuls, the novelty had worn off.

Quite frankly, I much preferred the green chile queso ($6), a creamy crock of Velveeta, American and sharp cheddar cheeses jolted with green chiles.

The menu calls it "fondue," but who's kidding whom? It's fraternity food - of the highest rank.

But while frat boys, drunk on tequila, might not notice the significant shortcomings of the tortilla soup ($6), most notably the soggy shards of tortilla strips and lobs of stringy cheese floating in a forgettable, too tomato-y broth, I did.

I also noticed the tepid temperature and noncommittal flavors of the posole ($6.95).

If there's a rule of thumb here, it's to opt for any dish involving the red chile, an earthy and moderately spicy sauce of rusticity that has a slightly grainy texture.

It drapes the beef enchiladas ($13), a plate-spanning trio of soft corn tortillas tucked with well-seasoned ground beef and tarped with an avalanche of yellow and white cheeses.

The green chile, however, is tame, flirting harmlessly with the capsicum quotient and devoid of that smoky intensity and blistered char that deploy a lasting burn on your tongue. If you prefer, you can sample both the red chile and green chile simultaneously.

This is called "Christmas" in Santa Fe, and it simply means burying your plate with a combination of the two hues.

Which is exactly how I ordered the carne adobada burrito ($9.95) - smothered Christmas-style and rupturing at the seams with marinated pork, braised until tender.

But no amount of "Christmas" could save the chiles rellenos ($9.95), two New Mexican green chiles woefully undercooked and harboring lukewarm asiago cheese.

And while the barbecued ribs ($16) were supple and meaty, their sugary, sticky glaze of brandy, pineapple and ancho chiles doubled as a fly trap for your fingers.

On my three visits to the Santa Fe Tequila Company, both the dining room and bar were barren, which could have been simply indicative of my timing, but I wouldn't bet my margarita on it.

lmidson@gmail.com

Santa Fe Tequila Company

* Grade: C

* Address: 901 W. 10th Ave.

* Hours: 11:30 a.m.-9 p.m. Sun.-Thurs.; 11:30 a.m.-10 p.m. Fri.-Sat.

* Food: New Mexican

* How much: $4-$8 starters; $6-$7 soups and salads; $10-$16 main dishes; $1.95-$2.95 sides

* Reservations: accepted, but not needed

* Noise: No loud crowds, but the music from the television in the bar is often conversation-deflating

* Information: 303-534-7900; santafetequilacompany.com

* Parking: free street parking and lots