Authenticity is a word Jamie Wilson uses with caution.
Yes, he grew up in New Mexico. Wilson even named his new restaurant Hatch Southwest Kitchen, after the state’s famed chile. And guests can choose between red and green sauces, just as in the Land of Enchantment. But as in so many cuisines, dishes can be tweaked slightly from one community to the next, even one family to another. So the word comes with a caveat.
“Don’t call it authentic,” he says. “It’s to show the brand of New Mexico. The food we make is authentic to us.”
Wilson opened Hatch with his brother Stephen and Kristen Ridout, who also own the Carmel sushi spot Toro. Its menu represents flavors the brothers grew up with, but tuning the list – and even the recipes – continues to be a work in progress.
The red sauce that drapes a short rib enchilada renders an earthy savor with an acrid smokiness that underscores the beef. Prepared from New Mexico red and ancho chiles, the hue deepens to a rich maroon and speaks of adobe under a sinking desert sun.
“I worked hard on that sauce,” Wilson says. Indeed, it’s the third edition of the red sauce since the restaurant opened in February, replacing the old Robata Grill. And Wilson is still tinkering, wanting to add a little heat to reel that warm sunset back toward a more searing midday.
The side of rice on the plate was a month-long project. Despite a base of white grains and water, Wilson explains that it’s not that simple to dial in. The tomato and vegetables are just an inflection that can drift too easily, becoming louder or more muted.
“It has to be perfect all the time, the same every shift,” he explains. “Now we make a new batch every three hours.”
Cornbread fritters proved less taxing. The kitchen needed just a week before being satisfied with the results. Wilson laughs and says, “Bread and fritters are concepts that are not supposed to come together.”
The fritters are ample, yet delicate. True to a tradition that stretches across the Old South to the Southwest, the cornbread is savory rather than sweet.
“That’s why we have honey butter,” he explains. “It brings the cornbread to life.”
The appetizer portion is also plated with strips of candied bacon, turning an opener into a fulfilling experience bounding between lean and crispy to decadent and plump.
At the bar the theme continues. Offerings include sangria and palomas, as well as three different margaritas. Another – with mango and habanero – is about to make its debut.
Even the menu has been through four iterations in a few short months. But all of this toying and tinkering is deliberate, part of Wilson’s attention to customers.
“Once you do a recipe change, you have to listen to the community,” he explains. If the kitchen team is satisfied, but customers lean in a slightly different direction, it’s back to the kitchen.
The current menu is comprehensive, but not overwhelming. Since opening, the owners have continued to narrow the offerings.
“We looked at a lot of restaurants,” Wilson says. “The menus are three to four pages. We can still make you a cheese enchilada, why put it on the menu?”
The team can make adjustments so readily because most items are prepared in house – corn and meat roasted over flame, brisket ground for burgers, spirits infused with jalapeños or horseradish.
Of course, there are some ingredients made closer to the brothers’ original home. The flour tortillas needed for enchiladas are made to order in New Mexico. Because they weren’t happy with blue corn tortillas for street tacos that they found in California, they also select masa from a producer in New Mexico.
A similar ethic applied to renovating a sushi spot into a dining room of weathered wood and Southwestern flair. Wilson’s father made the bar. Other family members created art and decor. His son’s first task was to tear down the old bamboo wall.
So Hatch may be still hatching, but it is what Wilson wanted in his first taste of restaurant ownership: A vibe full of family and home.
“I was ready,” he says.