Whet Your Appetite in Arroyo Seco

Arroyo Seco is a quirky little 200-year-old village of aspens, adobes, yoga studios, hollyhocks, artisan shops, mountain views, and worth-the-drive eateries just nine miles north of Taos. It’s the kind of place where locals trade tamales for ice cream, yogis bask in the sun, and wandering musicians find an eager audience. Seco, as the locals call it, has also always had a reputation for good food. Once home to legendary eateries such as Sabroso Restaurant & Bar, Gypsy 360 Cafe, and Hiro Hobo, the culinary destination now boasts four impressive restaurants all within a five-minute walk. 

Long before its incorporation as a parish in 1946, La Parroquia de la Santísima Trinidad was a center of spiritual tradition, according to Taos historian Larry Torres. Seco was first mentioned in 1716, and Joaquín Codallos y Rabal was granted settlement rights in 1745. By the time the church of La Santísima Trinidad turned up in historical records in 1834, it was several decades old. 

After my hike, I drop into Abe’s Cantina y Cocina for a cold IPA and some chitchat with the bartender. And lunch. When it comes to tamales, you really don’t go anywhere but Abe’s. 

After World War II, Abe Garcia came home to tend bar at the Arroyo Seco Tavern. Village postmaster by day, beer-slinger by night, Abe soon married Grace Córdova. In 1981, the couple and their daughter Lina expanded the bar to encompass a restaurant. A frequent visitor to the bar, Abe turned 102 in April, and, apparently, has no intention of retiring. 

I use the sweltering afternoon heat as an excuse to drop into Taos Cow for a scoop of chocolate ice cream. The flamenco guitarist from that morning wanders up and begins picking as I seek the shade of cottonwoods next to an acequia. 

Treat finished, I head to another of Seco’s oases. While Homestead Garden feels complete, it remains a work in progress—a sort of living museum and window into a mid-1800s northern New Mexico homestead. There, beneath the aspens, I find a pergola covered in vines and step inside. 

Elijah Safford, who owns Aceq Restaurant, once told me that Seco was the kind of place a visitor could take a nap and nobody would bother you. “In fact, locals might offer you a pillow,” he said. So I lay my head back on my day pack and nap into the afternoon.

Safford, who was born and raised in Taos, found himself in charge of Aceq fresh out of high school in 2018. “Pure madness,” he says. It wasn’t too long after that, the late owner, Michael Wagener, persuaded Stafford to buy the place. “It was trial by fire and a lot of passion,” Safford says. Best described as an American bistro, Aceq prefers to cook from scratch and source locally whenever possible. You can grab a beer or two and a chicken sandwich and get out for under $30, or hit the high-end with Wangus (a cross between Wagyu and Angus) beef and a $700 bottle of wine. “Whatever you want, fine by us,” Safford says. “You’ll get a quality product either way.”

One thing that stands out about Seco is the cooperative energy making the village thrive. As I wander the pocket gardens and hidden pathways between the town’s adobes and Territorial Style buildings, I notice signs pointing diners to Sol Food, Abe’s, Aceq, and Taos Cow. The owners at Old Bones Gallery, a sweet little shop showcasing ceramic and textile art, suggest I drop into Wilde.Ink, a printmaking shop, and Santos y Mas, which features New Mexico folk art. At Santos y Mas, they suggest I hit up Old Bones. And so on. 

By the time I roll out of Aceq, belly stuffed with a day of delectables, I know the Persian Love Cake will have to wait. So too will the pile of tamales in my truck. 

“It’s a little slice of paradise,” Safford says of Seco. “Those of us who live here get that. And so, collectively, we work to preserve that. And share it. Our tools are art and food.”