What’s always in your fridge?

BY ARIELLE CHRISTIAN

Andrew Horton

Martyrs Steakhouse

MAYONNAISE — KEWPIE JAPANESE MAYO, TO BE

exact. “It has MSG in it,” says Andrew Horton, the 40-year-old, who’s been the executive chef at Martyrs since March and who’s hoping the steakhouse will be his “forever home.”

Horton’s go-to meal when he gets home from a busy shift at 11 p.m. or sometimes midnight, when the rest of the family is in bed? A sourdough, sharp cheddar and Kewpie sandwich. (He makes his own bread. “When I’m baking, it’s my zen time,” he says, contrasting the slow process of prepping loaves with behindthe-line’s frenzied pace.)

Horton first discovered Kewpie — with its little baby icon on the front, arms wide out, tempting “squeeze me” — in New York, where he attended the French Culinary Institute and worked in restaurants in Manhattan and Brooklyn for a near-decade.

“A chef used it on the steak tartare. It was one of the first times I’d ever eaten raw meat. I fell in love with the dish,” says Horton, who put down roots in Taos six years ago, the mountains reminding him of his childhood in Boulder, Colorado.

And now?

“I usually order it [the mayo] by the case and have it in reserve, because I can’t stand the thought of ever running out. I’ll probably go through a bottle a month.”

In his not-at-home fridge Horton keeps herbs, especially fresh thyme. He’ll sachet it with black pepper and bay leaves and then braise Martyrs USDA-approved 100 percent primed-black Angus beef, which has, he says, “ruined other steaks for me.” •

Morgan Timms/Taos News

WHAT’S ALWAYS IN YOUR FRIDGE?

James Crowther III Lambert's

FOR LAMBERT’S EXECUTIVE CHEF, JAMES CROWTHER III,

it’s all about the bacon, baby. He’ll fry it straight up, a six-and-a-half out of 10 on the crispy scale.

Usually he goes for the Beeler’s bacon from Cid’s, but he’s not too picky, because, as he says, “I can never have enough.” The classic staple is a callback to growing up cooking with his mom in northern Virginia, and making breakfast — eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes — the morning after birthday parties for friends.

He likes experimenting with the meat, too. “I’m working on a special for tonight — a caramelized leek and bacon bread pudding,” says the 37 year old, who landed in Taos six years ago for the Lambert’s gig. (Before that he was in St. Thomas after graduating from Johnson & Wales culinary school in Charleston, SC.)

He doesn’t limit the bacon to the pig. “I have some lamb bacon curing right now that I’ll smoke tomorrow with some salt, pepper, brown sugar and chile spice,” he says, noting how the restaurant serves two to three different specials per night.

Besides that, he keeps fresh greens and hot sauce in steady supply. That Taos Hum? He recently got to do a tasting and can’t choose a favorite. Crowther says his fridge selection is ever-changing. “I develop the menu as I’m in the store,” he says. “I’m always looking for new product, instead of having a concrete plan and not paying attention to anything else.” •

Morgan Timms/Taos News

WHAT’S ALWAYS IN YOUR FRIDGE?

Gabe Farkash

Sabroso

IT’S A LONG LIST OF GOODNESS FOR SABROSO’S GABE FARKASH,

starting with Asian condiments: fish sauce, tamari, rice wine vinegar, chili paste, Sriracha. Farkash has never been to Asia, but remembers that little family-run Japanese restaurant close to Rio Rancho outside of Albuquerque, where he grew up. The grandma cooked in the back while the daughter waitressed, bussed the three or four tables there. He’d order Yakisoba — “fried noodle” — as a 7-year-old. His love of the spiciness and fragrances stuck, and now he fuses the Asian influence with others, like French, making a wasabi hollandaise. “I definitely always have hatch green chile and Chimayo red chile pods at home,” says Farkash, 39 years old and in Taos for 20.

In his freezer, there’s wild game from friends he’s planning on brining and smoking. Elk, deer, bear. “You either have clean bear or ‘trash bears,’” he says, recalling his time working at the Bavarian in the Taos Ski Valley and how the bears would always come drink the dirty fryer grease. “ ’Cause it’s full of saturated fat and fish oil and shit. They’re just like, ‘Yum.’ They’ll go two at a time and knock each other over. Seen it on camera numerous times.”

Some mornings, he’ll throw some meat in the smoker at his place in Valdez and come home to “something falling apart and throw it on a tortilla.” (He makes his own.) Between his fridge and Sabroso’s — stocked with high-quality seafood, local bison and red meat, greens from nearby farms, and wild-foraged mushrooms — Farkash’s hands and belly stay full. •

Courtesy photo