As if the pandemic hadn’t already sucked enough by the time we reached 2023, the longtime owner of The Teahouse, Rich Freedman, died unexpectedly in the summer. But then something kind of amazing happened, and the restaurant began to embrace Filipino flavors under the auspices of chef Martin Blanco. Just last year, I touted Blanco’s most excellent use of ube (a type of yam with a gorgeous purple hue popular in The Philippines; To a Tea, May 8, 2024) as well as then-owners Jake and Sandra Mendel’s willingness to take a chance on menu items that didn’t check the same eggs Benedict/quiche/omelette boxes we can find just anyplace.
Oh, but how the townsfolk revolted. You’d see it on social media nearly daily—the folks who didn’t know what to make of brunch and lunch dishes of which they’d never heard. I don’t think it’s hyperbolic to say the customers practically terrorized the Mendels, so they sold the place to new-ish owners Brittani and Cole Campbell (they’re from Texas) last October, and the menu has since gone right back to the same-old, same-old.
But I’m not cruel, nor will I evaluate a place based solely on lack of imagination, so I made my way back to the Santa Fe Teahouse & Bistro (it’ll always just be The Teahouse to me) one recent weekend to make sure its return to normalcy was worth the trouble. Spoiler: It kind of wasn’t.
From the moment my companion and I arrived until the moment we left, we discovered a gauntlet of disappointments. These might have been forgivable in a restaurant that opened recently or were there some kind of top-to-bottom menu redo, but my take as of this moment is that The Teahouse is coasting on previous successes, and I sure wish I could find a damn ube muffin someplace around here with frequency.
To wit: Our hostess seemed weirded out that we arrived when we did. Granted, we came around 1:30, but the advertised hours clearly state a closing time of 3 pm, so we didn’t particularly feel like we’d committed a faux pas. I know that not everyone wears their tone on their sleeve, and I’ve got a lot of patience for a server or host who just went through the ringer for lunch. When I feel something akin to annihilating contempt upon requesting a table, however, it’s harder to hang. Luckily, The Teahouse is still a beautiful space within a former residence on our city’s artiest street. The outdoor seating was still in full swing, too, but we opted for an indoor table to offset the chill in the air. The indoor spaces are pretty, too, and literally soaked in beigey natural light.
The service and food, however, didn’t quite live up to our expectations.
By the time our server arrived, we’d been seated for a good chunk of time with no drinks, no flatware and no sense that we were valued customers. I imagine the lunch rush on a Saturday is bonkers on a beautiful spring-like day downtown, so we sort of accepted it. Still, even a greeting might have been nice.
To be fair, though, the beet salad ($16) was absolutely excellent and worth a bit of a wait. We’re talking a generous amount of golden beets alongside fresh arugula, and the salad’s blood orange vinaigrette was a revelation of refreshing citrus that complemented the bitter greens while staying light enough so as to not dominate the flavor. For an additional $8, I enjoyed an added bit of fried chicken that was not only crispy and juicy, but didn’t edge out the beets in any way. Honestly, as I type this I kind of want to get that salad again.
My companion’s blue corn waffles ($13), however, were quite strange. The hallmark of a good waffle is in its being light and airy with a slight crisp. The Teahouse waffle was a strange combination of flavorless and dense, almost like a too-doughy pancake. Worse, there was no discernible blue corn flavor, and the included maple syrup couldn’t make up for the thick heft of the waffle.
Perhaps the wildest part of the experience was a nearby table who reportedly waited for over an hour for their food. Shit happens and the restaurant game is tough, but when a manager arrived to extend apologies by fully blaming the issue on the server within earshot of the other diners, including me and my companion…well, you shouldn’t throw your workers under the bus, dear manager. I overheard you telling those folks that you want to hear feedback, both good and bad, so I hope you can take that advice to heart. Even if you do, though, I’m not sure I’ll put The Teahouse into my regular rotation. To our server’s credit, she rolled with some serious punches and had likely spent some time in the weeds that day. Plus, that salad was one of the best I’ve had in Santa Fe in recent memory. Still, if you’re going to serve salads that run over $20 all told from a location that demands nightmarish parking, I’d hope for something hands-down awesome. Oh, and let’s get some ube back on that menu, please—I can’t be the only one who misses that stuff.
