Max's offers a welcome alternative to Santa Fe's nightlife.
If staying home is the new black, then Max's represents the color spectrum with abiding panache. If dining out, more so than eating in, is about the whole gestalt, then Max's is greater than the sum of its polychromatic parts.There's a lot to love about Max's, the long-overdue, gender-ambiguous, pansexual new kid on the block. ***image1***
It's the morning after Trannyshack's celebrated traveling drag show, and the burgeoning lines for hot coffee, warm blueberry muffins and quiche Lorraine brim with Santa Fe's finest and most fabulous. Maria "Max" Renteria, proprietor and
bonne vivante
, is this morning's friendly cocktail mistress, while co-owner chef Deena Chafetz punctuates the scene every few minutes with a fresh tray of sizzling bacon.
"I don't cook, but I love to eat," Renteria says about her collaboration with Chafetz, who was working as a private chef and caterer when they met. "I'd eaten Deena's food and absolutely loved it."
Thus, the brainchild of an impassioned former mortgage lender and a chef with a penchant for boot-camp fitness training was born.
Max's is located on Guadalupe Street's main drag in the clandestine nook that once housed the late, lamented Gelato Benissimo. It is appropriately recessed for a joint originally known as "Max's Speakeasy," a moniker proffered in jest by members of the local musical cognoscente, who were among the first performers showcased upon its debut.
Renteria expects Max's beer and wine license to be approved by July. Meanwhile, she's managed to procure cocktail licenses for special events, including weekly Friday night sessions of trailer-park-sweetened hilarity starring the "Queen of Queer Cabaret," Ms. Wenda Watch.
"Whatever happened to the Santa Gay of 20 years ago?" Wenda asks the audience.
Everybody laughs. Nobody even remembers it.
It might appear that Wenda's tireless mission, in addition to perfecting her meatloaf casserole for her oft-mentioned imaginary husband "Burl," is to resuscitate the avant-garde undercurrents of well-done drag shows by tempering their perceived campiness. To me, it matters not a whit either ***image2***way; Wenda is so ferociously effervescent that she takes the tart edge right off my lemon Napoleon ($5.75) which, in case you didn't know, is the most compulsively eatable dessert in town. The chocolate mousse and the pear strudel (both $6) are no slouches either.
Chef Chafetz' menu finesses a balance of soulful heartiness and sprightly minimalism without sacrificing robustness or flavor. The menu at Max's is a romp through a dozen culinary lexicons interpreted through Chafetz' flair with savory combinations and a simple, albeit generous, approach to plating. With the exception of a bitter grapefruit-red chile glaze on the shrimp tostadas ($14) and a variable experience with the baby back ribs ($12.50), which were falling off the bone one night and decidedly not doing so three nights later, Chafetz' food is vibrant, consistent and competently turned out. Most dishes, like the Vietnamese grilled chicken salad ($12), the chilled spinach "Oshitashi" ($7), the bok choy with shiitakes ($5.75) and the red chile mac and cheese ($8) are feel-good platefuls reminiscent of the sort of food you would hope to be fed at the home of a friend who cooks very well.
To the good fortune of Santa Feans, Chafetz also understands that when life gives you duck, you make duck leg
confit
($11) and duck
confit
salad ($9). Both dishes are superb, though I admit a particular fondness for the salad, where silky, tender meat meets the acid tang of a berry vinaigrette in joyous reverie. The Niman Ranch beef
carpaccio
($14), redolent of earth, spice and mellow red chile, is served with a lemony marmalade that is at once so surprising and ambrosial that it induces spontaneous laughter in everyone who tastes it.
"This tastes like candied Sprite," one taster remarks. "This tastes like my childhood," another says. "This tastes fantastic," I think to myself-and then, sadly, there was none left to eat.
Max's is concept-driven, though not in an ordinary way. "We wanted to create a space where anyone could come and feel welcome, and where nobody ever feels judged or excluded," Renteria says.
Many of the dishes are made for sharing, and the small tables, cast upon by an ambient red glow, are conducive to knocking elbows, knocking beer bottles and knocking boots-under the table first, of course.
Now that we no longer have to navigate through an obstacle course to traverse Guadalupe Street, it's time to rediscover it. So experience Max's-it's lighthearted and fun, the food and energy are great, and it calls attention to a niche that needs filling. If that's not reason enough to go, then don't: I don't want to have to wait in line at the next Trannyshack brunch.
