COLORADO’S relentless outdoorsiness is evident the instant you deplane in Denver. There’s a specially designed carousel running the entire length of the baggage hall: it’s custom made for the odd-shaped luggage — skis, mostly — that winter visitors lug along with them on athletic vacations.
And the northern reaches of the Rocky Mountain state — Aspen, Boulder, Denver, Breckenridge — embody that sporty mind-set, an only-in-Colorado combo of sweat, snowboarding and vegan cheese.
But this is a schizophrenic state, whose southern reaches are very different from the evergreen and ever-Anglo Rockies: drive barely two hours south from Denver along I-25, and the landscape, people and food have more in common with neighboring New Mexico than the scenes in Boulder, Vail or Aspen.
To see the shift at its most dramatic, just head south of Colorado Springs. This appealing resort town, with a true foothills setting that’s the envy of more distant Denver and flat-as-a-pancake Fort Collins, is best known for its swathes of army bases. It is also known for being the world headquarters for well-known Christian organization, Focus on the Family. The official highway sign that announces its visitors center, one locals explains to me, isn’t a state endorsement of the organization — rather, anywhere with a certain number of annual visitors can apply for state-funded signage. This is a popular stop.
Everything changes about 25 or 30 minutes later, when you hit Pueblo. Colorado Springs has Dr. James Dobson; Pueblo has Damon Runyon, who finished growing up here and worked at the local paper before moving to New York to become famous.
Pueblo isn’t the oldest community in the state; that honor goes to tiny San Luis, founded in 1851, just 60 miles or so north of Taos, New Mexico. Pueblo, however, is the unofficial capital of what one might refer to as Spanish Colorado; it is the hub of the regional culture. Everything appears to be built from red brick, though the town itself came up on steel — this place feels almost like a missing Rust Belt city.
Today, it’s a sleepy place, one that definitely has seen better days.
But a distinct Latin flavor is unmistakable. “It was only a few years ago that we began to rediscover a [part of our] heritage that until that point was covered over and ignored,” enthuses Deborah Espinosa, who runs the local El Pueblo History Museum.
“We said, ‘We are different, unique from the rest of Colorado not because of the steel-making, but because we have a different cultural history.’ There’s a gritty history to us.”
She’s helped chart that Latin history through a multimedia show, the Song of Pueblo, with music by Chicano composer Daniel Valdez.
Indeed, of the 100,000 or so people within the city limits, 48-49 percent of them are Hispanic, according to Rod Slyhof. Slyhof is a jolly bear of a man who has run the local Anglo chamber of commerce for many years (there’s also a Latin Chamber, set up in the past when Mexican businesses were marginalized by the mainstream, though now both work closely together).
He explains how the terrain here charts a natural path to Chihuahua in Mexico, the region from which many of Pueblo’s Chicanos claim descent. “We’re unofficially twinned with Chihuahua,” Slyhof laughs, sipping on a margarita at Jorge’s, the Mexican joint where Obama pitstopped during his campaign.
Historian Joanne West-Dodds, author of “Pueblo: A Pictorial History” notes that there’s still a regular overnight bus service linking Pueblo with that region. Pueblo, she says, looks Southwest, rather than north to the sparkly new cities and the Rocky Mountains. There’s no skiing in Pueblo — hotel rates peak in the summer, when it’s good for hiking and biking. The flat, arid land is more like a precursor of New Mexico’s dustbowl deserts.
West-Dodds says she prefers New Mexico, in general; traditionally, she says, it’s as likely that a local would head to Santa Fe as Denver.
I never go to Santa Fe without running into someone from Pueblo that I know,” she says.
As ever, it’s in the menus and food that the unique culture here is most evident. At times, it seems, that restaurants in Pueblo that are not Italian — there is a significant representation here, dating back to the industrialization of the region — are Mexican.
Many local recipes rely on the Pueblo chile. Compare it to the Hatch chile in New Mexico, which refers to any kind of chile grown in the Hatch Valley — the [Pueblo] is special,” Rod Slyhof sniffs, “It’s a mirasol, it grows up towards the sun instead of hanging down and is only grown round here. It’s meaty and it roasts better.”
In the fall, local farmers sell them fresh or roasted at the roadside and the Walmart here even has a supply. One local pizzeria carries a chile-loaded special named the Musso in honor of a well-known local pueblo farmer, while order a Pueblo Slopper and you’ll chow down on an open-faced hamburger slathered in green chili.
“Oh, one of the macho male things in Pueblo is to show how hot a chile you can eat,” chuckles West-Dodds. Back in Denver, moments after spotting that ski-friendly carousel, the clerk at the rental car counter pointed out that I didn’t need to far to see Mexicans in Colorado.
“That guy over there,” she says, gesturing to a colleague in the distance, “just moved up from Mexico. He makes tamales every morning to sell us for lunch, just $2. They’re delicious.”
Somehow, in this part of Colorado at least, I suspected they might have been served with at least a side of vegan cheese.
For more info, visit www.pueblochamber.org or www.colorado.com
SAMPLING COLO-MEX
When you opt for Mexican in southern Colorado, heed these two tips. Firstly, save room for the meal-ending sopapillas, the fried dough dusted with cinnamon and sugar that you drizzle at will with honey sold at most eateries. Second, trust your bartender. Even in a casual shack, he’ll probably know a thing or two about tequila.
Burrito’s Betty
2401 N. Elizabeth, Pueblo, 719-542-3639, www.burritosbetty.com
Open only for breakfast and lunch (it shuts at 2 p.m. and all day Sunday) owner Betty Luna started off hawking from door to door before setting up this burrito eatery. She dishes out delicious riffs on burritos from her small roadside shack — standard sizes (avocado, chile and pork or bean, chicharron and chile) run $2.50-$4, while a gutbusting monster is $5.
El Nopal
1435 E. Evans Ave., Pueblo, 719-564-9784, www.elnopalpueblo.com
A quiet café, brightly lit and atmosphere-less — mostly thanks to its bare formica tables and no music — but well worth a detour. The place is usually heaving with people gorging on the food and glugging crisp margaritas. Try the green chili, a soupy sludgy take on comfort food studded with chunks of pork ($7.25).
Estela’s
925 S. 8th St., Colorado Springs, 719-575-0244
Tucked away on a steep side street on the outskirts of Colorado Springs, this old school spot was revived this year by the same Puebloan family after illness shut it down several years ago. Come here for homey food for around $8 per entrée: the crispy flautas come drenched in sauce with moist, spicy rice. Ask for some of the smooth green salsa to dunk the tortilla chips in and order a house margarita — they’re made with Sauza Blanco.
Jorge’s Sombrero
1319 E. Evans Ave., Pueblo, 719-564-6486
Obama’s pit stop on his campaign (hence the T-shirts some employees wear), the menu here was developed with input from the employees so the food’s especially old-school expat. The space is suspiciously ersatz — bright colored orange walls festooned with soccer teams’ jerseys — but the food, from camerones rancheros, green pepper-smothered shrimp ($8.25) to savory stuffed sopapillas ($9.25), is reassuringly good.
Papa Jose’s Union Café
320 S Union Ave., Pueblo, 719-545-7476
Classic Colorado-Mexican food — more of that meaty gravy covering every dish and making burritos and flautas indistinguishable at a distance — in downtown Pueblo. The sopapillas here are served with a special jam that’s said to be the family matriarch’s secret recipe.
Rita’s Mexican Food
302 N Grand Ave., Pueblo, 719-542-4820
Come to this diner, with its brown leatherette booths and bright blue stripey plastic tablecloths, for a filling lunch (caution: there’s no liquor license). Custom-build a feast — enchiladas, tostadas, tacos and burritos are $2.30/each; try a crumbly chorizo one, or a chunkier version with home-chopped avocado. For the daring, there’s even menudo soup made from tripe and hominy ($4.45).