The Epic Chile Route Across America

The 643-mile journey along Interstate 25 from Las Cruces, New Mexico, to Denver is a unique passage through time and terrain, rarely matched by other American routes.

This highway traverses ancient settlements predating Columbus and modern suburban developments alike. It crosses verdant valleys, expansive plains, bustling cities, and abandoned towns, through forested mountains and arid deserts, connecting predominantly Mexican communities with predominantly Anglo suburbs.

For centuries, travelers have navigated this challenging path with caution. Conquistadors dubbed the southern stretch the Jornada del Muerto — Journey of the Dead Man — due to its harsh conditions. Even today, drivers rush over the Ratón Pass (elevation 7,834 feet) to avoid treacherous weather changes, which can swing from sleet to fog, dust storms, snow, and rain in mere miles.

This route demands bravery, but I conquered it. My motivation was the unifying element along the journey — chile.

Chile peppers stand as the Southwest's culinary icon: cultivated, preserved, and used decoratively, grilled, dried, frozen, and savored throughout the year. On I-25, 'chile' takes many forms — from the pepper itself to a salsa that ranges from thick as gravy to thin as water, mild to fiery. It appears in cheeseburgers, snacks, meat rubs, full meals or appetizers, bowls or plates, soups, chicken-fried steak, or burritos 'smothered' in it. Whether red, green, or a mix known as 'Christmas,' chile is integral to dessert, heritage, and daily life.

Over three days, I explored how Mytouries along the Chile Highway express their spicy muse. The dishes remain close to I-25 as their essence is tied to the locally grown chiles. No other peppers compare, so cooks and chefs roast fresh green chiles each fall for immediate use (and freeze the rest) or dry red chiles to make powders, flakes, or ristras (dried pepper bundles). This ensures a steady, year-round supply.

From this common ingredient emerges a vibrant food scene that extends well beyond Santa Fe and Hatch, the Chile Highway's media darlings. There’s excellent fare at American Indian-run gas stations, burger empires, and a rich array of regional styles — Cruces-Mex, Den-Mex, Pueblo-Mex, and more. (Check out Dinogo’s Definitive Guide to Santa Fe Green Chile.)

I sampled 'chile' 38 different ways and could have explored even more. But a word of advice: take this journey in stages, not in one go like I did. Like Icarus, I flew — or rather, ate — too close to the heat. At times, it felt like I might become a living Human Torch. Yet, like the Phoenix, I emerged from the flames, spitting nothing but fire.

And the experience was absolutely worth it.

To outsiders, Southwest cuisine often seems synonymous with Mexican fare, given their shared elements: tortillas, combo plates, a focus on meats, and, of course, chiles. Yet, over the past four centuries, the region has blended the culinary traditions of its three main ethnic groups — Mexican, white, and American Indian — creating a distinctive cuisine that is both shared and uniquely its own.

These culinary traditions found their most enduring form in New Mexico, where Hispanics (or Hispanos, many of whom trace their lineage to conquistadors) settled in the northern part of the Land of Enchantment in the 1600s. They remained relatively isolated until post-World War II when federal road construction connected Albuquerque and Santa Fe to the broader U.S. Unlike Cal-Mex and Tex-Mex, New Mexican cuisine evolved in relative isolation from ongoing Mexican migration, preserving many traditional elements.

Or so I believed.

Before my journey, I promised not to fall into the trap of viewing New Mexico as a relic where time had stood still, ripe for exoticism and outdated perceptions.

Charles Fletcher Lummis captured the essence of the American Southwest in his 1893 book, Land of Poco Tiempo: 'It is the Great American Mystery — the National Rip Van Winkle — the United States which is not United States. Why rush with the rushing world? The 'Pretty Soon' of New Spain surpasses the 'Now! Now' of the weary States.'

During Southwestern cuisine’s peak in the 1980s, chefs like John Rivera Sedlar and Mark Miller gained fame for blending local ingredients with French techniques. Despite this, the media often portrayed the movement’s followers as reviving forgotten treasures, rather than recognizing the ongoing evolution of local culinary traditions.

This perception undervalues the adaptability and pride of those along the Chile Highway. Locals maintain their chile heritage while embracing modern changes, reflecting their ability to evolve while preserving tradition. This dynamic was evident on my first day.

My journey started in Belen, a town of around 7,000 in New Mexico’s heart. At Sandra’s New Mexican Restaurant, I sampled a bowl of posole prepared in the traditional manner — spelled with an S, as Spanish friars did in the 16th century, not the Z used today. This posole lacked oregano, cabbage, or lime; it consisted solely of pork and hominy, with red chile served on the side.

I wasn’t accustomed to this style, but Sandra’s posole proved to be more robust than ramen — with tender chunks of pork, a rich broth, and hearty kernels. A splash of red chile further enhanced its depth of flavor.

Before I could fully romanticize New Mexican cuisine as an ancient gem, I indulged in Milly’s Burrito Plate at Alejandro’s Café, just a few minutes away: a substantial beef burrito topped with crispy french fries and drenched in a flavorful green chile. It was a heavy breakfast, but I quickly learned that substantial breakfasts are a New Mexican staple. With chilly mornings year-round, spice and starch are the perfect way to warm up.

My next destination, about 45 minutes south, was San Antonio Crane, named after both the small city of San Antonio and the sandhill cranes that visit the nearby Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge every winter. The converted house restaurant was bustling, which accounted for the slow service of my open-faced hamburger smothered in fries.

At Sandra’s, Alejandro’s, and San Antonio Crane, the focus wasn’t on debates over authenticity or heritage — it was simply about the chile. And that was more than enough for me.

Two hours later, I arrived in Las Cruces at La Nueva Casita Café, serving New Mexican classics since 1957. The dining room was filled with families fresh from church or sporting Dallas Cowboys gear, enjoying menudo with a side of toast — an unexpected pairing that reflects the region’s adaptability.

I opted for the huevos compuestos, a southern New Mexico specialty. These are crunchy tostada shells filled with carne adovada, topped with eggs cooked to your preference and drizzled with chile. It’s akin to a Hispano-style eggs Benedict, with a savory and spicy twist from the chile used both as a sauce and in the carne adovada. Think of it as a superior version of al pastor.

At La Nueva Casita, the adovada shone with the vibrant flavors of Hatch chile, renowned as the Chile Capital of the World and a staple for food enthusiasts. These peppers also made their way into my dessert at Caliche’s Frozen Custard, where I indulged in the New Mexican sundae: vanilla custard layered with candied Hatch peppers and salted pecans. The combination of crunch, sweetness, and spice made it one of the best frozen treats I’ve had in years.

Every summer, I visit Hatch, but this time I decided to skip it for a new adventure. I’ve long seen a billboard on I-25 advertising Arrey Cafe as having the “World’s Finest Green Chile Cheeseburger.” Now, I finally had the opportunity to test that bold claim.

The green chile cheeseburger embodies the essence of the Chile Highway. This iconic dish emerged after World War II, but New Mexicans quickly embraced it, gracias to Blake’s Lotaburger, a local favorite rivaling California’s In-N-Out and Texas’s Whataburger, with 28 locations in Albuquerque alone.

New Mexicans quickly warmed to this relatively recent addition; the state’s Tourism Department even promotes a Green Chile Cheeseburger Trail to draw visitors. It’s essentially a cheeseburger with green chile, but that’s where its charm lies: green chile is the unexpected topping that transforms a burger. Diced or whole sautéed peppers are generously spread over the patty, bridging New Mexico’s culinary past and present between two buns.

San Antonio’s Owl Bar & Cafe claims to have invented the burger to feed scientists working on the Manhattan Project. Unfortunately, it was closed when I visited on a Sunday, so I headed to Arrey instead.

The roadside billboard was nearly accurate. Arrey serves up a fantastic burger with a loosely packed patty, juicy Hatch chile, and a secret sauce that’s a zesty green salsa boosting the heat. The combination of green chile and salsa left a lasting burn, which I didn't fully appreciate at the time.

It was an early sign of the fiery torment that would soon engulf every fiber of my being.

After leaving Arrey, I faced a dilemma: many of the restaurants I wanted to visit were either closed on Sundays or shut down by 3 PM. I sped towards Albuquerque, snatching up any tasty finds along the route.

I discovered a lot of great eats. Johnny B’s in Truth or Consequences served a green chile Philly cheesesteak, which I dunked into their robust red sauce to make a New Mexican twist on a French dip. At the 24-hour El Camino Restaurant, I enjoyed a Frito pie—an irresistible blend of crunch, cheese, and a Socorro-style red chile that’s sharper and smokier than Hatch. El Camino’s rustic booths and kachina figures make it feel as if it hasn’t changed since it opened in 1963. And at the Los Lunas location of Burritos Alinstante, a statewide chain that rivals Blake’s for New Mexico’s best food empire, I savored a juicy adovada burrito.

I stopped for gas at the Isleta Travel Center, just outside the Pueblo of Isleta, where 'Pueblo' refers to what the rest of the US would call a reservation. New Mexico boasts some of the best gas station food in the country, thanks to Native American tribes running many of them and stocking local specialties. The last time I visited, Isleta sold green chile piñon nuts; this time, I picked up a bag of Bar X Brand green chile carne seca, a dried beef that feels like thin paper but becomes wonderfully tender in your mouth. Unlike other jerkies that claim to be spicy, Bar X actually delivers the heat.

I arrived in Albuquerque at night but managed to grab an adovada plate at Duran Central Pharmacy and adovada-stuffed sopaipillas at Sadie’s, two beloved local spots. Craving something sweet after all the savory dishes, I headed to Frontier Restaurant, a legendary late-night diner across from the University of New Mexico. Surrounded by portraits of John Wayne, I nibbled on one of their enormous cinnamon rolls. Yet, the ever-present chile remained: Frontier offers complimentary red and green chile sauces. I dipped chunks of the roll into both—chile as frosting? Absolutely divine.

The chile station was buzzing with students from all backgrounds. I felt a surge of warmth seeing a diverse crowd united by the simple joy of red and green chile.

Or was it the chile coursing through my veins?

Whenever I visit ABQ, I make a point to stop by Barelas Coffee House. This was the spot where friends first introduced me to the Duke City about a dozen years ago, showing me that in the Southwest, 'red' and 'green' are all about chile. A hearty bowl of either at Barelas, paired with their fluffy flour tortillas to mop up every drop, will instantly win you over to the city, the state, and the chile culture.

I kicked off Day Two with a bowl of green chile and grabbed some biscochitos (anise-flavored shortbread cookies) from the esteemed Garcia’s Kitchen chain. These snacks were essential for the longest stretch of my drive: 378 miles, concluding in Colorado Springs.

It almost spelled my end, period.

I fueled up at the Warrior Fuel II station in Bernalillo, managed by the Santa Ana Pueblo. Tribes throughout New Mexico have expanded their business ventures in recent years, launching restaurants to promote native cuisine and create job opportunities for tribal members. This approach both honors the past and secures the future.

Warrior Fuel II was buzzing with activity as construction workers and commuters grabbed to-go breakfast burritos or served themselves from pots of green chile stew. I opted for the stew, which was a fiery fall harvest of pork, potatoes, and peppers in a Styrofoam cup, needing no salsa. Even better was the Pueblo Restaurant inside San Felipe Travel Center in Algodones, run by the San Felipe Pueblo. The red chile was delicious, but the standout was the Pueblo taco—fry bread topped with ground beef, green chile, and cheese. Despite its colonial undertones, I joined in on this local favorite as others did the same.

Santa Fe often steals the spotlight, so I pushed on along I-25, making an exception for Cafe Fina, a charming coffee shop on the edge of the City Different. Their huevos divorciados, a Mexico City breakfast of eggs and ham on lightly fried corn tortillas, were adapted with Christmas chile instead of the usual red and green salsa. Afterwards, I navigated through the snow-dusted Sangre de Cristo Mountains to Las Vegas, New Mexico. I enjoyed my adovada burrito at Maryann’s Famous Burrito Kitchen, but the real gem was Charlie’s Spic & Span, a spot I hadn’t expected much from.

At first glance, Charlie’s Spic & Span seemed like a tourist trap with its neon signs and quirky paintings reminiscent of the cover of Whipped Cream and Other Delights. However, behind the kitsch was a fantastic diner. The adovada skillet, sizzling with runny eggs and potatoes, offered a breakfast at its finest. I also snagged a steaming bag of their fluffy flour tortillas from a table near the cashier on my way out.

After Charlie’s, I hit a rough patch: every restaurant between Las Vegas and Raton was closed. By the time I reached Enchanted Grounds Espresso Bar in Raton, a cowboy town on the old Santa Fe Trail, the hunger was real. It was 2 p.m., and the cafe had run out of food for the day.

I asked the friendly woman behind the counter, “Where else should I eat?”

“Not much open today,” she replied. “Everything worthwhile is shut on Mondays, and most places close around now. Seems a bit ridiculous to me.”

I grabbed a hot chocolate to complement the buttery green chile piñon brittle and my letdown. Heading to Trinidad, Colorado, a quirky mining town with a past of Mafia activity during Prohibition, as per local magazines. Downtown Trinidad had more Italian restaurants than Mexican ones, and pasta was the highlight at Tony’s Diner.

I also discovered a rare Southwestern gem: a bowl of chile caribe. This red chile, made from dried peppers, offers a spicier, richer flavor. It was among the best I’ve had and a fantastic introduction to Colorado-Mex cuisine.

Hispanos moved into southern Colorado in the 1850s, and many manitos (their descendants) feel a stronger connection to northern New Mexico than to Colorado itself. This results in a distinct culinary style that diverges from New Mexican food just as New Mexican differs from Mexican cuisine, with a notable influence from European immigrants (especially Italians) who have been in the region for over a century. This fusion creates a unique branch of Mexican cuisine where the blend is embraced due to the prominence of chile.

Take Corine’s Mexican Restaurant in Walsenburg, a town of 3,000. Established in 1957, its standout dish is Pollo de Colorado — crispy chicken strips smothered in a rich red chile. It tasted like a Mexican version of schnitzel, both invigorating and satisfying.

The chile at Three Sisters, a lively bar in Colorado City, was exceptional. Featured prominently was a bowl of Pueblo-style green chile made from Mirasol peppers, a variety that manitos have cultivated for over a century and is now gaining attention from Italian-American farmers in the San Luis Valley.

Apologies, New Mexico, but Pueblo peppers and their varieties surpass all your chiles. A single cup at Three Sisters demonstrated why — it was more potent than Hatch, more fragrant than Socorro, and rarer than Chimayó. (Colorado growers harvested only about 600 acres of peppers last year, while New Mexico harvested around 8,000.)

Pueblo’s love for Mirasol peppers is evident throughout the city, known for its unique cuisine. The most cherished dish is the Slopper — a hamburger patty drenched in green chile, the epitome of bar food. Gray’s Coors Tavern in downtown claims to have invented it, and their rendition is particularly delightful.

The chicken tacos at Polito’s Beer Barrel were outstanding. This local dive, just minutes from one of the last functioning steel mills in what used to be known as the Pittsburgh of the West, serves tacos with thick, salty flour tortillas that are fried to a crisp, resembling pita chips. Alongside, they offer fideo, Mexican-style vermicelli noodles usually found in soup but here served as a cumin-rich spaghetti. At Estela’s Mill Stop Cafe, the fried flour tortillas form the base of a massive tostada, paired with rice so tomato-sauced it’s almost a soup.

I left Pueblo with a Reskie Burger — a patty topped with pimento cheese and extra Pueblo chiles — from Bingo Burger, eager to explore more Pueblo-Mex cuisine. However, I could only manage one bite before my body finally gave out.

Frankly, you try consuming chile 27 different ways in just two days. It hurts.

The 45-minute drive to Colorado Springs was excruciating. While my stomach held up, every other part of me was on fire. My eyes felt like they were about to unleash a Cyclops-style optic blast, and my skin was radiating heat. My sides began to cramp painfully.

That night, sleep eluded me as I lay awake, haunted by the thought of green and red chiles slowly and deliciously bringing about my demise.

The first meal of the next day at King’s Chef Diner seemed deceptively simple: a small bowl of green chile stew made from Mirasol peppers. No meat, no beans—just chile in a bowl, accompanied by flour tortillas. Despite having overslept due to the previous night’s discomfort, one sip of this stew made all my worries fade away.

What a stew! Thick and comforting, like a warm Mexican hot chocolate. I was so famished that I devoured a massive breakfast burrito at nearby Rudy’s Little Hideaway, packed with zesty and caliente Pueblo green chile. Energized, I sped off to Denver for lunch at La Fiesta. Among restaurants with erratic hours along the highway, La Fiesta has the quirkiest: lunch-only Monday through Thursday, late hours on Fridays, and closed on weekends. It’s special to me as it’s where I first discovered Den-Mex cuisine over a decade ago.

The Mile High City’s take on Southwestern food is not just different from Mexican; it’s an entirely different universe. Chiles rellenos are wrapped in wonton wrappers and fried. The green chile, tinged orange not to honor the Denver Broncos but due to a heavy tomato presence, resembles a stew more than a sauce and packs a consistent heat that outstrips New Mexican chile, though it’s milder than Pueblo-style.

A local favorite for dinner is the Mexican hamburger: a burrito filled with beans and chicharron, topped with a hamburger patty and melted cheese. Even immigrant-run Mexican restaurants serve it to cover their expenses.

At La Fiesta, I stuck to my usual: the combo platter featuring a chile relleno, bean burrito, and cheese enchilada, all greasy, substantial, and drenched in green sauce. I also checked out Las Delicias, a Denver chain that blends Den-Mex staples with dishes like carne asada and carnitas. Then, I headed to Colorado Springs, planning a leisurely return up I-25 to sample mountain town Mytouries.

That plan turned out to be a mistake. Many Den-Mex spots close after lunch, causing me to bypass several towns on my way back to Denver. Apologies, Monument. Lo siento, Castle Rock. Centennial, you’re to blame.

I stumbled upon something intriguing at Charito’s House in Larkspur, known for Colorado’s Renaissance Festival. It was a no-frills Mexican Mytoury run by Puebla natives, with impressive tacos. Their menu, featuring crispy rellenos, Mexican hamburgers, and green chile under the Lo Traditional section, caught my eye.

A tradition unique to I-25 and nowhere else.

Mexicans are often seen as culinary purists (a reputation they’ve earned, in my view—feel free to @ me) who prefer their food unchanged and cringe at the idea of peas in guacamole. Yet, the Chile Highway offers a different perspective that even Mexican immigrants running Charito’s can appreciate: Den-Mex isn’t their Mexican cuisine, but rather a long-lost relative eager to reconnect and seeking respect from its ancestral roots.

Respect is something we should all offer.

By the time I arrived at Urban Sombrero in Englewood, my chile craving had returned. This sports bar, nestled among budget hotels, serves up Den-Mex with no compromises. They fry up chiles rellenos, making them perfect for dipping into an unexpectedly good green chile. I then enjoyed a strong green chile martini at the national chain Chuy’s Tex-Mex in Westminster.

This gave me the boost I needed to complete my Den-Mex pilgrimage. I visited Santiago’s, a chain with nearly 30 Denver locations, for a bean and cheese burrito smothered in green chile, far superior to its local rival Chipotle (which moved its headquarters to Orange County, California, in 2018). I also had a fantastic adovada-style pork chop drenched in meaty green chile at Señor Burritos. Two juicy pork tamales covered in green chile at El Noa Noa rounded out the experience—this is the place where I once dined with anti-immigrant former congressman Tom Tancredo before debating him across the street at a Chicano-themed diner.

I wrapped up my journey with the ultimate Den-Mex experience: a Mexican hamburger from Original Chubby’s. In my 2012 book Taco USA: How Mexican Food Conquered America, I declared it the best Mexican meal in America, because Chubby’s exemplified Mexican cuisine at its best—unexpected, hearty, bueno, and unapologetically local.

When I first covered Chubby’s, it was a modest stand where you had to order to-go, and they wrapped it with two paper plates stapled together to prevent chile spills. Since then, the owners have demolished the original structure and built a vibrant new restaurant with seating and big-screen TVs. Although the surrounding neighborhood is gentrifying, Chubby’s remains open from 6 a.m. to 2 a.m., and 3 a.m. on weekends, serving a steady stream of working-class customers.

The Mexican hamburger is still a marvel—gooey and soggy, drenched in enough chile to make the container overflow. And that’s just how it should be.

Like many of its Chile Highway counterparts, the Mexican hamburger may never gain popularity beyond its local area, and Chubby’s hasn’t received national recognition. It’s too working-class, too down-to-earth, too indulgent, and simply not considered Mexican enough by broader standards.

Too much I-25.

America's loss is the Southwest's gain. The region's chile game is incredibly strong, and I’m more convinced than ever. Despite having devoured 37 different chiles in just 60 hours, with a bloated stomach and an irritated throat, I finished every bit of my Chubby’s Mexican hamburger—and my satisfaction has never been grMytour.

Gustavo Arellano’s I-25 Eating Guide

NEW MEXICO

Sandra’s New Mexican Restaurant 721 N. Main St. Belen, NM, (505) 861-2222; no website
Alejandro’s Café 925 S. Main St., Belen, NM, (505) 861-1222; no website
San Antonio Crane 17 Pino St., San Antonio, NM, (575) 835-2208; no website
La Nueva Casita Café 195 N. Mesquite St., Las Cruces, NM, (575) 523-5434
Caliches 131 N. Roadrunner Pkwy., Las Cruces, NM, (575) 521-1161
Arrey Café Hwy 187, Arrey, NM, (575) 267-4436; no website
Johnny B’s 2260 N. Date St., NM, (575) 894-0147
El Camino Restaurant 707 N. California St., Socorro, NM, (575) 835-1180; no website
Burritos Alinstante 1140 Main St. NE, Los Lunas, NM, (505) 565-8570
Isleta Travel Center 4050 NM-47, Albuquerque, NM, (505) 869-9686
Duran Central Pharmacy 1815 Central Ave. NW, Albuquerque, NM, (505) 247-4141
Sadie’s 5400 Academy Rd., NE Albuquerque, NM, (505) 821-3388
Frontier Restaurant 2400 Central Ave. SE, Albuquerque, NM (505) 266-0550
Barelas Coffee House 1502 4th St. SW, Albuquerque, NM, (505) 843-7577; no website
Garcia’s Kitchen 1736 Central Ave. SW, Albuquerque, NM (505) 842-0273
Warrior Fuel II 1005 US-550, Bernalillo, NM, (505) 867-9700; no website
Black Mesa Travel Center 26 Hagen Rd Algodones, NM, (505) 867-4706
Café Fina 624 Old Las Vegas Hwy., Santa Fe, NM, (505) 466-3886; no website
Maryann’s Famous Burrito Kitchen 528 Grand Ave., Las Vegas, NM, (505) 426-8929; no website
Charlie’s Spic & Span 715 Douglas Ave., Las Vegas, NM (505) 426-1921; no website
Enchanted Grounds Espresso Bar 111 Park Ave., Raton, NM (575) 445-2219; no website

COLORADO

Tony’s Diner 734 E. Main St., Trinidad, CO (719) 846-6000
Corine’s Mexican Food 822 Main St, Walsenburg, CO, (719) 738-1231; no website
Three Sisters 6695 W. Hwy. 165 Colorado City, CO 81019 (719) 676-2276
Gray’s Coors Tavern 515 W. 4th St., Pueblo, CO, (719) 544-0455; no website
Polito’s Beer Barrel 2113 E. Evans Ave., Pueblo, CO (719) 564-9915; no website
Estela’s Mill Stop Cafe 317 Baystate Ave., Pueblo, CO, (719) 564-0407; no website
Bingo Burger 101 Central Plaza, Pueblo, CO, (719) 225-8363
King’s Chef Diner 131 E. Bijou St., Colorado Springs, CO (719) 636-5010
Rudy’s Little Hideaway 945 S. 8th St., Colorado Springs, (719) 632-9527
La Fiesta 2340 Champa St., Denver, CO (303) 292-2800
Las Delicias 439 E. 19th Ave., Denver, (303) 839-5675
Charito’s House 9080 Spruce Mountain Rd., Larkspur, CO, (303) 681-2373; no website
Urban Sombrero Sports Grill 7340 S. Clinton St., Englewood, CO 80112 (303) 955-2309
Chuy’s Tex-Mex 6595 W. 104th Ave., Westminster, CO, (303) 469-9441
Santiago’s 571 Santa Fe Dr., Denver, (303) 534-5004
Señor Burritos 12 E. 1st Ave., Denver, CO (303) 733-0747; no website
El Noa Noa Mexican Restaurant 722 Santa Fe Dr., Denver, CO (303) 623-9968
The Original Chubby’s 1231 W. 38th Ave., Denver, CO, (303) 455-9311

Gustavo Arellano is a features writer for the Los Angeles Times and the author of Taco USA: How Mexican Food Conquered America.Verified by Pearly HuangEdited by Rachel P. Kreiter