So the most interesting meal I had on the trip wasn’t because of the food, but because two days after I ate at Cocina Madrigal, a kitchen fire broke out and closed the restaurant indefinitely. There were no injuries, and the structure was intact, so I’m hoping they won’t be closed for long. It’s a taqueria and tequileria that just does what it does exceptionally well – scratch tacos, enchiladas, and a few other items with very high-quality inputs. The tropical fish tacos came with a roasted salsa, a slaw of coconut, cabbage, and mango; and a mild chipotle aioli, and the fish was grilled, not fried, so I stumbled into the most healthful meal I had all week. I think the fish was mahi-mahi, but they didn’t identify it on the menu; it was very fresh, whatever it was, as were all of the vegetables, and the corn tortillas were some of the best I’ve had. Nana in Durham has long held that particular crown for fresh corn tortillas, but they have some competition here – these were still soft and tender even with some browning from the grill. I’m not even sure I’d even try anything else on the menu. Good luck to Chef Leo Madrigal in reopening soon.
Cocina Chiwas is the new full-service restaurant from Nadia Holguin and Armando Hernandez, the owners of the wildly successful Tacos Chiwas mini-chain in the Valley, and this rivals Bacanora and Barrio Café as the best high-end Mexican restaurant in the Valley. I went there with a pair of friends, so I tried quite a few dishes, with zero misses in the group. The elote is straightforward, but also a perfect exemplar of the popular grilled-corn dish. The asado de puerco (pork spare ribs) come with a rich, earthy chile colorado sauce along with beans, rice, and tortillas, but honestly I would put that sauce on anything. The oysters come with a jamaica and habanero mignonette, less spicy than you’d expect, more like a strong red wine vinaigrette because the astringency of the hibiscus. The “chile con queso” was not what I expected – it was roasted peppers, tomatoes, and onions with a topping of two mild white Mexican cheeses, and even as someone who’s not a huge fan of cow’s-milk cheese, I was all over this because the vegetables were so good and the cheese was an accent rather than the dominant flavor. And the carrot-cake tres leches with candied pecans and a berry compote was superb – by that point, I’d had enough to eat and drink that I needed a dessert with some punch to get through, and this offered it with plenty of sweetness plus some tang from the berries and bitterness from the cajeta (caramel) sauce. If I have a nit to pick, I didn’t love either cocktail I tried – their takes on a Manhattan and an Old-fashioned, both of which were fine but didn’t improve on the originals. Both drinks had a smoky flavor that overtook the rest of the ingredients.
Espiritu Mesa is the new East Valley outpost from the folks behind Bacanora, which might be the best restaurant in the Valley based on locals’ opinions plus my one time eating there. The drinks here were well ahead of the food, for better or worse. Their ceviche changes often, so what I got may not be what you get if you go this week, but I will vouch for the freshness of the fish and a tangy soy-lime base; it came with sliced radish and a lot of cilantro. The aguacate was just a big ol’ thing of guacamole, served with enormous chicharrones that were really hard to break or chew. I’d either skip that or ask for tortilla chips. You could have made a coat out of all of the pig’s skin on that plate. You’re really here for the drinks – you get a little book of their various signature cocktails, with lists of ingredients, descriptions of the flavors, and ratings by bitterness, booziness, sourness, and sweetness. I had two cocktails, the Maduro and the Desu Notu. The Maduro has charanda (a white rum from Mexico), reposado tequila, crème de banana, cocchi Americano (a bitter aperitif), and blackstrap and chocolate bitters. The Desu Noto (Death note) also has charanda and crème de banana, along with bacanora, an agave-based spirit similar to mezcal, along with palm sugar and chocolate bitters. I preferred the Desu Noto, which wasn’t as sweet and let the flavors of the two liquors come through more, although I’d gladly have either again.
Vecina calls its cuisine “Modern American, Latin-inspired,” and I have no idea what that even means, but the food was good so they can call themselves Tralfamadorian for all I care. This was my last meal before departing, so I was trying to keep it light after eating and drinking too much all week. The ceviche was classic Peruvian-style, marinated in leche de tigre (lime, garlic, onion, chile, fish stock) and tossed with some grilled pineapple and other veg, served with tortilla chips. I’m an easy mark for ceviche as long as the fish is fresh, and this was. The charred broccoli with cashew crema, fermented honey, and Thai sauce (again, not sure what that means other than that there was definitely fish sauce involved) was a new way of serving what is probably my favorite vegetable to cook at home, something I’ll try to adapt for the family. The broccolini were indeed lightly charred, but the combination of the other elements made for a sauce that was sweet, tangy, heavy on umami, and slightly fatty to cut any bitterness in the brassica itself. I had debated that versus the shaved Brussels sprouts, but that dish had dates and I have had two very odd allergic reactions to date syrup so I’m a little wary of them. I made a good call here. One note – parking is scarce and you may end up in a nearby lot.
Hodori is in a Mesa strip mall that’s a sort of ASEAN of food – there’s a Thai place, a Chinese place, two Japanese places, as well as this bare-bones Korean restaurant that serves various bulgogi and soft-tofu dishes. I went with some friends and we shared four dishes – a kimchi pancake, a seafood-scallion pancake, pork bulgogi, and seafood bibimbap. The seafood-scallion pancake won out for me, primarily because the kimchi pancake was so tangy and didn’t have enough to balance out the spice and the sourness. The pork bulgogi was also pretty spicy but the sauce had enough sweetness and umami (there’s usually soy sauce and some fermented product like gochujang in bulgogi) that the heat didn’t overtake the dish, and the pork was extremely tender. The total tab for all three of us, including some shoju and beer, was about $70 before tip.
I’m loyal to my breakfast spots – the Hillside Spot, Crepe Bar, and Matt’s Big Breakfast, all of which I hit while in Phoenix – but did try one new one in Ollie Vaughn’s, meeting my longtime friend (literally – I think we’ve been friends for 15+ years now) Nick Piecoro there. Their sausage and biscuit sandwich, with egg, cheese, and jalapeño marmalade on a buttermilk biscuit is a tremendous amount of food, and the biscuit just fell apart by the time I was halfway through it, but I have zero regrets. They use Schreiner’s sausage, the best sausage vendor in the Valley that I know.
Lom Wong was the one mildly disappointing meal of the trip, although it’s more about my palate than the food at this acclaimed northern Thai restaurant, where many of the recipes come from the chef’s extended family across Thailand. The green mango salad was pretty incredible, better than any similar dish (usually green papaya) I’ve ever had, with fried shallots, toasted coconuts and peanuts, a dressing of coconut milk, lime, and fish sauce, and “hand-torn” shrimp, which, well, I hope they were dead first? I ordered the arai kodai, in which the server picks dishes for you based on what you indicate you do/don’t like and your spice tolerance, but even after saying mine was pretty low, I ended up with a chicken dish that had just been added to the menu, very similar to larb gai, that tasted only of chile pepper and a little of cumin, which gave it the overall vibe of spicy dirt. I did enjoy the Three Kings cocktail, with dark rum, dry curaçao, fernet (an Italian amaro that’s very herbal), guava, palm sugar, and what I assume is a bitters from Som, founded by the chef-owner of Portland’s legendary Thai restaurant Pok Pok. It’s reminiscent of Caribbean rum cocktails, but far less sweet and cloying.
Filterworld.
In his new book Filterworld: How Algorithms Flattened Culture, journalist Kyle Chayka details the myriad ways in which we are thrust towards homogeneity in music, television, movies, books, and even architecture and travel because, in his view, of the tyranny of the algorithm. The book is more of a polemic than a work of research, filled with personal anecdotes and quotes from philosophers as well as observers of culture, and while Chayka is somewhat correct in that a small number of companies are now determining what people watch, listen to, and read, that’s always been true – it’s just happening now by algorithm when technology was supposed to democratize access to culture.
Chayka’s premise is sound on its surface: Major tech companies now depend on maintaining your attention to hold or increase revenues, and they do that via algorithm. Netflix’s algorithm keeps recommending movies and shows it believes you’ll watch – not that you will like, but that you will watch, or at least not turn off – thus keeping you as a customer. Spotify’s auto-generated playlists largely serve you artists and songs that are similar to ones you’ve already liked, or at least have already listened to, as I’ve learned recently because I listened to one song by the rapper Werdperfect that a friend sent me and now Spotify puts Werdperfect on every god damned playlist it makes for me. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Tiktok, and their ilk all use algorithms to show you what will keep you engaged, not what you asked to see via your following list. Amazon’s recommendations are more straightforward, giving you products its algorithm thinks you’ll buy based on other things you’ve bought.
Chayka goes one further, though, arguing that algorithmic tyranny extends into meatspace, using it to explain the ubiquity of Brooklyn-style coffee shops, with sparse décor, subway tiles, exposed wood, and industrial lighting. He uses it to explain homogeneity in Airbnb listings, arguing that property owners must determine what the algorithm wants and optimize their spaces to maximize their earnings. He is ultimately arguing that we will all look the same, sound the same, wear the same clothes, live in the same spaces, drink the same expensive lattes, and so on, because of the algorithms.
To this I say: No shit. It’s called capitalism, and the algorithm itself is not the disease, but a symptom.
Businesses exist to make money, and in a competitive marketplace, that’s generally a good thing – it drives innovation and forces individual companies to respond to customer demand or lose market share to competitors. These market forces led to the advent of mass production over a century ago, a process that depended on relatively uniform tastes across a broad spectrum of consumers, because mass-producing anything economically depends on that uniformity. You can’t mass-produce custom clothes, by definition. Companies that have invested heavily in capital to mass produce their widgets will then work to further expand their customer base by encouraging homogeneity in tastes – thus the push for certain fashions to be “in” this year (as they were twenty years prior), or the marketing put behind specific books or songs or movies to try to gain mass adoption. Coffee shops adopt similar looks because customers like that familiarity, for the same reason that McDonald’s became a global giant – you walk into any McDonald’s in the world and you by and large know what to expect, from how it looks to what’s on the menu. This isn’t new. In fact, the idea of the algorithm isn’t even new; it is the technology that is new, as companies can implement their algorithms at a speed and scale that was unthinkable two decades earlier.
Furthermore, we are living in a time of limited competition, closer to what our forefathers faced in the trust era than what our parents faced in the 1980s. There is no comparably-sized competitor to Amazon. Spotify dominates music streaming. Each social media entity I listed earlier has no direct competition; they compete with each other, but each serves a different need or desire from consumers. The decline of U.S. antitrust enforcement since the Reagan era has exacerbated the problem. Fewer producers will indeed produce less variety in products.
However, the same technology that Chayka decries throughout Filterworld has flattened more than culture – it has flattened the hierarchy that led to homogeneity in culture from the 1950s through the 1990s. Music was forced, kicking and screaming, to give up its bundling practice, where you could purchase only a few individual songs but otherwise had to purchase entire albums to hear specific titles, by Napster and other file-sharing software products. Now, through streaming services, not only can any artist bypass the traditional record-label gatekeepers, but would-be “curators” can find, identify, and recommend these artists and their songs, the way that only DJs at truly independent radio stations could do in earlier eras. (And yes, I hope that I am one of those curators. My monthly playlists are the product of endless exploration on my own, with a little help from the Spotify algorithm on the Release Radar playlists, but mostly just me messing around and looking for new music.) Goodreads is a hot mess, owned by Amazon and boosting the Colleen Hoovers of the world, but it’s also really easy to find people who read a lot of books and can recommend the ones they like. (Cough.) Movies, food, travel, television, and so on are all now easier to consume, and if you are overwhelmed by the number and variety of choices, it’s easier to find people who can guide you through it. I try to be that type of guide for you when it comes to music and books and board games, and to some extent to restaurants. When it comes to television, I read Alan Sepinwall. When it comes to movies, I listen to Will Leitch & Tim Grierson, and I read Christy Lemire, and I bother Chris Crawford. I also just talk to my friends and see what they like. I have book friends, movie friends, game friends, coffee friends, rum friends, and so on. The algorithms, and the companies that deploy them, don’t decide for me because I made the very easy choice to decide for myself.
So I didn’t really buy Chayka’s conclusions in Filterworld, even though I thought the premise was sound and deserved this sort of exploration. I also found the writing in the book to be dull, unfortunately, with the sort of dry quality of academic writing without the sort of rigor that you might see in a research paper. I could have lived with that if he’d sold me better on his arguments, but he gives too little attention to points that might truly matter, such as privacy regulations in the E.U. and the lack thereof in the U.S., and too much weight to algorithms that will only affect your life if you let them.
Next up: Angela Carter’s The Magic Toyshop.