I can’t quite recall who reminded me that Tiny’s Restaurant & Lounge (1005 S St. Francis Drive, (505) 983-9817) was still plugging along near the intersection of St. Francis Drive and Cerrillos Road, but I was immediately mentally catapulted back to karaoke nights in my 20s, cheap Tecate nights and the era of MIX Santa Fe events. That last part of the list often proved quite the commotion back in the day (shout-out to MIX co-organizer Daniel Werwath, whom I’ve always known to work hard to create things in our fair city), and stepping into Tiny’s the other night came with a flood of memories: DJs on the patio, buzzed friends in the next room, that one guy who unironically and joyfully belted out Aerosmith’s “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing” from the Armageddon soundtrack.
And though my companion and I arrived roughly two seconds into the local haunt’s 5 pm dinner service, I was also feeling a little sad at how few customers were hanging around Tiny’s in the early evening. I mean, owners Pam and JR Palermo have certainly kept the general Tiny’s charm first set down by original owner Walter “Tiny” Moore. I’m afraid I was a few decades shy of birth way back in the 1950s when Tiny’s Dine and Dance opened on Water Street, but I’ve been inside its current location a bunch, and there’s a comfort to the Santa Fe things that somehow feel the same despite the passage of time. Also? Tiny’s patio courtyard seating area is downright awesome, and I can imagine a nice summertime hang when they host live music in the lounge area and the full bar is bar-ing.
Speaking of live music, we arrived as some trio of musicians I didn’t recognize were in the midst of setting up. Full disclosure, I generally tend to balk at loud music when I’m trying to eat an early dinner and converse with my fellow diner, but the blues-rock sounds of whoever-that-band-was never reached an irritating volume, so I’ll give them a pass despite how very much that type of 12-bar stuff bores me to tears. Music aside, we were there to test the hypothesis of whoever reminded me about Tiny’s—that the food is a lot better than you’d think.
The short answer is kind of a yes-and-no thing. Certainly Tiny’s has a larger menu than you’d expect, and one that touches on New Mexican classics, steaks and seafood, burgers, sandwiches, salads and so forth. Tragically, we didn’t find chips and guac on the menu, which is a small issue, admittedly, and the rest of the starter items—like nachos, artichoke dip and even a Frito pie—all clocked in at $14 or less, which is pretty sweet. Even sweeter was our server, whose name I didn’t catch. I can’t stress enough how disingenuous I find some server patter to be. I don’t buy that grabbing me a glass of water is the most pleasurable act you’ll engage in all day, and it’s cool to talk to me like a human person. She did just that, and in a no-nonsense way that seemed to say “the food here is pretty solid, just relax and eat and we’ll all be OK.”
And so we were. My companion for whatever reason ordered a club sandwich ($13.95), which seems an odd choice when out for a dinner on the company dime, but that’s what they wanted and it was, they said, “actually really good!” This was the classic club with smoked turkey, bacon, lettuce, cured ham and so on, and while it was not visually anything to write home about, taste, as always, was paramount—and this one had it. The side of fries were none too bad, either, and clearly twice fried for an extra crispy exterior. This would make for a good lunch, certainly, but I’ll never forgive them for turning it into a dinner thing like a total weirdo.
I, however, had my eyes set a little closer to home. In other words, the instant I discovered Tiny’s serves carne adovada tacos (in addition to a carne adovada plate), I had no reason to delve further into the menu. Served on white corn tortillas with lettuce, tomato and cheese ($14.50), the slow-roasted red chile pork was quite tasty and came in generous amounts, and I must say Tiny’s red was much better than I anticipated. Chile is obviously a day-by-day/place-by-place thing, but the pork was plenty tender and flavorful in its own right, and the smoky yet tangy kick of the red gave me the spice I wanted while staying every bit as nuanced and earthy as you want with that particular chile. Honestly, I’ve become a bit of a red chile snob in my old age, and this particular night at Tiny’s found their version to stand alongside come of the city’s favorites.
Somehow, though, a side of pinto beans stole the show. Served piping hot, I got hints of garlic and possibly cumin in those beans, and while I certainly know “beans were tasty” is not the thrilling food writing breakthrough for which some might hope, let me just give credit where it’s due. Oh, and I totally got a side of fries and slapped some of the crunchier ones inside the tacos for some added texture. Like a genius.
Midway through the meal, it hit me that Tiny’s likely has capital-R regulars. In fact, we saw a customer pop by in search of a phone he’d left behind, and the server knew him by name. This reminded me of a bar I used to frequent in Woodland, California, called The Stag. I was like Norm Peterson all up in that bar, and it felt good. There are, of course, ups and downs to this setup. Newbies might feel like they don’t belong while old-timers tend to fall in love with service-based joints in a way that makes them willing to overlook any food or ambiance shortcomings. If Tiny’s has those, they’re in the dingy aspects of an aging building that creep up from the corners. The building is certainly old, and it looks and feels the same to me as it did 10 or 15 or more years ago. This can be a good thing, though, because it comes with less pressure. Tiny’s is a restaurant where tourists likely won’t tread and where locals can let their hair down without worrying about vibes. There’s authenticity in that, even if that term can be loaded. In short, if you want a New Mexican dish you know and love served competently from an eatery that isn’t so hung up on pomp and circumstance, this is one such place. Just make sure you’re nice to the servers, because ours was a real sweetie. No fuss, no muss—just blues-rock, tacos and a dining room semi-frozen in time. There’s something that feels very Santa Fe about that.
Dining and Cooking