Taste the Heat in Hatch

Words and photos by Clarke Condé

This story originally appeared in New Mexico Magazine

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Driving into Hatch smells like I remembered. Smoky and sweet, hot and earthy, roasting green chile in the air. Dropping down into the valley from the north in late July, I find the fields are tidy and green, the river muddy and brown but running, unlike some other parts of the state. 

I’ve always made Sparky’s Burgers, BBQ & Espresso my first stop in this town, as I expect most unhurried visitors do. You can’t miss the place, with its kitschy collection of old signs and giant character sculptures that surround the restaurant and grounds. Even on a weekday afternoon, Sparky’s crackles with conversations spilling out from diners of all ages in English and Spanish. 

Blues music — cleaving more toward the Chicago style than the Delta variety — blends with the clatter of trays and the smell of green chile cheeseburgers. Big booths filled with tourists mix with farmers, firefighters, and truckers in baseball and cowboy hats. My eyes wander, as nearly every available inch of the interior is decorated with co-owner Teako Nunn’s always-growing collection of Americana memorabilia that ranges from a large metal Grand Prize Beer sign and tabletop jukeboxes to cattle brands seared into the wall and 125 cookie jars.

He says he loves it when people stop, take pictures, and enjoy what he has collected. “Instead of whisking through, people started stopping,” Nunn says of Hatch’s role as a throughway between I-25 and I-10. 

Visitors who can’t get enough of Nunn’s collection should take a walk around the corner to Sparky’s Trading Post and its vintage arcade games, slot machines, and general oddities. “I’ve got a two-headed raccoon and a two-headed duck,” he says. “I’m a lot better buyer than I am a seller.” 

A resident for more than 45 years, Nunn understands that no amount of carnival theatrics can upstage the town’s true star: chile. “It is now, and always has been, a farm town,” he adds. 

So at Sparky’s, you can’t get your green chile cheeseburger with lettuce or tomato. Chile is the only garnish it needs. And although I consider adding on the green chile chocolate milkshake dubbed the Ozzy — commemorating the late Ozzy Osbourne’s visit several years ago — I decide to leave some things untested. 

While there may only be one or two places to stay overnight in Hatch, the good news is that one of them is the Historic St. Francis de Sales Inn. Celeste Zimmerman bought the deconsecrated church in 2017 and spent a busy year making three beautiful Spanish Colonial–style rooms out of this 19th-century treasure. Hatch draws guests from all over the world, Zimmerman explains: “They look for unique places.” 

Zimmerman shows me the three-room adobe bell tower suite, which opened in October, leading the way up the wrought iron spiral staircase (not for the faint of heart or unsure of foot) that snakes along the exterior of the adobe tower. At the top, a straight wooden ladder brings me up to the peak of the tower, where, ducking under the bells, I can see nearly the whole valley. “I do not see another bell tower available on Airbnb anywhere in the world,” Zimmerman proclaims.

While I usually like to get an early start, my next morning in Hatch begins at 5 a.m. with a side of crowing roosters. It will be hot enough soon, so I set out into the cool air to find fresh-roasted green chile. 

At Grajeda Hatch Chile Market, teenager Isias Grajeda is helping his grandmother by manning the roaster while on summer break. Outside the bright red shop, which has been in the family for 14 years, three large roasters fire the crop that was growing in a local field only days before. 

Ristras of various sizes hang everywhere and crates of chile pile up nearby. You can feel the heat coming off the black metal drums. I walk through the smoke, just to take a little green chile scent home on my clothes. Grajeda says that tourists usually say the same thing when he roasts chile. “They say it smells good,” he says, laughing. 

Just down the street, the Village of Hatch Museum doubles as the town’s municipal office. The museum feels more like a collection of objects dropped off by locals — old adding machines, empty glass bottles, a few framed old newspapers — than a curated assembling of local history. 

“There are lots of things to grab your eye,” says Manuell Shreves, the village’s municipal code enforcement officer who mans the museum, with a shrug. He has only been on the job a little while and isn’t familiar with all the objects. But there is history there, if you know where to look. 

Shreves says he tries to keep the museum open when he is not out on patrol, which often entails just getting people to cut their weeds to keep the rattlesnakes to a minimum. It’s a good reminder that in Hatch, life moves at a different pace — timed to the seasons and the chile in the fields.