SOME PEOPLE SEEM TO BE BORN TO DO SOMETHING, as if they were endowed by heaven, by nature, by curiosity, by talent or by luck. They show a special kind of inheritance that opens the gate to master a unique something. This is not always a good thing – take for example, a natural born tyrant, someone who started early as a noisome and brilliant bully who ends up with a big country to tyrannize. But never mind that, we are focusing on a natural born restaurateur.
Quinn has done every single restaurant job. He knows most guests by name, and has the eye and gut to recognize the extraordinary in the employees that have come his way. He manages 200 people and owns some of the best restaurants in town.
Most bosses know they are supposed to say that they love the folks who work for them, but I believe Quinn. You can see it when you wander around before, during, or after a meal – his work ethic and joy is all over the place. His brigade arrives ready for battle, whatever the battle is. When they leave, you could wager that they know that they have done the best possible job. They feel appreciated.
This is true with Santos Alarcon, who is leaving after 20 years. My interview occurred on his last day. When I saw Quinn saying goodbye to Santos after 32 years, he didn’t quite bawl like a baby, but it felt a little like that.
I was lucky to see it.
You were describing that Japanese word, I can’t pronounce it.
Kaizen. It’s a word I’ve come to love, a philosophy where you’re meant to make small incremental improvements over time. The goal isn’t to reinvent the wheel or to make leaps and bounds in progress, but if you can consciously make the restaurant better incrementally every day, then by definition it’s gotten better. I use examples all the time. If I painted a wall that was chipped or if I bought a new vacuum, then by definition is the restaurant better? Technically it is. Even if it’s 0.005% better.
Yet sometimes you have to make more than small changes.
Right now, we just hired a new chef I’m really excited about. Those are big changes. I spent a year looking for him. I’ve learned the word change in Spanish, cambio, because sometimes there’s muy cambio and sometimes there’s incremental progress.
You grew up here.
I grew up in Pojoaque. I lived in El Rancho next to San Ildefonso Pueblo. It was a split household. It’s interesting to think back how different my childhoods were, one was pretty casual and one was pretty formal. My mom’s house was, do whatever you want. My dad’s house was, take your shoes off at the door and go do your homework and set the table for dinner. I could wear a three-piece suit or a backwards hat and work in the cantina.
My parents are also from here and my wife is multi-generational from here. I’ve never lived outside of the state of New Mexico.
How did you get into restaurants?
I grew up in kitchens and in restaurants around all the northern New Mexico pueblos. If you grow up anywhere in Northern New Mexico, for summer jobs, what else are you going to do? I started at 15, 16, washing dishes at the flea market in Tesuque.
I started working at Coyote Café for Mark Miller in 1999. I was developing a palate and sitting in on wine classes and tasting food I had never tasted before, that was really exciting. I started bar backing at 19 and sipping Frangelico and Cassis and Madero and all these flavors. This whole world opens up to you. Eating and drinking is so personal. The day I turned 21, I had a full-time bartending job. I became a manager, then four of us formed a partnership in 2007 and bought the restaurant.
I slowly bought out the partners and now I own 100% of it. I bought Santacafé in 2019. It’s an iconic restaurant, opened in 1982. Bobby and Judy, the former owners, had it for 33 years.
These restaurants are institutions. How do you maintain their traditions without getting stale?
We’re not turning it into a different cuisine or painting the walls pink and having a DJ in there. You’re familiar with what made it successful before you, and you build upon that. There’s some building blocks that are laid down before – I honor the people. Imagine being in business at Santa-afé for 40 years, serving 200 for lunch and 300 for dinner.
We have 200 employees between the restaurants right now, how many have worked for these two iconic brands, Santacafé and Coyote, over the years? Many people have given a part of their life and they become part of the place.
What part do you like best?
My favorite part is the comradery of the co-workers. Maybe I should say it’s all the guests from around the world that I meet tableside and enhancing their experience, but, I mean, my best friends are everybody I work with. My wedding was the entire staff of the restaurant. The people I work with day in and day out is easily my favorite part.
I literally wait tables, bus tables, I work the floor. I was managing the cantina last night, waiting tables, meeting people, saying, hi, how are you? Talking to them after 15 minutes, saying I’m the owner. They say You’re the owner?
I’ve done everything in this restaurant from food running, waiting tables, bussing tables, every position, but I’ve never had to cook. I love food; me and my wife travel to the best restaurants in the country, we follow trends and we love the business.
What’s next?
The newest project is this restaurant I’m calling Oro Tacos and Tequila, right on the Plaza. There’ll only ever be three restaurants on the Plaza. We’re going to knock a wall back and extend the patio so there’ll be 60 seats overlooking the Plaza.
This will be my last one, and it’s not going to have 18-year-old scotch or champagne or French Bordeaux or filet mignon or lobster tails. It’s tacos and tequila.
You sound incredibly busy. What do you do to decompress?
Camping! I have a 3-year-old boy who’s now the love of my life and I love him so much. I love being a dad. It’s been the greatest thing that ever happened to me. So yeah, outdoors and camping in northern New Mexico, I’ve found my favorite spots, of course.
Where’s your favorite spots? I won’t tell anyone.
You won’t tell anyone?
Yeah.
Costilla. You pass Questa, right before you get to the Colorado border there’s the Valle Vidal up there and the Costilla River, and you can camp up there along the river. It’s God’s country. Dirt roads for days. Put on some country music, get the dog and the wife and the family all camping up there. It just the best.
Coyote seems like it has a great culture.
I think that word culture is thrown around these days, overused. But I would put our culture up against any other restaurant in town, because I’m a lifer. People that work with me, we’ve got a really good team. We treat them with respect. We know what it takes. We know the sacrifices they make. My wife and I like to say we find the humanity in it.
Other restaurateurs will say, you have a job to do. If you don’t want to do your job, leave. Someone on my team might say, Quinn, I can’t come in. I say, dude, I’ve worked with you for ten years. If you’re telling me you can’t come in, there’s probably a damn good reason you can’t come in. I got you. We can talk about it later. I’ll work the section, or our managers will work the section. I’ve taught my managers to be better about finding the humanity.
Today is Santos Alarcon’s last day in the restaurant. He started here in 1992 as a dishwasher, and he’s been here ever since. He’s the first one in and the last one out. I’ve trusted him with the keys to the restaurant since my ownership. He’s an incredible human being. I consider him like an angel to me, a saint. He loves me, and I love him, and we’ve earned each other’s respect over the years. We talk in broken Spanish and broken English, but the eyes don’t lie, and we love each other.
It’s been an emotional day. I’ve agreed to help him go back home to Guatemala with his family. His family has worked with us in the past, and they’re all back home. As he approaches 70-years-old, I’m honored to be able to help him get there and take care of him while he is there. I’ve made a promise that I will help him for the rest of his life, and I intend with every ounce of my soul to honor that. I’ll be in touch with him for the next 30 years, God willing, ‘till he hits 100. I will honor that promise to help him live a beautiful life down there. He’s earned it. He’s earned my respect.
Oh, we’ve been crying, crying all week. It’s been heavy. I painted this mural of him in the cantina. Tomorrow night, we’re having dinner in the restaurant with my wife and him. We asked him what he wanted to eat. He said lobster. So chefs brought in 12 whole lobsters from Maine that he’s going to cook up for us. Different staff members will stop by the table and maybe have a bite to eat or a little toast to Santos. Tomorrow’s gonna be really emotional, especially when I say goodbye at the airport…
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Photo Tony Floyd
