Jesse Armijo
Google
Vinaigrette: Where the Greens Are Glamorous and the Vibes Are Curated
Tucked into a sun-drenched corner of Albuquerque, Vinaigrette is where the salad gets its swagger back. This isn’t some sad desk lunch joint serving pre-packaged greens in compostable containers. No, this is where kale gets massaged like it’s at a spa retreat in Ojai, and where your arugula comes dressed to kill, preferably with a side of lemon herb chicken and the existential satisfaction that you’re “doing something good for your body.”
The place itself is curated—no, cultivated—like a Wes Anderson set redesigned by Goop. Picture reclaimed wood, pastel hues, the faint smell of turmeric and privilege wafting through the air. It’s got that farm-to-table glow, but make it fashion. You walk in and know exactly who this is for: the yoga mat-toting millennial with a CSA subscription, the silver-haired Santa Fe transplant craving something “clean,” and yes, even the odd food writer pretending not to care about any of it.
We ordered the Kale Caesar—bitter, briny, and perfectly smug—with a generous serving of lemon herb chicken. There was mac and cheese for our little guy, which, against all odds, came out creamy and sincere. The “Beet” salad was an earthy, jewel-toned punch of goat cheese, greens, and quiet self-righteousness—like a farmer’s market in a bowl, dressed for brunch. Drinks? A turmeric elixir that tasted like it could banish inflammation and your sins, and a green Bloody Mary that hit like a punch from a vegan kickboxer. Everything tasted like a clean conscience.
As for the service, don’t expect theatrical tableside flourishes. This isn’t that kind of show. You’ll be checked on—eventually—but mostly you’re left to admire the minimalist cutlery and wonder how radicchio suddenly became sexy. Seating is communal, like a Scandinavian summer camp, which means you’ll be overhearing plenty of talk about “microdosing” and second homes.
Yes, it’s expensive. And yes, you’re absolutely paying for the vibe. But in a city of sopapillas and smothered green chile, Vinaigrette is a refreshing, overpriced, beautifully pretentious detour. And you’ll come back. Because there’s a part of you—no matter how deep—that wants your salad to taste like salvation.