By Phill Casaus Journal Staff Writer This is not so much a state question as it is an obsession. "Red or green" tops 'em all. Perhaps people in the world that lies outside New Mexico's borders worry about the more mundane choices in life. Regular or decaf. "Frazier" or "Home Improvement." Disneyland or Disney World. But from Jal to Fruitland, Clayton to Road - 1.6 million people must grapple daily with a decision that delays meals, frustrates waitpersons and fills tummies with a spice that transports us to (A) Three Mile Island, (B) Fantasy Island or (C) All of the Above. Red chile or green chile. Either way - or maybe both ways - you gotta love it on almost any meal under the sun and over a hotplate. Ben Lujan of Santa Fe loved it so much that he introduced a bill designating "red or green?" as the state's official question. Officially speaking, the bill had plenty of precedents. New Mexico already is the proud owner of sate song, gem, animal, fossil, insect, poem and cookie. Perhaps buoyed by such facts, Lujan-a Democrat and the House's majority whip-shepherded his bill through the Legislature. In turn, the fun-seekers at the Roundhouse sent the one sentence proposal to Gov. Gary Johnson. Alas, Johnson shipped it back with a side of veto. His terse reply to the bill said it "lacks merit or meaning for our taxpayers." Nevertlheless, life continues apace in New Mexico. We eat our fiery treat with a love unhindered by any hurdle-even indecision. Certainly, you know how this goes. You walk into your favorite New Mexican restaurant, stomach growling for a chicken enchilada and diet Coke. The waiter dutifully takes your order, his pencil skipping along an order stub colored a tantalizing hue of green. He lingers a moment, pencil still poised for the piece de resistance (forgive our French) that will make the meal complete. His eyes turn cold. "You've got your chicken enchiladas, Buster," his body English (forgive our English) seems to say, "but what are you going put on them? Red or green?" Red or green? The heat, quite literally, is on. You ponder. And ponder some more. Then you agonize-taking a moment to inquire about the heat, taste and consistency of your favorite flavor. The waiter answers your questions, foot tapping the floor. In the background, you could swear the jingle from "Jeopardy" is playing. Finally, you decide. Christmas, you say. Gimme Christmas. Red and green. The day is saved. The meal is served. The tummy is seared. Life in New Mexico is good again.
This is not so much a state question as it is an obsession. "Red or green" tops 'em all.
