Sacred Hogan Navajo Frybread

Categories: Chow Bella


Growing up in rural Arizona, certain events were anticipated because they were known to be accompanied by a homemade Navajo taco. From Christmas parades to corn festivals, eating a Navajo taco meant sampling Arizona street food at its best. But finding a Navajo taco in the Valley?...not always so easy.


Sacred Hogan Navajo Frybread at 842 E. Indian School Road serves up authentic Native American dishes from central Phoenix. With a bright yellow sign and the Yaa'teeh greeting this place is more humble than the name might suggest, but the Navajo tacos and frybread are the real deal. 

A Navajo taco is whole pinto beans, lettuce, cheese, and red onion piled on top of a puffy golden frybread. At Sacred Hogan the frybread was hand-tossed and made to order $6.99 full/$4.99 half. Other menu items include blue corn mush, a Navajo lamb sandwich, and a featured stew of the month. 


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Johnny Utah
Johnny Utah

I am a (FBI)..full blooded indian and I was a (FBI).. flat broke indian until I got a job as a (FBI)..Fry Bread Inspector.


Thoroughly disgusting. We were visiting Phoenix and heard about the Sacred Hogan. We expected a decent restaurant but discovered a Hole in the Wall type joint adjacent to other ethnic Holes in the Wall eateries. Upon entering the store, there was the faint smell of, one hopes...Okay. It smelled like a Boarding School. The tables were icky and I had to ask that our table be wiped off as someone forgot to lick up their bit of an orangish red substance that dripped from said icky table. The guy, I'm assuming the owner (as there is a wooden, painted replica of the same guy overseeing all the customers - as this guy took our order and disappeared...forever...into the great desert yonder) got a rag and wiped not more than two square inches in the vicinity of the spillage. At this point, I was still lenient and hoping for something of good promise. Next came the order. After going down the list of haves and haves not (most haves not) we finally settled upon a Navajo Taco for me and a red chile taco for my husband. After thirty to forty minutes of intent reflection (or just contemplating a walk out), my husband finally inquired the whereabouts of our promised chow. (While heavily reflecting, I noticed a guy come up from the kitchen to the counter, take out a black comb and began combing his Boarding School haircut downward toward his face. Ew. All this to the sounds of heavy pans clattering and sizzling grease - and me thinking "By now, I could have had thirty frybreads made up and ready to go!") After some heavy vocal sparring, the cook finally came out with our order and presented us with TWO Navajo Tacos. By this time, we were famished and didn't care what the food looked like, smelled like, or crawled like ... until I bit into the heavy orangy sauce (OH! That's where that other sauce came from! Must be a heavy test theory to see how many splats of orange, gooey sauce land in the same spot and how long it takes to ferment and become a whole other entity!) and lo' and teeth sunk into the catty (Oooh. Bad choice of words!) ... squishy meat that only us Commodity Extraordinaire's call Canned Beef - USDA certified! I felt like crying out "Where's the Beef?! but didn't want to go through a whole 'nother half hour to have the cook served up on a platter. So, my mouth inched its way through the meal, halfway forgetting that I had a Diet SHASTA cola coming. My husband had to get up and get that out of the refrigerator on his own. The cook, probably remembering that we were customers - decided to finally come check on us and asked us the forever forgiving question "Are you alright?" I should've held nine fingers and two of my husbands - but I doubt 9-1-1 would've been advisable. It seems like this diner is operating at a 0-0-0. Bottom line: I've had better tasting fare at the Navajo Nation Flea Market in Window Rock, Arizona! Heck!! The woman who sells burritos at the Tohajiilee turnoff on weekends is a Master Chef compared to these half Navajo/Pima Dine wannabe's. Sacred Hogan? Try Sacrilegious Outhouse!!!!!!.



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