Well, for the past several days my mom and my two boys have been on the road, driving through the great prairies of the Midwest, from Denver to Wyoming to South Dakota to Missouri to Kansas. Here we are in Kansas, and it is finally time to reflect on the many road foods we've sampled along the way. And, there have been many.
Visitors to the States are surprised and perhaps disappointed to find so many chain restaurants along the interstates. There's another Wendy's! Oh, there's Arby's again! Meh. True, you have to search a bit more to find the authentic local foods which thrill folks in their native places. But they still exist, and they exist in not-so-exotic places outside of Louisiana and Massachusetts - places whose distinctive cuisine is already well known.
I remember reading a guide book to the best road foods in the USA, and frankly, the Colorado entry was a horrifying disappointment. The book recommended Johnson's Corner, up near Fort Collins, for cinnamon rolls. I had never had one, despite being in Colorado since 1972, so we tried one a few weeks ago.
On entering the diner, we noticed a cinnamon roll the size of a hubcap under a domed cake stand. Wow. We laughed and took a picture of it in order to prove its unlikely existence. A pillow of cinnamon rollness. As big as a pillbox hat, and, unfortunately, about as contemporary in its flavor.
Although breath-taking in scope, these rolls were decidedly underwhelming in the mouth. No yeasty scent, a big butt of a roll with simple sugar frosting, nothing to swoon about. Just a large monster of a pastry.We left the excess on our plates. Not one of us was won-over.
Now, seriously, if you want a true cinnamon roll in Denver you must visit Duffeyroll, off Hampden...and there's one in Englewood, too. Awe-inspiring. Several flavors: English toffee, orange, maple. Counter staff is friendly and efficient. A cinnamon roll that can be held in the hand, and the buttery love will melt in your mouth. The kind of cinnamon roll that Granny used to make - at least mine really did.
You can't even see Duffeyroll from the road. You have to know about it, first. Someone has to put you onto them, like being given a secret password to a speakeasy. This may be the secret to the best road food: it is rarely screaming at you from the interstate. It quietly serves on to local customers, never desperate to be discovered, but friendly if you happen to find them.
Returning to the issue of road food, let me share the highlights with you.
First, we stopped for a bit of snack and leg-stretch in Lusk, Wyoming. My son said it seemed like a place you might grow up in. We went to the local grocery store and mom and I both bought boxes of chocolate Malt o' Meal cereal, which is becoming harder to find, nation-wide. Love the stuff. Stowed it under our car seats. Plus, a cowboy gave me a flirtatious look. An all-around good experience.
Then on to Rapid City, South Dakota. Rapid City is becoming a fun town, lively, with some interesting restaurants and shops along its downtown main street. But first we got caught in the unending box store section of town, until, dazed, we wandered into a Motel 6 whose counter guy put us right: go to the Firehouse Brewing Co for some character and taste.
Go, we did, thank goodness. The atmosphere was stimulating, the decor was homey, a brewpub set into an antique firehouse. Our ponytailed waiter was very friendly, and brought us two of their beers on tap: a lighter version and a bitter. Both very refreshing and tasty. Mom ordered white chili, which she thought looked like barf when it arrived. Yikes. Needs some green. Yet it was delicious, green-chili based, with white beans. Good burgers, tasty burritos. I ordered the ceviche, which was okay but came with tough cornchips and a red salsa that I suspect was augmented with ketchup. No, no. Otherwise it was quite a good meal. The Firehouse would continue to be recommended to us during our stay, more than once.
Wall Drug, South Dakota. Donuts at Wall Drug. These legendary donuts are still the real thing. Even Wall Drug is still the real thing: you can still have your picture taken atop an enormous plaster Jackalope, for goodness' sake. But especially nice is to sit in the polished pine cafe which is lined with Western art, and try the mythic batter donuts done the old-fashioned way.
Frankly, my mother was doubtful. She was sure that the coffee and donuts touted from billboards two states away would be a hideous travesty of their historical glory. Not so. I chatted with the counter staff, asking a girl if they were really home made. Sure are, made at a local home, and brought there, clearly made on vintage donut-making equipment, some frosted with vanilla, some frosted with maple, but seriously: large, tasty, crispy-fried, crumbly, nutmeggy donuts, alongside 5-cent cups of coffee.
I could go on and on about Wall Drug, but please believe me about the fabulous cake donuts. I asked the girl what was it like working at such a mythic outpost of Depression-era Americana? It's great, she cheerfully said - except for the hats they make us wear, to which her work-mates grinned. (Paper, donut-selling hats.) I hear you, sister. I had to wear such a hat when I worked at Bucky's Hamburgers in Lawrence, Kansas, the sort of hat that made it hard for me to look like Madonna, circa 1984, when that was actually a goal to which one would aspire.
Next stop: my Aunt Barbara's place. Two chickens in the yard, cats too, in a corner of Eden in South Dakota. We would never eat the chickens, but their eggs made it into the meatloaf. Trick learned: put the meatloaf on top of a rack over parchment paper in the pan, then the fat all slides away. Also had creamed garden green beans canned by my Aunt herself, baked potatoes, and vanilla ice cream with macerated strawberries from her garden. Food-of-Love. Pure garden food. Delicious home-auntie cooking.
Next day we drove to Mitchell, SD to pick up some legendary pies from a Hutterite shop. Hutterites are similar to the Amish, to outsiders, except they live in South Dakota. We found the signless hole-in-the-wall, once a Taco Tico or some such, next to which was parked a rusting Bel Air, circa 1954. We peeped inside, and checked out the pies at the shop.
Raving (from a personal source) had been done about the crusts of these pies. Mom bought two. We also bought homemade peanut butter cookies and fudge. Peanut butter cookies better than anyone can bake. Creamy, double cream fudge in flavors like licorice, grape, strawberry shake, and root beer. Best. Fudge. Ever. Melt-in-the-mouth. Surprising and delightful flavors. Incredible.
Pies? Not so much. The pecan filling was indeed thrilling but the better-than-most crusts did not convince mom, for whom barely any pie crust can ever come up to the pie crusts remembered from times past. Toughish crust. Should melt in the mouth, didn't. Plus: Uncle found a pit in one of the cherries. Ouch. Don't let that happen.
Next stop: Lawrence, Kansas, whose natural food co-op had grown all up from when I went to university there. Before it was, like, an emptied-out laundromat that smelled of brewer's yeast, and had about seventeen vegetables to buy from at any one time. It was a haphazard affair, but the one place in town to get Dr. Bronner's peppermint soap. The only place to "eat healthy."
Now, my goodness, The Mercantile has been alive since 1974, but now it shiny and fresh and large and well-stocked, even better and more authentic than any Whole Foods out of California. Best foodie/green-magazine selection ever. Fresh-looking, grain-fed meat. Lovely vegetables and fruit. Fabulous selection of stock, well-balanced. I admire their persistence, and admire especially that it is a co-operative. The best example I've experienced of a home-grown, local provider, answerable to the growing interest in green and locally sourced, sustainable food.
For lunch we'd had a salad bowl from Local Burger, a healthy fast food place, in a clean and fresh and lively atmosphere. There you can have a wonderfully large bowl of tasty, all-organic greens and seeds and beets and miso/tahini delish dressing, topped by a locally-sourced, chopped grain fed-burger of cow, turkey, elk, buffalo, pig, veggie or tofu. The meat tasted so clean. Their tofu fries are amazing. You can also get smoothies and other delightful vegan, organic snacks. Plus, we met the owner and she was a lively, enthusiastic woman who looks far younger than her years (which she offered), likely due to pursuing her passion, plus a healthy diet. A nice place, cut from the earth-loving cloth of the superhero future.
Finally, a meal at my other aunt's house: delicious salmon with quinoa salad and golden beets. Wonderful, and the salad went perfectly with the fish. My aunt takes a great deal of time and attention in creating a meal, and her food always tastes lovely and fresh and well-put-together. The golden beets were like eating mellow patches of sun.
