Dinner Changes the World

History is a conjugation of the verb ‘to eat.’ Anonymous

Food has never been so cheap as it is today. In percentage of income spent and in the number of hours of labor required to eat, contemporary Americans are more distanced from hunger than any people who ever lived. But before the middle of the 20^th century, history had been fairly described as “a conjugation of the verb ‘to eat.’” Up till then the notable developments of civilization had been primarily motivated by the desire to eat, or to eat better. And the greatest of all civilizations fed itself to death, in a lesson eerily conjugate with contemporary Iowa.

The Roman Empire was built by small family farmers. Before the first century B.C., the Roman state restricted ownership of land to small parcels. Because only land owners could serve in the military, this proud yeomanry filled Rome’s armies. As the empire grew the state began subsidizing imported grains from slave labor colonies. This reduced the market price of domestic grain below the cost of its production. It ruined Italian farmers and ended the great institution of small family farms. If this doesn’t sound familiar yet, just wait.

A few rich families bought the land of the dispossessed soldier-farmers who fled to the “bread and circus” welfare state of Rome itself. The large farms were more productive because the rich owned state-of-the-art plows and slaves. Yet it still became more profitable to trade imported commodity contracts than to actually produce food. Domestic farm land was converted to pasture for the more lucrative livestock trade which was fueled by gourmet excesses of the new upper class. The state had to further subsidize grain imports to feed the growing masses of dispossessed farmer-soldiers.

Scipio Africanus, conqueror of Carthage, was the greatest philosopher-statesman and soldier of pre-Christian Rome. He surrounded himself with the greatest thinkers of the empire’s golden age. They created what historians dubbed “the conscience of Rome.” Scipio’s daughter Cornelia became the greatest salon-keeper of classical times. She raised two sons as a widow, after turning down the king of Egypt preferring to remain simply the daughter of Scipio and the mother of Tiberius and Caius Gracchus.

When Tiberius saw that Italian farms were worked by slaves, he feared for the future of the state. After he was elected Tribune, he enacted land reforms limiting the size of holdings, returning small plots to the citizenry and winning the love of the masses. Conservatives labeled him a tyrant and murdered him. His little brother was later murdered and the charismatic Cornelia was forbidden to wear mourning, lest she inspire an uprising. One hundred and fifty years later, Jesus of Nazareth made speeches that were nearly identical to Tiberius Gracchus’ more eloquent writings about connecting to the land.

Today Iowa looks a lot like Rome of the Gracchi but without the eloquent statesmen. Built by a community of proud citizen farmers, Iowa has become an urban-suburban state surrounded by large agricultural tracts that are owned mostly by non-farmers. Without subsidies the land would be worthless because food can be raised cheaper elsewhere. Without imports the population would starve – because the richest agricultural land in the world lacks the diversity to feed its own farmers, let alone its urbanites anymore.

Politicians pay lip service to the romance of the small farm and the independent farmer. Then they go out to dinner with the fat cats from Tyson. Even the agriculture related literature of our era has forgotten the Gracchi, turning instead to the wimpy King Lear (A Thousand Acres) and Don Quixote (The Straight Story) for analogies. The only history lesson that has been absorbed is that you can get killed trying to deal with the problem of unsustainable agriculture.

Without even knowing it, we change our world with the decisions we make about what we eat. American slavery was an economic by-product of food lust. Human labor was the only commodity West Africa had to trade in an insatiable cyclical appetite for salt, corn, rice, sugar, rum and tobacco. After slavery ended, 19^th century America grew rich and powerful because Europeans got hooked on our wheat – a crop modified in America to compensate for the sudden end of slave labor.

We even change the world with decisions about what we feed to the food we eat. In the early 20^th century Iowa grew rich after the discovery that corn could be fed to cattle, without killing them before they were ready for market. By the late 20^th century, hog lot confinements fouled Iowa – because the average consumer wouldn’t pay a little extra for the superior taste of pork raised without pig abuse.

It’s less obvious now, but history remains a conjugation of the verb “to eat.” The next Gracchus could be a new kind of gourmet, able to inspire people to buy foods that don’t defile their lives, their land and their sense of honor.

  When my mom was alive, she and I would drive around Iowa looking for cafés that reminded her of her mother’s cooking. Mom insisted that only Tursi’s Latin King still made hashed browns correctly and that only Crouse Café could make decent gravy. Each year around Mother’s Day, I still seek places that my mom would have liked. It gets harder every year to find restaurants that keep faith with the hard work of scratch cooking. My mother’s generation grew tired of the drudgery of peeling, chopping, rolling, stirring, beating, simmering and carefully watching the pot. And who could blame them?

Today, it’s easier to find a genuine four-star restaurant than an old fashioned, scratch cooking café. So take notes. This story is a joyous anachronism nursed by the mutual love of parents and children. In 1963, Morrie and Bernice Cox opened Suburban Restaurant on Highway 69 at Gilbert Corners. When Morrie passed away, his four daughters bought the place. Two of them, Diane Cox and Susie Lyon, run it now, still using their dad’s heirloom scratch recipes.

“Sometimes I think about how much extra work it is. In fact, I was thinking about that today because it’s really hard to peel rhubarb. But, if you’re willing, and you put it up, you can enjoy great fresh rhubarb all year,” Lyon explains.

The sisters tasted some fame in 2004 when their pork tenderloin was chosen the best in the state by the Iowa Pork Producers. They hand cut unadulterated pork loins and hand bread them.

Lyon is adamant about a difference between “hand breaded and just dipped.” Their restaurant serves several other things that various foodies have touted as the best in Iowa. Foremost is pie. The Suburban bakes at least eight pies a day and no one ever made a better crust. Only pure fruit is ever used for filling, too. Lyon is happy to reveal their piecrust tips — half butter, half shortening with a milk brushing on top.

“It’s not a secret recipe. The secret is that it’s such hard work hardly anyone bothers doing it anymore,” she says.
But, moms don’t like us eating dessert before dinner, so let’s get back on track. Potatoes alone are worth the drive from Des Moines. Hashed browns are made from scratch. So are mashed potatoes, which serve as a delivery system for the amazing grace of Cox’s gravy, which she always makes from pan drippings and augments with sausage. Homemade noodles are other wondrous absorbers of gravy.

Such side dishes accompany steaks (top sirloin and pork) that are prepared simply, without adornments that usually disguise their essences. Fried chicken ties with pie as the best thing on the menu. It’s also indicative of the spirit of the place. When I complimented Lyon on the flavor of the dark meat, she explained that “outdoor chickens” actually use their leg muscles and thus have better dark meat. In larger cities, the trendy catchphrase “free-ranged chicken” would be blazoned all over the menu. Here it’s “just common sense.”

The Suburban purchases all meat fresh and never freezes any. Their burgers are Story County treasures. The price of such quality is shortages — things sell out every day. If you want an entire pie, you must order it 24 hours in advance: “Otherwise, that wouldn’t be fair to the other customers.”

If you are one of the three people in Iowa who doesn’t like pie, the sisters serve crisps and triple layer cakes — the best of which is a triple chocolate, like grandma used to make.

 A New Year’s Reflection

“It is the unexpected, always.” John Maynard Keynes

When business leaders talk about Des Moines’ future, they invariably stress five things: 1.) attracting more young workers; 2.) encouraging entrepreneurs and venture capitalists; 3.) stimulating creative environments; 4.) developing tourism; 5.) building synergies between new and traditional businesses. All kinds of tax breaks and legislated incentives have been directed each year toward companies, particularly those in the high tech sector, that promise to do any of those things.

Yet, in economics, “it is the unexpected, always.” During the last decade, with almost no one noticing, one old fashioned sector of the local economy transformed itself for the 21^st century while accomplishing all five of those goals. Lots of unexpected things happened, most significantly the 911 wakeup call. The aftermath of that national trauma stimulated cocooning. The Fresh & Local food philosophies suddenly fit new perceptions about what was safe and comfortable. Des Moines became a rich food town in many ways that were almost unimaginable ten years ago.

Yet this blossoming local food culture simply fulfilled Des Moines’ natural destiny. Our city sits on the tongue tip of the happiest accident in agricultural history. When the last great Ice Age glaciers melted, they dumped the richest soil on earth here, on what geologists call “the Des Moines lobe” and most of us call central Iowa. Immigrants from northern Europe flocked here in the 19^th century to raise food in the famous black dirt that made Iowa the farming equivalence of the California Gold Rush. By the end of the 19^th century, Iowa a wealthy state of proud independent farmers.

A century later, our state’s agriculture had regressed into something similar to mining in a third world country. Iowa farmland was mostly owned by outside investment groups instead of by family stewards. The majority of the state’s land was being worked by hired hands, often immigrants laborers, instead of by invested farmer-owners. Rather than growing a cornucopia of good things to eat, the soil was exploited for industrialization, producing just two crops unintended for human consumption. This modern agriculture was being supported by billions of dollars in government subsidies and defended by armies of attorneys and lobbyists fighting to kill the ancient practice of saving seeds for a raining day, the essence of sustainability.

As Tom Jefferson flipped spasmodically about in his grave, Jeffersonian Iowans rebelled against this new Industrial Food Complex (IFC). They began planting, raising, buying and eating diverse crops. That helped Des Moines become a proud foodie town, much more so than other cities with similar demographics. While suburban sprawl and the tyranny of corporate carpetbagger restaurants decimated the independent restaurant scenes in places like Wichita, Oklahoma City and Peoria, Des Moines became a magnet for culinary creativity and entrepreneurship. Academy-trained chefs came here to make a name for themselves – Rob Beasley from Louisiana, Andrew Meek from Georgia, Jeremy Morrow from Tennessee via San Francisco, Steve Feig from the East Coast, Rich Garcia from Florida, Ephraim Malag from Hawaii, Ryan Binney from Boston, the Full Court Press gang from all over. We could go on. Even more surprising though, culinary college graduates from Iowa like Aaron King, Matt Stevens, Scott Stroud and Enosh Kelley, returned to Iowa, despite possessing diploma-passports to see the world.

A thriving new independent restaurant culture paid exponential dividends. When a local guy owns a restaurant, all the money spent there circulates within the local economy. A corporately owned restaurant siphons off local money in franchise fees, consultancy fees and profits. The latter are not nearly as apt to do business with local farmers, banks, advertising agencies or media companies.

Good independent cafes have become a tourist attraction. As restaurant critic for Cityview, I receive a dozen or so e-mails each month from out of town visitors interested in unique dining experiences. I have never been asked about a corporate carpetbagger restaurant. I hear frequently from businessmen who say they love staying in downtown Des Moines hotels so they can walk to so many wonderful restaurants. I have never heard from anyone who stayed in a interstate-access motel because it was near a chain restaurant.

Political benefits of a superior food culture also accrue interest. My first Good Steward column six years ago began with an E.E. Cummings quote – “There is some shit I will not eat.” Iowans are now saying “No” to crap that the IFC tries to feed them. They are saying “No” to politicians who serve the IFC with laws against local control of industrial agricultural zoning and lax regulation over chemicals that poison our water and over animal confinements that poison the air. Consumers are saying “no” to industrialized foods that have never been tested for long term health effects and to inventions like hydrogenated oil and high fructose corn sweetener which bear eerie coincidences with epidemic obesity, childhood diabetes and rising incidences of heart disease.

Iowans are beginning to question the science of the IFC, to ask if Round-up ready productivity is worth the sacrifice of sustainability, if the removal of populations from the land to the urban and suburban asphalt jungles is really a good thing.

Expanded food awareness is also making Iowans more open minded because immigrant and ethnic cafés have figured in the foodie renaissance. The first step to tolerance is breaking bread. In Des Moines you can go out for Chinese style omassum, Salvadoran style tripe and tails, Mexican style brains or cheeks, Brazilian style feet. These are all parts of the cow that our Iowa forefathers relished, but which had become unknown by the end of the 20^th century.

 

 Ingersoll is Des Moines’ corridor of democracy. One block north of Grand, it draws equally from a well-heeled establishment to the south, a free-thinking college fringe to the north and many inexpensive rental properties in its center. No other commercial boulevard in town has so consistently rejected national franchise food brands. Howard Johnson couldn’t make it here. Burger King, Hinky Dinky, Bishop’s, Hardee’s all came and went while locally owned family joints continued to outnumber chains by an exponential factor. Ingersoll’s customer base has been an arbiter of high quality making the boulevard an incubator for local standards of excellence. Dahl’s built its first supermarket here. Cownie Furs, Silver Fox, Moberg Gallery, Noah’s, Bistro Montage, Star Bar, Jesse’s Embers and Big Tomato are just a few of the local stores that are distinguished within their genre. Uncle Wendell’s fits right in.

Wendell Garretson is a dues paying member of old school regional cuisine. He learned Cajun craft at Simo’s Cafisto, competed on the competitive barbecue circuit and toiled at the baker‘s craft. After opening a small bakery, he built a base by working the farmer’s market circuit and added pure wood barbecue to his trade. Late last year, when he expanded his Sherman Hill operation into the former Pats Corner on Ingersoll, his business became more of a BBQ than a bakery. The new café has been remodeled appropriately with flames painted on the wall and a pig starring in a large neon sign.

“You just can’t have a real barbecue without neon pig art,” Garretson explained.

Uncle Wendell’s does the basics of superior Q quite well. My brisket was perfectly crusted with a smoke ring and tender meat. Best of all, it is sliced when you order it, from whatever end or direction you like — even at rush hour. That’s essential Q service, and it’s becoming extremely hard to find in Des Moines where most barbecues have fallen for the false line that a brisket loses nothing when it’s cooled for slicing and then reheated when ordered. That method is blasphemy in the citadels of traditional barbecue (Texas) and it horrifies Garretson. I liked his pulled pork as much as his brisket. Pig butts had been smoked with hickory and pulled off the bone and mixed. My sandwich included plenty of crunchy skin plus tender meat from near the bone. Chicken was smoked and also used to make superb chicken salad.

Sandwiches were served on thick slices of home made challah. I asked if my bread could be sliced to half its thickness, and that was no problem. Try asking for that at a chain. Uncle Wendell’s distinguishes itself from other barbecues with Garretson’s explorations beyond the basics. I tried a jambalaya that was sautéed when ordered with chopped tomatoes, onions, herbs and garlic plus several kinds of smoked meat, including some cheeks from a whole cow’s head that Garretson had smoked. A little stock from smoked turkey bones was added. All of Uncle Wendell’s superb soups are made only with bone scratch stocks that have experienced the smokehouse.

Uncle Wendell’s also introduces a hot new southern specialty to Des Moines — Kool-Aid pickles.

Dill pickles were marinated in different flavors of that soft drink, becoming a colorful, sweet & sour accompaniment to a sandwich, particularly appropriate for anyone who likes barbecue without sauce. Wendell supports the Buy Fresh, Buy Local program with Iowa Farm Families’ pork among other local products. There was an all-star lineup of Iowa-made BBQ sauces too with Russ and Franks of West Des Moines serving as house sauce. It was not as cloyingly sweet as Cookie’s. Vinegar based sauces are also available.

 

Uncle Wendell’s bakery supplies lots of goodies here: cookies, sweet rolls, raspberry pecan cream cake, pumpkin bread, etc.. The soft drink selection featured Millstream’s line of cane sugar beverages.

Uncle Wendell’s
2716 Ingersoll Ave., 779-6066.
Mon. – Fri. 11 a.m. – 2 p.m. Thurs. – Sat. 3:30 p.m. – 8 p.m.

Bistro Montage evolves

July 2012

In the restaurant world, one hears more about doomed locations than charmed ones. The southeast corner of 28th and Ingersoll is among the latter, having hosted one popular café after another for decades. People loved it when it was Jeff Pocock and Kim Samuelson’s deli Sheffield’s, then as Marlene Todd’s Corner Café, Gary Hines’ original Bistro Montage, and Enosh Kelley’s more French version of the same. Now Kelley thinks it’s time to for another makeover. 

“We were the only French restaurant when we started. Now there’s three and it’s a tough economy. I was thinking of downscaling to more affordable prices anyway and then Ian came back to town,” he mused. 

Ian Robertson is a talented young chef who worked for Kelley before moving on the culinary school in France, then putting in brief stints at Michelin starred kitchens in France, England and Chicago. He came home this year and Kelley wants to keep him here. So he initiated lunch service Tuesdays through Fridays with Robertson designing an inexpensive ($3.50 – $13) lunch menu. Then Kelley decided it was time to make the lunch menu available at dinner and a somewhat shortened dinner menu available at lunch. He’s even thinking about scrapping his linen tablecloths (which cost  over $150 a week to launder) as soon as he finds new table tops he likes.

The place looked unchanged on my recent visits. Fresh flowers and tablecloths softened a blood red and black room. New creations on the menu included arugula salads made with roasted strawberries, papaya and chevre tossed with champagne vinaigrette. 

Caesar and Cobb salads were traditional and a beet salad featured red and yellow roasted beets with crisp, warm chevre and pear butter, a balsamic reduction and sherry/walnut vinaigrette. Sandwiches were all served on focaccia, as if proclaiming a move out of France. One featured pulled chicken, tomato jam, Havarti and tarragon mayonnaise. 

A “BLT” included excellent thick bacon, orange mustard and honey/ herb chevre. Crepes and soups were the stars of the lunch menu though. One light and gorgeous crepe was stuffed with tender chunks of steak, asparagus, grilled mushrooms, Brie and tarragon mayonnaise. 

Another day I tried a chicken crepe stuffed with bacon and havarti. 

Soups included a vegetarian English pea soup that tasted too fresh to be out at night, a tortilla soup in chicken stock, 

and the bistro’s famous French onion soup, a sumptuous recipe that uses a stock of roasted duck and veal bones with caramelized onions, finished with sherry. 

After the lunch and dinner menus merged, I made a lunch out appetizers and charcuterie. 

A “seasonal” risotto delivered lovely pan seared scallops on rice reduced with wild mushrooms and plated with arugula. (Another risotto was reduced in sea urchin sauce, with tobikko and tomato concasse.) 

Rillettes were meatier (less fatty) than most and a country terrine of pork was wrapped in bacon, reduced with raisins and pistachios, and served with classic Cumberland sauce. 

A short dessert list featured a chocolate mousse covered in chopped pineapple and freshly whipped cream. Cheese service included six varieties – none French. Entrees on the new menu included steak frites, beef tenderloin, skate wing, trout, duck a l’orange, and roast chicken. The eclectic wine list ($25 – $2500) remained. A dozen wines were sold by the glass ($5-$13) and half a dozen Norman hard ciders were available. 

Bottom line – Bistro Montage might not be as French as it used to be but it’s now open for lunch, more affordable ,and infused with youthful  energy. 

Bistro Montage

2724 Ingersoll Ave., 557-1924 

Tues. – Fri. 11 a.m. – 1:30 p.m. and 5 p.m. – closing 

 

  

Des Moines’ Best Restaurant in 2008

They don’t advertise it, but Bistro Montage was Des Moines’ first French café. Owner-chef Enosh Kelley’s background and heart are steeped in the French classics, same as those of sous chef Nick Illingworth. How French is the place? The bar serves pastis, as well as absente and pernod. They cook rabbit in goose fat and make brown stock with ducks. They stuff quail with sweetbreads and wrap it in caul fat. Waiters are well informed and quite condescending. Don’t let any of that scare you. The place is down to the Iowa earth. Consider their bistro burger duo. Freshly ground beef shoulder is mixed with Niman Ranch pork belly, pan fried and served on home made (all bread is scratch-baked daily) poppy seed brioches, with white truffle mayonnaise, with Parmesan cheese fries and home made ketchup.

Enosh Kelley and Nick Illingworth do all the cooking.

 

Bistro Montage is better than ever now. Just as the other top chefs in town were opening their second, third, even fifth restaurants, Kelley sold his second cafe, to concentrate on this place. That has huge benefits for us. He’s always here and cozy 54-seat room ensures that all the cooking is done by the main talent – Kelley and Illingworth. There’s a rather new patio, restrooms have been remodeled and Kelley acquired some heirloom baking equipment from the very French Younkers Tea Room. That allowed him to create pressurized pastries and breads, with a denser crumb that suits his layered tortes. But more about that after dinner.

A complimentary amuses-bouche of sweetbreads on fresh herbs set my mouth up for a tomato tart — a puff pastry topped with deeply herbed tomatoes and kalamata tapanade, with greens and vinaigrette. Duck liver pate and pork terrine, wrapped in bacon, were served with good mustard and cornichons, plus Cumberland sauce, a currant based wonder that should accompany all fatty and game dishes. Appetizer cheeses included Humboldt Fog goat cheese, Fourme d’Ambert blue, Beemster and aged Gouda, a selection that could have used more subtlety. That sharp blue cheese also appeared in a superb roasted beet salad, with sliced pears and a sherry walnut vinaigrette, the house dressing. (Sherry vinegar is “in” and balsamic is “out” according to trendy gourmets.) Montage’s chicken salad got the biggest French makeover — chicken quenelles were heavily steeped in fresh rosemary and served with roasted fennel and grapes and dressed in walnut vinaigrette.

Skate wing has long been one of Kelley’s signatures. This is an odd fish far more popular in Europe than North America or Asia, with soft bones and the flavor of scallops. It was pan fried here, and a bit over cooked. Steak frites were pan seared and served with soggy sautéed spinach and wonderful double-fried potatoes (only Dish’s compare). Bouillabaisse provided a sublime broth (Kelley said his secret is to go heavy on halibut bones) clearly saffron and fennel-rich and accompanied with the essential rouille (tomato mayo) and crostini. Monkfish and grouper shared its divine pond with the usual shellfish suspects, plus potatoes tournee (marinated in saffron broth). How often do you find those in Iowa?

My favorite entrée was duck seared fatty side down and served perfectly rare with a potato pave (layers of sweet potato and white potato) that could shame local hash browns into storm cellars. The best looking dish was a rack of lamb pan roasted and served with a bean medley that included fava, cranberry and marrow beans, plus the compulsory haricot verts.

All the new baking paraphernalia, including stencils, make dessert courses a delightful work in progress. Kelley’s signature daquoise is hard to resist, but I sampled several new homemade ice creams, ranging from a too heavy goat cheese to a fabulous light berry. Profiteroles (cream puffs) were flaky enough to let me leave with the Gallic delusion that I had eaten lightly.

Bottom line – this was my choice as the best restaurant in Central Iowa in 2008. It kept its focus while others were losing their’s. The chefs introduced more fine new dishes than any other cafe did this year.  Kelley has no peer locally as a restaurant pastry chef.

June 2009 Update

Stopped in for a piece I was writing about bargains in fine dining in Des Moines. Here’s what I had on a $27 special, plus no corkage fees on Thursday, or no corkage on a second bottle any night.

Bistro Montage has both a $20 and a $27 prix fixe menu, each evening. I opted for the $27 menu and chose a Caesar salad

over their divine French onion soup because of the weather. The latter is a civic treasure, made with duck and veal stock and topped with fine Gruyere. My Caesar was superb with its white anchovies. The café offered a comp plate of rabbit

terrine

that night, with a current tinged mustard and some ravioli cheese from Reichardt’s Dairy Aire. Staff were touting the chicken Roulade

and I almost always listen. Great choice – Organic breasts had been brined and stuffed with house made sausage of the legs and thighs, served with new potatoes, nutty red rice, green beans and babby tomatoes. I did not regret passing on the Basque stew, even when I saw lovely little baby octopi in a bowl being served nearby.

(The $20 option another night delivered this house cured yellowfin nicoise salad as an entree.) I chose a crème briulee over home made Farmers market strawberry ice cream – because Bistro Montage always perfectly executes this much abused dish.

Mine was still warm on top and crackled when struck with the fork.

 

 

The 801 and Only (http://www.801steakandchop.com/main.html)

A Toast to RW Apple – Bands of Angels

“Tell the cook, thanks for the meal.” Buddha’s last words

Nothing comforts the dread of winter like the primal scent of aged beef searing over open flames, so the first chill rains of Autumn always lure us to a steakhouse.  So does the memory of the best food writer of the last half century.

R.W. “Johnny” Apple was a Kiplingesque giant who walked with kings yet kept the common touch. The New York Times compared him to Charles Dickens, Winston Churchill and Sir John Falstaff – in just the first paragraph of his obituary. The most influential journalist of the last 50 years, he wrote most of the Times’ front page news analyses and led their coverage of three wars and ten Presidential campaigns. Aware of his real power, he eschewed the celebrity that compromised poseurs pimping best sellers on TV.

Des Moines owes Johnny, enormously. He wrote about the potential significance of the Iowa caucuses in 1972, before any other national media reported their existence. He was the only reporter who touted Jimmie Carter’s candidacy in 1976 and he tied that to an Iowa caucus strategy. Without Apple our caucuses might well still be invisible. Johnny was also the greatest gourmand and food writer of our time. Gourmet magazine dispatched Calvin Trillin to France just to report how Apple dined on his 70^th birthday. Because he filed stories from over 70 countries, Johnny’s dining advice was sought by other journalists on the road. Apple loved 801 Steak & Chop House in Des Moines so it quickly became the haunt of kingmakers and anchormen during the long campaign season in Iowa. John Kerry frequented the place during his 2004 run and New York Times publisher Arthur Salzburger, jr. once joked that 801 is better known in Manhattan than in Des Moines.

Power accessorized in wood and brass, 801 subjugates other Iowa steakhouses by using Stock Yards prime beef, the gold standard that only 32 restaurants in America carry. By contrast, Joseph’s serves Creekstone Farms beef, but so does Chicken Coop for a small fraction of the price. All prime is not equal (there are sub grades) and Fleming’s is the only other local place in town that even claims to use all prime beef (from Tyson). 801’s appetizers ranged in decadence from a $4 asparagus vichyssoise to a $60 shellfish platter. This kitchen invented the lobster corn dog and it’s still a local touch that amuses visitors, but carpaccio is the way to go here – redolent with marbling.

Chef Brian Dennis produces a weekly “fresh sheet” that featured a Tuscan ribeye, several wild fish and oysters on the half shell when we visited. The latter seemed overpriced even by coastal standards (one Apple obituary noted an incredulous stare the master gave a young reporter who dared order oysters at 801). We stuck to basics – prime rib, at $40 a naked slice and worth every penny. Other than its famous cigar humidor, desserts are 801’s power course – consider a Grand Marnier soufflé with pistachio crème anglaise. Both the wine cellar and the aged Scotch list are among the best, and most expensive, in Iowa.

They are “the 801 and only” way to toast Johnny Apple: May bands of angels sing him on his way.

801 Steak and Chop House
801 Grand, 288-6000

Mon. – Sat. : 5-10, lounge opens at 4

 

Des Moines’ Oldest Grocery Store Is a Political Hangout

The South Side’s Italian neighborhood has a long, well-known history, but few people remember that much of the South Side was actually an independent town into the 20th century. Sevastopol, literally “venerable city,” was laid out south of our two rivers during the Civil War and was centered at Southeast 6th and Hartford. The city’s oldest food establishment still operates there, as if oblivious to time.

Founded in 1922, B & B Grocery Meat & Deli is an old fashioned political hangout like no other. It’s difficult on occasions to tell the owners from the customers as so many people move behind the counters as if they work there. It’s one of the friendliest places in town — complete strangers are treated as cordially as neighborhood regulars. The food service is leftover from another era, too. I have been telling readers to visit this place for years in order to find pure pork, un-injected with sodium solutions, or to fill nostalgic orders for things like pig’s heads, carcass beef, whole hogs, head cheeses and souses, whole slabs of bacon, etc… B & B is also a reliable source of hamburger that has been ground fresh from a single carcass, an increasingly important distinction in the industrial age of E. coli and mad cow disease.

Their pork tenderloins, an Iowa icon, might well be the only ones in the state that go directly from the butcher block to the deep fat fryer in a single process.  It’s the only true pork tenderloin I know, being made exclusively with the “tenderloin” rather than tenderized parts of the larger loin. The deep fryer separates this place from other deli counters in town. Its specialties include breaded tenderloins of chorizo, turkey, chicken and beef, as well as pork. When I ordered a beef tenderloin, someone walked into a cooler and came out with an entire tenderloin of beef to cut, tenderize, dip, bread and fry — for $4. A pork chop on a stick cost $3 and was superior to anything peddled at the Iowa State Fair this year. You can add French fries plus a side of coleslaw, macaroni salad or potato salad for $1.50. Or you can order side dishes from a menu of exotics such as chile poppers, chicken gizzards or livers, breaded oysters, fresh made deviled eggs, or potato chippers. Ribeye and Philly steak sandwiches also were under the $4 threshold. Burgers were served in one-third pound patties with singles, doubles and triples available, and $4.19 being the top price.

On the cold side of the deli, I am partial to the kosher corned beef and pastrami here, the best $4 sandwiches of their kind in town. B&B has a large choice of hams, salami, sausages and roast pork. They will even make a sandwich out of head cheese and souse. The specialty of the house is the $5 Dad’s Killer, a hoagie that includes corned beef, roast beef, ham, turkey and three cheeses.

Lots happened in Sevastopol since 1922. Supermarkets and cafés came and went, so did a Little League park across the street from B & B. Now things are coming full circle as East Village development moves south. La Pena, the best mom and pop Mexican café in town, opened a few block to the west, as did two good barbecues and Florene’s, a true scratch, butter and cream bakery. Sevastopol is again venerable, and B & B is still its beating heart.

Primal Instincts

Iowa Steakhouses

Searing over an open flame, freshly cut beef emits a primal scent that encouraged our human progenitors to straighten their spines, walk on two legs, fashion weapons and cook with fire. It also seduced them into misbehaving. As beasts of burden and milk producers, living cattle benefit far more people than dead cattle. So, in parts of the world, cows were made sacred, to shame the rich and powerful away from selfish temptations.

Within the time that humans have lived on this planet, beef has been available for mass consumption a brief moment. This wonder came about on the American Great Plains. First, the abundance of buffalo and the invention of the long rifle made meat the easiest food to procure. When the buffalo were gone, the hunger for red meat remained, as did the grass that made it grow. Cattle were imported and bred to survive on the range. They were driven to stockyards near thriving grain and transportations centers in Sioux City, Omaha and Kansas City.

In the second half of the 19^th century, beef became an international obsession and the American range was transformed into the largest feed lot ever known. The lust for cow flesh increased cattle populations in Midwest states some 30 times, between the Civil War and 1880. Because Iowa grew the most corn, it was in the center of the new food economy, when food drove all economies. Iowa beef democratized self indulgence. Since the 19^th century, Americans have been eating about one third of the world’s meat, with about 1/15^th of the world’s population. This has only been possible because we grow so much surplus grain.

It also explains why the great traditional steakhouses of Iowa are predominantly in the western part of the state, clustered within a short cattle drive of Omaha and Sioux City. Our steakhouses have always been places where Iowans go to celebrate the great occasions of life. In smaller towns, they often served as surrogate country clubs. Archie’s Waeside in LeMars, The Fireside in Anthon, Bogie’s in Albia, Pete’s in Hartley, the Mineolo, the Hawarden, Theo’s in Lawton, the Redwood in Anita and Down South in Iowa Falls all annually host wedding parties by the dozens. Some host at least one every week of the year.

Near Sioux City and Omaha, steakhouses grew naturally, out of pride and local convenience, in the days when most food was local. In more densely populated eastern Iowa, fewer cattle ranged and more diverse inspirations drove the creation of stylish restaurants. There, steakhouses often developed a wood and leather aura that was both macho and a bit dangerous. Their mystique fermented when liquor was illegal and “supper clubs,” “roadhouses” and “steakhouses” skirted the law. Iowa’s most famous steakhouse ever was The Lark, in Tiffin.

“Johnny Agnew built the place after WWII, when the local sheriff turned his gaze away from such illegal activities as slot machines and liquor by the drink,” said Bob Thompson, who bought The Lark in 1976 and ran it until it burned down in 1999.

“In it’s wild prime, Tiffin had five spots, but when liquor by the drink was legalized, only “The Lark” survived, because it always had great food. By the time I got it, booze was legal and the new sheriff didn’t allow slot machines, so it was strictly about good food and service.

“Sometimes The Lark was so busy that two hour waits were average. We served 960 dinners one night, in a restaurant that seated 275. Our crowd came from Johnson County, Iowa County and Cedar Rapids regularly, but on special occasions, like prom nights, people would come from as far away as Davenport, Fairfield and Burlington. That was the only time I would cheat on the waiting list, I would try to get those kids in and out faster.

“We did lots of rehearsal dinners but we never accepted a wedding party. They always wanted Saturday and we couldn’t afford to tie up the place on a Saturday night,” he recalled.

In all parts of the state, steakhouses are the great culinary tradition of Iowa, the proud final link of a food chain that stretches from the cornfields through the cattle barns to the kill floors and the dining rooms of the best fed people in the history of the world.

Theo’s Steak House & Lounge

Ted and Marge Herbold opened Theo’s in 1976. Legend has grown with the number of trophies on the walls and tables. Every January on the last weekend of hunting season, the Theo’s hosts a Big Buck contest for the largest antlers hunted. This attracts up to 80 entrants and the winners are mounted and hung on the walls. The Iowa state record for the largest antlers was set here one year.

There are lots of taxidermic artworks here, Cape Buffalo from South Africa, caribou from Alaska and European boars and bison from the Black Hills, all trophies of Herbold and his customers. All have names, as does the large painting of a floozie.

The prime rib is untrimmed, overnight in the Alta Sham. Certified Angus steaks from Willer Farms are flame grilled. Theo’s grinds their own burger from sirloin trim.

French onion soup is regular draw. Soup is always on the salad bar which includes a bounty of fresh local product in season, including herbs, tomatoes, sweet corn, peppers, cucumbers and cabbages. Dessert comes with all entrees.

Hawarden Steak House

Seal Van Sickle returned from WWI with a vision in his mind. He cut timbers and dislodged stones from the bed of the Sioux River and carried them uphill to Hawarden, where he built a restaurant in the image of that vision. The timber beams and posts are still in place and the stone fireplace is still working, though it has been converted to gas.

The kitchen is special too. He uses an Alta Sham oven, designed especially for slow roasting prime ribs, to prepare pork loins and prime ribs that take 8-10 hours. The salad bar is completely home made and steaks are flat grilled. The bread comes from Casey’s bakery in Sioux Center.

Restaurant seats 80, plus 45 more in the “Rendez-vous lounge,” once a speakeasy where Van Sickle’s original art still adorns the walls. The “Mermaid” was the centerpiece of the speakeasy days as Carrie Westling remembers working there in the 1920’s.

“I worked there for Seal and Lottie, they were absolute peaches. Seal didn’t sell hard liquor when I was there, just beer. I don’t know what a speakeasy is. I was the only one who was allowed to wait on people in the private basement room, where Seal and his friends played poker. I got some great tips off those guys.

“The years I was there were the happiest days of my life. I can still see Seal and Lottie when I go there, so much of the place is still as they had it. The back room is exactly the same, every picture that Seal painted is still there on the walls. There’s a salad bar now where the entrance used to be and the kitchen is little bigger, but its so much the same I still see them there,” she recalled.

Archie’s Waeside, LeMars

National Public Radio’s “Spendid Table” named Archie’s America’s Independent Restaurant of the Year. Gourmet magazine’s Micheal and Jan Stern have praised it. Two handful’s of pilots from Des Moines meet here for dinner, regularly. What drives such devotion?

Archie Jackson opened the simple hard wood paneled roadhouse in 1949. His daughter Valerie Rand ran it from 1973-94. Grandson Bob Rand runs it today. The wine cellar is extraordinary by any standards, and mind boggling for a town of 9000. Behrens & Hitchcock, Paradigm, T-Vine, Cuvee Lola unfiltered reserve are among the labels that set Chicago visitors to roll their eyes, in delight. And promise to return. Over 500 choices including a bakers dozen of state wide exclusives.

The butcher shop has the finest aging cooler in the state, with 14-21day hangings for all beef cut here. 270 seats in the dining room are all booths, and each booth is decorated with an antire village of porcelain models, lit.

4000 pounds of beef a week. So when a customer asks for a 28 ounce bone in NY, Bob says, “I’ll go cut one myself. Someone at the next table overhears. Before the evening is over, Bob has cut and served 5 mammoth steaks this way, and he trims them down to the point that his wastebasket could make most French chefs weep.

The place expanded over the decades and now accommodates most of Rand‘s childhood home, as a wine cellar.

Scratch salad dressings, including a Russian Toss which is vaniagrette elsewhere. And 1000 Island dressing that people try to take home, (made from beets, onions and extra thick home made mayo. Salads, soups, even potato dishes including hash browns, cheese and onion hash browns are all scratch made.

“”We have to age more of our steaks off premises now, we just can’t keep the volume on hand here.”

On a Saturday, people wait to get in, in lines that move through the bar and out the front door and 25 yards down the parking lot driveway. In the summer, people stroll through the adjacent vegetable gardens, which supply the restaurant with fresh home grown, while someone hold their place in line. They only take reservations for 8 or more, others are first come.

They do 115,000 – 125,000 meals a year, open five nights. 15% of their business is gift certificates, they are open from 9 am to sell them, and there are lines the month before Xmas.

The place is recession proof, Their biggest year ever was the fiscal year that began on Oct 1, 2001, immediately after 9-11, when most high end restaurants tanked. “I think people who normally travel, stayed home, and dined out more,” Rand explained.

Burger is ground on premises and all of it comes from the trim of midsection muscle meats. The relish tray here includes corned beef that is made on premises, from briskets, rounds and flanks. Made in 50 gallons drums in the aging house.

Rand hosts 50-60 wedding parties a year. “We do at least one every week of the year.” said Bob Rand.

The Benny Weiker, named for a good customer of years ago who used to be a cattle buyer in the Sioux City stockyards,  is an eighteen-ounce, center-cut, 21-day dry-aged filet mignon.  When he can get them, Rand buys lamb chops from Iowa Lamb of Hawarden, a legend in their own right. (West Coast purveyors have told us the best lamb in America comes from small ranchers in NW Iowa.) Bob dry ages the lamb chops and they fly off the menu.

Employees are family. Mom Valerie has been here 50 years, ran the place from 1973-94. Still works here. Others have 41, 32 years, three waiters have over 20 years here, two kitchen helpers.He also believes that aged beef does best cooked at 400-500 degrees, not the 1000 degrees that most beef aficionados believe in. His is perfectly seared. The bone – in rib eye is to die for and the Stearns called the filet the best they had ever sampled.

De Burgo and Other Iowa Styles

Iowa steakhouses distinguish themselves from one another with personal idiosyncrasies. For instance, almost every steakhouse in Des Moines serves “steak de Burgo,” though recipes differ so much the name is meaningless. Half of Des Moines thinks it means a heavy cream sauce, the other half, an olive oil/butter, basil and garlic treatment. Which would be the same thing as “Greek style” in Mason City’s Northwestern Steak House. Others personalized touches vary.

~At The Bison, in Nora Springs, Brian Prough serves Whitewater bison from Bernard, and frequents local farmers’ markets for the freshest produce. His de Burgo uses a red wine reduction.

~Kochie’s, near West Union on the Little Turkey River, keeps two large gardens for the freshest ingredients, and has its own smoke house and aging cooler.

~Kibba, at the Palm’s in Fort Madison, is a Lebanese specialty that combines bulgur wheat and beef.

~Karaoke is performed at the Fountain City in Goldfield.

~Binoculars come with the window views at the rustic, hillside Knotty Pine, outside Afton.

~Big Steer in Altoona has a giant cow sign valued at $64,000 by insurers.

~Rube’s, in Montour and Booneville, supplies themselves with locally raised beef.

~Jack & Arnie’s in Janesville, and J&A South in Reinbeck are supplied with prime local Angus, from the Janesville locker.

~Jake’s in Walker uses aged beef from the hometown Moore’s Locker.

~Bob Welch converted a Central Tractor Equipment store in Iowa Falls into Out South Steakhouse, building a walled structure within the old walls and a salad bar within two canoes. Down South gets as much meat as possible from the Hubbard-based Our Family Farms.

~Trostel’s Greenbriar, in Johnston, will serve steaks with any classic European sauce in their vast repertoire.

~Hawaii native Cy Gushiken offers acrobatics and stand-up comedy, as steaks grill on hibachis at his Ohana in West Des Moines.

~David’s in Perry serves steaks from the Wholesome Harvest, an organic conglomerate of mostly Iowa farmers centered in Edgewood. David North’s sizzling oak plank servings are a Swedish touch.

~In the early 1950’s Vera Neuhaven made the Morris Inn famous with her personal recipes and scratch cooking. Present owners Tom and Kelly McLean still base the menu around Vera‘s recipes.

~The Pines in Atlantic has a fine dining level, one room in Amish décor, another in Native American; and casual downstairs with a farm motif.

~At 801 Steak & Chop House in Des Moines, all cuts but the filet are high end prime from Stockyards, the nation’s finest purveyor of beef.

~J Bruner’s in Clarinda serves a chicken livers Parvano appetizer that draws fans from as far away as Japan.

~Kalmes, in St. Donatus, serves bison, from the local Iowa Bison, Co., Luxemburgo pizza and buttered noodle side dishes.

Extreme Steakhouses

Oldest

Iowa has at least seven steakhouses that date to the 19^th century.

~Doug’s Steakhouse in Gutenberg is in a building that was built in 1809.

~Kalmes’ has been in St. Donatus, though not in the same building, since 1850.

~Breitbach’s in Balltown has continuously operated, in the same family and location, since 1852. It burned down in 2008 but is going to be rebuilt. 

~With an original spindle staircase and a wood burning fireplace that is always lit, Hoover House in West Branch dates to 1870. .

~Bonaparte’s Retreat in Bonaparte is in a grist mill that was built in 1883.

~The Doon, in Doon, was built in 1889 and still has its original pressed tin ceiling.

Smallest Towns

Iowa steakhouses are travel destinations, luring city folk back to small towns.

~Breitbach’s in Balltown (pop. 73), has 247 chairs and none have been replaced in over 75 years.

~Kalmes’ in St. Donatus (pop. 140) keeps a Luxemburgian theme.

~Southern Country is one of just three remaining buildings in Craig (pop. 101).

~The Mineola (pop. 150) frequently serves 600 meals on summer Thursdays.

~The Wiota (pop.149) is just a few miles from famous steak houses in Anita and Atlantic.

Biggest Steak

Fireside in Anthon features a $26 cut of steak that can weigh over 4 pounds.

Accolades

During an Iowa caucus cycle, New York Times’ legendary publisher Arthur Salzburger, jr. joked that 801 Steak and Chop House is better known in Manhattan than it is in Des Moines.

Henry Schneider’s Iowa Beef Steak House in Des Moines won Money magazine‘s nod as one of the six best in America.

The National Pork Council named Pete’s in Hartley the Restaurant of the Year.

A Boston newspaperman called Rube’s in Montour the best steakhouse in America.

 

Sweet Therapy

Ivy Bake Shoppe & Café Soothes Fort Mad

http://www.ivybakeshoppe.com/

Sometimes you win a war by losing battles. Fort Madison’s history is colored with such ironic victories. In 1813, U.S. Army post commander Thomas Hamilton burned the original fort to the ground, rather than letting it become a base for Black Hawk and his Sauk warriors. The U.S. army would eventually triumph, but even Black Hawk admitted things became better afterwards — when white and Indian settlers peacefully shared custody of the land.

After bridging the Mississippi River in 1887, the Santa Fe Railway delivered rapid growth to the town. But things slowed down considerably after the railroad era gave way to super highways. Because Fort Madison was too small for an highway by-pass, and a short driving distance to both Burlington and Keokuk, it was long overlooked by many of the corporate franchisers and discounters that homogenized the American landscape during the second half of the twentieth century. This helped its downtown businesses survive without economic pressures to tear down historic buildings in order to construct bigger and more modern things. Now, those old brick buildings preserve a quaint charm that drives Fort Madison’s hot tourist industry.

This riverboat town has a knack for playing the cards that are dealt.

When downsizing followed an ownership change at the Schaefer Pen Company, the maximum security Iowa State Penitentiary became the largest, oldest and best known employer in town. Such status could shame other places, but “Fort Mad” embraces the notoriety like a beloved, outlandish aunt — citizens wear shirts and jackets that sport darling little bloodhound logos, which is also the high school’s mascot. The business culture similarly thrives on eccentricity, proudly refurbishing its historic identity, oblivious to the monotony of third millennium commercial architecture in most other towns.

For foodies, Fort Madison is warden to a pen full of non-conformist originals. The town was known as “Goosetown” a century ago, when the mostly German residents raised geese in their yards. Today Fort Mad’s culinary assets seem to be have been plucked from another time or place. The town’s top fine dining restaurant is most famous for its Sri Lankhan chef and his fried strawberries. A superb Lebanese steakhouse sports mid 20^th century neon décor. A “supper club” with a Hispanic surname reminds one that the town’s Mexican-born population exceeded 1000 as long ago as the 1920‘s. A large Greek “pizza & steakhouse” is touted for its catfish. Next door sits a tiny river view diner that specializes in an infamous excess known as the “Wallyburger.”

Yet, nothing entices gourmets to this off beat town like the old fashioned butter & cream baking of Susan Welch Saunders and Martha Wolf. Like Fort Mad itself, these proprietors of the Ivy Bake Shoppe & Café have parlayed a badly dealt hand into a jackpot.

“When we started, we were both going through divorces. We did it as much for therapy as anything,” explained Wolf.

The ladies began baking in the spring of 1992 convinced there was a market because working women wanted scratch baked foods, but didn’t have time to bake themselves. The two met with a supplier, had their home kitchens inspected, bought a $100 worth of advertising and opened for business in Saunders’ basement. Along with three other women, they sold their goods on Fridays. Customers had to walk through Sue’s living room to get to the cloth-covered ping pong table display.

The other bakers began dropping out. After 18 months Wolf and Saunders were the only remaining partners. A neighborhood grocery store started stocking their goods then three other retailers followed. Martha and Sue were putting in 18 hour days in their small kitchens to keep up with the demand. They had exhausted the potential of working out of Sue‘s home.

About that time, Martha’s former husband acquired an historic old clothing store in downtown Fort Madison and encouraged the ladies to open a restaurant there. While the 12,000 square -foot Hesse Building was being remodeled, the ladies toured bakeries and coffee shops in Davenport, Cedar Falls, Cedar Rapids and Omaha looking for inspirations. They consulted the Small Business Development Center at the local community college, wrote a business plan and took out a bank loan for $25,000. By Fall of 1995, they were ready to open a café, with a few eccentricities that suited the town’s personality.

“We knew from the beginning that we wanted the Ivy to serve a fresh, eclectic chalkboard menu. So we would be able to set the menu for the week based on the availability of fresh produce, especially in the summer and fall, and because, after all, this is the Midwest,” Martha explained.

The chalkboard menu is constantly updated as items sell out. Customers are still adjusting to the limitations of this “fresh & local” school of thinking. On one visit, I overheard a husband and wife blaming each other for delays that made them minutes late for that day’s onion pie.

“You just had to stop and take a photo at that stupid gun shop?”

“That took two minutes, your second bathroom stop took fifteen.”

“On chill out, they still have tomato-basil pie.”

There is always something to love here. With a screened-in porch fronting the downtown’s main street, historic antique furnishings, original oak floors and pressed tin ceilings, the Ivy is Fort Madison’s community center as well as a magnetic force on tourists. An Ivy survey discovered just how much so — ever since the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints built a new temple 15 minutes away, three fourths of the café’s customers have been coming from out of town!

The other quarter is intensely loyal, particularly during the morning hours. Bernard Hesse, who sold the building to the ladies, is now a regular customer, sitting where his family used to display the latest clothing fashions. Regulars often fill three round tables in front.

“There’s a crowd that comes regularly for coffee, breakfast and just to see each other. There’s a 7 o’clock shift, then the 8 o’clock group and the nine o’clock shift,” explained Sue.

Then comes the eleven o’clock rush, coincidental with the day’s first caramel apple tart. Only 36 servings of that treat are made daily and they sell out quickly — so people time their visits accordingly. Regionally famous blackberry scones, cinnamon rolls, or sticky pecan rolls come in less limited editions. Popular among the rotating lunches are pot pies, quiches, lasagna and grilled panini. Carrot, squash and tortilla soups all have fan clubs. So do sorbets and exotic salads that, during their season, employ greens so young and fresh they shouldn’t be allowed out after dark. Local garden produce from Burlington farms of Fred & Susan Gerst and Chris Gehringer, as well as from Kathy Hohl of Donnellson, keep the flavors fresh and local.

Now eleven years old, the Ivy has over a dozen employees and a second store in Burlington. Most of the workers have been with Sue and Martha for a long time.

“We have one employee since day one, one since day twenty and several more with 5 to 10 years of service. We have empowered our staff to know that they make a difference, that it takes all of us to give the customers the experience that they want,” Martha explained.

Success and staff loyalty haven’t cut back Martha and Sue’s work loads though. “Twelve hour days are still routine for both of us and 18 hour days are common,” Sue said. Martha added that they wouldn’t want it any other way.

“I spent 25 years as a social worker and no one ever said ‘thank you’ to me for anything. Not once. Now we get that every day. This is so empowering because every day we sense some appreciation. Tourists come with an expectation that things will cost more than they do, and then they really appreciate us. Regulars come with a sense of trust — they usually ask what the special is and often they try it even if it’s a stretch for them. We have been able to raise the awareness of foods that way.

“Back at the time I was going through my divorce I said, ’God, I don’t know what You have planned for me, but there is no way this can be better. There’s no way this can be OK again.’ Well, it’s more than OK now,” Martha concluded, with Sue nodding.

Several thousand locals, and three times as many out-of-towners, agree.

Holiday Recipes

From the Ivy Bake Shoppe Cookbook, by Sue Saunders and Martha Wolf, Gibbs Smith Publisher.

CRANBERRY SALAD

1 package cranberries, coarsely chopped in food processor
2 apples, chopped with peeling
2 oranges, peeled and chopped
1 cup crushed pineapple
1/2 cup chopped celery
Juice of 1 lemon

1 package unflavored gelatin
1/4 cup cold water
2 cups boiling water
2 packages sugar free Jell-O (raspberry, strawberry, cranberry)

Mix gelatin with cold water to dissolve. Add 2 cups boiling water to
Jell-O. Stir until Jell-O is dissolved.

Place cranberries, apples, oranges, pineapple, celery and lemon juice in a
big bowl and pour JELLO mixture over it. Stir until combined. Pour into 9
X 13 glass dish; making sure the JELLO covers all the fruit. Chill until
firm.

SWEDISH TEA CAKES

1 package dry yeast
1/4 cup warm water
2 1/4 cups flour
2 Tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup butter
1/4 cup evaporated milk
1 egg
1/4 cup craisins

Filling:
1/4 cup butter, softened
1/2 cup light brown sugar

Icing:
2 Tablespoons butter
1 cup sifted powdered sugar
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 Tablespoons evaporated milk

Optional 1/2 cup toasted pecans for garnish

Soften yeast in warm water. Mix flour, sugar and salt in mixing bowl with
paddle attachment. Mix in butter until particles are fine. Add evaporated
milk, egg, craisins and yeast to flour and butter mixture.
Mix well on low speed. Cover and chill in refrigerator at least 3 hours or
overnight.

Make filling when ready to roll our dough. Cream butter and brown sugar until thoroughly combined. Divide dough into 3 equal parts. Roll out one part on a floured surface to a 6 X 12 rectangle. Spread with 1/3 filling.
Roll up starting with the 12-inch side. Seal by pinching dough together.
Form roll into crescent shape and place on cookie sheet lined with foil or
parchment paper. Make 1/2 inch cuts along outside edge of crescent about 1
inch apart. Repeat with other two portions of dough. Let rolls rise in
warm place until light, about 45 minutes. Bake at 350 degrees for 20 -25
minutes or until golden brown. Frost with icing while hot.

To make icing, brown butter in small iron skillet. Add powdered sugar, and vanilla. Stir in evaporated milk until it is of spreading consistency,
adding morel evaporated milk if necessary. Spread icing on tea cakes after
removing them from the oven. Sprinkle with toasted pecans if desired. Serve
slightly warm, cut in small pieces. Freezes great!

Fort Madison Lodging

The Kingsley Inn, 707 Avenue H, 319-372-7074, 800-441-2327, www.kingsleyinn.com

This historic inn named for Alpha Kingsley, the first commander of the Fort that gave the town its name. The inn is 150 years old and has been restored to full elegance with antique oak, marble and polished burls.

Dining

Ivy Bake Shoppe & Café

6th Street & Avenue G, 319-372-9939, www.ivybakeshoppe.com

Monday thru Saturday: 7 a.m.- 2 p.m.

The entire café is available for private parties, fully catered to suit the customer.

Alpha’s on the River, 709 H Avenue, 319-372-1411

Chef Kumar Wickramasingha came from Sri Lankha, but presents food with the flair of a Mississippi paddle wheeler. This is most apparent in his famous desserts: a variation of bananas Foster, called banana fritters; and fried strawberries. Most people come for the aged steaks, but Kumar’s fennel-infused pork tenderloin wraps and his pork loin salad have won national competitions.

The Palms Supper Club, 4920 Ave. O, Highway 61 south, 319-372-5833

This classic roadside steakhouse opened in 1961 with waterfall oases and plenty of palm trees highlighting the décor. Steak a l’Arabia and kibba have been a popular Lebanese entrée since then. Aged Iowa beef are hand cut in the kitchen.

Colcannon: A Genetic Craving for One Irish American 

Did you ever eat Colcannon, made from lovely pickled cream?

With the greens and scallions mingled like a picture in a dream…

Oh, wasn’t it the happy days when troubles we had not,

And our mothers made Colcannon in the little skillet pot?

from an Irish folk song

My mother’s Irish family cooked so much colcannon on their O’Brien County farm that Mom resolved to never eat it again as an adult. However, when I tasted it, at age 40, it triggered inexplicable feelings of love and comfort so long forgotten it took two of Mom’s older sisters to explain them to me.

My aunts recalled that colcannon had been my first solid food and that my great grandmother spoon fed it to me in her rocker while I sat on her lap, a mere infant. Somehow, in the smithy of my tongue, she had forged a Celtic awe for potatoes and cabbages, butter and cream that could be lovingly summoned four decades later, by the taste of this most Irish of casseroles.

Great Grandma Kelly is long gone, as are all her children and all her grandchildren, but her colcannon is my touchstone to the underworld of my ancestors. Too humble for modern times, this dish has been forgotten by most Irish-Americans. I want my grandchildren to love it, but how can anyone get excited about the potatoes and cabbages they find in supermarkets today? The varieties of these foods have been limited to a boring few, usually the most cost efficient to a single purpose. Most potatoes are grown only to make reliable frozen French fries. Most American cabbages are bred for cole slaw that will be overwhelmed with imitation mayonnaise.

Slowly, like the repopulation of Ireland, these things are changing, as gardeners discover new worlds of possibility in potatoes and cabbages. Seed Savers Exchange in Decorah now has 650 varieties of potato in its collection, ranging from All Blues to creamy Yellow Carola’s and Cranberry Reds. They sell Early Jersey Wakefield cabbages that have been farmed in America since 1840, grow 15 inches tall and weigh four pounds. Their Mammoth Red Rocks have only been here 115 years, but they often weigh 7 pounds.

Every man in Iowa is an immigrant’s son who carries some inexplicable genetic craving for a lost taste his great grandmother hauled across oceans and mountains. In many cases, the particularity of their seeds were lost for a generation or two, but thanks to the seed savers of the world, and to distinct cravings that skip generations, they are retrievable.

With this in mind, I wandered the roads of Iowa the last two years looking for ingredients similar to what my ancestors might have found in Ireland, to prepare a colcannon that could make grandchildren smile. In Fairfield, I bought milk from Francis Thicke’s organic Radiance Dairy, where the cows graze outdoors all year, in tall grass and clover, and the milk is never homogenized. In Woodward, I found butter made at Pickett Fence Creamery, from cows that grazed all summer.

Erik Sessions, who farms organically north of Decorah, supplies many of that food-conscious town’s fine restaurants, plus the Oneonta Food Co-Op. We bought some of his fall cabbages and marveled at both their flavor and their storage value. Since Sessions is a neighbor of Seed Savers, we assumed his cabbages were heirlooms.

“Actually, with cabbage, I have found that the F1 hybrids are more uniform in performance, something that matters to my customers. The thing about cabbage flavor is luck and seasonal. The most flavorful cabbages are the ones that have experienced a couple of frosts in the Fall. The next best are the early Spring ones that have not experienced any hot weather.

Sessions told us that the cabbages that turned our head were a storage #4, which he plants for late harvest in the fall, and which will keep in the refrigerator all winter. His other favorite cabbages are the small conical “Arrowheads,” which are best in Spring, the Savoy Kilosas, and Super Red 80’s, which do well Spring through Fall.

Sessions starts his cabbage indoors in flats and advises at least 1 inch cells. He suggests heavy feeder, either compost of fertilizer, at the seed stage and again at transplant.

“At that time, flea beetles are the biggest problem for organic cabbage, so I put down hoops and lay floating row covers over them until the hot weather drives the beetles away. Then the white butterflies are laying eggs, so you need to watch for them, hand wipe them off before they become caterpillars or use a Bt spray, which is organic and targets the caterpillars.

Potatoes, the essence of colcannon, were the hardest thing to find. Seed Savers Exchange founder Diane Whealy told us, “We have a huge potato patch 25 to 30 varieties. I know there is a perfect potato for lefse, because the Norwegian population of Decorah has found it. It needs to be extremely dry. But I am not sure about Irish potatoes.”

We experimented with everything from fingerlings to Yukon golds and Inca blues, but nothing performed like nineteenth century Irish potatoes were supposed to — mashing effortlessly when steamed until their jackets crack.

Then we met Penny Brown Huber of Ankeny who grows an Irish heirloom potato first planted in America in 1917. Kerr’s Pink (available from Ronniger’s: (208) 267-7938;

www.ronnigers.com) have snow white flesh despite their name. The texture is very fine-grained with round, light pink skin and delicate little red eyes. The Irish call this potato “floury,” referring to the performance we sought.

“I really like the yield of these potatoes,” Huber told us, adding that she tills her soil three times, the third time running a trench through the seed, which she then hills up.

“We always plant Easter weekend, no matter when Easter falls. That is an old farm tale I inherited. We usually take potatoes out in June and you can harvest these before the plant dies. People often think the plant has to die first, but that isn’t the case, especially if you want to harvest smaller potatoes,” she said.

A Brief History of Potatoes and Cabbage

Most closely related to tobacco and tomatoes, potatoes are weird. They have been cultivated, particularly in altitudes too high for corn, for over 4000 years. In France, they were shunned until Louis XVI began wearing potato flowers and encouraging his court to eat them. Before then, the French thought they caused leprosy. The Irish, British and Russians were more worried about starvation than leprosy, so they embraced potatoes like long lost kin.

Irish immigrants brought potatoes to New England in 1719. Though they grew wild from the southern part of the USA to the tip of Chile, they did not become a commercial crop here until recently.

Cabbage comes from a family that includes: kale, Brussels sprouts, cauliflower, kohlrabi, and broccoli. The original wild cabbages came from the Mediterranean seaboard, a sunny, salty, rocky clime not unlike a desert. Hence the plant developed cactus-like qualities, learning to retain water in its leaves. Its waxy cuticles and thick leaves became Darwinian success stories.

After Romans brought cabbage to Britain, they proved to be as adaptable to cold climates as to hot, rocky ones. They thrived in Europe’s Middle Ages, when a head could keep a family alive for weeks. In China, two popular species developed: the oblong Chinese cabbage and the non-heading bok choy. When the Mongol hordes taught Europeans how to pickle it, sauerkraut was born and sausage found its soul mate.

Why It’s Eaten on St. Patrick’s Day

Romans brought cabbage to Ireland as if summoned by modern St. Patrick’s Day revelers. Cato wrote this about it:

“If, at a banquet, you wish to dine a lot and enjoy your dinner, then eat as much cabbage as you wish, seasoned with vinegar before dinner, and likewise after dinner some half dozen leaves. It will make you feel as if you had not eaten and you can then drink as much as you like.”

O’Brien County Colcannon

Serves 8

Originally called kale-cannon, this 400 year old dish is the highest form of potato worship in the Irish kitchen. It mixes potato and cabbage with copious amounts of fresh butter and cream. Ham and scallions are usually added.

1 head green cabbage, chopped

4 pounds potatoes suitable for mashing

1 cup cream, or whole milk

A quarter pound unsalted butter

Half pound of ham, or corned beef

4 scallions, chopped finely

Sea salt and fresh cracked pepper

Wash potatoes and cover in a pot of cold salted water. Bring to a boil. Then tip off two thirds of the water and allow potatoes to steam till the skins break. Mash (peeled or not) with butter and cream, plus sea salt and fresh cracked pepper.

Steam cabbage separately, draining when it gets soft. Stir cabbage, scallions and meat into potatoes. Make a well in center and add more butter