The MOREL of the Story

I quietly laced up my boots, rolled up my sleeves, pulled my hat down over my eyes, and grabbed a brown paper sack from beneath my desk before sneaking out of my office, through an empty corridor, and around a corner.  I pushed open a side door to the museum, and found myself bathed in the bright sunlight of spring as brilliant, white dogwood buds waivered in the gentle breeze, still wet from a small rain storm that swept through just hours before dawn…all the signs were perfect for the hunt.

I started my pursuit for the elusive Ozark morels in a small ravine, slowly walking from one small bluff to the other, looking up each slope from my feet to eye level, but to no avail.  Still, I was mesmerized by the foliage, including white sycamores, scrub brushes, and the occasional cluster of fiddlehead ferns poking their curled heads up out of the black dirt.

After about 15 minutes, something caught my eye…a small, conical shape pushing up from a pile of brown leaves.  “Awww…I see you…” my pulse quickened, as I bent down to get a closer look.  The small mushroom was perfect, beige and gray in color, bending slightly to the right.  I pulled the specimen out of the dirt from the base of her stem, careful to keep the head intact.  Then I saw two more within inches of the first, and I knew I was on the right track to have a good day.

The small window of time for finding morels is about 10 to 14 days every year, and it is only when the temperature, humidity, and conditions are perfect, that those of us that covet the elusive morel, are able to actually find and harvest the elusive morel.  In fact, some people from the Trails and Grounds department of Crystal Bridges are downright cryptic and deceptive when it comes to the location of morels on the property, selfishly keeping the treasures to themselves.

A Response

From Clay Bakker, Trails and Grounds Manager, in an email to Case Dighero

Back in 2009 when I first started working with Scott [Eccleston] as a contractor on the property, I made my first discovery of morel mushrooms. I ended up finding these little delights from one end of the 100 acres to the other. Then, when we came back to the site and built a crew and subsequently staffed the whole museum it became apparent there were many of us who would be seeking these gems. In order to avoid conflict, we decided to apportion off sections of the property. We committed to stay out of each other’s domain so there would be enough morels for everybody.

A few days ago, in the area that I had adopted, I found several beautiful specimens that I took a picture of (at the top of this blog post). I left them there to get a bit larger for the next few days and checked on them on a daily basis like a doting parent. Then yesterday I was aghast to discover they had been stolen! “How could this happen?” I thought to myself. “We all have our own areas and everybody has stuck to the rules for so many years??”

Well if you check out the photo below, you will be able to make out the boot print of the actual thief. I tracked the print throughout the Honey Hole. I will be on the “case” of identifying this marauder at all costs. In the meantime I’m also pretty sure I saw beaver tracks in that area so I will be setting numerous beaver spring-traps. These are said to be able to break a grown man’s ankle so I hope my marauder doesn’t stumble into them.

(Editor’s note:  as I am aware Clay is a peaceful and critter-loving groundskeeper, I am certain he would do no such thing! I do believe this is merely a thinly veiled warning to our culinary director to steer clear of Clay’s morel patch in the future

A Peaceful Conclusion

Gentle reader: It now appears that things have been peacefully resolved.  Case has been welcomed into the museum’s Morel Club with no loss of limbs. In fact, he shared his bounty, as well as his coveted Chicken Fried Morel recipe, (below) as a peace offering.

 Chicken-Fried Morels

Submerge morels in cold water, pat dry. While the mushrooms are resting and drying comfortably, bring a pot of vegetable oil up to 375 degrees. Combine AP flour with salt, pepper, chopped parsley, basil, and thyme…then whisk together a couple eggs with milk, minced garlic, and Asian chili sauce. Roll morels in flour mixture

…then egg and milk mixture…then back to flour mixture....fry until golden brown…

…then allow to rest (for the last time) a few minutes on a towel…finish with a squeeze of lime, dust with good Parmesan, then devour like it’s your LAST SUPPER

https://crystalbridges.org/blog/create-food-blog-the-morel-of-the-story/

Saiwok | SL-U-U-U-U-RP | Repeat!

Bewitched, bewildered, bothered…I’m falling in love. With eyes closed tightly, I lower my head down and forward, lips wet and parted, breathing in the exotic, yet familiar fragrances of beef broth, sweet star anise, ultra-fresh basil, spicy cilantro, red onions, and the crisp, red heat of chili peppers.  A thin, delicious dew gathers across my face from the steam that has risen up to wrap around my neck and head – I’m mesmerized, but can’t help think, “Not only does this smell divine, but I bet it makes my skin and hair look incredible..”      

I open my eyes to navigate my utensils, twirling the slippery noodles around my chopsticks, dunking the sexy bundle into a single, deep spoon of beef broth before plopping the entire thing carelessly into my mouth; sl-u-u-u-u-u-u-r-r-r-r-p-p-p-p…barely enough time for a single drop of the copper liquid to run down my chin before repeating the ritual of falling in love all over again.  Yawn – Spent – Nighty Night…this Pho Beef is a dream come true.

Wake UP!  No time to rest, because this is the mere beginning of what promises to be an epic dinner of Vietnamese – Americana fusion street food from Saiwok.  My new favorite Rogers restaurant fills a much needed gap left from when Heirloom closed its doors in 2016, leaving discriminating foodies sad, cold, and hungry for artful sustenance.  Saiwok is a brilliant family endeavor, led delicately by Chef Vuong Nguyen and his father, along with a mosaic of friends, family, and staff that move together like a well-oiled, Asian dumpling, snuggle machine.  Collaboration is the key here, and Vuong touts his success to the “love” that each family member puts into his or her important role at the restaurant...server, dishwasher, cook…it doesn’t matter, everyone is valued, therefore everyone has skin in the game; which means that this “end game” is nothing short of extraordinary, from the ambient experience all the way to the culturally diverse food.

The look and feel of Saiwok is casual and comfortable, almost as if you were walking into to the home of the Nguyen family, complete with a friendly smiles and welcoming fragrances from their lineage.  The process includes a demi service where we queue up to a large menu board, while gaining access to a glimpse into an open display kitchen chock full of rising steam, busy staff, sizzling sounds, and a cross section of foreign languages that seem to simultaneously quicken the pulse and enhance the experience.  Once the order is made, we navigate to one of many long communal tables to allow for our order to be laid out and unfolded before us; an intentional design nuance that invites large groups to dine with old friends while making new ones.  There’s also a small bar area that accommodates a half dozen spaces if you feel like grabbing a quick bite with an ice cold beer…one of my favorite things to when dining alone in Rogers.

Suddenly, a myriad of food begins to arrive in gorgeous shareable waves…first out is the the Roasted Brussel Sprouts ($9) and Urban Street Corn ($7); the sprouts are served in a shallow platter, wok flashed to caramelized perfection, boasting a thin, featherlike crunch against a back drop of soy, sesame, and something slightly sweet; light, salty, charred, and utterly delicious…I could eat this for days.  The Urban Street Corn is quick grilled, boasting a pop of flavor from each kernel that has been embellished with earthy scallion oil and a whisper dusting of chili garlic butter; the pretty butter “slow jams” its way across the cob, a sexy come hither ritual that is more than just an invitation to take a bite.

Before we have time to collect ourselves, we’re presented with an oval platter of Smoked Pork Belly Fries ($9), the talk of the culinary town; crispy, crinkle cut fries stratified with smoked pork belly, scallions, a single wobbly fried egg, and kimchinase, mayo fused with homemade kimchi.  Culinary nirvana abounds, these crunchy, sauce laden fries are perfect for chop sticks, especially as I penetrate the center of the egg, sending a cascade of yellow love around the charred, slightly sweet bits of pork belly.  I know now why this dish is the chef and foodie talk of the town, it’s a brilliant exercise in edible culture fusion, and well worth the trip to Saiwok alone.

The hits just keep on coming in the way of Pan Seared Pork Dumplings ($6), finished with a fragrant truffle oil ponzu and micro greens; and then a beautifully composed Beef Crudo ($15) made with medium rare seared New York Strip steak, avocado, and a touch of citrus truffle oil.

Saiwok also does a score of delicious steamed buns that include soft shell crab, pork belly, tofu, and my favorite, Duck Duck Goose ($5) made with roasted, smoked duck, pickled veggies, scallions, and hoisin sauce…an Asian slider of sorts that even my finicky pre-teen will eat.  And what better way to satisfy a meal ending sweet tooth, then with any number of delectable popsicles from Pedal Pops, Northwest Arkansas’ own artisanal frozen glory on a stick.  You may have seen owner Mike Thompson, (quite literally) pedaling his wares at any one of the regional festivals, Crystal Bridges, or even the Fayetteville Farmers’ Market on Saturday mornings; regardless, his product is local, delicious, and now available at Saiwok, with flavors like Brown Sugar Vanilla, Honeydew Peach, and Vietnamese Mocha.

The culinary virtues of Saiwok are indisputable, offering a delicious narrative about family, authenticity, and brilliantly prepared and executed cuisine; still, there’s a deeper, more relevant thing happening, that forces us all to take notice of the edible culture of our diverse community.  If there’s ever a suspicion that Northwest Arkansas is moving in the wrong direction, please make plans to stop by Saiwok and you’ll quickly garner an understanding, glimpse, and taste of all the beauty and good that can come from an evolving community and culture…a dream come true.  

Citiscapes Article - Originally published in October 2017

http://flipbook.citiscapes.com/flipbook_1017/?page=1

It's Cold Outside - Make This Banana Bread - Go Back to Bed

It's cold outside this morning with a whisper of snow on the ground - we're staying in bed drinking coffee and watching When Harry Met Sally - NOBODY is leaving the house for a while - so, here's a quick bread recipe that you can have in under an hour, using old bananas, along with a few pantry items and some stuff from the fridge - the house smells incredible, we're sniggled up warm and content on this cold April morning - you should be too

The Stuff

• 1.5 cups all purpose flour

• 1 tsp baking soda

• 1 tsp baking powder

• 1 tbsp cinnamon

• 1/2 cup brown sugar

• 1 large egg

• 1/2 cup butter (melted)

• zest and juice of one lemon

• 1/2 cup fresh blueberries

• 4 mushy bananas

• 1 tsp Grand Marnier or orange liqueur

The Technique

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Mix all dry ingredients (sans brown sugar) together in a bowl. Set aside. 

2. Mix bananas in separate bowl. Melt butter and add to bananas then stir to combine. Add egg, orange liqueur and brown sugar. Stir to combine. 

3. Gently add dry ingredients to wet. Stop - Do not over mix! Once combined, carefully fold in blueberries and lemon zest. 

4. Butter a loaf pan, add batter, top with a few more blueberries. Bake for 50 minutes, or until knife comes clean.

5. Allow to  cool in the pan for 10 minutes - turn out - slice, smear with butter, go back to bed.

Don't Get Hangry, Get Natural State Sandwiches

I’m HANGRY. Famished after a long, late-morning workout, I point my car in the direction of downtown Springdale, en route to one of my favorite taqueria destinations on Emma Avenue for a regular fix of authentic Mexican grub. It’s cold, the early-spring cold in the Ozarks that fakes us out every year. Following a weekend of balmy mid-70s temperatures, this Monday is suddenly in the lower 30s, an additional factor fanning the flame of my HANGER.

I slow down as I approach my destination, but the line is long with freezing patrons dancing in place at the walk-up window; and frankly, it’s too cold, and I’m too hungry to wait. I’m panicky, frustrated as I continue west on Emma ­– and then suddenly I catch sight of a large Arkansas-shaped sign to my left, above large windows showcasing crowded, warm indoor seating. I see people eating. I nearly take out three pedestrians as I quickly, frantically, parallel park on the opposite side of the bustling street. Ah, Springdale, a downtown that is becoming my favorite in Northwest Arkansas, chock-full of smart development led by smart, forward-thinking people, and without a doubt, the most diverse of any of her sister cities. Ah, Springdale.

Solemnly, I enter Natural State Sandwiches — as the sign states — and within seconds my icy disposition thaws and blooms into something quite warm and happy. The bearded man at the register, shakes the room with a loud, welcoming voice that encourages everyone to pay attention, lean in and listen up inadvertently. The menu board is pasted with a generous, but not overwhelming, selection of soups, snacks and sandwiches. My nose echoes everything I read – tortellini and tomato soup yields perfumes of chopped fresh garlic and blanched ripe tomatoes; French onion soup evokes the scent of sweet, caramelized onions and rich beef stock; the Pittsburgh sandwich sparks fragrances of salty salami, cheek-puckering pickled vegetables, earthy and deep fried potatoes. I close my eyes for a moment, swaying to the smells and sounds that become beautiful, cramped images in my mind amid the noisy atmosphere of locals having lunch and a sexy amalgamation of contemporary jazz and hip-hop. “Sir, may I help you? Excuse me, sir, may I help you?”

Licking my chops, I step up and place an order of the tortellini and tomato soup, and the Pittsburgh sandwich along with a Coke. Trust that I would have ordered a beer, but the restaurant at the time of publication had not yet acquired a beer and wine license; however, the owners have assured me that said license is coming soon.

I perch myself atop a barstool at a thin counter at the front window, the perfect spot for looking out at Emma Avenue while watching the small dining room equipped with long, wooden communal tables. People are happy, chatting, laughing, enjoying a quick lunch in small clusters with friends and business associates – my mood continues to improve. Then a woman wearing an apron emerges from the kitchen carrying a large bowl of soup and a towering, stratified sandwich.

The soup is delicious, not at all creamy, but pureed to a velvety, bright pool supporting several plump cheese bundles. I dive in face first, nearly inhaling the simple soup that simultaneously warms and coats me from tongue to belly, the experience propelled by the inclusion of the pillowy, soft tortellini. And yes, before lunch was concluded I accidentally anointed myself with a single, dime-sized crimson spot on the lapel of my blazer – a tomato memento of epic, delicious proportions.

But the sandwich was nothing short of sublime — evolving my hangry attitude to happy — stacked over six inches high with griddle-fried salami, egg, melty provolone, hand-cut fries, pickled jalapenos, and vinegar slaw between toasted French bread. I take a deep breath, contemplating the difficult task at hand ­– eating it! I slowly extract the wooden skewer holding everything in place, then press down on the top, expecting to hear a loud accordion sound as I unhinge my jaw like a giant snake, close my eyes (for the second time) and squeeze as much of the Pittsburgh as I can into my mouth. Both elbows are on the bar as vinegar and juice race down my forearms, forming a small puddle as I bite, chew, swallow – then repeat. Without a doubt, this is one the best sandwiches I’ve ever eaten.

The owners of Natural State Sandwiches, Tino (short for Celestino) and Amber Belasco, started their culinary journey in 2014 with the opening of a food truck in Fayetteville. After a couple years of harnessing success, they decided to expand their vision into a brick-and-mortar as part of the burgeoning cultural renaissance happening in downtown Springdale. The husband and wife duo work as a tight, compact well-oiled machine, with Tino manning the front of the house while Amber serves as executive chef, designing recipes and devising weekly menus.

One of the great virtues of the eatery is the owners’ passion for promoting sustainable, local ingredients to ensure the freshest product; hence, the weekly specials bookended by only two sandwiches served on a regular basis – the aforementioned Pittsburgh Sandwich and the Chicken Salad, made with local apples, celery, fresh herbs, embellished with bacon bits, gargantuan onion rings and field greens on locally baked onion bun.

On a recent week, the early spring menu was teeming with items such as the Chicken Berry Brie made with juicy oven-roasted chicken breast, sliced fresh strawberries, spiced pecans, creamy brie cheese, homemade onion rings, and organic balsamic salad on toasted local ciabatta; or perhaps the uber healthy Springtime Sandwich delicately constructed of roasted asparagus, pesto goat cheese, sautéed onions, peppery radish, a local farm egg, more onion rings for crunch and texture, and organic balsamic salad on toasted sourdough; and even incredibly delicious BBQ Sliders of local grass fed beef, cheese, sweet and spicy barbeque sauce on toasted King’s Hawaiian buns. Indeed, a little something for everyone.

So, as much as I whine about the finicky early-spring climate of the High South, perhaps without it I might have missed an opportunity to engage in one of the greatest sandwiches of all time, the Pittsburgh at Natural State Sandwiches in downtown Springdale.  There’s always a sunny side to everything, even in this complicated world where a drop in temperature, a wrong turn, or a long line can inexplicably turn HANGRY into HAPPY.  

*Taken from the April 2018 Issue of Citiscapes Magazine