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An Epic Food Crawl With Marilyn Hagerty

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I never expected that, “Oh my goodness, more drinks?” would be a recurring thought running through my head on Thursday evening. 

The 2013 North Dakota Writers and Bloggers Workshop hosted by the North Dakota Department of Commerce June 6-7th was propelled by a food crawl through downtown Bismarck with Marilyn Hagerty. Our plan was to wander to a few of her favorite restaurants in downtown Bismarck and mingle over tasting menus. No one, not even the event’s organizers, predicted the extent to which the restaurants rolled out their red carpets.

Last spring, when Hagerty’s earnest review of The Olive Garden in Grand Forks went viral, I might have had some snarky things to say. But I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and I didn’t like what I saw. I had become the very thing I despised the most in other foodies. Pretentious. The Olive Garden review was my first introduction to Hagerty’s THE EATBEAT column published in the Grand Forks Herald and I’ve looked forward to reading it each week, ever since. 

Wednesday is EATBEAT day and it’s the first thing I enjoy with my coffee in the morning. I’ve read Hagerty’s reviews from years ago in addition to those written during the past year and appreciate how they range from chain restaurants to small town cafes to Le Bernadin. They’re concise and never boring. By the time she appeared as a guest judge on Top Chef Season 10: Seattle, this new North Dakotan felt like a real North Dakotan and cheered on our hometown hero.

On this evening, we began at Pirogue Grille and enjoyed a four-course tasting menu created by proprietors, Chef Stewart and Cheryl Tracy. We got acquainted over baskets of crusty bread with soft butter, rhubarb cocktails, and smoky red wine, followed by beet salad, venison sausage and a walleye cake, and a rosy slice of bison. Many of us were tickled pink to taste our first morel and then there was dessert that thrilled even me, who typically prefers salty over sweet. 

A silky ball of ice cream coated in crunchy nougat floated in a boat of rhubarb soup. It was Willy Wonka whimsical and filled me with glee. I’ve never tasted anything like it and have come to accept I probably never will.

From Pirogue Grille, we wandered to Peacock Alley and I was nervous to find myself sitting near Marilyn. She graciously answered all of our questions, asked some of her own, and shared stories. Peacock Alley’s tasting menu was as extravagant as its décor. Think newly renovated stained glass windows and billowy tent-like ceilings. I wasn’t surprised to learn it’s popular amongst suited legislators. Our eyes and stomachs bulged upon sight of an eight-course tasting menu complete with drink pairings. 

I won’t try to describe each course, but many contained beef that was every bit as good as their National Food Service Beef Backer award implied. It proudly decorated the middle of our table. I knew I was in trouble when I started feeling full after the first course of Asian Nachos made with crispy wonton chips and beef short ribs. 


After the third, I considered waving my napkin as a white flag. By the final course, I giggled at my collection of drinks ranging from a Bloody Mary to an espresso Martini and managed to push down a frosty, sugarcoated doughnut with the chew of a beignet.

Our walk to Fireflour Pizza felt more like a waddle. Those who attended Fargo’s Street Fair last year may remember Fireflour’s pizza oven. Co-owner Kenny Howard showered us with marinated olives and four of their Neapolitan-style pizzas with airy, blistered crusts.

They reminded me of the Twin Cities’ popular Punch Pizza, except, dare say, bigger and better? We all stood up and raised our arms, trying to will more room into our stomachs. The evening ended as Howard passed around tiny cups of housemade gelato flavored like salted caramel and lemon.

What had originally been planned as a three-hour food crawl grew into four, and, over the span of a single evening, we left feeling like friends. Extremely full friends. I will always sitting on Fireflour’s sidewalk patio that cool summer evening listening to the trains passing. It was as lovely like Marilyn’s humility and inspiring like her confidence. In fact, I was humbled by the hospitality and warmth I found in the rest of the cohort, as well as the participating restaurants. I think her best piece of advice that evening was simply to be authentic, something that makes writers and non-writers, alike, stand apart. 

North Dakota’s rich with talented writers and bloggers and ripe with stories to tell. Come find us or try your hand at crafting some of your own.

Photo courtesy of ND Dept. of Commerce

You can read Marilyn’s thoughts on the workshop here.

IF YOU GO:

What: Pirogue Grille
Where: 121 North 4th Street, Bismarck
When: Tues-Sat, 5 p.m.-close
Info: http://www.piroguegrille.com/

What: Peacock Alley
Where: 422 East Main Avenue, Bismarck
When: Mon-Thurs, 11 a.m.-Midnight, Fri, 11 a.m.-1 a.m. Sat, 10 a.m.-1 a.m., Sun, Closed (Kitchen open until 11 p.m. Mon-Sat)
Info: http://peacock-alley.com/

What: Fireflour Pizza
Where: 111 North 5th Street, Bismarck
When: Tues-Thurs, 11 a.m.-9 p.m., Fri-Sat, 11 a.m.-10 p.m.
Info: http://www.fireflourpizza.com/

Thoughts On RibFest 2013: Blooming Onion Redemption

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RibFest is totally overpriced. It’s messy, the music features throwback bands, and the food is a gamble. But we all end up going anyway. Sometimes, more than once.

The prior weekend, they started inflating the gazillions of jumping contraptions and on June 5th, RibFest opened in all of its glory. The first band to play was Sugar Ray. Welcome to 1998.

My husband received a couple of free RibFest tickets at work and refused to use them on a Sugar Ray concert. We compromised by sitting on lawn chairs and listening to them from our balcony over beers. For as much grief as I give Mark McGrath, we had a wonderful time. The evening was refreshingly cool and there was no wind, a eerie rarity on this windy prairie. We watched the band leap back and forth across the stage and I only remember laughing at them once. It was one of those tranquil moments you want to save for later and revisit when life feels overwhelming.

We went to RibFest on Friday evening when Blue Oyster Cult was performing. To save a few bucks, we enjoyed a beer at Buffalo Wild Wings before hawking over $6 per beer at the event.

My husband and I shared a boat of jalapeno cheese curds before searching for ribs. These would be the best thing we tasted that evening. I don’t remember the vendor’s name, but it was generic and served curds at a few stations. 

Stringy cheese. Crunchy, greaseless coating, and large slices of jalapenos. What’s not to like?

We settled into the long line at the Cowboys Barbeque and Rib Co. from Weatherford, TX. Several of us have actually eaten barbecue in Texas and our friends chose this stand assuming they’d be good. To give you an idea about pricing, they charged $7 for three ribs. These weren’t Flinstones-sized ribs but regular pork ribs. We ordered a half slab, plus a sides of macaroni and cheese and baked beans, each of which cost an additional $3.

Honestly, everything on this platter was rather unappealing.

The ribs were tough and fatty. Their smoked flavor reminded me of the smell of mothballs. The barbecue sauce was fine if bland.

The mac and cheese and baked beans were scooped in measly portions that couldn’t have amounted to more than a half cup each. The macaroni and cheese was lukewarm with a weird, plasticy aftertaste and I had to really fish through the watery, bland bean liquid to find any beans. Looking back over my 2012 RibFest posts, I notice we unintentionally returned to the same vendor we visited last year with similar results. It came as no surprise this vendor didn’t win any awards.

I didn’t leave until I got my blooming onion. Our second visit to Ribfest 2012 was a disaster. We quickly abandoned my quest because the scary, drunk man who stood behind me at the ATM followed us to the event and tailed us as we wove through the crowd.

The onion petals were crisp and the staff actually took time to drain off most of the oil. The orange lava flow of sauce tasted sweet. I sprinkled the onion with various seasoning salts and passed it on when I began to feel sick.

I headed home as dark storm clouds formed and strong winds transformed the hot day into a bone-chilling evening. Blue Oyster Cult played on as I walked towards the exit, flinching as I stepped in a stinky, yellow puddle.

This is a Porta Potty-only event, ya’ll. It’s loud and crowded and dirty, but chances are you’ll probably return. We all do.

Norwegian For A Night: A Norsk Christmas Dinner At The Kringen Lodge

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I may not be ethnically Scandinavian, but feel just as Scandinavian as most any Scandinavian.

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I was adopted from South Korea by a Scandinavian family when I was about six months old. While my parents didn’t observe many Scandinavian traditions, my grandparents did. My grandma decorated her kitchen with those little blue plates and made pepparkakor cookies. When we visited their home in Cuyahoga Falls, OH, I looked forward to sitting on her couch and flipping through her big book about Norwegian trolls.

We celebrated most of our childhood holidays with my mom’s cousins family. They make lefse every Christmas and I’m excited to have recently learned how to make it for myself (you can read about my first lefse-making adventure here). One of my cousins married into another Scandinavian family. We celebrated a holiday at their house where I tried pickled herring and actually liked it. Now, I’m married to a man of Scandinavian descent whose family is named after a small town in Norway.

This weekend, Jake and I attended the Traditional Norsk Christmas event at the Sons of Norway lodge near downtown Fargo. I had seen the event advertised in the local papers and didn’t want to miss this opportunity to share authentic Norwegian foods. We arrived an hour into the event and settled into the back of the long line which snaked around the lodge. Fortunately, it moved relatively quickly. We were entertained by admiring the silent auction items and taking in the atmosphere. Dark wood paneling and regal, Scandinavian wallpaper. There were lots of Vikings and trolls who appeared in paintings and sculptures everywhere. We also admired the other attendees’ outfits. Many wore colorful Scandinavian sweaters while others wore suits.

We tried a little bit of everything from the buffet spread. Fresh fruits and vegetables. Lefse and flat breads. Meatballs in a creamy gravy and spicy barbecue sauce. Thick slices of silky and buttery cured salmon and briny, pickled herring. A man carefully carved a large block of Gjetost cheese.

There were also numerous baked goods and desserts. Slices of bread with candied fruits and the obligatory lefse with butter and brown sugar. Cones of krumkake that tasted like homemade waffle cones. Delicate rosettes that literally melted in our mouths. Soft, heart-shaped waffles. And chewy rings of kransekake that tasted like almond.

And then there was the rommegrot.

A large pot of this porridge perched at the very end of the buffet line. In fact, it had it’s own table. The man serving the rommegrot told us it was made mostly from cream and flour. We curiously watched the more experienced attendees fill their dishes with mostly melted butter, a smaller amount of rommegrot, and spoonfuls of cinnamon-sugar. I wasn’t sure if I liked my first bite so I returned to the rommegrot station to do it right. This meant adding more butter and more sugar.We enjoyed dinner with another young couple who was also visiting the lodge for the first time. The woman had spent a summer studying in Norway and shared a little about some of the food and traditions we were seeing. Glogg, a fragrant Norwegian-mulled wine, flowed freely. It was so rich with clove that my tongue felt a tinge of numbness.

Then we watched them dance. The older Norwegians, many of whom seemed to wear stoic expressions on their faces when sitting, lit up while dancing. Round and round they waltzed, with an air of grace and serenity that put us all to shame. I have no doubt they continued to dance late into the night, long after the youngest of us went home to sleep well before the closing time of 12:30 a.m.

We peeked inside the bar on our way out the door. The bar was majestic and made of more dark wood. The room sparkled with lights, and we studied murals featuring more Norwegian trolls. We quickly decided this was the coolest place to enjoy a drink in Fargo.

This Norsk Christmas was certainly joyful. We left, full from new tastes and warmed from the hospitality that was bestowed upon us both. The Norwegian and the Norwegian at heart.

My Saturday Mishap & Simple Sauteed Cabbage With Balsamic Vinegar

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On Saturday, I almost fainted in the jewelry store.

Two hours prior, I had been driving to Cash Wise in Moorhead, a local mecca of organic produce and bulk grains.  My car was desperately thirsty for gas, and I found myself on a dusty road near a dusty gas station.

Upon closer inspection, what seemed like a normal gas station was actually unattended.  And this gas pump was like none I had ever utilized.  After scanning my credit card, I am instructed to “lift the lever.”

The antiquated gas machine starts to churn and make unsettling noises.  On second thought, wouldn’t any noises coming from a gas pump be unsettling?  So I stand at this gas pump that God and time forgot and silently freak out.

I turn the lever down.  Silence.  Flip the lever up, and more noise.  So I stick the pump into my car and fill my tank.

When I try to gently press the lever down, it resists and continues to make more rushing, humming noises.

OMG.

I press on it again and it does not release.  I start to sweat and release obscene phrases of curse words only meant for unattended gas stations.  I push a little firmer and the lever finally goes down and the noises stop.

I leap into my car and begin to drive away from this forsaken, lonely gas pump.

BOOM.

My car jolts as I drive down a steep curb that I did not notice in my haste to run away.

I slam on my breaks and try to navigate my back wheels over the curb.  The car jolts again.  My car seems to be mostly OK and I vow to get it checked the following weekend.  Then, I continue on to Cash Wise and don’t give any of this much thought.

It Only Gets Better From Here
A couple of hours later, Jake and I return to Fargo’s Royal Jewelers to re-size my engagement ring band.

In the car, I notice my back hurts when I lean against the car seat.  Upon further inspection, we notice vertebrae-sized and shaped bruises along my spine and become concerned.  We continue into the jewelry store as we contemplate a visit to Urgent Care.

Of the jewelry stores we visited, we preferred Royal Jewelers.  It’s a family-owned and operated store and their staff exuded a kind professionalism.  When we visited another family-owned jeweler, the saleswoman proceeded to violently open-mouth cough on us for the duration of our appointment.  After her 12th coughing fit, she finally muttered “Can’t seem to kick this,” and continued to hack on us.  All we could think was “Great!  Now, neither can we!”

We make ourselves comfortable at Royal Jewelers until I notice how freakishly bright and sparkly everything appears.  It’s all too bright.  My hearing starts to fade and my vision tunnels.  I keel over and try to put my head between my knees before I crash into a glass display case.

Jake runs from store to grab his car.

By the time he returns, the Royal Jewelers staff and in-house EMT has me stabilized and I sip a glass of water.

Long story short, the doctor gave me a clean bill of health this week and I feel fine.

Despite the chaos, I finished Catching Fire during a mere, few hours of bed rest and even wrote an article on homemade lahmucan, a spicy Turkish pizza.

Therefore, I’ve been laying low.  Jake was a wonderful nurse and provided nourishment in the best way that he knew how.  By ordering Papa John’s pizza.

This week, we have enjoyed this simple non-recipe recipe for sauteed cabbage that follows below.  I received this handmade bowl when I attended The Fargo-Moorhead League’s Politics On The Plains event where I participated in a conversation with other community members and young politicians running for office.

My beautiful square bowl was created by The Fargo Project Team that is giving the community an opportunity to provide feedback about how to use Rabanus Park, formerly designed as a storm water detention basin.  I heard that Ethnobotonist, Linda Different Cloud has a vision of planting medicinal herbs for the community to gather.  Then, I got really excited.

A workshop will be held Sunday, April 29th at 12:30 PM at Rabanus Park.

Simplest Sauteed Cabbage Drizzled With Balsamic Vinegar
Reduce some balsamic vinegar in a small pot over medium heat.  When the vinegar bubbles, turn down the heat to gently reduce into a thick, sweet syrup, stirring occasionally.

Shred green cabbage.

Preheat a pan with olive oil and/or butter over medium-high heat.

When the oil sizzles, add the cabbage.  Season with some miso paste, black pepper, and your choice of hot pepper.

Quickly saute the cabbage edges are frizzled, but the vegetable still retains a textural bite.

Taste and adjust for seasoning.

Drizzle the reduced balsamic vinegar onto the cabbage and serve.