Showing posts with label devalls-bluff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label devalls-bluff. Show all posts

Thursday, December 9, 2010

The 'Cue and The Pie.

DeValls Bluff has been on the culinary map a long time. A really long time. Now, I know why I go -- for some of Ms. Lena’s Whole Pies. Can’t drive through DeValls Bluff without stopping for a chat with Ms. Viv. That’s just the way things are.

But when I tell people to go to DeValls Bluff, I often get the whole “what, you didn’t stop for Craig’s Barbecue?” And my usual answer is “no.” Pie in my book usually trumps barbecue.

Sometimes, though, you gotta stop and have a bite of something hearty. And one Saturday afternoon after a hard day’s work, Grav and I found ourselves in the general vicinity. And he wanted to check the place out. So we dropped in, middle of the afternoon for a bite to eat.

And like most good barbecue joints, Craig’s isn’t a looker. It’s a little whitewashed building on the side of the highway with barely enough parking to spit at. Inside the walls are simple paneling with strange woodland wallpaper strips, the menu’s an ancient letter board on the wall, and the clientele is varied… at least around the lunch hour. We managed to come in when we were the only out-of-towners.

You order at the counter. You just do. You don’t pay, you just tell whoever’s taking your order what you want and you go sit down. She’ll bring you whatever beverage you asked for and disappear in the back of the building, where aromas play in the atmosphere and pans clink and the like.

The thing about that aroma -- it’s somewhat cinnamon scented, not normal for a barbecue joint or sauce in my opinion but that’s what I get out of it. It’s rich, too, but not sweet. I wondered what the sauce would be like.

You don’t go to a barbecue joint to order a cheeseburger -- though there are cheeseburgers on the menu at Craig’s. There are also dinners of beef, pork, chicken, ribs and Polish sausages and of course family packs to take with you. But if you’re hungry from a day of hard work, all you really want to have is a sammich, a BBQ sammich, and here they come in pork ($3.75) and beef ($3.80).

“Mild, medium or hot,” my hostess asked when I asked for that beef sandwich.

“Mild.”

“Chips?”

“No, but I’ll take as much iced tea as you’ll drown me in.”

She didn’t take any lip from me, just glanced over at Grav.

“Um, beef,” he stated.

“Mild, medium or hot?”

“HOT.” I gave him a weird look.

“Chips?”

“No, I’m good, but do you have Mountain Dew?”

She grunted and turned on her foot, waving with her hand towards the dining area. We took this as an indication we should sit.

A moment later she came sweeping through the doors with our beverages in hand, plunking them down on the table and attending to a guy who’d come in for a pickup order. Both of us took after our beverages… that hard day’s work having drained us.

Our hostess started to come out again, but turned in the doorway and started conversing with the guy right behind it. “You sure this is beef?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Well, which one’s hot?”

He started to answer but I missed that bit as she closed the door again. It wasn’t half a minute later when she came sweeping back through the door with our sandwiches wrapped in wax paper on little Styrofoam plates. And then she was gone again.

Grav resisted shooting the food at first, hunger being such an overwhelming monster. But we got into what we needed to do and shot our sandwiches. They were messy -- very wet with the sauce and the cole slaw. I was afraid to turn mine over for fear of disintegration. For the most part they were identical in appearance -- the hot sandwich looked darker and had darker edges to the brisket within -- and the hot one smelled of Tabasco and black pepper.

One bite told me a lot. Instead of a chopped beef, this was thinly sliced beef brisket, just thick enough to require teeth but not thick enough to be overly chewy. It came in three layers tucked up underneath a pile of sweet slaw and that bun. It was smoky, perhaps a hickory wood smoke.

The sauce, though -- you know, I know people who swear by this sauce, who come from states over to pick up a gallon when they’re around (it’s $20 a gallon, in case you’re wondering). And it is indeed a sauce that would be hard to duplicate. Craig’s sauce ditches the sweet of many regional barbecue joints for a mature, savory sauce spiked with notes of cinnamon and sorghum. I couldn’t tell you for certain what it is, nor would I divulge that secret if I could, but it’s… it’s meaty. Eating a barbecue sandwich at Craig’s feels like eating a hearty meal. It’s a lot of pack to the punch.

We couldn’t stay… we had another appointment down the road. When we were about done with our sandwiches our hostess came back out to us with our check, which we paid up at the table in cash, less than $10 to get us back on the road including the tip left on the table.

We headed down the road and dropped in on Viv at Ms. Lena’s and took home a couple of pies -- a banana cream pie for me and a chocolate pie for Paul -- his favorite chocolate pie in the world..

So there you go, there really are two reasons to stop in DeValls Bluff. You’ll find Craig’s Barbecue right there on Highway 70 -- one of those “you can’t miss it” sort of places on the south side of the road on the west side of town. Ms. Lena’s is just around the corner a block down the road, turn right on Highway 33 and it’s right there on the left. Couple of places you gotta try.

And you can order your own pies from Ms. Lena’s for $13 each (a few like egg custard and strawberry are a wee bit more) and impress the heck out of your company at Christmas. Call (870) 998-7217 — the store’s open Thursday-Saturday 9 a.m. to 5 p.m.

Craig Brothers Cafe on Urbanspoon

Monday, March 8, 2010

My Fried Pie Destiny.


This is the story of a fried pie. Or, more succinctly, how fried pie opened doors for my life.

I have to take you back to 2006 or so, when Vivian and Carl Barnhill came over to Today’s THV and appeared on the morning show there with the famous little half-moon pockets. I produced that show over eight years, and over that time we had a lot of different restaurants and such in. But those pies… they were something else. Something better than all the fried pies I’d ever tried before.

It was something about that crust, buttery and light and a little savory, a family secret closely kept but available to sample for just a buck 75, filled with all manners of good creamy and fruity fillings. Those pies haunted my dreams.

Fast forward to September 2007. After eight years I’d left that station to strike out on my own. I started this blog, this crazy mixed up travel and food blog, just to keep my writing chops. I was thinking about places I needed to go to fill out the fledgling project, and I thought of Ms. Lena’s. I had to go. It took me a few months to get there, but I did go.

All that… has been chronicled in a previous entry (which you can find here). It’s what happened afterward that really changed things for me.

You see, just a few days after I wrote that entry, it was featured on the Arkansas Times Eat Arkansas blog. I went from a blog that might draw five readers a day to one that was pulling in hundreds of views daily. It was my moment.
That was the start of a real whirlwind for me, that took me out of state and all over the place in the first six months of 2008 and then all over Arkansas in the years since. I even ended up as a primary contributor for the Eat Arkansas blog. And somehow, I hadn’t been able to get back to Ms. Lena’s on a Saturday morning for those fried pies.

Sometimes, when you crave something bad enough, you just do it -- no matter how weird or inconvenient it may be. While it might have been more prudent to find an assignment out east of Little Rock to go follow and just add a stop-by to my trip, I found myself unable to wait to satisfy that craving any longer.

So I bundled up my toddler daughter and off we went late one Saturday afternoon, making the 55 minute drive to DeValls Bluff for a little taste of heaven.

When I turned off of Highway 70 onto Highway 33, I could already smell those pies. The scent of that impossibly flaky yet crisp crust permeated the air a block away. We pulled up and I pulled Hunter out of the car and took her in for her first experience with Ms. Lena’s pies.

Vivian came around the corner when we got there, recognized us right away. She’d been alerted that I was coming because of my post on my Facebook fan page. We chatted a bit about old times and about my former co-workers who still come by to visit. Yes, indeed, that day at the station didn’t just draw me into a pie-trance. My fellow morning show folks were similarly affected.

I came out of that shop with a dozen pies -- one of each flavor of the day and another half dozen chocolate pies (my husband’s favorite) -- and placed the slightly open clamshell boxes in the back seat. You have to, if you want them to make it home.

And when he came home from work that night, my husband thrilled over those chocolate pies. And Hunter? She was just as thrilled as her daddy, pinching a bit of crust between her fingers and licking the filling.

You know, I’ve been a whole lot of places these past few years. I’ve learned that pie isn’t just popular around here, it’s an art form. It’s everywhere in Arkansas -- big fluffy meringues and creams, tart and juicy apple and cherry and pear and other fruit pies, and all sorts of variety of fried pies. There’s just something different about Ms. Lena’s… that makes it still worth that Saturday morning drive. That’s something that should really be shared with the world.

I just find that now I'm really in a place where I can do so. That's so cool.

Ms Lena's Pies on Urbanspoon