Uppity and Downhome: Savory Pantry and The Pancake Shop.

You can’t get more high-end than a specialty food shop in some cities… and you can’t get more laid back than a country diner.  But can you have both? 

You can -- and thrive -- when you’re Keeley DeSalvo and you own next-door neighbors The Pancake Shop and The Savory Pantry.  She’s managed to do it without sacrificing a bit of quality or respectability on either side of the coin.


I was invited along with several other Arkansas food bloggers, journalists and the like to a special gathering at The Pancake Shop last week.  We had a lot to accomplish, but before we got started with the neat little nitty gritty about this and that, we had ourselves a breakfast.


I’ve written about The Pancake Shop before.  It’s been around since 1940, starting out across the street and then moving to its current location in the 1950s.  The current location is purportedly the former location of an Italian restaurant; Keeley says she’s not brave enough to tear up the floor to see if the original mosaic floor is under the tiles in the shop.  The original place was called Mason’s. 

Keeley’s folks, Tom and Ruth Ardman, bought the shop in 1990.  She came back from the Washington DC area in 1995 with her husband Stephen and joined them running the place. 

And here’s where the uppity bit comes in.  Keeley found right off the bat that there were a lot of items she couldn’t find in Arkansas, things like lemon curd and specialty salts and gourmet olive oils.  In fact, it was olive oil that drove her to open The Savory Pantry in 1998.  At the time, the idea was to bring in a few items that couldn’t easily be obtained here and sell them alongside The Pancake Shop’s signature items -- hams smoked here, special sausage blends, apple butter and the restaurant’s coffee. 

Thing is, The Savory Pantry filled a gap that needed to desperately be filled.  There weren’t any specialty foods shops in Hot Springs -- heck, I don’t think there were any in Little Rock at the time, either.  Customers gladly absorbed what was already available at The Savory Pantry and begged for more.  The shop was moved to the other side of the restaurant into a larger space.  The website was launched in 2000 and was an immediate hit. 

Today, it’s home to a couple hundred different items that you can’t find elsewhere in the state.  Keeley has fine brands of what could be considered to be exotic foods right next to homegrown favorites such as J&M Cheese Straws, Liz and Linda’s Pepper Jelly and MaryClare Macarons.  Pantry and gift baskets are available.

So… there you are.  Our group enjoyed breakfast at The Pancake Shop.  It was nice to be able to hear the reactions of others who shared the table; I’ve found the place to be one of my must-stops on any Hot Springs visit, and I’m glad to report others will be adding it to their list.  I had my usual -- a single pancake, a cheese omelet and toast with that amazingly good apple butter.

Pancakes at The Pancake Shop are huge.  I laugh when I hear first-timers come in and order three -- they have no idea how much food that is.  I love the light, fluffy ‘cakes and the butter that’s house-patted for easy serving.  I know my omelet’s going to be just fluffy enough and stuffed with plenty of cheese and that the apple butter itself will be perfectly fruity with a nice flavor of cinnamon.  It’s just a given.

We went from there next door to The Savory Pantry, where we were allowed to wander around a few minutes and try some of the many items available at the shop.  There are always several samples out -- a dozen or more on any given day, all sorts of dips and jams and syrups and condiments and sometimes even tiny tarts, crackers or chocolate.  The shop is set up perfectly for this with wide counters, clean lines and uncrowned shelves.

After a few minutes we were given the chance to enjoy a couple of special tastings.  This was a new experience for me -- I’ve been to wine tastings and cheese tastings but never before to a salt tasting. 










We tasted several different varieties -- fleur de sel, which comes from evaporated salts; pink Himalayan; dark Hawaiian salt and a beautiful smoked salt that screamed about barbecue adventures in my mouth.  It didn’t take much to absorb and enjoy each one… a tiny bit on a spoon turned out into the palm of one’s hand, a touch to the tongue, a moment to savor and a bite of cracker or swish of water before heading on to the next one.  Keeley and the girls who work at the shop broadly discussed each one and its attributes.

But we weren’t done with that.  We went directly on to an olive oil tasting, divining the differences and flavors of a selection of different oils with different pressings.  Flavors and scents were discussed.  My favorite of these was a delicate oil pressed with lemons.  It was almost like a lemon cordial.

We also sampled vinegars, including a couple of balsamic vinegars served up on salad and with bread.  Each flavor was discussed at length, with suggestions on uses and the like.

I also had a chance to speak with the ladies who just started MaryClare Macarons last November; their macarons are only available through special order or through retail at The Savory Pantry.  I have fallen in love.

We went from there back to The Pancake Shop for a cupping.  That’s a coffee tasting, in case you were wondering.  Peter Guerin from Westrock Coffee had come in just to share with us the art of coffee tasting.  He showed us each individual step of sniffing the grounds (best done lightly with mouth open), creating a crust with boiling water, breaking the crust and slurping the hot coffee for flavor.  We tried three regional coffees -- one from Brazil, one from Guatemala and one from Rwanda -- that had a medium to dark roast. 

This sort of event may seem out of place in Arkansas -- and I dare say, elsewhere in the state you’re just not going to find it.  But that’s the sort of thing The Savory Pantry makes possible.

So yeah, it’s uppity.  And you can’t get more down-home than The Pancake Shop.  It’s an interesting parallel, but I don’t think it’s a study of opposites.  Keeley’s attention to detail is evident in both places.  High quality details are attended to quite well.  Makes me kinda proud to say I’ve been talking about both places for quite a long time.

So if you find yourself in Hot Springs, make your way north of Bathhouse Row and drop in.  And if you can’t, check out the website and order something good. 

Also, check out Michael Roberts' review of The Pancake Shop from our visit over at Arkansas Foodies.

It's Short, But It's Jam-Packed.

Wanna see strange, unique and unusual? Arkansawyers know to head to Hot Springs for those sorts of things. America’s oldest federally protected land, a National Park created for a downtown and the shortest street in the world are all part of the fabric of the city.

That shortest street thing… well, it’s an interesting thing, that. It’s called Bridge Street. Used to actually be a bridge, no joke. How do you figure that? Well, the bridge went over the Hot Springs River that ran down betwixt East and West Mountain. As the city built up, that river became a bit of an inconvenience. Eventually it was all but paved over -- business built over the top of it and what have you. The bridge was paved over as a street back in 1870 and that was that.

How long is it? Ninety-eight feet -- and that’s measured each year on March the 17th. We’ll get to that in a moment.

Now, there are a couple of places on Earth that have claimed the rights to the shortest street since then -- Ebenezer Place in Wick, Caithness, Scotland is just six feet nine inches long -- which, to me, doesn’t make any sense since most cars aren’t that narrow, let along that short. Sounds suspect to me. But there’s no place on Earth that claims to have the shortest PARADE.

Specifically, the World’s Shortest St. Patrick’s Day Parade. Or more succinctly… this year, at least, the First Ever Eighth Annual World’s Shortest St. Patrick’s Day Parade. Sound nuts? Well, it is, but it’s a good kind of nuts.

Each year on St. Patrick’s Day, floats and parade acts and motorcyclists and celebrities line up about a mile back for the chance to parade along that one single span of Bridge Street. On Bridge Street it’s easily twenty people thick lined up from the edge of the route across the sidewalk. There’s a grandstand at the end of the street, and each year there’s a celebrity who’s the official grand marshall. This year it’s John Corbett -- I remember him as Chris in the Morning on Northern Exposure. Cool guy! When I went a couple of years ago it was John Ratzenberger -- you may remember him as Cliff on Cheers. It’s always someone cool.









Thing is, you don’t have to crowd in right ON Bridge Street. You can watch them lining up for the parade in the several blocks along Central Avenue beforehand… and you’ll usually see just about everything you’ll see on Bridge Street. Well, everything except perhaps the Famous Chicken.

I was allowed special privilege to get into the street and shoot the parade a couple of years ago. And let me tell you what… it was something else. I left the hubster on the east end of Bridge Street and waded out through the crowd into the street itself.

It was about a half hour before the official start of the parade and it was already packed, the streets filled with parade-goers in all sorts of varying shades of green. There were people of all ages there, lots of kids and plenty of folks just looking for a good time.

Away from the street on the balconies in the distance more people were gathered, having a cold one and perhaps a plate of nachos before the start of the big parade. As far as the eye could see, there was green, there were smiles and there were happy people. It was kinda fun.

Before the parade begins, the route is measured by a couple of carefully chosen experts who make sure the line is straight and there’s no budging. The route is 98 feet long, just like the street.

But every year it’s measured, just in case something has happened to Bridge Street in the interim. Well, you never know.

A trumpeter from Oaklawn came out and played the opening round, signaling the start of the parade. The color guard was presented, and the entire street shushed as the flag passed.

Moments later a fire truck cleared the route, and the first section of the parade started. Different important folks in green wigs and sweaters and the like came through in convertibles and such. The Girl Scouts came marching by, as did a group of folks from Diamond Bank -- small business of the year. Most of the groups that came by threw beads, candy or plastic coins into the crowds lining the streets. Custodians along the way made sure no one came past the barriers, wary for small children who might rush out in front of oncoming cars or floats. A few of them picked up beads and charms and such that hadn’t made it far enough to reach the crowd. I found myself doing the same in-between shots.

And then the big announcement as the Grand Marshall arrived in his convertible. Just past the start of the parade route, John Ratzenberger stepped out of the car and started making his way along the side of the road, shaking every hand that reached out toward him. He seemed determined to touch every proffered hand. He had a huge grin on his face and hollered his appreciation back to the crowd. The crowd went wild.

And then came the burgeoning parade, packed with silliness and pageantry and all the cool stuff you like to see in a parade.
There were the proud Poke Salad Annies in their bonnie attire; a proud parade of pooches supporting the local Humane Society;
green bedazzled trucks; the Famous Chicken (I thought he was called the San Diego Chicken, what do I know? There was a strange fellow launching ping pong balls into the crowd with a paddle from the back of a truck.

Behind him were three kids dressed up as the Irish Pickles, clad in green Crocs and green suits with green bags and baskets.

The ruckus coming up behind them was the proud Lyon College Pipe Band, an impressive site to behold. Nearly a dozen men and a woman were stepping lightly with pipes and drums to a delightful tune.




There was a group of folks from the MidAmerica Science Museum, a tissue paper rainbow float and motorcyclists galore. By this point I was walking back along where the parade was setting up… just to get ahead of the crowd. My thought was that I’d shoot everyone who was in the parade and then go back and shoot them at the viewing pavilion when they were getting their performances on. But what I discovered was even in this prep area for the parade itself, the folks in the parade were performing for the folks watching the parade -- and the folks watching were showing their appreciation.

But I did run back down the street a few times back to the parade route, to catch what was going on and to see how the Grand Master was enjoying himself. John Ratzenberger seemed pretty content up on the grandstand, surveying the action below.

Thing is, I can honestly say I ran an entire parade length several times over. I paced and jogged back and forth, running from one perch on Central Avenue to another on Malvern Avenue about a minute later… unheard of, even for me! Wow, I had gained athletic prowess! I was a superwoman!

All kidding aside, I’m glad I made the effort -- because I managed to catch the World’s Shortest Wedding at the World’s Shortest St. Patrick’s Day Parade, an impromptu marriage right in the middle of the parade! It was extraordinarily quick, as right should be, and the newly minted husband and wife hustled down the road with the rest of the wedding party..




There were bikes bedazzled with boas and bull-mooses, big Harleys and little Schwinns both. There were classic cars decked out in greenery, some with pretty girls sitting in the back. There was the “World’s Shortest Car” driven by “Dinky O’Smartie,” one of those tiny Smart Cars that at the time were still relatively new around these parts.

There was this one float… well, it just defies adequate description, but I’ll do my best. In the lead and apparently pulling the mess was a gentleman on what appeared to be either a modified garden tractor or superfied Runaround Scooters that had a toilet as a seat. He had a sign over his head that stated “Graduate of Leprechaun College.” He towed behind him a bathtub with a couple of young kids in it; a woman seated on a toilet; a portable camp toilet, a child’s potty and potted plant with an Irish flag in it. I have no idea what that ensemble was supposed to represent.

There was a delightful rainbow float made of balloons that included a gentleman with a scraggly green Mohawk. There were happy cheerleaders, gymnasts and majorettes who were quite happy to show off their talents.

There was the local chapter of the International Order of the Irish Elvi, be-speckled in sequins and sunglasses, proudly sharing their Elvi heritage. This group was large, a dozen or more ranging from gray-haired Elvi to child Elvi, mostly riding motorcycles.

They tossed Ding Dongs and Twinkies and Ho Hos to the happy crowds from a large cooler they dragged along with them. They also handed out special editions of the local newspaper and tossed beads. They were utterly awesome.

There was more -- a small float of a tractor from Jack’s Pancake House; a trailer full of women playing ukelekes and tambourines, all bedecked in green wigs and clothing; bikers decked out in Viking gear; toddlers in strollers with tiny green hats; little green painted dogs; a crowd in a Leprechaun’s castle with a Leprechaun queen; a large group of people on green bikes and carrying cut-outs of green bikes; a float I am assuming was sponsored by Chick-Fil-A promoting the idea of eating more chicken and a spring festival with an eating contest; women in pink and green boas; another pipe and drum corp (wait, I thought I already saw Lyon College, what?) and a huge group of people from the American Cancer Society.

The sunlight was being spent quickly, and I found I’d walked several blocks back into the prep area. There were still plenty of floats and groups walking and such to go -- an entire cadre of different folks on different decorated bikes (including one made up to look like a sailboat); another rainbow and pot o’gold float; a group from Hot Springs’ Ambassador Club; a giant cow wearing a green Mohawk; an ancient hillbilly rigged car; a group of men from a fraternal order seated on a trailer and a straggling bit at the end. All of them were waiting patiently for their turn on Bridge Street.

It took me a few minutes to walk back to the parade route and I lost my good light. But the crowd was still raisin’ cane and having a great time.

This year’s parade should be a good one. You should check it out. There’s a schedule on the website… I’d suggest getting there very, very early.

Secrets of the Oaklawn Corned Beef Sandwich, Revealed.

Racing season. Hot Springs. Oaklawn. What says Oaklawn more than fast ponies, cold beer and hot corned beef sandwiches? That’s right, the legendary Oaklawn Corned Beef Sandwich. You ever wonder why, or where it’s from? Read on.

Revisiting Facci's.

We all have one, at least one restaurant that we go to not just for the food or the ambiance but for the memories evoked at that location. I’m blessed with several, and Facci’s Italian Ristorante is one. Fortunately, it’s the good food that keeps me coming back just as much as the memories.

I’ve written about the place before… back when I first started blogging about all the cool places I had been. Facci’s used to be the place my husband and I would stop for lunch or dinner when we were in Hot Springs back in our courting years. It’s where we chose to have our first post-nuptual meal together. And… as my friends have jokingly pointed out to me… then the place burned down. You can read all about it over at my Tie Dye Travels review from November 2007.

Thing is, this past year I’ve started this practice on my Facebook fan page, where I reference an Arkansas restaurant each weekday where readers can go find a good meal. And I get to Facci’s, and I look at the entry, and frankly I’m embarrassed. No, it has nothing to do with the food; I still recommend it to everyone who’s heading to Oaklawn or going down for Garvan Woodland Gardens.

It’s because the photos are terrible.

Let’s face it -- when I started Tie Dye Travels I was just a writer with a camera, not a very good camera at that. I snapped shots with no training or experience and just threw them up on the blog. But with time and patience has come a better understanding of how to convey a good dish through photography.

Finding myself in Hot Springs for the opening day of Oaklawn Racing Park, I just had to drop in and do it all over again. And that’s where this really gets funny to me. Because that little blog entry, that two year old posting combining the story of my favorite little Italian gem in Spa City and some truly deplorable shots that resembled those taken by visitors to Scotland out on Loch Ness… was posted ever so proudly in the foyer.

So that’s how I found myself at one of the dark little tables crowded inside the comfortable little house on Central Avenue, scanning the menu and chuckling, trying not to grin too big. Of course, the menu drew back my attention. I almost went for the $3.99 all-you-can-eat spaghetti, but with much running around Oaklawn still to be done, I didn’t want to drag. I ordered mostaccioli and my dining companion chose a sandwich.

We giggled over the menu, its frank descriptions entertaining. Things like “Cheap red wine: It’s red.” Yeah, that sort of thing.

I’d ordered the #2 lunch special -- soup or salad, mostaccioli and tea or coffee for $6.50. I had three choices for soup: Italian wedding, minestrone or cream of mushroom. Well, I just had to give the cream of mushroom a try, since it was housemade. Glad I did. The thick masala-like soup was creamy, but not in that congealed canned soup sort of way. Big hunks of mushroom littered the bowl, and the soup mated perfectly with fresh hot garlic bread.

The bread? Ah, yeah. I went ahead and ordered Foccacia Bread ($1.75) to go along with our lunch. I’m used to foccacia being thick spongy bread with some sort of cheese in it. At Facci’s, it’s a light six inch round, somewhere between a flatbread and a dinner roll, airy and a little salty. It and the garlic bread were served up together with a plate of olive oil and balsamic vinaigrette for dipping, a perfect sweet and tart combination.

My dining companion chose a sandwich for lunch, the Italian Beef ($5.50). Out comes this big hunk of crusty bread stuffed with beef and white cheese, with a steaming bowl of au jus on the side. The sandwich bread was crunchy on the outside and studded with sesame seeds, the interior was soft and steamy, and the au jus was definitely housemade, very savory but not too salty. It was served up with French fries and ketchup, as are all lunch sandwiches.

My mostaccioli came out on a big platter, big tubes of pasta covered in mozzarella cheese and then the thick red sauce and finally a baseball sized meatball on top. The red sauce at Facci’s is very tomato-y, somewhere between a thick relish and a paste in consistency and the sort of clear tomato flavor you only get from homemade. The oregano is evident, but other spices hide behind the tomato like toddlers behind their mother’s skirts, playful yet bashful. The mozzarella is generous and binds the noodles together quite well. A lunch plateful tends to be about twice as much as I need; our hostess made the kind offer to box up half to take home, which I graciously accepted.

A good lunch, indeed, the sort of thing to stick to your ribs when the weather is cold, the sort of food that’ll get you through an afternoon at the races. I’ve already said a lot about the place. It’s that sort of place. I haven’t even delved into the delightful cannoli or my favorite dish on the menu, the Veal Scallopini. Well, I guess I’ll be making another blog entry eventually.

You’ll find Facci’s Italian Ristorante across the street from Oaklawn at 2900 Central Avenue. Their website seems to have passed the way of the dodo, but you can reach them at (501) 623-9049. They’re open 11am to 9pm Monday through Thursday and until ten on Fridays and Saturdays, closed on Sunday. And you can have a good laugh at my expense over that bad photography in the window. That’s all me. I claim it.