The Legacy of the Arkansas Rockefeller.

Bountiful Arkansas Weekend isn’t just a celebration of Arkansas farms and produce. It also commemorates the ideas of a man that changed the face of our state.

Winthrop Rockefeller was a hell of a man. My generation may not recognize his influence upon our state, but we should. Before I was born, this one man changed the face of Arkansas. As a Republican, he forced changes in his own party that allowed him to become the first Republican governor of Arkansas since Reconstruction. To defeat him four years later, the Democrats had to shed the post-Faubus funk and move on.

Rockefeller made some amazing moves that broke down the status quo. He hired an FBI agent to head the State Police and get rid of gangsters in Hot Springs. He quietly oversaw the integration of Arkansas schools after Orval Faubus and the media disaster of Central High School. And as a last act in office, he commuted the sentences of every prisoner on our state’s Death Row and challenged future governors to do the same.

He shaped history, sure. But his legacy lives on in the acts of charity and philanthropy he committed, and nowhere can you feel that stronger than atop Petit Jean Mountain at the Winthrop Rockefeller Institute.

It’s an unusual sort of institute. When you pass through the gates onto the University of Arkansas owned-and-run property, you aren’t greeted by white columns or big statues. You’re in a cow field. The road is lined with fences that are interspersed with feeding troughs. The road rolls with the small hills atop Petit Jean, and you veer off to the left at the top of one rise to see the campus spread out ahead.

I’ve been several times now. I find it to be a comforting place, not what you might think of when you consider a school. The entire nature of the campus is to blend with the land, reusing what was found there and incorporating other materials from around Arkansas. The campus looks like it was meant to be here. And you never forget you are on an honest, working farm.

One particular visit: Bountiful Arkansas Weekend, which is coming up July 16th and 17th. It’s not just another Arkansas festival. It’s a grand introduction to an idea that Governor Rockefeller held dear, and I highly recommend you consider attending. I went last year and found it to be more educational than I had anticipated.

I was met on arrival by David Davies, the executive director of the Winthrop Rockefeller Institute, a project of the University of Arkansas system. The second, Kathy Edgerton, became my tour guide for a good portion of the day.

First stop, the Tomato Tasting -- which was just opening to attendees. For $5, anyone who wanted to could come up and try 20 different varieties of heirloom and culinary tomatoes.

The color and spread of tomatoes was vast. I have seen some of these before, but like many who have perused the aisles of fancy stores and markets I didn’t realize that there were so many varieties of what we call “heirloom” tomatoes available. Some I recognized, like the old Brandywines I used to see in south Arkansas gardens as a child. All of these varieties are grown in Arkansas.

The difference? Heirloom ‘maters are those that were here a century ago -- and they’re disappearing, sadly enough. It’s estimated that 75% of the original Arkansas heirloom varieties may be gone.

Culinary tomatoes are newer varieties, some of which have been specially cultivated to taste or grow in a certain way.

I tried several of the varieties, and was surprised by the difference I encountered. For instance, to me Yellow Pear tomatoes (which are a little larger than cherry tomatoes and shaped like pears, hence the name) are sweet and strong, while the Orange Fleshed Purple Smudge has a lighter, saltier flavor. Juicy, bright Carbons and tangy Thai Pink Egg and all the rest, a varying palate of tomato varieties that certainly make you think there’s more than whatever sort of red globes end up in that commercially prepared spaghetti sauce or salsa.

Next stop, the Heritage Farmstead, where a garden grows. The gardens and buildings here are recreating the small family farms of 1933-1953. It’s where I met Adena White, who toured me through the farmstead with helpful answers.

Vendors from Arkansas businesses and farms had set up for the event. There was an information tent with several organizations offering advice on everything from finding organic locally-grown food in the area to tips on growing natural and legacy varieties of garden plants.

The folks from Post Winery had set up with their wines and juices and were offering grapevine starters for $15. Bean Mountain Farms had out row after row of fresh herbs and plants to take home and start in their own gardens. Some growers offered heritage varieties of produce, such as squash and eggplants and tomatoes and peaches.

There were professional hoes for sale (I had no idea there was a professional variety of garden hoe, did you?) Willow Springs Market Garden offered soaps and garlic and radishes, while Hocott’s Garden Center showed off great plants and lots of garden soil and fertilizer varieties.

We peeked in on a horticulture workshop covering what vegetables are best to grow in your garden. These classes were offered throughout the day, along with workshops on what fruits are best for your property, for $15 a session. WRI had added several more of the 30-person workshops as the demand had increased.

The classes were held in the Teaching Barn, which has this great “dirty” classroom with a cement floor that can be sprayed clean after use. That makes it great to use for a gardening lecture space. Best part? The air conditioning, of course!

The day was rather hot, but that wasn’t keeping people away. Dozens of people were spread out in groups here and there, checking out the farmstead and the gardens.

The gardens themselves were healthy and full of life. Watermelon varieties from all over Arkansas are already gaining bulk and growing big. Master gardener G.M. Greene told me that around here, melons get into the 40-60 pound range, and in 2008 some of the melons hit 70 pounds.

I checked out the rows upon rows of tomato varietals while I was in that section of the garden. It looked like the start of a beautiful season. In addition to the traditional gardens and melon patch, there’s also a vineyard and orchard in the Heritage Farmstead.

Like many others, I took the chance to eat lunch at the River Rock Grill, the fine dining establishment at the institute. After lunch, Adena took me to see what was going on in the classroom behind the restaurant. Chef John Leonardis was in, teaching a class of 35 a class on Arkansas food featuring Watermelon Soup, Three Potato Salad, and Peach and Berry Cobbler -- all part of the Second Saturday Series.

I found myself really wanting to stay longer, but scheduled demands being what they are I had to leave before the evening’s activities -- which included a lecture on eating within a 100-mile radius, an evening concert by Runaway Planet (on a stage built by UA students), and free beer from Diamond Bear Brewery. When I left out, there were close to 800 people who had gone through registration -- lots more than they had expected, but all the volunteers and UA staff that were running the event dealt with the hassles seamlessly.

This year’s festival is two days (unlike the single day event last year). My good friend and garden guru Chris Olsen will be speaking, along with horticultural legend Janet Carson. There’s a kids village this year including a farm, a market and a school to show kids the proper things to eat. There will be screenings of food-related movies from the Hot Springs Documentary Film Festival and an arts show and sale as well. The festival is growing, and I think it’s really the sort of thing the Governor would have appreciated if he had survived to today.

You see, Rockefeller could have had an exceptionally easy life. He was, after all, a Rockefeller, brother of Nelson and John D. III and Lawrence and David and Abby. His siblings became politicians and philanthropists and bankers and they stayed for the most part in New York. Perhaps Win was the black sheep of the family. After all, the grandson of Standard Oil founder John D. Rockefeller had the opportunity to take a top position with the company after leaving Yale. But he chose instead to be a roughneck and work in the oil fields instead. You have to wonder what he was thinking when he came to Arkansas in 1953 to visit a friend, what beauty lead him to make that decision and buy that farm atop Petit Jean Mountain and to become the Arkansas Rockefeller. Whatever it was, it must have been incredible.

Breakfast at the Old South.

• KAT ROBINSON
• WAY OVER EASY: The Old South's eggs, perfectly cooked

There are a lot of places around Arkansas where you can get breakfast anytime. But finding locally owned joints that serve it up when you want it is harder. I had to wrack my brain a little, but one place that came to mind was where we went late night when I was in college at Arkansas Tech. Of course, I’m thinking about the Old South.

Back then it was the only 24 hour game in the town of Russellville (if you didn’t count the Waffle Houses that sat on either side of Exit 81 from each other). Tech students populated it overnight on a regular basis. You could have a whole booth to yourself, as long as you bought at least one item off the menu. For me back then, it was usually the $1.05 honeybun, which was served up either hot or cold. Sometimes if you ordered it hot, it was microwaved; other times it was obviously fried. You could also get a burger any hour of the day, or breakfast. Yeah, breakfast.

I found myself exhausted coming back from my recent trip to Ft. Smith and in need of coffee and vittles to get back to Little Rock on. What the heck, I decided. The Old South sounded good, and I knew the restaurant would be open.

• KAT ROBINSON
• COFFEE: Necessary

It’s not a 24 hour operation any more. There’s now an IHOP out by the interstate and a couple of 24 hour drive-ins, so there are other options for overnight dining. I doubt IHOP has the same study policy for Tech students, though. I digress..

I pulled in bleary-eyed and dragging around six that evening, somehow finding my way into the restaurant and into a booth up front. One of the waitresses was at my table immediately.

“Coffee?” she asked.

“Coffee,” I confirmed, putting my head down momentarily on the table. I was interrupted not even a full minute later with the careful click of ceramic on laminate as she quietly placed the cup on the table. I looked up gratefully as she sat down the creamer bowl as well.

“Are you eatin’ today?”

“Are you serving breakfast?”

“We sure are!”

“Then yes.”

She smiled and sat down a menu. I foggily noticed her handing off the order to another, younger woman as I brought the cup to my lips. I didn’t care that it was hot. I was sleepy and I had a lot more to do.

My head started to clear. I noticed a young man, quite possibly one of the chefs, bring out a club sandwich and a squeeze bottle of mayo. He doctored up the sandwich, took the mayo back and then came to this side of the counter to eat it. I finally got my focus back enough to read the menu.

There’s a page worth of menu items on the tri-fold Old South menu, including steak-and-eggs, pork-chops-and-eggs, omelets and the special — which includes eggs and a choice of grits, hash browns or oatmeal and a choice of biscuit, toast or English muffin with a choice of breakfast meat — which includes not just ham, sausage and bacon but also thick slices of Petit Jean bologna. I did notice the honey bun is now $1.25. Inflation.

The younger waitress came over with her check pad and pen ready. “I’m Kayla, I’m going to be your waitress. Do you know what you want yet?”

I rattled off to her “corned beef and eggs, over easy. Hash browns. Biscuit.”

“Okay, we can have that right up.”

“Thank you.”

Kayla was gone a moment and then back with the coffee pot. I realized I’d already drained a cup. I nodded and she filled it up.

“I bet you’ll like the breakfasts. I do,” she told me.

“Oh, I’m familiar with them. I used to come here in college, but I haven’t had breakfast here since 1995. It never changes, does it?”

“I don’t know, I was born in 1994,” she told me.

Perhaps I did a double-take. I don’t know for certain. “Wow,” was all I could mutter.

“It’s my first job,” she told me. “My first month.”

“Well, you’re doing a great job,” I told her. She grinned and moved on to another customer. I marveled at that conversation. And at my age. Damn, I’m getting old.

I heard orders being called up and watched as the waitresses picked them up from the grill window and took them out into the restaurant. I overheard one of the other waitresses telling a gentleman at the bar that the AC had gone out in the grill that morning and that the crews were on the roof working right then to fix everything up. She mentioned that it had reached 115 in the kitchen around lunchtime. I’m guessing that it was just the AC in the kitchen and not the rest of the place since the restaurant felt pretty nice to me.

I heard the older waitress call out “Kayla, your order’s up!” and watched the younger girl pick it up and carry it to the booth next to mine. The older waitress repeated the phrase and the actions were all repeated, except this time the plate came my way.

Kayla sat down the order and asked “anything else I can get you? Ketchup?”

“Yes. And do you have white gravy today?”

“I’ll check.” She quickly grabbed the ketchup and brought it over, then went behind the counter and asked. A few moments later she returned and brought me a cup of white (meatless) gravy with a spoon. I grinned at her and continued to take my photos. And then I really got down to breakfast.

• KAT ROBINSON
• CORNED BEEF HASH BREAKFAST: With over-easy eggs, hash browns and a crusty biscuit

The Corned Beef Hash and Eggs breakfast ($7.25) is a very good representation of the typical Old South breakfast. My over-easy eggs were as easy as you can get them, still a little wet in the center of the whites but firm enough to slide onto the plate, the equivalent of a three minute boiled egg. The two yolks were promising deep yellow pools under the surface. The hash browns were appropriately crisp and crusty, undoubtedly gaining some flavor from a griddle that’s been in use more than half a century. The corned beef hash, undoubtedly from a can, had been crisped up and cooked thoroughly on the griddle as well, and had a nice crispy crust to it.

• KAT ROBINSON
• BISCUIT AND GRAVY: Old South style

The Old South’s biscuits are humble and housemade, the same doughy, crusty asymmetrical rounds a little smaller than a fist that have graced the edges of plates there for all time. They’re just a little dry to eat by themselves, but that same dryness makes them perfect for applying something moist, like a pat of butter or a bit of jam — or in my case, the white gravy, which comes out thick and peppered. I ate just enough of my hash browns to fit the biscuit onto my plate, then cracked it open with a fork and spooned on some gravy. It soaked up a little, but the mass of the gravy sat still in the little lumps I’d spooned on.

As I ate, the rest of my world opened up a little. I was on my third cup of coffee by now and had even added sugar and cream to it to get that extra little burst of energy. The eggs were almost creamy in places and needed a little salt and pepper, but the busted yolk clung to a bit of the corned beef hash just right. Protein from egg, protein from meat, carbs from the potatoes in the hash browns and the hash and the biscuit. I probably should have evened out the breakfast with some orange juice so there’d be some fruit matter in my meal, but proper nutrition was the last thing on my mind. I just needed to wake up and get home.

I ended up eating almost everything (except about half the gravy, which remained in the bowl brought to me earlier). I even considered the honey bun, but decided that might put me a little too far over to the full side and possibly even make me a bit sleepy again. I drank the last of my coffee, dropped a dollar on the table and went up to the register to pay.

• KAT ROBINSON

The Old South may not have the best breakfast I’ve ever had. The food is diner food and very little has changed in two or three generations. But it’s consistent and it’s filling and it fills its own gap by being comforting and tasty and appropriate for the diner crowd. I know there are classmates of mine from college that will laugh a little at my descriptions and perhaps recall their own late nights spread out in one of the booths in the back, working on classwork or even working off a hangover.

You’ll find The Old South on East Main Street on the big stretch to the west of the Electric Moo (yes, it’s still open, too). They’re open from morning til about 10 p.m. now. Oh, and if you didn’t know, it’s now on the Historic Register. Apparently Elvis once had a meal there, too. (479) 968-3789.

Breakfast at the Old South.

• KAT ROBINSON
• WAY OVER EASY: The Old South's eggs, perfectly cooked

There are a lot of places around Arkansas where you can get breakfast anytime. But finding locally owned joints that serve it up when you want it is harder. I had to wrack my brain a little, but one place that came to mind was where we went late night when I was in college at Arkansas Tech. Of course, I’m thinking about the Old South.

Back then it was the only 24 hour game in the town of Russellville (if you didn’t count the Waffle Houses that sat on either side of Exit 81 from each other). Tech students populated it overnight on a regular basis. You could have a whole booth to yourself, as long as you bought at least one item off the menu. For me back then, it was usually the $1.05 honeybun, which was served up either hot or cold. Sometimes if you ordered it hot, it was microwaved; other times it was obviously fried. You could also get a burger any hour of the day, or breakfast. Yeah, breakfast.

I found myself exhausted coming back from my recent trip to Ft. Smith and in need of coffee and vittles to get back to Little Rock on. What the heck, I decided. The Old South sounded good, and I knew the restaurant would be open.

• KAT ROBINSON
• COFFEE: Necessary

It’s not a 24 hour operation any more. There’s now an IHOP out by the interstate and a couple of 24 hour drive-ins, so there are other options for overnight dining. I doubt IHOP has the same study policy for Tech students, though. I digress..

I pulled in bleary-eyed and dragging around six that evening, somehow finding my way into the restaurant and into a booth up front. One of the waitresses was at my table immediately.

“Coffee?” she asked.

“Coffee,” I confirmed, putting my head down momentarily on the table. I was interrupted not even a full minute later with the careful click of ceramic on laminate as she quietly placed the cup on the table. I looked up gratefully as she sat down the creamer bowl as well.

“Are you eatin’ today?”

“Are you serving breakfast?”

“We sure are!”

“Then yes.”

She smiled and sat down a menu. I foggily noticed her handing off the order to another, younger woman as I brought the cup to my lips. I didn’t care that it was hot. I was sleepy and I had a lot more to do.

My head started to clear. I noticed a young man, quite possibly one of the chefs, bring out a club sandwich and a squeeze bottle of mayo. He doctored up the sandwich, took the mayo back and then came to this side of the counter to eat it. I finally got my focus back enough to read the menu.

There’s a page worth of menu items on the tri-fold Old South menu, including steak-and-eggs, pork-chops-and-eggs, omelets and the special — which includes eggs and a choice of grits, hash browns or oatmeal and a choice of biscuit, toast or English muffin with a choice of breakfast meat — which includes not just ham, sausage and bacon but also thick slices of Petit Jean bologna. I did notice the honey bun is now $1.25. Inflation.

The younger waitress came over with her check pad and pen ready. “I’m Kayla, I’m going to be your waitress. Do you know what you want yet?”

I rattled off to her “corned beef and eggs, over easy. Hash browns. Biscuit.”

“Okay, we can have that right up.”

“Thank you.”

Kayla was gone a moment and then back with the coffee pot. I realized I’d already drained a cup. I nodded and she filled it up.

“I bet you’ll like the breakfasts. I do,” she told me.

“Oh, I’m familiar with them. I used to come here in college, but I haven’t had breakfast here since 1995. It never changes, does it?”

“I don’t know, I was born in 1994,” she told me.

Perhaps I did a double-take. I don’t know for certain. “Wow,” was all I could mutter.

“It’s my first job,” she told me. “My first month.”

“Well, you’re doing a great job,” I told her. She grinned and moved on to another customer. I marveled at that conversation. And at my age. Damn, I’m getting old.

I heard orders being called up and watched as the waitresses picked them up from the grill window and took them out into the restaurant. I overheard one of the other waitresses telling a gentleman at the bar that the AC had gone out in the grill that morning and that the crews were on the roof working right then to fix everything up. She mentioned that it had reached 115 in the kitchen around lunchtime. I’m guessing that it was just the AC in the kitchen and not the rest of the place since the restaurant felt pretty nice to me.

I heard the older waitress call out “Kayla, your order’s up!” and watched the younger girl pick it up and carry it to the booth next to mine. The older waitress repeated the phrase and the actions were all repeated, except this time the plate came my way.

Kayla sat down the order and asked “anything else I can get you? Ketchup?”

“Yes. And do you have white gravy today?”

“I’ll check.” She quickly grabbed the ketchup and brought it over, then went behind the counter and asked. A few moments later she returned and brought me a cup of white (meatless) gravy with a spoon. I grinned at her and continued to take my photos. And then I really got down to breakfast.

• KAT ROBINSON
• CORNED BEEF HASH BREAKFAST: With over-easy eggs, hash browns and a crusty biscuit

The Corned Beef Hash and Eggs breakfast ($7.25) is a very good representation of the typical Old South breakfast. My over-easy eggs were as easy as you can get them, still a little wet in the center of the whites but firm enough to slide onto the plate, the equivalent of a three minute boiled egg. The two yolks were promising deep yellow pools under the surface. The hash browns were appropriately crisp and crusty, undoubtedly gaining some flavor from a griddle that’s been in use more than half a century. The corned beef hash, undoubtedly from a can, had been crisped up and cooked thoroughly on the griddle as well, and had a nice crispy crust to it.

• KAT ROBINSON
• BISCUIT AND GRAVY: Old South style

The Old South’s biscuits are humble and housemade, the same doughy, crusty asymmetrical rounds a little smaller than a fist that have graced the edges of plates there for all time. They’re just a little dry to eat by themselves, but that same dryness makes them perfect for applying something moist, like a pat of butter or a bit of jam — or in my case, the white gravy, which comes out thick and peppered. I ate just enough of my hash browns to fit the biscuit onto my plate, then cracked it open with a fork and spooned on some gravy. It soaked up a little, but the mass of the gravy sat still in the little lumps I’d spooned on.

As I ate, the rest of my world opened up a little. I was on my third cup of coffee by now and had even added sugar and cream to it to get that extra little burst of energy. The eggs were almost creamy in places and needed a little salt and pepper, but the busted yolk clung to a bit of the corned beef hash just right. Protein from egg, protein from meat, carbs from the potatoes in the hash browns and the hash and the biscuit. I probably should have evened out the breakfast with some orange juice so there’d be some fruit matter in my meal, but proper nutrition was the last thing on my mind. I just needed to wake up and get home.

I ended up eating almost everything (except about half the gravy, which remained in the bowl brought to me earlier). I even considered the honey bun, but decided that might put me a little too far over to the full side and possibly even make me a bit sleepy again. I drank the last of my coffee, dropped a dollar on the table and went up to the register to pay.

• KAT ROBINSON

The Old South may not have the best breakfast I’ve ever had. The food is diner food and very little has changed in two or three generations. But it’s consistent and it’s filling and it fills its own gap by being comforting and tasty and appropriate for the diner crowd. I know there are classmates of mine from college that will laugh a little at my descriptions and perhaps recall their own late nights spread out in one of the booths in the back, working on classwork or even working off a hangover.

You’ll find The Old South on East Main Street on the big stretch to the west of the Electric Moo (yes, it’s still open, too). They’re open from morning til about 10 p.m. now. Oh, and if you didn’t know, it’s now on the Historic Register. Apparently Elvis once had a meal there, too. (479) 968-3789.

On the Making of Fried Green Tomatoes.

Ever since Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistlestop Café hit the bestseller list in 1987, the South has been branded. Frannie Flagg’s book (and the subsequent movie) brought the askance little side dish from something you did when you were frying up catfish and other foods to its own unique space in the Pantheon of southern foods. The crispy rounds quickly surpassed all but grits in their recognition for edible options below the Mason Dixon line.

Sadly, that’s meant a lot of misinterpretations around these parts. Part of the hazard associated with my job is the consumption of sub-par fried green tomatoes. The usual issue is bad breading -- either the restaurant in question has gone for a single dip in the cornmeal and somehow expected the mess to stick to the tomato slice through the cooking process, or the battered slices are far too thin to battle the crust. I’ve seen it happen over and over again, even at some of my favorite places to eat. Sometimes there’s even a consistency fail from visit to visit. For instance, Cotham’s in the City usually has some pretty decent specimens, but I have on occasion encountered thin, grease-soaked examples, as if the oil wasn’t quite hot enough to do the job.

The best fried green tomatoes I’ve ever had were encountered at a place called Jesse’s in Magnolia Springs, AL. Some might wince at the $11 listing on the menu, but they’d be wrong to miss out. Jesse’s fried green tomatoes are somehow light and airy, almost tempura-like yet with enough cornmeal in them to make them acceptably Southern. The tartness of the tomatoes is just so, and the batter is seasoned well. On their own they would be a treat. Served up with Hollandaise and sautéed lump crabmeat? Ethereal doesn’t even come close to describing the experience.

Thing is, the fried green tomato has become so expected on Southern menus that sometimes they border on the obsequious. Paula Deen’s Buffet at Harrah’s in Tunica serves them up on their own, plentiful as hush puppies. There’s even a dish on the breakfast menu that I somewhat like, the Fried Green Tomato Eggs Benedict, with their crowns of fluffy whited eggs and their spicy not-quite-Hollandaise Cajun style sauce poured over the mess, gravy-style. No meat, but the dish doesn’t need it, it’s rich and full of cholesterol and fatty acids and all the dirty food words they put in magazines to scare you.

Thing is, I believe the proliferation of fried green tomatoes belies where they came from. Now, a green tomato is a sacrifice. It’s a red tomato that hasn’t had the opportunity to get that red. In good years you could eat them and not feel guilty -- you’d have tomatoes coming off the vine all summer long. In bad years, though, you wouldn’t take them unless they were windfalls or you just couldn’t help it.

Green tomatoes were also used for other things, like pickles and relish. Perhaps they came from the leftovers, I don’t know. I just see their similarity to catfish in the way they’re cooked and breaded.

I met a lovely lady while researching projects in Door County, WI - a fellow journalist by the name of Christine Gable. She runs a website called Queen of the Quick Meal. We got to talking and I ended up promising to send her a recipe for fried green tomatoes. After all, when you get down to it, they’re relatively quick to make. Once I got back home I got to thinking about it, and realized there were some things we did here that wouldn’t just be a simple 20-minute thing for everyone else. For instance, I usually keep two plastic containers in the freezer -- one with flour and one with cornmeal -- just for battering items for deep frying. Not everyone has this. There’s also the matter of what you do with the leftover egg and such. These things came to mind as I got out the ingredients one day and set to making up a batch.

See, funny thing is, I only make fried green tomatoes when they are appropriate to make -- that is, between June and September, when it’s plausible to find fresh local tomatoes around. Hothouse tomatoes just don’t have that right bite, that particular sharpness that the dish requires. But when they are in season, I have to make them. My Yankee husband loves them, but only when they come out of our kitchen. Funny, that.

First thing I do is slice the tomatoes. These ‘maters came out of the garden of Chuck and Lisa Hassell, good friends of mine and the parents of another good friend of mine, Leif Hassell, who you may have heard me talk about before. I washed them and let them dry in the refrigerator once I got home with them, so when I pulled them out they were ready to go. I tend to slice my tomatoes about 1/8th to ¼ inch thick, and I use everything except the little bit where the stem was.

I usually turn the heat on the stovetop about this point, medium high. I prefer to fry in cast-iron, and you don’t need even an inch of vegetable oil to fry in. Just make sure you have enough time for the oil to heat up.

Now this may be the point where you’re asking yourself “hey, why green tomatoes? Why not red ones?” The reason for that, outside of the tartness you really want to experience, is firmness. Yes, I have encountered store-bought tomatoes that have the appropriate firmness and lack of mushy bits to fry, but if you get a tomato with that firmness and it’s red chances are it has lost its taste. I have never encountered a fully red tomato that was strong enough to dry-batter twice and deep fry. Never.

After cutting up the tomatoes, I went and got my dry ingredients. I needed to measure out what I was going to use to share with Christine’s readers. I settled on a half-cup each of all purpose flour and cornmeal mix. That may not seem like a whole lot, but it’s enough for two tomatoes (after all, including Hunter there’s just three of us, and I believe fried green tomatoes are one of those things you need to eat in one sitting). I use my own ½ War Eagle Cornmeal to ½ all purpose flour mix for my cornmeal mix, but I’ve also used Martha White. Either is fine.

I then got together my wet set, a single egg and a splash of milk. A splash in this instance is about a quarter cup. I’ve seen others use buttermilk, but since I don’t drink buttermilk (my grandfather would probably be disappointed) I never have it on hand. I add several grinds from the salt and pepper grinders and then beat the tar out of it until the egg lightens.

The next part is easy, but it’s where most folks screw up. Before you go putting your tomatoes in the wet, plop them down in the flour and dust them, I’ve done this on paper plates in the picture, just to show you how you can do it. If I was doing this normally, I’d have them in the flour container for a good shake. Dunk -- don’t soak -- the slice in the egg wash, then plop it down in the cornmeal mix. Flip it over. Set it aside. It’s ready to go.

I like to have a half-dozen slices ready to put in all at once, just so I don’t get confused over which’s went in first and which hasn’t been turned. Be careful when you drop them in -- place them in edge first and let the slice drop away from you. Grease pops hurt.

For the first batch, I usually give each side two minutes. Later batches take longer because the oil cools with each tomato slice you drop in. I keep an eye on it. If it starts to smoke, the oil’s too hot. If the slices are too greasy when they’re pulled out, they oil’s not hot enough. Keep an eye on it.

And what do you serve them up with? In my opinion, not a damn thing. They’re seasoned in the egg wash (some folks even season the tomato slice itself before it’s dunked in the flour; I can get behind that) and they don’t really require anything else. But if you have to, you might try doing what my husband sometimes does -- take a half packet of dry ranch dip and mix it with a cup of sour cream. I still prefer them plain.

Will the fried green tomato ever go away? Doubtful. Will there still be bad ones? I think so -- as long as restaurants serve them way out of season or in cases where proper preparation and tasting haven’t been done. But when done right, a fried green tomato slice is about the best thing you can have on the side of your plate during summer. That’s my opinion, take it for what you will.

Bodacious biscuits at Meacham's.

• NOT ACTUAL SIZE: Meacham's biscuit is much bigger

Our second entry in this third Breakfast in Arkansas week this year… is in Ash Flat. A reader over on Facebook recommended Meacham’s, and I found a chance to drop by a few weeks ago. Good thing they were serving breakfast late — it took a couple of hours to get there!

The interior of the restaurant is all wood — booths, chairs, walls, partitions, birdhouses. Yes, birdhouses. I wasn’t sure what the seating policy was when I walked in, but a woman in the back hollered to me that I could sit anywhere.

A menu was delivered into my hands, and I scanned quickly over it, my hunger just roaring at me. See, if you do breakfast reviews you tend to not eat before you go. I’d already been up three hours without so much as a glass of juice and I was ready for something good. I ordered the French toast and a couple of over well eggs and settled in with a cup of coffee.

As I usually do, I quietly watch what’s going on. There’s nothing more entertaining than people watching, at least to me. I paid particular attention to the odd birdhouses perched on the ledge. Seriously, they’re really neat.

I happened to catch motion from the corner of my eye and saw something that changed my own order. My waitress was delivering food to another table — and she had a biscuit. One biscuit. One humongous biscuit. When she passed back by I asked her:

“Is that a regular sized biscuit?”

“Yes ma’am!”

“Could I add one to my order?”

“You sure can hon.”

She went back to the kitchen and relayed my order. Because the booths are tall and the biscuit had been delivered to a booth two away from mine, I couldn’t get another view. I looked around at the other tables to see if anyone else had ordered one. No, not within my sight range.

Must have been another five minutes before my order came out. I was really starting to get ravenous now. My coffee had been topped off twice and syrup had been delivered to the table. The curiosity was killing me.

And then there it was. Or there they were — my waitress came to the table and dropped off two breakfast platters — one with four neat slices of French toast, one with my two eggs over hard and the biscuit. I had to stop and regard that biscuit a moment. Then I had to take photos.

The biscuit is a good four inches square and nearly two inches thick. It’s a monster. It’s brown and appears to be made from a whole wheat flour. It’s a massive slab of breakfast bread. And it answered the question of why a huge bowl of real butter and jam packets was sitting on the table when I got there. Inside, the extraordinarily soft biscuit flesh soaked up every bit of butter smeared onto its surface. It was tasty, too, just like any good biscuit.

My French toast was pretty good, too — Texas toast that seemed to have been dipped in batter when the order was placed, still a little squidgy but firm on the outside and custardy. Friendly. The eggs were cooked like I like them, over hard together, good for eating with a fork.

Did I get through it all? No. Heck, I couldn’t even get halfway through the biscuit. It is substantially huge. Did I break the bank? No. My French toast was $3.65 and came with the coffee. Two eggs ran me $1.15 and that humongous biscuit was $1.25. Even with a tip I was out of there for $8.

Thing is, I’ve passed by there several times while in the area, but I would never have known about the place had it not been for the readers who check this blog out. So yes, keep the recommendations coming. Thank you!

You can find Meacham’s in Ash Flat — take Highway 167 north to Ash Flat, then turn left on Highway 62/412 heading westbound. It’s just a long block down on the left. (870) 994-2101.

Awesome, Strange and Fun.

Arkansas summer festivals are a range of local foods, song lyrics and various modes of transportation.

Our home state is blessed with a plethora of strange and delightful festivals during the summer months. Most involve some element of food, either a regional fruit or vegetable just in season or a special type of preparation. Many involve bits of culture unique to the area, and quite a few are noted for their “rides.” A rundown of some of my off-beat late summer favorites.

Food:
Bountiful Arkansas Weekend. This two day festival on the grounds of the Winthrop Rockefeller Institute atop Petit Jean Mountain celebrates Arkansas’ bounty by sharing with others heritage fruits and vegetables, historical farming methods and a unique Arkansas native and traditional tomato tasting. Go to learn about organic farming methods, stay for the demonstrations and to pick up seeds for your home garden. While you’re up there, catch lunch at WRI’s River Rock Grill. July 16-17. uawri.org

Altus Grape Festival. Ever feel the urge to re-enact the I Love Lucy grape stomping episode? This is where to go. The annual grape stomp is just part of the fun. Unlimited wine tastings from the area’s four wineries, the amateur winemaking competition and tours of all the local wineries are just part of the fun. If you’re of the bearded-and-bouncy sort, you might consider going out for the Bacchus look-alike contest. Take your lunch or head over to Kelt’s Pub for a refreshing pint and a corned beef sandwich while you’re there. July 30-31st at Altus City Park in, where else, Altus. altusgrapefest.com

Tontitown Grape Festival. A great place to go if you want to enjoy the culinary experience of -- fried chicken and spaghetti. No joke. This sweet little festival is one of Arkansas’ oldest, offering up a midway for kids, a fantastic book sale and of course the famed Italian (pronounced Eye-talian) spaghetti dinners made from scratch, noodles and all. There’s also grape ice cream. While you’re in the area, swing over to Springdale for more fried chicken at the (should be World Famous) AQ Chicken House. August 3-7 at the St. Joseph Festival Grounds in Tontitown. tontitowngrapefestival.com

Hope Watermelon Festival. The home of Arkansas’ largest watermelons celebrates the fruit with lawn mower races and seed spitting. In September 2005, the world’s largest melon (weighing in at 268.8 lbs.) was pulled from a field in the area, earning a spot in the Guinness Book of World Records and returning the title of “Home of the World’s Largest Watermelon” to Hope. Check out the plaque by visiting Dos Loco Gringos in town. August 12-14 at Fair Park in Hope. hopemelonfest.com

Cave City Watermelon Festival. Hope may have the largest melons, but Cave City has the sweetest, certified by the University of Arkansas for the rich melon-perfect soil found in the area. This simple hometown festival features gospel music, community events and a free watermelon feast provided by area growers. Heading back, stop by China King Buffet, just before you get into Batesville proper. A substantially large selection of Chinese food, sushi and (inexplicably but welcome) hand scooped ice cream. Just don’t take more than what you plan to eat. August 12-14 at Cave City City Park. cavecityarkansas.info

Strange names:
Dumas Ding Dong Daddy Days. It’s always fun to hear someone on NPR try to pronounce the name of this festival. Named after the popular song written by Phil Baxter and favored by Louis Armstrong, the festival celebrates the Delta with barbecue, a Ding Dong eating contest and a moustache contest, among other things. July 22-25 in downtown Dumas. dumasar.net

Ozark Deaf Timberfest. No, the timber’s not deaf. This decade-old festival hosted by the Little Rock Association of the Deaf features lumberjack games and logging related competitions. August 13-14 at Byrds Adventure Center in Ozark. byrdsadventurecenter.com

Bikes, Trains, Automobiles and more:
Eureka Springs Fat Tire Festival. The bicycle is celebrated and feted all over town with cross-country, downhill and short track races, fun rides and a film festival. It’s the largest festival of its kind in the central U.S. While you’re up there, be sure to drop by Local Flavor Café for lunch or dinner and try the crème brulee. July 16-17 all over Eureka Springs. fattirefestival.com

World Championship Cardboard Boat Races. Each year dozens of competitors use nothing more than cardboard, duct tape and paint to create boats and barges to float (and sink) on Greers Ferry Lake in this now world-famous competition. Join the masses at Sandy Beach near Heber Springs to watch and see whose boat will float the longest and who has the best sinking. Stick around for the Cardboard Boat Demolition Derby. July 31st at Sandy Beach. heber-springs.com

Mountains, Music and Motorcycles. Mountain View erupts in gasoline-powered glory with the arrival of motorcycle enthusiasts from all over the country. Biker games, a poker run and bike show and music all weekend long. Gotta drop by Johnny’s Pizza while you’re up there. August 20-22 all over town. yourplaceinthemountains.com

Frisco Festival. The annual festival in Rogers’ Historic District honors Arkansas’ Railroad Heritage with the Chilisalsapeno Competition, a chicken BBQ cookoff and free rides and amusements for the kids. August 27-28. friscofestival.com

VW Festival, Swap Meet and Tourcade. What more needs to be said? It’s one of the largest gatherings of Volkswagen owners and enthusiasts in the Midwest. Lots of activities for Bug-nuts. August 27-28 at Best Western Inn of the Ozarks in Eureka Springs. nwavwa.com

Championship Chuckwagon Races. For one week at the end of summer, horses and teams compete in a variety of events such as bull riding, bronc fanning and of course chuck wagon races. A sight to see. August 28-September 5, Bar Of Ranch in Clinton, chuckwagonraces.com