"To my knowledge there are two different kinds of hush
puppies," Jamie Moore tells me in an enthusiastic twang.
"We offer the kind that is similar to a doughnut hole."
Restaurant manager Moore is speaking from the Red Roost
in Whitehaven, Md., a down-home, barnlike eatery where the
long picnic tables are wisely covered with butcher paper.
She's making my mouth water as she describes this simple
Southern delight: "We use flour as opposed to cornmeal,
and ours are topped with powdered sugar, but I can't tell
you the recipe."
In its 26th season, the Roost is renowned for its all-you-can-eat
crab (blue, not Dungeness) dinner. This dinner, if
I can tease your tastebuds for a minute, comes with fried
chicken, corn on the cob, shrimpies (fried popcorn shrimp),
clam strips, french fries and the darling hush
puppies. Located just 20 minutes from my alma mater,
the Roost is an extremely fond entry in my culinary bibliography,
because it introduced me not only to the innumerable wonders
of blue crab but to hush puppies as well.
Around these parts, you can't find the sweet gobs I gobbled
at the Roost; maybe it's the lack of Southern sunshine comfort,
but the Portland species of hush puppy tends toward the
spicy side. Still, there's something to be said for these
puffs.
Like any foodstuff that's battered and dipped, hush puppies
are delicious because they do time in the deep fryer. Yeah,
fried food can be greasy, and you don't want to eat it all
the time, but there's no denying the visceral human response
to good old-fashioned fat.
The origin of hush puppies sounds like an urban legend,
but the same explanation pops up again and again in cookbooks,
as well as in the Encyclopedia of Southern Culture.
Back in the day, the dudes who were gathered around the
campfire for a fish fry would take the cornmeal leftover
from preparing catfish, fry it up in little balls and toss
'em to the dogs to silence their whining. Get it? Hush,
puppies.
Anton Pace, owner of Portland's much-heralded Delta Cafe,
confirms the story. The Delta is one of four places around
town that serves pups. Here's our hush-puppy ranking.
1. DORIS CAFE
Owner Rosie Dean doesn't have much
to say about Doris' hush puppies except that "they're real
popular." It's easy to see why: At $2.25 for an ample portion
(all the servings are massive at Doris), these are the most
straightforward of the bunch. Made with a bit of jalapeño,
the hush puppies are slightly spicy but not overwhelmingly
so. They are the size of melon balls, a refreshing change
from the whoppers dished out elsewhere. Count on Doris for
outrageous yams, moist fried chicken (you get pretty much
the whole bird) and unusual strawberry Welches. Good
'n' Plenty.
352 NE Russell St., 287-9249.
2. YAM YAM'S SOUTHERN BARBECUE
Yam Yam's ain't much
to look at, but these folks know their ribs. This small,
ramshackle outpost primarily fills to-go orders, but there
are a few tables and chairs if you want to eat in and catch
the end of the Blazers game on TV. Yam Yam's serves typical
Southern-fried goodness; the hot and sweet barbecue sauce
stands out. Hush puppies are dispensed like tapas--three
for $.50. These babies are small and soft, more like the
Maryland puffs I'm used to. They're not very tangy, but
that makes them all the better as buffers for Yam Yam's
spiked fare. Frill-free.
112 NE Killingsworth St., 284-1272.
3. DELTA CAFE
Hush puppies at the Delta have casings
that are almost as hard as the golf balls they resemble.
Pace couldn't supply any good reason for this when I asked
about the nature of the batter, saying simply, "We just
drop them in there." Pace recalled that they've tried several
different recipes during the restaurant's four-and-a-half
year history. The current mix, holding steady for at least
two years, includes buttermilk, cornmeal, onions and jalapeños.
I have mixed feelings about these dogs: The tough exterior
could knock a tooth loose, but the inside is plenty tasty.
And at $2 for six, this is the second-best deal at the Delta.
(After the $3 Pabst 40, natch.) Hard ball.
4607 SE Woodstock Blvd., 771-3101.
4. O'CONNORS RESTAURANT
The grab-bag fare at O'Connors
includes enchiladas, pastas and a muffaletta. And hush puppies
the size of tennis balls. Where does this Southern side
fit in? No one knows, but they do pack a wallop. Peppered
with onions and served with too-jiggly jalapeño jelly,
these incredibly dense pups accompany a burger instead of
smothered roast; you can also order them as an appetizer
for $4.25.
Holy jalapeño!
7850 SW Capitol Highway, 244-1690; 110 SW Yamhill St.,
227-3883.
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Willamette Week | originally
published February 16,
2000
|
