Roadfood Frontiers

Mapping culinary pit stops along the Arizona trail

Some experiences are inextricable parts of travelling: Taking a shower in a new locale; Luggage; transportation; reservations. Oh, and eating.

Some of the best moments of a vacation come in sitting down to a new dining experience. Food is a cultural art form born of necessity. Arizona has no shortage of culture, so I decided to search our great state for those more unique meals on it’s culinary landscape. I wasn’t sure if my stomach could keep up with this dining marathon but, burritos be damned, I was determined to try.

I found it appropriate to begin my journey at lunchtime on a Friday. I escaped the office and struck out for Wickenburg. Grand Avenue sliced northwest across the Valley and turned into the U.S. 60. As I reached the open highway, my empty stomach spoke up. I was headed for House Berlin – a German restaurant on the main drag of a town known for blatantly selling tourists its Old West heritage. It seemed a perfect start to my odd adventure.

I couldn’t possibly have tasted all the possibilities, with the time and gas-money I had. So here are a few other destinations of interest. Crown King Saloon Crown King, Arizona The food is mundane, but it’s heaven after a bumpy 28-mile drive on the dirt switchbacks through the Bradshaw wilderness. It challenges The Palace in Prescott as Arizona’s oldest bar. Cindy’s café, in the back, serves simple hearty cooking. Just pass through the bar and over ancient wooden floor boards. They tell legends. to your feet when you step on them. Tortilla Flat Restaurant & Saloon Tortilla Flat, on the Apache Trail A welcome stopping point along the famed Apache trail. It seems the town and it’s restaurant have been washed away in floods more times than you’ve got fingers. Again, the food may be straightforward, but the walls are covered with dollar bills, some from around the world. I wonder where the old dollars wash away to? Dateland Restaurant Dateland, Arizona Lost in the middle of desolation, on the way to California, is Dateland, Arizona. Here you can have a date-shake, before visiting the gift shop for pecan-stuffed dates, date coconut rolls and prickly pear candy. Dates have some very special powers over the human body, so make sure you look for rest stops on the map before you hit the road again. Restrooms are your friend. Joe’s Broadstreet Grill Globe, Arizona In honor of Globe’s mining heritage, the restaurant serves up pasties, the world’s first hot-pocket, every Thursday night. These tasty portables were taken into the mines, where they were much easier to manage than, say, spaghetti. Rancho de Los Caballeros Wickenburg, Arizona I knew there had to be a place serving elk! This is it. I don’t know why Wickenburg has such dining diversity, but remember it on your next road trip. Cultural Center Restaurant Oraibi, Hopi Nation, Arizona Here’s your chance to sample Hopi food, but may come at a cost; this is no Ritz Carlton. The restaurant has been described as less than visually appetizing. But, remember that the Hopi Nation doesn’t have the resources for elegance. They make it up with a smile and the chance to dine in the oldest continuously occupied settlement in the U.S. (since 1150 A.D., just in case you thought St. Petersburg, Florida was the right answer)

Halfway there, I had the nagging feeling that I’d mis-timed my trip. The restaurant might close between lunch and dinner. My stomach groaned its disapproval for the next 30 miles until I rolled into town and confirmed the suspicion. It was 3 p.m., and I had two hours to waste before the doors of House Berlin would reopen for dinner. Now my stomach was cussing me out.

Fortunately, the Chaparral Home-Made Ice Cream Parlor is just two blocks away at the crossroads of the U.S. 60 highway and the U.S. 89 highway. Many a traveler has stopped for a breather in Wickenburg and found themselves staring through the parlor’s cool glass case at buckets of ice cream – and sworn it to be the perfect cure to travel-weariness. With my own two scoops of “Hassayampa Mud” (mocha pecan ice cream), I strolled the streets in search of a 2-hour distraction.

One museum tour, and two rum-and-Cokes later, I walked out of the La Cabana saloon and into the German restaurant to find a booth.

I muttered some unpronouncable menu item and waited. In the time I was there, a family came in to dine, and promptly left when their daughter wrinkled her nose at the strange dish titles. As the door closed I saw a plate of food in front of me. Holsteinschnitzel: Green beans, tasty potato medallions and a breaded pork chop with three eggs draped over it.

The food, while a touch salty, was delicious and washed down perfectly with a bottle of dark Weihenstephaner Korbinian beer from the oldest brewery in the world. If you want to try this restaurant, I’d suggest a trip soon. After 13 years in business, the owner-chef, Peter, is looking to sell and retire. He’ll train the new chef, but there are no guarantees on the future.

After dinner, I headed northeast on Highway 89 in search of some small town sweet dessert. I hoped the drive might burn off my calories. I hadn’t taken into consideration the weight of German food. I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel hungry again.

I passed Yarnell Hill, and Peeple’s Valley with its cattle pastures, frosted with yellow flowers. Nothing edible caught my eye, so I climbed the winding beauty of Highway 89 to Prescott and found a place to rest for the night.

The next day, I found it hard to find any unique meals in Prescott, but the Iron Springs Café won points for having set up shop in a former Railroad station. On Montezuma Street, I found The Palace. The 1870s bar is all that remains of the original establishment, where Wyatt Earp had once played cards. I was more interested in the Buffalo burger, because it was half the fat and calories of ground beef burgers.  I needed to make up for that brick of savory German cooking that left me comatose the night before. The Palace earns points as a dinner theatre to keep you entertained. Show time is 7:30, but Fridays and Saturdays, they provide music instead. I didn’t stick around, though.

I’d been hoping to find something truly unique. Boiled chicken feet. llama-kabobs. Anything new. So I headed for the Cowboy Club Grill in Sedona. Surrounded by way too much turqoise leather and fake pastel cowboy posh, I ate the lunch sampler: rattlesnake brochettes, rattlesnake tamales. Afraid I wouldn’t make it through the day of dining, I only ordered a strawberry-duck salad, The waitress must’ve thought me nuts, but I had places to go, meals to eat. And rattlesnake is too touristy.

The town of Jerome was another let-down in the food department. I hiked up and down its lop-sided streets, sure I’d find something. The Copper Country Fudge Shopkeeper handed me a chocolate-covered banana, and that held me over until I could find something more unique. (Later I found I  could’ve tried the mint cheesecake-on-a-stick at Gisele’s Bakery – if I’d just paid attention.)

My culinary disappointments sent me to one of Arizona’s must-do’s: Rock Springs Café. I found exit 242 off the I-17 and headed for Rock Springs. I’d been told that I hadn’t tasted a real pie until I tasted their Jack Daniels Pecan pie.

After that, it was time to go home and recover. The beautiful pie monstrosity filled my truck with its aroma, as I hummed my way home to sleep off the trip in my own bed. Pastry heaven!

The next morning, I was not satisfied. I still needed something unique. This time I headed south, with a cup of convenience store coffee to fend off hunger until I could find that worthy breakfast.

My first stop was Rooster Cogburn Ostrich Farm. It sprawls over 600 acres, halfway between Phoenix and the Old Pueblo. Here, you can feed the big birds or watch them strut their gnarly beauty, There are also deer, emu, and lorikeets to feed. A tour guide of sorts taught me that the average grown man can stand on an ostrich egg without breaking it and that the eggs can withstand searing heat, unlike wimpy chicken eggs. And you can buy one for $15. Sold!

I stuffed my money into a cashier’s hand and took my treasure. Omelets for a month! But, with noon approaching and my stomach waking up, it was time to move on.

I found my meal ten miles south of Tucson at San Xavier del Bac. Despite the comings and going of conquistadores, Franciscan priests, Spain, Mexico and the U.S., the Tohono O’odham still make their home here. And if you’re hungry, they’ll make you a warm fry bread lunch. I devoured mine with absolute abandon, wiping the food off my face respectfully before wandering between the hallowed walls of San Xavier.

Tucson itself has plenty to see, and after a day of exploration, I found myself craving something to recharge my batteries. And Johnathan’s Cork restaurant came through with an ostrich burger for me. Quite an expensive treat at $25 but the bison fillet was $10 more.

After that meal, I realized my weekend (and budget) was ending. My rounding belly was calling for a truce, so I drove home. I never found anything like porcupine soup, but I had certainly gained a bit of knowledge of the cuisines of Arizona’s byways.

Two blocks from my house, I stopped at Filibertos. But, tomorrow I’m making ostrich omelets!