Guajiros Miami Eatery is on the move from its Woodbrook location to 817 W. Main St., the former home of Parallel 38. Look forward to authentic Cuban and Latin American dishes such as pressed sandwiches, Venezuelan empanadas, and lots of plantains, plus a hearty breakfast menu that’s served all day. Order ahead at guajiros.net or call 465-2108.
Butchering with Boo
If your dream date includes butchery, cookery, and a distinct lack of tomfoolery, hold on to your hats (and knives). JM Stock Provisions on West Main recently announced the return of its pig butchering classes, where you’ll learn to break down a whole pig, and put it all on the table. Tickets, sold in pairs, cost $200 per couple. Next class is December 2.
Zoomsgiving
With the COVID-19 pandemic still raging, it looks like we’re going to have to get together apart for Thanksgiving this year. So who’s gonna make the gravy? Lucky for us, several area restaurants are offering prepared, take ‘n’ bake meals. Boar’s Head Inn is cooking up Thanksgiving dinners for $25 each; The Ivy Inn’s takeout turkey meal for two goes for $100; and Feast! gives you “everything but the bird” for around $75, with vegetarian alternatives available. The Catering Outfit fills its Thanksgiving food box with a heritage black turkey plus traditional favorites, feeding four for $225. The Blue Ridge Café is serving up four-courses to go, as well as in-house dinner reservations from noon-4pm on Thanksgiving Day. And Moe’s BBQ will smoke a turkey and spiral you a ham, along with other catering options, at its two locations.
Dairy buzz
Dairy Market announced several new tenants: Bee Conscious Baking Company’s Alexis and Patrick Strasser purchased their 24-acre Goochland farm in 2019, and say their first storefront will focus on sustainability and conscious eating. From The Wine Guild of Charlottesville comes Springhouse Sundries, a hub for wine, beer, and food pairings. And Little Manila food truck chef Fernando Dizon will dish up homemade Filipino specialties at Manila Street, where you can dig into spring rolls, pork belly, and pancit noodles—recipes that have been passed down through generations to find us here in Charlottesville. Dairy Market is slated to open before year’s end, with hours from 8am-9pm on weekdays, and 8am-10pm on weekends.
As trips to the grocery store become daunting, the edible offerings in nature take on greater appeal. File photos
Years ago, in the spring, I was out for a run in a rural spot and encountered an elderly man who told me he was hunting “dryland cress”—an edible plant. I was enchanted; it was like he’d stepped from the pages of that 1973 Foxfire volume on my shelf, in which Appalachian old-timers shared secrets of wild foods—plants with fabulous names like kedlick and warlock. Foods that never darken the door of a supermarket.
Though I was intrigued, I had nary a clue about how to acquire such knowledge. I did have an amateur interest in plants, though, which surged every spring. I like tracking when trees and wildflowers bloom, and each year I’ve tried to learn a few more plants’ names, whether native ephemeral flowers or hardy weeds in the lawn. Inevitably, the question of which ones are edible has become part of that learning curve.
In this strangest of springs, with the acquisition of groceries having suddenly become a worrisome, uncertain undertaking, foraging wild food takes on new immediacy. The situation neatly illustrates how dependent we’ve been on human systems for our food. In winter, if I wanted fresh salad greens, I bought them from the store. But now we’re trying not to shop more than once every two weeks. And even if a tub of greens lasted two weeks in the fridge, which it won’t, I can’t count on getting that tub in the first place. The last time we ordered groceries for curbside pickup, a third of the items we chose weren’t available. Along with our brown bags, we received a list of all the stuff we couldn’t have and would just have to do without.
It’s wonderful that the local food economy is still finding ways to connect eaters with farmers, but that system too has its limitations, and its risks—largely because of a lack of coherent guidance about how to safely conduct business. And for those who have lost their livelihoods, of course, there’s another, much deeper layer of worry around the task of putting food on the table.
Amidst all this, plants we can eat are busy growing in the yard, in the woods, and on the edges of fields. Even as nature presents one of its most frightening aspects in the form of the virus itself, it is also quietly offering sustenance and nourishment that is independent of those fragile, flawed human food systems. At my house, we’ve been eating more wild foods this year than ever before. I still don’t possess esoteric folk wisdom about plants, and most of our calories still come from the store. But I’ve read about foraging and talked with knowledgeable people and have learned, to my delight, that foraging food can be very simple, even convenient.
The best lesson was that many ubiquitous weeds, things that just about everyone can identify, are edible. Violets and dandelions both have edible greens and flowers. Those redbud trees blooming everywhere you look? You can eat their flowers, too. Voila: a lovely salad, fresh and free. A little later in spring, lambs’ quarters appear—also known, for good reason, as wild spinach.
Next we learned to identify chickweed and garlic mustard, both very common and useful. Someone mentioned chickweed pesto; my mind opened further. I heard we could drink tea from white pine needles. A friend taught me to recognize spicebush, to nibble its flowers and make tea from its twigs. It seemed like one of those closely guarded secrets at the time, but I soon realized spicebush is an extremely widespread plant in our local forests.
I got a book—John Kallas’ Edible Wild Plants—and it revealed instructions for both the labor-intensive (making your own marshmallows from, well, mallow plants) and the beautifully easy (using oxeye daisy flowers as a garnish). With my kids, I read the classic My Side of the Mountain, in which a boy learns to live in the Catskills with almost total self-sufficiency: a little fanciful, but somehow reassuring, too.
My latest inspiration is an Instagram account, @mallorylodonnell, which daily supplies me with amazing new ideas (like sautéed hosta shoots). As with any wild-food information, I’ll verify these tips with other sources before I try them myself, but the empowering takeaway is that food is everywhere—taking so many more forms than we’ve been trained to believe by the standard grocery-store selection.
Also, deep forests aren’t required for successful foraging—even of gourmet delicacies. I’ve had more time than ever before for hunting morel mushrooms this spring, and I have put in my hours walking in the woods. But the only morels we’ve actually found were growing right behind our mailbox. Cooked gently in butter, with a splash of cream, they were divine: a real gift from the ground.
Becky Calvert leads cooking club members at Walker Upper Elementary School as they prep ingredients for orzo with roasted root vegetables, fresh herbs, and fresh squeezed lemon and olive oil dressing. Photo: Eze Amos
On one of the last days of classes before the holiday break, the bell rings at Walker Upper Elementary School, and kids stream for the exits. But Becky Calvert is just getting settled into her “classroom,” a sprawling institutional kitchen with a lot of buffed stainless steel surfaces. “I try to do some of the prep for the kids every week,” says Calvert. The blade of a chef’s knife rings as she swishes it across a honing rod. She cleaves a turnip in two, then a carrot, and then a sweet potato…. “Roasted root vegetables are the main ingredient tonight!” she says, her voice rising over the noise of the convection-oven fan.
Celebrated chef Ian Redshaw, a guest instructor at the cooking class, keeps a watchful eye on the kids as they slice and dice vegetables. Photo: Eze Amos
For an hour on most Wednesdays, from 3:30-4:30pm, Calvert convenes the cooking club at Walker, guiding about a dozen 10- and 11-year-olds through a recipe. Former Charlottesville City Schools dietitian Alicia Cost launched the program in 2003, and it has been running ever since. A real estate agent by day, Calvert began assisting with the club in 2014 and took over as director two years ago. It’s funded by the schools, but Calvert has worked to secure donations and volunteer help to keep the club thriving.
Some food industry folks, friends of Calvert’s, help out. In fact, one has just bounded in and peeled off his jacket. “Hello, Miss Becky,” he says. It’s Ian Redshaw, the star chef formerly of Prime 109 and Lampo. He looks like a rocker ready to take the stage, with black Converse high-tops, skinny jeans, a flannel shirt, and spiky hair.
Redshaw washes his hands, dons an apron, and brandishes a knife. “What can I do for you?” he asks Calvert.
“I want those quartered,” Calvert says, pointing her blade at a mesh bag of brussels sprouts.
“Okay,” Redshaw says, “I am quartering brussels sprouts!”
Now the kids start trickling in and the volume increases, as their voices and laughter join the din of the oven fan.
“Hey, guys!” Calvert says, greeting Alex, Nakiya, Avarie, Maya, Amelia, Si-Si, Alanah, Zeniah, and Gabby. “Has everyone washed their hands?!”
“Yessss!” says the chorus of young cooks, positioning themselves in front of their chopping mats.
“Today we’re going to do orzo with roasted vegetables and olive oil and lemon juice—and you’re going to love it!” Calvert says.
“Oh, goody,” says Gabby, 11, a tall girl with a brown ponytail.
Calvert had warned that the class would be “fast and furious,” and she did not lie. Within 60 minutes—from first slice to plating—the group will have created a big, delicious batch of root vegetables and orzo with fresh herbs, plus the dressing Calvert mentioned. The coup de grâce are thin, delicate, cheese crisps, which Redshaw makes with the kids, using finely grated Parmigiano-Reggiano. “They taste great,” Redshaw says, “like Cheetos!”
It’s a marked contrast to what’s usually available at the cafeteria, where city schools are reimbursed only $3.43 from the federal government for each lunch they provide. With labor and other overhead costs, the net amount available to provide one school lunch is between $1.50 and $1.75, says Carlton Jones, nutrition administrator for Charlottesville City Schools.
At cooking club, students work with fresh, organic produce and they are learning a lot—new knife skills, the meaning of “chiffonade,” how to juice a lemon, and a special move called the “cat’s claw,” which the chef teaches the kids to reduce the risk of cutting a fingertip while dicing.
“I would say our schools try to do everything we can to expose all of our kids to healthy food choices,” says Krissy Vick, the city schools community relations liaison. She lauds Calvert’s cooking club, while also citing several other programs, including one that sustains vegetable gardens tended by students on school grounds.
After Calvert mixes the vegetables and orzo in a big stainless-steel bowl and adds the dressing, the students line up with plates to be served. Calvert spoons out the meal, and Redshaw doles out the cheese crisps. The young cooks head into the cafeteria to eat. With the oven turned off, the kitchen is quiet now, and the sound of the kids’ chatter filters in.
Calvert dries dishes and straightens up the kitchen. Redshaw gives her a quick hug and bids her adieu.
This was the penultimate class for this group of students (next up: chocolate chip cookies), and Calvert admits in a low voice that she feels a bit sad, knowing that soon she won’t be seeing them every week. “They really are sweet, and so capable,” she says.
She tells the story of one former student whose mother held down three jobs to keep the family afloat. Because of this, she had little time to cook, so the student often prepared dinner. “That’s why I do this,” Calvert says. “It’s a lot of fun, and I love the kids, but the best part is knowing that they leave here with a new skill.”
A fig tree sprawls to the edge of the sidewalk on Sixth Street in Fifeville. Photo: Eze Amos
My first intoxicating taste of a freshly picked fig took place in the formal garden at Villa Vignamaggio, in Tuscany. Frozen in Renaissance times, the setting had a surreal beauty to it, the kind you see in period pieces—like 1993’s Much Ado About Nothing, which was filmed at Vignamaggio. The villa’s owner, a lawyer from Rome, reached up into the tree, plucked a ripe fruit, and asked, “Would you like a fig?”
Following his example, I held the stem with my fingertips and bit into the flesh of the green-skinned bulb. I had grown up on Fig Newtons, with their chalky pastry wrapped around a too-sweet gummy filling, and I had sampled figs in fancy New York restaurants, usually with a bit of goat cheese and a balsamic-vinegar reduction. But the musk-and-honey flavor that filled my mouth at Vignamaggio made my eyes roll back in my head. I knew the experience could never be replicated. I feared no fig would ever taste as good.
Then I came to Charlottesville. And on a typically steamy summer day, I sat with my sister on the back porch of her house in Fifeville, drinking cold white wine in the hot air.
“Wanna go pick some figs?” she asked.
“Where, in Italy?” I replied.
“Nope,” she said. “Right up the street.”
I took the last swig from my glass, my sister grabbed a little wire basket, and within minutes we were gently pulling soft little orbs from the branches of a sprawling tree near the corner of Fifth and West Main streets. I looked around furtively, afraid that we’d be arrested. Even though the tree stood on the property of a shuttered restaurant, the angel on my shoulder told me we were trespassing and stealing.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Just pick.”
As I have discovered since then, fig trees thrive in Fifeville. The one near Fifth and Main became a popular community resource, but the owners of Little Star removed it last year because it was crowding their outdoor dining space (bummer). Walk along Fifth, Dice, Sixth, Sixth-and-a-Half, and Seventh streets, and you will see at least a dozen fig trees, tucked up against houses, looming by sidewalks, peeking over fence tops. Out of public view, in residents’ yards, even more figs grow. In mid-July most of the fruit is green, hard, and no bigger than your thumb. But as July stretches into August, the figs swell and ripen—the green skin showing a little purple—and the Fifeville fig harvest commences.
Devin Floyd, founder and director of Charlottesville’s Center for Urban Habitats, confirms that the fruit trees thrive in certain pockets of the city, including Fifeville and Belmont, where “marginally Mediterranean” growing conditions exist. This may be because of the sparse shade and sloping terrain, which drains well. “[Fig trees] need a dry and hot microclimate to do best,” Floyd wrote in an email. “I planted one in a south-facing lawn in Belmont. Ten years later, it is still kicking.”
Floyd is quick to point out that figs are a non-native species. Many sources cite California as the birthplace of the fig industry in America, but the fruit’s history there is rocky. In 1881, thousands of cuttings of the Smyrna variety were imported to the Golden State from Turkey. However, the trees bore no fruit until 1899, when the fig wasp, shipped in from the Middle East, performed the pollination that the Smyrna requires in order to produce.
Meanwhile, in Charlottesville, figs were already growing, thanks to—you guessed it—Thomas Jefferson. Touring the south of France in 1787, he wrote, “The most delicate figs known in Europe are those growing about this place.” Two years later, he received and planted 44 cuttings from France—including the Marseilles variety, which is the most common in Fifeville and does not require pollination by a wasp to bear fruit. Through sharing with local and out-of-state friends, Jefferson became the Johnny Apple Seed of figs.
Having collected about five pounds of fruit from the Fifth Street tree, my sister and I scurried home. She pulled a disc of Pillsbury pie dough from the refrigerator and set it on a cookie sheet. She smeared the dough with several tablespoons of apricot preserves (she said she sometimes uses lemon curd, instead), cut the figs into quarters, and arranged them in concentric circles atop the jam. After crimping the edges of the dough, she baked the galette (oh, so French!), and mouth-watering aromas wafted out of the kitchen.
The experience was unexpectedly moving. My body was in Fifeville, but my mind traveled to a villa in Tuscany.
Fig trees thrive in certain pockets of the city, including Fifeville and Belmont, where “marginally Mediterranean” growing conditions exist.
Through sharing with local and out-of-state friends, Jefferson became the Johnny Apple Seed of figs.
“This may sound weird, but the gas stations are really good,” a co-worker told me when I moved to Charlottesville four years ago. And he was talking about the food. Until then, my gas station dining had been limited to the occasional childhood slushie or a breakfast sandwich from Sheetz, ordered in desperation on a long road trip.
“It’s not like that,” the co-worker assured me. “It’s more like, well, you’ll just have to see.”
So I did. I got my first Yogaville sandwich (Havarti, cheddar, and Swiss with sprouts, lettuce, tomato, and cucumber on French bread) not long after, from my neighborhood Tiger Fuel. In this case “made to order” didn’t mean pressing buttons on a screen, but asking a real person to relay my ticket to a chef in a kitchen that I could see. And the results were delicious.
Live in Charlottesville long enough, and you too will discover that some of the best places to fill your stomach are also where you fill your tank.
Bellair Market’s sandwiches, now available at several Tiger Fuel markets around town, are beloved; in fact, Charlottesville native Mason Hereford was so enamored with the Jefferson (turkey, cheddar, cranberry, lettuce, and herb mayo) that he put his own version on the menu at his New Orleans sandwich shop, Turkey and the Wolf, which Bon Appétit named Best New Restaurant in America in 2017. But there’s plenty more to explore behind the pumps. Here are a few of our favorites:
GoCo Food Mart on Harris
924 Harris St.
Go for: Fried fish on Fridays. (The burgers are also pretty good.)
The unmistakable smell of hot oil and ocean water hits me as soon as I park my car.
“You here for the fish?” the blonde woman asks from behind the counter. It’s 11am on a Friday, and therefore a good guess on her part: The GoCo Food Mart only serves fried fish on Fridays, and I was warned that they often run out by noon.
The Harris Street location’s kitchen is tucked into the corner of a squat brown building behind the Coastal station. Inside, there are two aisles stuffed with the standard convenience store fare, and no place to sit. The woman behind the counter introduces herself as Liz, says she’s worked there for at least 10 years, and that GoCo has been serving fish on Fridays for at least 30 years. She chats with a customer who seems to know her while I eye the contents of the display case: macaroni and cheese, golden potato wedges, coleslaw, and fist-sized burgers wrapped in foil.
“I’m here for the fish,” I confirm.
“Alright,” Liz says with a warm smile as she serves up a catfish filet that’s at least 13 inches long. I’m even more surprised when I find out it’s only $2.99.
This is where I confess that I really love fried fish. I’ve eaten a lot of it in my life, from the seafood halls of Calabash, North Carolina, to concession stands at state fairs and football games. I say this so you know that when I tell you I was impressed with the fish at GoCo, that means it’s exceptionally good.
It’s everything you want fried fish to be: crunchy and salty on the outside and plump and juicy on the inside, with just the right amount of flake. It’s so good I eat the whole thing sitting alone in my car in the parking lot. I consider getting another filet to-go, to use in some tacos at home later that night.
When I ask Liz what makes the fish so special, she demures. “I can’t tell you that,” she says with a flash of a smile. She wasn’t giving up her secrets, but she did offer the following theory while placing a hand over her heart: “Maybe it’s because our cook cooks it with love.”
Photo: Tom McGovern
Las Cavanas
6098 Rockfish Gap Tpke., Crozet
Go for: Tacos
Set behind a Citgo gas station off Rockfish Gap Turnpike in Crozet is a Mexican market and kitchen that serves those who are looking for authentic Mexican food, or a taste of home. Maria Garcia opened Las Cavanas with her husband, Ignacio Becerra, in 2008. The space is small, as is the menu, and there are only two parking spots. When my fiancé, Justin, and I arrive after the lunch rush, there’s a rich smell of tomatoes and onions simmering in spices. It’s still busy inside, and the kitchen is already out of chicken, carnitas, and barbacoa.
As two young men in baseball caps order in Spanish, I decide to browse the store. Shelves stocked to varying degrees contain packets of Mexican hot chocolate and brightly colored candies in small bags. Justin immediately reaches for a large pouch of Gembos plantain chips “con chile, limon, sal y chicharron” (with chili, lime, salt, and pork skins). There’s a case of baked goods, including squares of cakes iced in pink, and a cooler of Mexican-style paletas made by Charlottesville favorite La Flor Michoacana.
A shelf of cowboy boots catches my eye. I’m drawn to a pair in cactus green with studs on the leather that remind me of an agave leaf’s texture. A few large piñatas hang from the ceiling over a plastic bin full of DVDs and CDs, including a compilation of ’90s Mexican rock, and I wonder if nostalgia is even more profound when you’re not only longing for a different time, but a different place.
The menu includes made-to-order quesadillas, lunch plates with your choice of meat and sides of pinto beans and rice, and, if you get there early enough, tamales. We order tacos: three for $7.99. We get a one steak (recommended by the chef as she sets out a freshly made tray of meat), one chorizo, and one special-order vegetarian taco with pinto beans, rice, cheese, and lettuce.
There’s a small wooden patio outside where we share our plate and a bottle of Coke. The pinto beans are addictive with a nice amount of heat, and the fresh cilantro brightens up the density of the chewy corn tortillas that double-wrap each taco. But overall, the vegetarian taco is a bit lackluster—it’s clear that Las Cavanas is all about the meat.
“This is really good,” Justin says of the chorizo. “Very spicy, juicy, robust flavors.” The spice in the steak is a bit more restrained, but the meat is hearty. I dip my fork into what’s left of the guacamole and savor the salt, citrus, and fattiness of the dip on its own. Through the trees around the patio I spot the outline of the Blue Ridge Mountains, reminding me that we aren’t far from the wineries and breweries on 151. If you needed something to help soak up an afternoon of drinking, this would be the spot.
Photo: Tom McGovern
The Market at Preston Ave.
601 Preston Ave.
Go for: Fried chicken plate
It’s 3pm on a July afternoon, one of those days when the heatphysically pushes down your head and shoulders. Inside the Preston Avenue Exxon I’m jolted back to attention by the chill of air conditioning and the sound of fist-pumping dance music. Tiger Fuel’s The Market acquired the gas station’s restaurant last October, but it kept the most popular item on the menu.
“They come for the chicken,” says Deondre, the young man working the register that day. “People from all over the area come for lunch.”
Starting at $4.99 a plate, it has to be one of the best lunch deals in town. It’s enough food that I’m glad I brought Justin to help me share the tray. We ask Deondre to serve us his “ultimate perfect plate,” which consists of two pieces of dark meat, a side of macaroni and cheese, a side of mashed potatoes, and a roll.
As Deondre assembles a staggering plate of starch, I attempt to get some recipe secrets out of him. No luck. He tells me, “We just take our time and try to make a good product.”
As the music switches to a swingy beach tune, we sit at a high-top table near the beer case in the back, and I think about how my mother would scold me for only having one color on my plate. From the darkest brown of the chicken to the cream color of the mashed potatoes, I know that this meal would have her trying to locate the nearest salad bar. This is “cheat day” food.
The potatoes have a nice punch of fresh herbs and garlic, and the macaroni and cheese is smooth and gooey, the way I like it. The chicken is crispy and good, though a bit on the heavy side. Justin, a self-proclaimed connoisseur of condiments, is underwhelmed by the signature “Tiger Sauce,” which he ascertains is basically chipotle sour cream. I personally can’t imagine taking something as flavorful as fried chicken and dunking it into a different flavor enhancer. You eat fried chicken because you’ve decided you need fried chicken, and that’s that.
Photo: John Robinson
El Tropical Deli
1177 Fifth St.
Go for: Steak Baleadas
From the street, the Shell gas station on Fifth Street gives no indication of the kitchen inside. The only thing that could lead you to this true hidden gem of a Latin American joint is your nose.
“I walked in to get a drink, and smelled the food,” says Jonathan Duenas, who estimates that he’s visited the deli at least 10 times since he moved to Charlottesville a month ago. He’s staying at the Sleep Inn next door, and likes to stop here before his night shift at the nearby Food Lion. He calls this his breakfast.
We sit near the cold drinks section, where two picnic tables are pushed together, as our food is prepared. It’s all very clean and tidy. A flatscreen mounted over a refrigerator full of coffee drinks is playing “Chopped Junior.” Above the deli counter, there are flamingo and toucan piñatas hanging from the ceiling. The air is sweet with the smell of something being caramelized.
Jonathan says he’s never eaten at a gas station like this before. “We don’t have these kinds of places in North Carolina,” he says. “It’s homemade cooking here.”
I’ve ordered the baleadas asada (a Honduran dish with beans, cheese, and steak folded in half inside a thick flour tortilla), which the young girl at the register recommended, and sopes (thick corn tortillas with toppings) with chorizo. Jonathan says he’s tried a few different things on the menu, but the steak is his favorite.
It’s close to 6pm, and several men stop for food, looking like they’ve finished a shift at work. They order confidently without needing to even glance at the menu, written mostly in Spanish, on the small whiteboard in front of the register. Clearly this is not their first time. It’s not too long before our food is ready and the cashier tosses in a few small containers of their hottest hot sauce.
In the car with my to-go order, the smell of the food hints at the possibility that I discovered someplace truly special. What if this little gas station kitchen with a generic name and no sign is actually the real deal? The first bite confirms my high hopes. The baleadas is unbelievable. The small chunks of steak are juicy and smooth and there’s a velvety sauce (the cashier describes it as a Honduran style of sour cream) that rounds out each bite, along with a generous portion of avocado. The sopes are also a delight, with crisp chorizo and crunchy fresh lettuce atop chewy disks of masa.
Justin, a chili head who grows his own Carolina Reapers, tries the house sauce and delightedly proclaims that it is hotter than anything your average Mexican restaurant would serve. He discerns a variety of hot peppers, including habaneros.
It’s a lot of food for $8.33, and it does not taste cheap. This is not only some of the best food I’ve ever eaten at a gas station, but some of the best Latin American food I’ve had in town. Jonathan said it best back at the picnic table: “A little hole in the wall restaurant—that’s where the best meals are.”
Photo: John Robinson
Brown’s
1218 Avon St.
Go for: The fried chicken, of course
You can’t talk about gas station food without including Brown’s. The local favorite that’s famous for offering a free piece of chicken when you fill your tank serves poultry so prized that they recently managed to catch the attention of Food & Wine magazine, which included it as one of their “5 Best Stops for Gas Station Fried Chicken in Virginia.”
“It started in the country, where I’m from in Esmont,” says loyal customer Kevi Jones. “That’s why it’s so good.” Jones has been coming to Brown’s for over 10 years, and estimates that she’s been at least three times in the last two weeks alone. She likes to get the two piece meal with macaroni and cheese and baked beans after she gets off work from her job as a caregiver.
On a recent Friday evening, Jones orders her food with complete certainty, and asks the server to confirm whether the dark meat or the light meat came out first (they came out at the same time). “The customer service is great,” she adds.
Visiting Brown’s, I’m struck by the feeling that I’ve stepped back in time— not because of the physical store, which is as modern as any other gas station, but because of the feel of the space. “How are the kids?” the cashier asks another customer, and familiar small talk is punctuated by bursts of laughter.
As I bite into a chicken breast, perfectly crunchy on the outside and oozing with flavor within, I wonder, how do they do it? The answer may lie in the spice blends (top secret) and technique. But Mike Brown, who has been at the store since 2011, has a spiritual explanation: “It’s blessed by almighty God.”
Lampo co-owner Loren Mendosa says the auctions are a great way to give back to the community. Photo by Rammelkamp Foto
By Meg Irvin
Brewing a Charlottesville beer with Champion. A holiday party for 50 at Duner’s. The ultimate tailgate party from Maya. These experiences and many more will be available to the highest bidder in a series of restaurant auctions, which kicked off June 17 and benefit the Blue Ridge Area Food Bank.
Simon Davidson, an attorney (and occasional C-VILLE contributor) who runs local food blog Charlottesville 29, first held the auctions in 2016, a result of wondering what would happen if the 29 restaurants he highlights each year could give back to the community in some way. That “what if?” surpassed Davidson’s wildest expectations, and ultimately raised approximately $80,000—the equivalent of about 320,000 meals—for the food bank.
The auctions paused for two years, in part because Davidson was sensitive to the fact that many of the items were a big ask for restaurant owners. But this year, several of them expressed interest in bringing the campaign back to life. “The restaurant industry is known for pretty tight margins,” Davidson says. “The fact that restaurants would be so generous in creating these experiences speaks to how special the food community in Charlottesville really is.”
Special scarcely begins to describe Lampo’s contribution—the brick-by-brick construction in the winner’s backyard of a pizza oven designed like the one at the restaurant. When the installation is complete, sometime in 2020, the Lampo team will provide all the ingredients and on-site cooking for a pizza party. The value of the package is about $30,000.
“This seemed like a cool way to be able to share our knowledge of pizza ovens and give back,” says Loren Mendosa, co-owner of Lampo. “I’m excited about the materials and working with Corry Blanc from Blanc Creatives.” (The company has been recognized for its excellence in creating hand-forged iron cookware.)
Other partnerships can be found throughout the auction. A Szechuan Corkage Dinner for 10 at Peter Chang’s will include custom wine pairings selected by Erin Scala, owner of Keswick’s In Vino Veritas. “I’m honored to be involved and to team up with such a great restaurant to raise money for the food bank,” Scala says.
Though bids can run high—one has already reached more than $12,000—group bidding is encouraged to make the extravagant experiences more accessible. In that spirit, Bodo’s Bagels wanted its addition to the auctions to reflect its “everyone is welcome” philosophy. The result? A raffle, where for $5 a pop one lucky winner could win the opportunity to chow down at Bodo’s every day for a year.
“The auctions provide a wonderful financial boost, and the awareness is tremendous,” says Millie Winstead, director of development for the Blue Ridge Area Food Bank. “Our clients are one illness or a really harsh weather month away from not being able to get food on the table. I’m just blown away by those who are so willing to share their skills and their connections so more people can eat.”
Ready to bid? One auction is announced each day on charlottesville29.com, and stays open for at least 30 days. With events like a margarita party at Al Carbon, an Indian feast for 50 at Milan, a Super Bowl bash at Oakhart Social, and “the wine dinner of a lifetime” at Fleurie still available, the incentive is pretty strong.
New England travels south and arrives in the form of the happy-hour lobster roll at Public Fish & Oyster. Photo: Tom McGovern
By Meg Irvin
Certain dishes and meals around town are elusive—available only during particular hours, on a specific day of the month, or exclusively by request. But with a little planning—and some insider info—you can indulge in these delicious off-the-radar items, from a New England staple to a belly-filling hangover cure.
Most regulars at Ace Biscuit & Barbecue know about the chicken and waffles, the sausage gravy, and the fried green tomatoes. The Dirty Waffle, though, is another story. Not listed on the regular menu, the only way to know about it is, well, to know about it. The dish adds sausage gravy, pimento cheese, and pickles to the standard chicken and waffles. “There’s a lot happening with The Dirty Waffle,” says Andrew Autry, the Ace Biscuit manager who’s also known as Wolf. “It’s the best secret hangover cure.”
Every Saturday starting at noon, cult-favorite butcher J.M. Stock offers a different sandwich selection. Most make a one-time appearance, but a few, like the Italian and the Smoked-Chicken Bacon Ranch Salad, have been popular enough to be brought back a time or two. Sometimes, the weekly special can be found on social media, but calling or showing up is the easiest way to find out what the team is making. Sandwiches are available until they sell out, which can be as early as 1pm, but usually the goods are available until 2pm or later.
The Hellboy Pizza at Lampo is on the specials menu about 80 percent of the time, but its absence doesn’t go unnoticed—the restaurant regularly fields questions about the availability of this particular pie. Spicy, sweet, and salty, the Hellboy pays homage to Paulie Gee’s in Brooklyn, where Lampo got the inspiration for the pizza that brings the heat. Soppressata and housemade mozzarella top the inventive pie, which is finished with a generous drizzle of honey infused with scorpion pepper oil.
“It’s rough to source soppressata, and it’s hard to keep up with the demand we have for the Hellboy, which is why it’s not always available,” says Loren Mendosa, co-owner of Lampo. No Hellboy when you visit? The next best bet is to ask for that special honey on top of the Diavola pizza.
On the last Sunday of every month, Mas tapas opens its doors for brunch from 11am-2pm. You’ll always find something sweet, like French toast or orange rolls, alongside Mas favorites like the papas bravas and chorizo. Selections change with the seasons—new dishes pop up as local produce becomes available. Since Mas doesn’t take reservations and there’s often a line for the regular dinner service, the once-a-month brunch is a great opportunity to indulge with less risk of a long wait.
The lobster roll at Public Fish & Oyster (market priced, but usually around $25) is one of the best things on the restaurant’s menu, but the item is only available during the daily happy hour from 4-6pm, alongside other specials like raw Virginia oysters for $1.25 apiece. The special sandwich is made with a fresh supply of Maine lobster, served on a buttered split-top brioche roll, and offered both Maine style (chilled, with mayo) or Connecticut style (warm, with butter). Lobster rolls aren’t known for being a steal, but it’s a treat that’s well worth the price tag. Don’t dilly-dally, though. “Because we only use fresh lobster, there are days where we run out,” says owner Daniel Kaufman.
Vitae Spirits’ tasting room has the precise, clean look of a laboratory, but its wood finishes and smart design make it comfortable, too. Photo: Andrea Hubbell
Vitae Spirits just added another accolade to its pile of awards, but this one is for its design, not for its excellent craft liquors. A converted schoolhouse, Vitae’s tasting room and production facility on Henry Street is half laboratory and half chic cocktail lounge. This combination earned Vitae’s design/build contractor, Charlottesville’s Alloy Workshop, the award for best commercial interior of 2019 from the National Association of the Remodeling Industry. Pitted against 350 other contestants, Alloy took the top spot in NARI’s southeast region. Vitae founder Ian Glomski praised Alloy for “creating a space with clean contemporary floating lines transfused with the welcoming organic warmth of wood and botanical art.”
On the grapevine
Local wine power couple Will and Priscilla Martin Curley have purchased The Wine Guild of Charlottesville, where they were both already on staff. In fact, Will had been running it since his recent departure from Brasserie Saison on the Downtown Mall, where he was the general manager and wine director. Priscilla, a certified sommelier, is the wine director at tavola in Belmont. Also located in Belmont, at 221 Carlton Rd., the guild is a small wine and craft beer shop that’s open to the public, but where members ($200 a year) enjoy a 20 percent discount and other perks.
Nice to meade you!
Skjald Meadworks, Charlottesville’s first and only meadery, celebrated its grand opening on March 30 with a birthday bash for meade-maker Jerome Snyder, who co-owns the business with his wife, Gwen Wells. After operating for five years in Altavista, south of Lynchburg, Skjald joins a downtown food-and-beverage boomlet, opening its doors (and tasting room) at 1114 E. Market St. Local meade heads are already familiar with Skjald’s honey-based brews, which retail at Market Street Wine, Beer Run, and Rebecca’s Natural Food, and are served at Firefly and Renewal.
In the mix
Rebecca Edwards of tavola’s cicchetti bar has advanced to the regional finals of the prestigious USBG World Class bartending competition, placing her among the top 50 mixologists in the nation, and one of 10 in the contest’s Southern region. That group faces off April 28 in Minneapolis, where “we will be competing in a series of challenges judged by technical skill, style, creativity, hospitality, and product knowledge,” Edwards says. The ultimate goal is to reach the 11th annual global finals, in September in Glasgow, Scotland, where a single winner will be crowned. Speaking of crowns, Charlottesville’s top bottle slinger will earn one at the Tom Tom Festival’s inaugural Bartender’s Ball, on Monday, April 8. For more information, go to tomtomfest.com.
Red Truck Bakery’s namesake, a 1954 Ford F100 pickup, idles outside the Warrenton shop, a renovated 1921 Esso service station. Photo: Brian Noyes
Serendipity has been a good friend to Brian Noyes, owner of the acclaimed Red Truck Bakery. With locations in Marshall and Warrenton, Virginia, 45 employees, and orders pouring in online, Noyes’ business is better than ever and his homespun image endures, in spite of his enormous success.
He tells the story of that success, and describes his impossible good luck, in the Red Truck Bakery Cookbook: Gold-Standard Recipes from America’s Favorite Rural Bakery, first published in October 2018 and already in its second printing. Noyes is so fortunate, and he drops so many names—including Tommy Hilfiger, who sold him the signature red truck, and John Wayne, who once made him a tuna sandwich—that you kind of want to hate the guy.
But save your hate for someone who deserves it, because Noyes is a sweetheart, a California boy who became a Virginia country gentleman with a taste for the local moonshine that he also uses insome of his recipes. That part of his personality comes through in his storytelling, which is endearing and full of meaning. He frames his recipes with stories of the people, places, and flavors that influenced him, so the book is both autobiographical and instructional.
About that tuna sandwich: Noyes was 19 and working as the art director of a weekly newspaper in California when he stopped by Wayne’s house to return photos that the paper had borrowed for a story. The door opened, and there stood The Duke, who invited Noyes in for lunch. He watched as the actor methodically made the tuna salad—mayo, a pinch of salt, chopped pickles and celery, more mayo—and began building the sandwiches. “Before adding the top slice of toast,” Noyes writes, “he looked right at me, and smashed a fistful of potato chips into the tuna filling, commanding in his drawl, ‘This is why you’ll like this.’”
Noyes still makes tuna sandwiches the same way. More importantly, he writes, “John Wayne’s lesson sticks with me 40 years later: there are no rules.”
Serendipitous? Yes. But the lesson also underpins Noyes’ cooking philosophy: putting a twist on classics and making them his own. For example, instead of the tried-and-true Virginia ham biscuit, he creates ham scones, and his version of skillet cornbread is slathered with pimento cheese frosting.
Before Noyes launched Red Truck Bakery, in 2007, he worked for 30 years as an art director at various magazines, landing finally at The Washington Post. He used his vacation time to attend cooking schools, and to take food-focused road trips all over the South—with his architect husband Dwight McNeill by his side and a beat-up copy of Jan and Michael Stern’s Roadfood in the glovebox. On weekends at home, Noyes cooked and baked. One day in 1997, while he was preparing peach jam for his first-ever entry in the Arlington County Fair, a friend stopped by with some crystallized ginger. A spur-of-the-moment decision to chop some up and throw it into the pot—along with cinnamon, nutmeg, and sugar—resulted in a spicy-sweet jam that won Noyes four awards, including first prize, and the title of grand champion.
Brian Noyes. Photo: Dwight McNeill
Noyes went on to start a small-batch bakery out of the kitchen of his country home, in Orlean, Virginia. He delivered breads, pies, and granola to three small, rural stores in the now-famous red truck (which he bought online, later learning that Hilfiger was the seller), and launched a website to sell his goods.
Some of those goods—fruit pies, quiche, and granola—were served at a 2007 picnic in Rappahannock County attended by The New York Times food writer Marian Burros. Red Truck Bakery ended up leading Burros’ Christmas roundup of her 15 favorite national food purveyors. The day after the story appeared, Noyes’ website traffic skyrocketed from two dozen hits to 57,000 in a single day.
After tasting success, Noyes wanted to establish a bricks-and-mortar location, which he did after a long search with McNeill. The couple redesigned and renovated a 1921 former Esso service station, in Warrenton, opening the bakery on July 31, 2009.
With the nation in the throes of the Great Recession, the timing sucked. But Noyes and his husband and team persevered. After the economy picked up, Noyes sent a thank-you note to then-president Barack Obama in 2016. Obama dispatched a staffer to hand-deliver a note to Noyes, who handed Obama’s man a sweet-potato pecan pie—Noyes’ mash-up of two classics.
On Pi Day, March 14, 2016, Obama posted a lengthy shout-out on Facebook and the White House website, commending Noyes on both his perseverance and his pie. “I like pie. That’s not a state secret…I can confirm that the Red Truck Bakery makes some darn good pie,” Obama wrote.
So, you see, it’s not just about luck. It’s also about perseverance, relentlessly pursuing a dream, and baking goodness into everything you do.
Meet the author
As part of the Virginia Festival of the Book, Brian Noyes will appear at Williams Sonoma at The Shops at Stonefield, from 11am-12:30pm on March 21, for a baking demonstration, discussion, food samples, and a book signing.
Recipe
Strawberry rhubarb pie
From the Red Truck Bakery Cookbook, by Brian Noyes
First published in October 2018, Red Truck Bakery Cookbook is now in its second printing.
“My dad was a dessert purist who loved straight-up rhubarb pie, but it was always too one-note and tart for my liking,” Noyes writes. “To sweeten it and incorporate a lightly floral component, I added strawberries brightened with lemon zest, cinnamon, and ginger. They’re the perfect counterpoint. Dad would probably frown upon my version of the pie, but our customers like it this way. Everyone loves seeing it appear on our shelves, if only because each year it marks the first fresh-fruit (or fresh-vegetable, in the case of rhubarb) pie after a long winter.”
Makes one 10-inch pie
Ingredients
3 or 4 stalks fresh rhubarb, sliced on an angle into ¼-inch-wide pieces (2½ cups)
4 cups fresh strawberries (about 2 pints), hulled, halved if large
1¼ cups sugar
½ cup cornstarch
¼ tsp. ground cinnamon
¹⁄8 tsp. ground or freshly grated nutmeg
¹⁄8 tsp. ground ginger
1 tsp. lemon zest
2 tsp. fresh lemon juice
1 recipe Classic Piecrust dough, or
2 store-bought crusts
2 tbsp. unsalted butter, chilled and cubed
1 large egg, whisked with 1 tablespoon water
Vanilla ice cream, for serving (optional)
Method
1. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Place a raised wire rack inside a rimmed baking sheet.
2. In a large bowl, combine the rhubarb and the strawberries.
3. In a medium bowl, mix together the sugar, cornstarch, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and lemon zest. Add the sugar mixture to the rhubarb and strawberries and toss to combine. Stir in the lemon juice. Let sit for a few minutes to allow the fruit to release juices.
4. Roll out one disc of pie dough into a 13-inch round and fit it into a 10-inch pie pan, leaving the crust overhanging. Pour the strawberry-rhubarb mixture into the crust and dot the top of the fruit with butter.
5. Roll out the second disc of dough into a roughly 18-by-13-inch rectangle. Cut it crosswise into six 3-by-13-inch strips.
6. Create a lattice crust by laying three strips of dough across the pie horizontally, then laying three strips of dough perpendicularly across them. Weave the top strips of dough over and under those on the bottom. Trim the dough about 2 inches from the pan, and roll and crimp the edges, combining the lattice crust with the dough in the pan. Brush the dough with egg wash.
7. Carefully place the pie on the prepared baking sheet. Bake for 90 minutes, turning after each 30 minutes or until the center is bubbling. Let cool on a raised wire rack.
Nick Leichtentritt was a much loved member of Charlottesville’s food scene. Photo: Martyn Kyle
Nick Leichtentritt, founder of Milli Coffee Roasters and Sicily Rose, died February 17 at the age of 34. Pursuing a passion for food and drink, Leichtentritt left a corporate job in 2012 to open the coffee shop, followed by his cannoli shop, Sicily Rose, in 2018. Both developed loyal followings, and Leichtentritt became a beloved part of the Charlottesville food community. “Nick spent time with so many of the great tastemakers in Charlottesville,” recalls Will Richey of Ten Course Hospitality. “He was one of them after all, and he was open to all types of perspectives and experiences in a way that many are not. So many of us will miss him terribly.”
Despite Leichtentritt’s passing, both Milli Coffee Roasters and Sicily Rose remain in operation. Leichtentritt is survived by his wife, Nicole Kistler Leichtentritt, and a 4-year-old-son, whom the community has rallied to support with a fund for his immediate and long-term needs. To contribute, see the GoFundMe page Jesse’s Bright Future. (As of 11am Friday, March 1, the campaign had raised $19,000 of its $30,000 goal.)
Reservation, please
The dining app Resy, recently launched in Charlottesville, is making it easier to book and manage reservations, area restaurateurs say. Once diners register, they can make and change reservations, receive text reminders, and provide profile information regarding allergies, favorite cocktails, special occasions, and more. “It’s an awesome new platform with great analytics for users on both sides,” says Zocalo owner Ivan Rekosh.
Hardywood lightens up
Anticipating the arrival of spring, Hardywood founders Eric McKay and Patrick Murtaugh are launching a spin-off brand called Suncrush, a fruit-infused sparkling brew. Crisp golden ale with a hint of green tea gets a dose of crushed fruit and natural flavors, like grapefruit, Southern peach, and black cherry. Low in alcohol, calories, and carbohydrates, the drinks target outdoor-sports enthusiasts. “I’m a ginger nut,” McKay says, “and am really looking forward to Ginger Lime Suncrush.”
