This Week

Abilene, That's Texas
by Christopher Mariani

Man About Town: Buffalo Gap Wine and Food Summit
By Christopher Mariani

“Abilene, Abilene,
Prettiest town I’ve ever seen.
Women there don’t treat you mean
In Abilene, my Abilene.

I sit alone most every night
Watch those trains pull out of sight
Don’t I wish they were carrying me back
To Abilene, My Abilene.”

Lyrics by Bob Gibson and John Loudermilk, 
recorded and performed by George Hamilton IV in the 1963
movie “Hootenanny Hoot.” Take a listen at YouTube.com  (Sorry taken down)

On a recent flight to Abilene, Texas I was sitting next to a US Army soldier in full uniform and noticed both of his legs were shaking like mad and his hands were gripped tight around his armrests. Immediately I became concerned as to what might be troubling him. My eyes cautiously made their way up to his face only to find he was staring right at me, eyes wide-open and bursting with energy. Before I could even ask what was wrong, with great excitement he nearly shouted, “When we land I’m getting picked up by my wife!” I quickly realized there was nothing wrong with this giddy soldier, he was just anxious to get home and wrap his arms around his lady.
    After a brief introduction, I found out his travel back home began seven days earlier in Iraq, flying to Turkey, then to Germany, then Baltimore to Dallas Fort Worth and finally, Abilene. He was on the last stretch of his long journey and was clearly overwhelmed with joy. It had been one year since he’d seen US soil and what he missed most was the company of his beautiful wife and children, clean clothes, a real shower and edible comfort food. I smiled and couldn’t be more delighted that this fine soldier would soon have all he yearned for, most of all the love and affection of his family.
    I kept things casual and asked, “So what are you going to eat your first night back in Abilene?” The thought of a home-cooked meal nearly brought tears to this man’s face when he replied, “Steak!” It was then I realized I was en route to America’s Cattle Country. West Texans don’t eat much lamb, pork or veal. They eat beef. Twenty minutes later we touched down in Abilene and before I could extend my hand to say goodbye to my new friend, he had darted to the front of the plane to reunite with his family. I smiled and spoke softly, “Go get em’ , James.” I never saw James again, but I can guarantee he got all the love and steak he could handle that evening.
    Up until this visit to Abilene and Buffalo Gap, my only exposure to the vast state of Texas was the booming city of Dallas. According to many West Texans, Dallas is just another city, “like all the rest. This here is the real Texas.” These friendly folks couldn’t be more right. I landed in the heart of the old frontier and began to realize I was the only man in town without a gorgeous pair of custom-made cowboy boots wrapped snug around my feet like, as every Texan will tell you, “a pair of socks.” I guess my mahogany penny loafers were a sure giveaway that I was from out of town, and if that didn’t do it, the second I opened my mouth heads turned.
    Abilene is a charming little city about a two-and-half hour drive (or 35-minute flight) west of Dallas/Fort Worth and has just over 100,000 residents. The city is centered around a lively downtown area filled with history and art museums, a handful of great little restaurants and an enchanting chocolate shop called Vletas, stocked high with chocolate-covered toffee, pecan and walnut pralines, cinnamon covered nuts and much more. I bought so much chocolate from Vletas I had it FedEx back to New York to avoid being charged by our generous airlines for being over the ever-decreasing weight limit per bag.
    After a quick tour of the Frontier Texas! Museum, where I learned of the hardships endured over 200 plus years ago by those insanely brave Americans who pioneered this once dangerous land, filled with deadly rattle snakes, hungry wolves, the constant risk of being trampled by a ground-shaking buffalo stampede, and not to mention surprise attacks from native Indian tribes, I finally settled into one of the Sayles Ranch  (left) guesthouses, a genius concept created by founder Terry Browder. Imagine walking into a house with walls covered from head to toe in old cabin wood, antlers sticking out of the walls, stuffed goat heads hanging in the living room, Indian tapestry layered over almost every piece of furniture and yet the modern amenities of wireless internet and a 52-inch flat screen high definition television. Each room is different in design and continued to impress as I walked in awe, slowly opening closed doors with great anticipation to find yet another room splattered with magnificent artwork and carefully placed adornment. The walls of the kitchen were blanketed with old American license plates from almost all fifty states. There’s even an oven, stove, washing machine, dryer and every possible courtesy one could need to feel at home. I pulled on the refrigerator door and peeked inside to find three Shiner beers standing upright, ice-cold, clearly left behind by a previous guest. I grabbed a bottle, splashing the kitchen floor with condensation, popped off the cap and gulped down a refreshingly crisp, bubbly mouthful of the Texas-brewed beer. I quickly felt at ease.
    That evening, escorted by two of Abilene’s most lovely ladies, Shanna Smith Snyder and Nanci Liles from the Abilene CVB, we dined at Cypress Street Station (right), a charming restaurant in the downtown area packed nightly with locals. After a Manhattan on the rocks, I had the pleasure of meeting owner Brian Green, a local celebrity who strolls the dining room with a hint of swagger, humbly shaking the hands of every guest and even pulling up a seat with friends for a pint of one of his five house made brews.
    There is a large brick wall that divides a graceful dining room and a sporty bar room surrounded by flat screen TV’s. The menu is comprised of fairly typical bar items, including bacon-cheese potato skins, chicken quesadillas, pastrami reuben sandwiches, burgers topped with green chili, and even a 12-inch pizza. After a nice selection of crispy appetizers and a tableside-made Caesar salad--one of the best I’ve ever had--I ordered a well-fatted, 15-ounce bone in ribeye topped with a thin layer of gorgonzola cheese. For dessert, rich, gooey pecan pie is served in a wine glass topped with vanilla ice cream, caramel sauce and whipped cream. After I scooped out the last morsel of sweet pie, we stepped outside for a leisurely walk and witnessed what could easily have been a Youtube sensation. A California blond-haired rock n’ roller was jamming out on the sidewalk with an electric guitar while a three-foot high industrial strength fan was set up to blow a gust of wind towards his hair as if he was partaking in a 80’s MTV music video. There was also a neon blue spotlight blaring onto this unique musician. Absolutely priceless, reminding me of the great Joni Mitchell song about a street musician who "was playing real good for free." We then proceeded to mosey down the quaint streets of downtown Abilene where residents were in abundance, enjoying the city’s monthly Art Walk, an opportunity to promote art, culture and Texas history.
    The following day, again with the company of my two wonderful hosts, Shanna and Nanci, we dined at the Beehive Restaurant on Cedar Street, where I tasted my first true Texas chicken fried steak (left) with white gravy. Owner Nariman Esfandiary stopped by our table to say hello and with great eagerness immediately asked me if I had ever had a chicken fried steak. I replied “No, sir.” Nariman smiled and said proudly, “Why don’t you try that.” Chicken fried steak is made with either a top round or ribeye cut of steak, pounded thin with a mallet, as would a piece of veal for a veal Milanese or a chicken for a chicken cutlet, then battered with flour, egg, a splash of milk, salt and pepper, then either sautéed in a skillet of oil and a touch of butter or thrown right into the deep fryer. The nearly one-foot order of  very tender beef comes served with a big bowl of white gravy. I only knew of two gravies prior to this experience, brown gravy served during Thanksgiving dinner and red gravy, a term often used by Italian Americans to describe marinara sauce. In the south, white gravy always served alongside chicken fried steak and biscuits (below).
    According to a waitress at the Dixie Pig Diner on Butternut Street, who said I could stop by her house anytime I please for a taste of real gravy,  explained in detail how to prepare the southern recipe. Start off with the excess lard and fat from cooked bacon, heat it up, nice and hot, add a little flower to thicken up the texture, cook until the flour begins to brown, toss in some salt and pepper, and then slowly add milk. That’s it. As simple as this recipes may seem, the outcome is simply delicious. I was told not to dare order a chicken fried steak outside of Texas, but of course that advice was given to me by a proud Texan. Although Nariman is not a native born Texan, originally from Iran, he is known as having the best chicken fried steak in town. He explained that he and his brother Ali came to the States full of vigor and the dream of opening a restaurant. He quickly realized that dream would not be as easy as hoped for when he said to me, “Chris, imagine this, in 1983, two Iranian brothers walking into a bank in West Texas and asking for a loan to open up a restaurant. The banker literally kicked us out of the bank before we could finish asking our question.”
    After the help of some local Texans that loan was finally issued. A few months later, just one day before the grand opening, Nariman and his brother thought they had accomplished their dream, yet they still were under the impression that chicken fried steak was made with chicken. That same day, an elderly woman walked into the original Beehive in Albany, Texas, and asked to be seated. Nariman informed the lady that they would not be open until the following day. As the lady walked out, Nariman ran after her and stopped her to ask, “Excuse me ma’am, my brother and I have been arguing about what exactly is a chicken fried steak. It’s fried chicken, right?” Nariman explained  to me he would never forget the words told to him by this older woman who said, “You boys are opening the doors tomorrow and don’t know what a chicken fried steak is, you’re in for a schooling. Get your brother and come over to my house, I will teach you a few things.” Nariman and his brother took a crash course on how to cook some local favorites in just a few hours. The following day they opened up shop and were thrown right into the fire. They learned awfully quick how to cook Texas fare and within a short period of time were claimed one of West Texas’ best restaurants.
    After a wonderful weekend at the Buffalo Gap Wine and Food Summit (see article below in the Man About Town column), touring the culturally rich city of Abilene, I found myself back at the Abilene Airport waiting for my flight to DFW, and of course it was delayed. I walked up to the American Airlines ticket counter and asked if there were any updates on the flight status. A very sweet woman looked up at me and with plenty of Texas twang, her motherly voice responded, “Sweetheart, they’re almost done fixing the emergency floor lights and then I will get you on that plane as soon as possible. Sorry for the wait, young man.”
         I said, “Thank you. Are there any direct flights from Abilene to NY’s JFK Airport so I can avoid situations like this in the future?”
        Again she looked up and then smirked at me, “Honey, when in Abilene, whether you’re heading to heaven or hell, you must first go through Dallas, Fort Worth.” I smiled and sat back down.
        It seems there's an interesting story behind everything and everyone in the city of Abilene. Whether your touring the Abilene Zoo, the Grace Museum, or just dining around town, stop and make it a point to talk to these fine folks. And remember, when driving past any person in Abilene, give em’ a smile and a wave. It’s rude if you don’t. 

MAN ABOUT TOWN
by Christopher Mariani

Buffalo Gap Wine and Food Summit

   
    The sun was just beginning to fall in West Texas and the calm sky burned bright orange. Streaks of mysterious purple lay deep between the silky, amber clouds and gave clue that the darkness of night was near. Shanna and I walked across the parking lot and stirred up a small haze of red dust with every step. We approached a giant white tent and saw a man leaning against the trunk of a wide tree. It was Tom Perini. Most men of Tom’s status would not be outside greeting his guests, but that is what makes Tom different. He wanted to meet everyone that entered the property. His welcome was grand.
         For the last seven years Tom has hosted the Buffalo Gap Wine and Food Summit at his very own ranch. The event arouses excitement among local ranchers and Texas wine makers who all show up wearing their finest custom-crafted boots, leather belts fixed with extravagant silver or gold buckles and beautiful rawhide cowboy hats. The women too wore cowboy hats, not all, but those who did clearly spent much time positioning the direction in which their hair would cascade from within.
         The evening began outdoors where everyone assembled for a few glasses of sparking wine and crunchy crostini topped with velvety goat’s cheese. The chatter grew with every sip of Champagne and it was evident most attendees knew each other well. I, of course, was the new guy, yet it didn’t feel that way. Everyone was warm. I shook the hands of many guests and was continuously asked where I was from. Being from the big city awakened immediate excitement and conversation.
    In the distance, a small entourage of white coats walked toward the kitchen. It was chef Stephen Pyles and cast. That evening, Stephen would prepare a grand feast for all who were present.
         After another glass of Champagne we headed towards the white tent where we sat down at a round table draped with a white a tablecloth topped with over thirty empty wine glasses, all waiting to be filled. Six other guests dined with us at our table, three men and three women. The tent held around 500 people. The first course arrived and many guests grew curious. They squinted to get a better look, picked up the small shot glass and smelled its contents. Some even poked at it with a fork.
    “And for your first course, chef Pyles has prepared a saffron oyster shooter, please enjoy,” said our lovely waitress. Everyone’s eyes squinted even tighter. I smiled to myself as one courageous man picked up the yellowish mixture and shot it down in one quick motion and grinned to let the others know it was okay. It was obvious that oyster shooters were not a common amuse bouche in West Texas. We all laughed and took our shots.
    Shortly after, a rectangular cube of foie gras mousse topped with candied bacon arrived to the table. The sweet, crunchy bacon added a hickory flavor to each mouthful of the rich, silky liver. Each bite was washed down with a sip of chilled Sauternes. The meal achieved undiminished excellence when Pyles sent out a beautiful cut of seared tenderloin seasoned with salt and pepper, laid over a pool of dark bordelaise sauce and topped with a generous portion of buttery bone marrow. There was not a plate in sight that had not been cleaned with bread to absorb every last drop of sauce and salty beef jus.
    At this point all of us sat back in our chairs at ease and gave a little pat to our stomachs to show appreciation for such a splendid meal. There must have been at least three or four glasses of red wine in front of each guest, many from local Texas wineries, and one brawny rancher to my left took all three glasses of his red and poured them into one, stating he had created a magnificent blend. I didn’t try this magnificent blend, but who knows, maybe it was good. I highly doubt it.
    The following morning, for those brave men and women able to rise after such a gluttonous evening, the festivities continued with a wine tasting at 10 a.m. under the same white tent. For the most part, the white wines from Texas were very crisp and clean, most wineries making it clear they do not age their whites for long and stay away from the California wave of abundant oak and vanilla flavors. The Texas reds are typically full of tannin and could never be drunk alone, only appreciated when paired with a big hunk of well-fatted beef, as flawlessly stated by one of the attendees, who said, “Nothin’ better than a slab and a cab.” I must agree, but if drunk alone, prepare to pucker up. Notable Texas wineries in attendance were Becker Vineyards, Llano Estacado, Brennan Vineyards, Lone Oak Winery and McPherson Cellars.
    That evening was the gala dinner. Chefs from all over the area set up shop to serve one signature dish from their restaurants’ menus. There was a live band and the Texas two-step quickly became highly contagious. The line for chicken fried steak appeared longer than the rest as each guest stood tall with a glass of wine in one hand and a plate of hearty food in the other.  The night ended late, people filtering out, the musicians packing up their instruments, but just as I was about to leave myself, I heard a reveler looking up at the yellow moon and singing, "Prettiest town I've ever seen."