Columnist joins judges in gorging at cook-off
Cotter, Ark., is "Trout Capital, USA"; it says so in big letters when you get into town.
Cotter folks cherish and respect their trout. Their colorful friends lend an identity to the area and are important to the local economy. When I saw they were going to have the "Great Cotter Trout Festival," I knew I would be heading that direction come the end of April.
With other work earlier that week just south of there, I landed at Rim Shoals, just downstream from Cotter, a day early. I had a little fishing on my mind. Phillip Rice, a buddy I had met on a Missouri deer hunt last year, took me out on the river for an hour of good fishing before a thunderstorm drove us up onto the porch of my cabin. I did manage to catch a brown, rainbow and cutthroat trout during that time. I understand there are also a few brook trout in the river system.
The lightning kept us staring out at the river and talking about the bow-hunting trip we have planned together in the fall. The trout just wouldn't cooperate after the storm; we caught only a few little ones. It didn't matter, though; we needed to cut our trip short anyway. There was an important event to attend.
When I got my press release on the festival, the thing that jumped out at me was the "Shore Lunch Cook-off." I know from experience that fishing guides are the best fish fryers, and ... those who know me might be snickering at this point, saying something like: "The dinner bell is his favorite song."
OK, so I like to eat. I especially like to eat fish.
Man, you could smell it as you made your way through the crowd. Tents with cooking teams were lined up - grease sizzling and Dutch ovens steaming.
Down under the pavilion, friendly fry-cooks worked half a dozen huge skillets, churning out all-you-could-eat catfish for 5 bucks to the crowd. I knew I would have to eat something before I took a look at the Shore Lunch contestants. I just can't watch people cook on an empty stomach.
I sat beneath the pavilion munching on fish, meeting new friends and listening to a local band play mixture of country music and blues. The laughter, children playing ... Now this is Americana, I thought.
On my way down to shore lunch row, I was amazed at what I was seeing. Man, I never had a shore lunch like any of these. Each contestant had, of course, fish, but also potatoes fixed in various and delicious ways, hush puppies, fancy slaws ... and the desserts wow.
I watched carefully, for I hoped to pick up some pointers. I liked the idea of frying bacon in the grease before cooking the fish in it. Get ready, Zocor and Lipitrol: They are deep-frying bacon down in Cotter.
There are indeed advantages to working in the media. One of those came to pass as I stood and stared at a large pan of potatoes simmering with onions and tomatoes as the cook shook salt from his half-closed fist.
Cook-off head dude John Berry, of Berry Brothers Guides, invited me up later to observe the judging. "Hum," I thought. "That will be at least an hour after my last gorging of fish. I should be good to go by then." Phillip was kind enough to accompany me on this rough assignment.
Inside the hallowed halls of the Cotter Spring House, a difficult and important decision had to be made. Five judges sat poised, willing ... it was a tough job, but somebody had to do it. The distinguished collection of judges included the aforementioned John, Shelley Baker, artist Duane Hada and chamber president Beverly Pence. The media was represented by the Baxter Bulletin's Linda Baxter, "from over in Marion County."
There was a sense of drama as a lady brought in the first stack of Styrofoam containers.
"Now this is good fish," Shelley was the first to say.
"The guy knows fish," Duane confirmed. But it was the entry's cole slaw kind of a Waldorf salad with cabbage that first made Duane pass a container straight behind him, saying, "You have got to try this."
Once again, I had shown an instinct for being in the right place at the right time.
Soon Duane was handing back a plate: "Try this fish." As I watched, I couldn't help wonder how these judges would make it to their last contestant if they kept eating as much as they did from the first. But these folks brought their game faces.
It struck me that the scene would make a good Norman Rockwell painting. Judges' faces were lighting up with delight as they reached around the table to the various food containers.
"I need to try No. 6's fish."
"Did you try No. 2's potatoes?"
But it was the desserts that yielded the most oohs and ahhs.
The pecan pie went over big, and there were these things that I can only describe as little pineapple pizzas. But the blackberry cobbler made in the Dutch oven was a huge hit. Luckily for Phillip and me, the desserts came along when the judges had eaten quite a bit, and they were only sampling at this point. There was plenty left over for media testing.
My talents did not go unnoticed. At one point, someone in the room suggested, "Why don't you come back next year and be a judge?"
Now, I am not sure whether that constitutes an official invitation, but I will tell you I take these things quite seriously.
Of course I would be willing to help out. I'm just a helping-out kind of guy.
I believe that I demonstrated my physical ability to handle the rigors of judging the next Shore Lunch Cook-off. I stand ready to take on this challenge ... anything to help. I know now for sure that there is such thing as an eating hangover.
Contact columnist Steve Brigman at brigmanoutdoors@neto.com.