Remembering those we can taste no more

I was surprised to realize that I have been writing for this feature since October 2018. It truly hasn't felt like this long, and I have enjoyed 99.7% of the places I visited (yes, that's very scientific and accurate, like everything I do.) But this time, I thought it might be interesting to take a look back at how the landscape of food has changed in the area, and perhaps spare a moment for those we have lost and still yearn for.

The first restaurant I ever featured was Zoi's in Cape. The gyros made there were soft, pillowy pita bread stuffed fat with freshly seared and shaved spiced lamb, topped with onions, tomatoes, and a wonderful homemade yogurt-based tzatziki sauce. The restaurant framed the article as it was printed in the paper and displayed it in their dining room with pride. That's when I first realized that I could help people, real people, with real businesses that they had put their heart and soul into, that they tied to their family's livelihood. The fantastic Zoi retired last year, and the line to get one last gyro was out into the road and around the corner the last week it was open.

In September of 2019, I ate at a place in Cape called Mariscos El Barco, which translates to "Seafood Boat." It was a Mexican restaurant that specialized in seafood, and I ordered a completely over-the-top drink called a Michelada. It was a bottle of beer, upended and sitting in a large glass, full of what looked like tomato juice, ice, and spices and rimmed with peeled shrimp, lime, cucumber and orange. I've never had anything like it since. For an entree, I ordered a Pi±a Rellena de Mariscos, a large halved pineapple stuffed with a huge portion of crab meat, mussels and shrimp. A rich white broth was poured over it, then it was covered in cheese and placed under a broiler to brown. Mariscos El Barco is also no longer there. In its place is a marijuana dispensary.

I can't fail to mention the Bayou in Pocahontas. I had eaten there for years because it was in my neck of the woods. An excellently flavored bacon cheeseburger or a grilled shrimp wrap were my go-to entrees, but I rather enjoyed the Swampy Fries, a huge platter of fries covered in chili and queso. Also, the days I could catch a fresh lump of cobbler topped with vanilla ice cream were good days. The Bayou still stands, but with entirely new owners and a different menu. I highly recommend the gumbo, packed with meat and very comforting. There is a different vibe inside now, but different isn't always bad.

A seafood-stuffed pineapple from Mariscos El Barco, gone but not forgotten.Submitted by Rebecca LaClair

A seafood-stuffed pineapple from Mariscos El Barco, gone but not forgotten.Submitted by Rebecca LaClair

Taking it way way back, when my husband and I were dating, we used to go to a (let's be honest here) bar at Shawneetown called Richard's Hideout. We were underage, so we'd go for lunch to avoid the drinkers. The only thing we bothered ordering was a Rich Burger, a huge burger that had to be at least one-third of a pound, if it wasn't one-half, covered in bacon, lettuce and tomato, and topped with a slab of Velveeta. My husband still brings it up more than 20 years later, with a sigh and a wistful "I could really go for a Rich Burger right now." Rich Noah served his burger with crinkle-cut fries that were never undercooked, and I will argue that a good, crispy crinkle-cut fry can still hold its own against the new-fangled fancier fellas. Richard's Hideout closed in 2000.

So many foods that I miss. That Russian restaurant on Broadway that served schnitzel with berry sauce and buckwheat with honey. That Spanish place on Main Street that had an amazing saffron chicken, raisin, almond and rice dish that I've never tasted anything close to since. Lost tastes, forgotten buildings, nothing but memories and yearning and still ... I don't regret trying any of them. I'd rather taste once and never again than never have tasted at all.

Now that I've taken my moment for those we've lost and wallowed in nostalgia, I look forward to those we've yet to find. And when you do find something special, share, so the business can thrive and sustain. There is a world of food out there waiting to be discovered, and we will be there, tasting at least once, and holding the memories tight.