"Larding" It Over
By The Oglesbees'
The best chicken fried steak in the whole wide world was cooked by Mrs. Olsen in Broaddus, Texas during the 1980s and 90s. She owned Olsen's Restaurant, and took great pride in pleasing her customers. Attesting to her culinary ability, she was a woman of rather substantial size who enjoyed her own cooking.
Not only was her steak gastronomically superlative, but it was so large that it literally lapped over the sides of a dinner platter. It was juicy and fork-tender, with a delectable crunchy crust made from Mrs. Olsen's secret formula. One evening I asked, "What are the ingredients of this heart-stopping culinary masterpiece?" The answer came back, "The recipe is shrouded in mystery, one known only to me and my daughter, Arleigh Radislaw." And that ended the conversation. Arleigh, a gregarious person, revealed to me on one occasion that her mother added a few drops of yellow food coloring to the secret crust recipe, and only cooked with real "hog lard" in a deep fryer turned to an undisclosed high temperature. Whatever the formula, the result was perfect. There would be no way to gauge the amount of calories in this unbelievable rendition of chicken fried steak.
Mrs. Olsen's Café was little more than a store front building located on the main street of the sleepy little community of Broaddus, Texas. What it lacked in ambiance was more than compensated in diner satisfaction, and people flocked to her restaurant in droves. There was rarely an empty table in her place.
In addition to the chicken fried steaks, Mrs. Olsen's fried catfish filets were the best anywhere, due in part to the fact that her husband, Mr. Olsen, caught the fresh fish daily in nearby Sam Rayburn Reservoir. He was a tough old fellow who enjoyed his life of fishing and supplying the restaurant with his ample catch each day.
Often her intrepid customers would bring their own sweet potatoes for Mrs. Olsen to fry for them. Our family learned of this service, and began bringing our own sweet potatoes as well. One balmy Saturday afternoon we had driven over to Broaddus to eat with Mrs. Olsen. When we arrived, we smelled the sweet potatoes frying. "Oh," we remarked, "Are you cooking sweet potatoes today?" Her answer was, "Yes, but not for our customers. Mr. Olsen has just come home from his heart surgery, and I am frying up a batch for him. After his hospital stay, he was hungry for fried sweet potatoes." Enough said.
After seating ourselves, we heard the familiar voice of Mr. Olsen, as he reiterated to all listeners the story of "Old Big Boy," a legendary catfish in Sam Rayburn Lake. This large fish weighed as much as 100 pounds, and was considered a "sort-of localized version" of Moby Dick, the great white whale. Papa Olsen had hooked him recently, and had even thrust his hand into the monster's mouth. We thought, "This can't be true." Mr. Olsen, seeing the disbelief on our faces, rolled up his sleeve, and there, for all to see, was the exposed area of raw flesh on his arm, caused by the twisting of the big fish as he got away. Proof enough!
We didn't think we could eat at Mrs. Olsen's without taking our own Heinz ketchup, as she used a no-name brand and we preferred bringing ours. On one occasion, however, the entire family, including Charles and Janell Watson, had gone to Mrs. Olsen's without remembering to bring our ketchup. As we were eating, Charles picked up Mrs. Olsen's version of ketchup, and absentmindedly opened the top to pour a substantial amount on his steak. When he removed the lid, contents of the ketchup bottle shot out like a rocket onto his freshly starched white jeans and impeccably clean shirt. Needless to say, the entire family was speechless, and Mrs. Olsen was appropriately horrified.
Mr. and Mrs. Olsen have long since passed from the scene, with her closely held cooking secrets still intact. We've tried often to duplicate her chicken fried steak recipe, and have come close on a number of occasions, even to adding a drop or two of yellow food coloring. Perhaps the reason we haven't been totally successful is our refusal to use "hog lard."
Does anyone know Arleigh Radislaw's address? If so, please send it to me.