I ’ve been away for weeks it seems, traveling for fun, traveling for work. It seems tragic to leave Sonoma this time of year when it is just so darn pretty. Tragic to leave Sonoma almost always; you know I miss the food here… and the wine. A portion of this month I spent on a beach. In Mexico. I know, very hard to complain. We ate very well, don’t get me wrong, and drank well too (how I love those Baja wines) but days before my return to Sonoma I began dreaming of a ham biscuit.
Not just any old ham biscuit, but a fluffy, golden, buttery version stacked with thin, salty, Southern ham, and smeared to the point of overflow with whatever house-made jam happens to be in season. I am talking about ham biscuit heaven from the Fremont Diner. Merely hours from my return, the Mini practically drives itself there, my tummy clenched with excitement, me and Mr. B eager for a mimosa-filled, lazy Sunday brunch gobbling said biscuits, deviled eggs, and those little fried chicken sandwiches he is so utterly fond of. We pull in, all giggles and happiness and see what can only be described as a skinny jean-wearing mob snaking out the front door.
Sadly, there was to be no brunch for us that Sunday. I am afraid the world has heard about just how crazy-good the Fremont is and, they too, are craving some Southern fried goodness.
Dreams of a biscuit shattered, we resolve to make mimosas at home while devouring an entire gooey wheel of Mt. Tam, somewhat consoled by the fact that we’re not shoulder to shoulder with mass quantities of out of town hipsters, but instead lounging poolside on a glorious, sunny, Sonoma Sunday. We vow to return that very evening for dinner. When this girl gets a biscuit in her head, there simply ain’t no getting around it.
Yes, the Fremont is open for dinner Thursday thru Sunday and I am truly torn about reminding you all so. I cannot bear to think about those crowds stealing my favorite picnic table at dinner time, too, the one shaded from the low, early evening sun. The one where chickens peck at the crumbs around your feet and you can watch the grass-covered hills first turn tawny and then the palest pink, and finally lavender under the setting sun.
Dinner at the Fremont is so close to Sunday suppers back down south, it is impossible to not feel just a little bit homesick. A happy homesick. Starters arrive directly from my time in the mountains back east. Boiled peanuts are hot, strangely, but joyfully, mushy. Addictive. Potato chips are pulled from the deep fryer and doused with spicy crab boil, the powder sticking to your fingers, salty goodness washed down with a cold can of beer. Mason jars of bubbly and a mouthful of deviled egg leave me teary eyed. I am so happy here. This is happy food if I have ever known it. I will never tire of the wide-eyed stares when the tattoo’d staff arrive loaded down with kitschy cafeteria trays practically bending from the weight of the meal. This is my idea of gorgeous food. Down-home, simple, pure country fare served with little fuss. Just plain good.
Fried chicken with its skin crackling and barbecued meats glistening under a blanket of brick-colored sauce, edges and ends black from char are just like my grandma used to make. Dinner, like a solid old south church potluck, piles of meat and endless bowls of vegetable sides, and everyone reaching over each other to get a bit of those vinegary greens or one more spoonful of mashed potatoes dripping with pan gravy. I’ll have my very own biscuit and possibly nothing more than a few vegetable sides. Oh, and a bite or two of your chicken please.
Fluorescent spring peas bob in a minty broth of butter and green onion, bubbling macaroni and cheese is, thank the heavens, not at all fancy. Sticky beans are baked, utterly delicious, rich with smoked pork and molasses maybe. A little bowlful of black eyed peas, spotted with white onion, is comfort food at its finest. Dinner here passes in a fog of honey, in which the southern gal in me must dip the chicken, and the biscuit. I cannot stop, but must. Maybe just one more sliver of homemade dill pickle.
Just like good southerners we order dessert, unsure of where we might physically put it. Caramel cake, drenched in an amber frosting and baked in a massive cast iron skillet is surprisingly not too sweet, although simply looking at it makes my teeth hurt. Shakes are thick, served the old-fashioned way, in a parfait glass, the metal cup arriving with what won’t fit in the glass. Again, caramel is the star here, in a salted ice cream version. I only wished I had room for the super spring sounding homemade strawberry shortcake. Finally, I am content, my happy belly full of biscuit.
Kristin’s foodie event pick of the week
It’s a Salsa Dance Party and Dinner at Nicholson Ranch Winery this Saturday, May 4. The event starts at 5:30 p.m. with hors d’oeuvres, followed by salsa dance lessons, and a live performance by the Bay Area’s Julio Bravo y su Orquesta Salsabor! The delicious sounding dinner from Chef Rob Larman’s Cochon Volant begins with mini empanadas and ceviche tostadas, and continues with chili-lime grilled steak and smoked achiote chicken breast with tasty sounding Latin sauces and side dishes. Tickets for wine club members are $60, while regular pricing is $80. Dinner, wine and music are all included. Tickets can be purchased from their website at shop.nicholsonranch.com/main.sc or by calling the tasting room at 938.8822 x15.
Southern Cream Biscuits
Recipe inspired by the Fremont Diner
Makes 12
- 4 cups all-purpose flour plus more
- 2 tablespoons sugar
- 1 1/2 tablespoons baking powder
- 1 tablespoon kosher salt
- 1/2 cup (1 stick) chilled butter, cubed
- 1 1/2 cups (or more) heavy cream plus more for brushing
Special equipment: A 3” diameter biscuit cutter
Preheat oven to 375°F. Whisk 4 cups flour and next 3 ingredients in a large bowl. Add butter; blend with your fingers until pea-size pieces form. Add 1 1/2 cups cream; stir until dough forms, adding more cream by tablespoonfuls if dry. Transfer to a lightly floured surface; roll to 3/4” thickness. Using biscuit cutter, cut into rounds. Repeat until all dough is used. Transfer biscuits to a parchment paper-lined baking sheet. Brush tops with cream and transfer to oven. Bake until golden brown, 25-30 minutes. Serve warm
Kristin Jorgensen is one of Sonoma’s most passionate, food obsessed residents. In this weekly column, she covers all the delicious happenings, foodie events and restaurants in Sonoma, the rest of Wine Country and beyond. Email her with comments, questions, or your food related events at foodandwine@sonomasun.com.
