This interview originally aired on In the Moment on SDPB Radio.
by Chris Madsen
We are blessed with an abundance of tasty food in South Dakota. But what makes any of that deliciousness truly South Dakotan? What dish could you could set before a South Dakota ex-pat who would declare, “That’s South Dakota on a plate. That tastes like home!”
There are plenty of opinions on the subject. Even the state legislature weighed in dubbing kuchen as the official state dessert, milk as the official drink, and frybread as the official, well, bread. Oh, let’s not forget chislic, the official state nosh. The legislature said nosh. I didn’t. That’s just New York Times Crossword talk for “snack.” As pleased as I am that our legislature is tackling the tough issues, like proclaiming official foods, this stuff still isn’t a dish.
I’ve also seen plenty of lists of our alleged Tastes of South Dakota over the years in newspapers or social media click bait. They fall as flat as warm Busch Light in a pickle beer. By the way, adulterating cold beer with juice or salty pickled items is not innovative or unique. And even if it is, I don’t want to be known as the Pickle Beer State. “Ohhhhh! You’re from South Dakota! Does everyone there drink beer with pickles in it?” No. We don’t. If it were solely up to me, I’d trade both those beverages to Florida in exchange for some oranges. Wait. No, Florida can just have them. You’re welcome, Florida!
And, as long as we are on the record here, let me also clarify that I put chislic in the same category. It’s meat. On a stick. Granted, it’s meat on a stick that benefitted from a gratuitous PR campaign a few years back, but for a definitive dish, we can do better than that. Before I get banned from Hutchinson County, or specifically Meridian Corner, for the rest of my life, let me clarify that chislic is probably the ultimate bar food. It is indeed tasty and goes especially well with ice-cold cheap beer. Plus, every serving automatically comes with an argument: Meat on stick or not on stick; beef or lamb; lamb or mutton; dipping sauce or garlic salt. But again, not a dish.
Naming a definitive dish is a challenge. Ideally, I want a dish that reflects flavors of the place, but also connects the diner with the people of South Dakota. We love our natural resources here, but they don’t translate into tastes of the state as easily as the brackish Gulf waters of south Louisiana or the icy coast of Maine. And for as much food as we produce here, much of it is not particularly unique to South Dakota. A big juicy ribeye cooked to my idea of perfection is awesome, but could be the definitive dish of at least five states.
If last winter didn’t drive the point home, let me re-state that a person has to be fairly tough to live here. A make-it-work attitude is an absolute necessity. South Dakotans have a long history of getting by the best we can by frugally making use of what we have on hand because we’ve got hard work to do tomorrow. In fact, that was pretty much the order of business before this part of the Big Dirt Ocean was known as South Dakota and even before French fur traders moseyed through to see what all was out this way. The people native to this area survived many hundreds of years making the absolute most of what the land provided. That continues to this day.
Ultimately, a true South Dakota dish should give a taste of the place and convey the dogged make-it-work attitude of its people. For me, that narrows things down a bit.
Dish Number 1: Pheasant and Rice Hot Dish/Casserole.
Although not native to the area, but extremely well-established, pheasants and pheasant hunting definitely say “South Dakota.”
The only thing more challenging than hunting pheasants can be cooking them. These are wild birds living off grains and grasshoppers as they scurry about the fields and shelterbelts. Exercise and a clean diet make for lean muscle, or so my physician claims. Lean and mean protein in the kitchen requires the proper techniques to deliver a tender, tasty dish. One sure-fire way to make pheasant tasty and tender is to brown the meat and then let it snuggle in a baking dish with a boxed rice mix stirred together with a can of cream of mushroom soup and some seasonings. Cover the dish with foil and let it cook at about 325 degrees until the meat is fork tender. By then, the entire pan is one big bunch of gooey goodness.
What’s more South Dakota than the state bird cooked with simple, resourceful materials into a dish that will instantly remind you of your grandma’s house or a church basement shindig? Exactly.
Dish Number 2: Frybread and chokecherry wojapi.
I know some people think I am out on a limb here, but bear with me, because frybread and wojapi are as make-it-work as almost anything else I can think of.
Frybread is exactly what its name says: bread dough massaged into disks and fried. Simple, but crazy delicious and versatile. It’s great on its own or a side. Use it as the foundation of a hearty taco. Dip it into soup, chili, or wojapi. Frybread is a simple comfort food and no pow wow or rodeo in Indian Country would dare go without it.
Frybread has a somewhat complicated history. Its components (flour, salt, processed sugar, and fat) are not exactly the foodstuffs of hunter-gatherer cultures. No, those ingredients more likely showed up in boxes of rations courtesy of the U. S. Government. I doubt there is any need to go into any details about a diet richer in processed carbohydrates as opposed to lean proteins. But frybread remains as a tasty testament to the ingenuity and resilience of the people who gladly would have skipped the rations in favor of being left alone.
Don’t forget the wojapi, a sort of fresh-fruit puree great for dipping with fresh frybread or a sauce. To amp up the South Dakota-ness, we want some chokecherry wojapi. Chokecherries grow wild on trees around the state. They are about the size of a pea, contain a pesky pit, and are not exactly great for immediate snacking unless they are quite ripe and by then, you have to battle the birds to get them first. If you are going to make something tasty out of these buggers, you’ve got to go all in, first by picking about a square acre’s worth and then going about the business of processing them and adding some sweetness from honey.
Honorable Mention:
Have you ever driven to the nearest local airport in South Dakota to pick up and old friend or family member who moved away from the state years ago? As you were pulling out of the airport, did your ex-pat guest have a request? Was the request to hit up a Taco John's to pick up a sack full of Potato Oles and a cup of nacho cheese sauce with or without any other menu item and even though you’re late for a big family dinner?
Yeah. Let’s just say if anyone ever invents a time machine, I am traveling back to about 1960 and purchasing an acre of commercial property located immediately adjacent to at least five airports in the state where Taco John's franchises will be located in about15 years.
