Arkansas has an exceptional food culture. It is one that is interwoven with threads of politics, religion, the arts, local agriculture, and family life. It is spirited by food festivals and long-standing gatherings around watermelon, tomatoes, mountain oysters, raccoon, berries, purple hull peas, peaches, chocolate, armadillo, catfish, cornbread, pecans, turkey, duck, rice, grapes, apples, cheese dip, chili, legumes, herbs, wine, mushrooms, soup, and barbecue as well as a range of cuisine from religions and places around the world.
In an agriculture-forward state, this makes a lot of sense. There is an important connection between the people and the land, which has deep and complex historical roots.
In its lone season, Padma Lakshmi, the co-host of "Taste of a Nation" on Bravo, explored the history of food in America, and in doing so reminded me of our historiography and authenticity.
Food, especially in an age of Instagram, has become its own play on art. This is fine to a degree. I love a delectable meal seated among diverse and interesting company. As chef Michael Twitty wrote in his memoir "The Cooking Gene," "Complexity must come with us, in fact, it will invite itself to the feast whether we like it or not."
I have planned trips around food which include some of the happiest memories of my life. Great food does not have to cost a lot (although it can, and sometimes it should), but what made those experiences wonderful, on either end of the economic spectrum, was the company, to be sure, but also authenticity of place and what we ate. Some restaurants try too hard; others don't try hard enough. But when a restaurant gets it right, it is something to behold.
In 2013, I departed Arkansas for Philadelphia, an underrated food city. Food was, in the five years I spent there, a saving grace in an unfamiliar place. I lived there before the pandemic, and at that time chefs from many of the best kitchens in America opened restaurants because it was, in part, affordable. Great food influenced by myriad cultures was abundant there and going out to dinner became my greatest indulgence.
I later moved to Washington, D.C., with two years remaining on President Donald Trump's term and at a time when the former president was dining on well-done steak with ketchup at his eponymous hotel. Then covid-19 consumed the world, and, like most, I settled in to cooking at home.
Dinner became the most important event of the day. The anticipation of that meal, simple as it was, conquered fears of the virus as uncertainty and calamity collided daily across the world.
As an amateur home cook, I experimented with new ingredients, prepared dishes I had never considered before, improvised, and failed. Like many, I found inspiration from friends cooking and sharing experiences from their own pandemic isolation. To be sure, I have always believed that food is representative of individual and collective experiences, whether it is rooted in national or international history, family, or even the pandemic.
Arkansas is fortunate that exceptional food can be found in all regions of the state, but this is especially true in northwest Arkansas, where a transformation of food culture has pushed the region well beyond college town fare, as food writer Kat Robinson has chronicled in several books, Kevin Shalin of Little Rock covers at the robust site The Mighty Rib on Facebook, and Rex Nelson often comments about in these pages.
This past year, in a mark of acclaim for any Arkansas city, three Bentonville restaurants, Preacher's Son, Yeyo's, and The Hive received James Beard nominations.
On July 18, Matthew McClure, the executive chef at The Hive, announced he was stepping down at the end of the month. Mr. McClure has been nominated for a James Beard award an astounding seven times, among many other honors. His philosophy and restaurant anchored a culinary revival in Arkansas' fastest growing region.
There are few existing restaurants in Arkansas--Jones Bar-B-Q Diner in Marianna, McClard's in Hot Springs, and Lassis Inn in Little Rock come immediately to mind--that have had as much impact on food culture as The Hive (Doe's, in Little Rock, sits at the intersection of food and modern Arkansas politics; Rhoda's Hot Tamales in Lake Village is the originalist behind the delicious and distinctive Arkansas tamale which is layered with chicken fat, beef, and spices).
The Hive pioneered the elevated farm-to-table experience in northwest Arkansas while making fine dining feel welcoming and accessible. It also joined Jones and Lassis Inn in putting Arkansas on the James Beard map consistently. This is an important development because food tourism is one of many great reasons to visit Arkansas, as, for example, Brock Hyland conceived with his Arkansas Barbecue Trail.
The Hive is not closing, and we can all attest that moving on is a natural part of life, professionally and personally. Be that as it may, in his time in Bentonville, Chef McClure has done what many aspire: to leave a positive and indelible impact on the life of his community.
Blake Rutherford, a Little Rock native, lives in Bentonville. He can be reached at Rutherford.Blake@gmail.com.