It is the self-professed home of twisted farm food. I say twisted, experimental, bold, even dangerous. My informant on this unconventional adventure was our server, Judy. She had just started working at Hash House but a few days before my visit, and was happy to share some of her most interesting observations. "I love working here. I'm proud of the product they offer." Judy has every reason to be proud.
The first thing I noticed after the bright orange tractor that greets you as soon as you step inside was the odd way the tables were set. The napkins were placed in a crisscross pattern, and the utensils presented as farming implements ready for labor or swords ready for battle.
The next source of pleasure came when I learned their monster breakfast installations were offered all day, and we all know that breakfast is the most important meal of the day, no matter what time you have it. And folks, this menu is epic. If you're a hard core foodie, it reads like Michener. I swear I could smell the farm freshness just from looking at the dish descriptions. I would feel sorry for you if your mouth didn't water at the words "Stuffed Hash House Meatloaf, with roasted red peppers, mozzarella, and marsala cream sauce." Marsala cream sauce, really? My apologies for drooling as I write. Or "Crispy Indiana Hand Hammered Pork Tenderloin Benedict on a massive biscuit dressed in yellow tomato, spinach, barbecue cream, and basted eggs." Pure poetry.
John boldly faced the Sage Fried Chicken and Waffles, a massive tower of waffles, two fried chicken breasts, drizzled with a hot maple reduction, and fried leeks. The chicken was juicy and tender under the heavy breading, the waffles contained bacon, a favorite of John's, and I brazenly stole the fried leeks from his plate, and fell in love in a hurry. I see why this leviathan got the New York Times' seal of approval.
Along with a divine Spiked Strawberry Kiwi Lemonade, I had the farm eggs Benedict with House smoked salmon and sundried tomatoes. I asked for a substitution of the chili cream for a Hollandaise, and I was told, almost in a whisper, that the chef/ kitchen manager, Andreas Feliciano, is peculiar about changes to his compositions. Anywhere else I would consider that a strike against the restaurant, but here it earns my respect. I totally understand that any alteration to these works of culinary art would be an artistic and unnecessary crime. I have this image of a mad scientist in an experimental kitchen, admiring his own creations in manic worship. Still, the kitchen staff did their best to accommodate me, removed the chili sauce, and gave me blue cheese dressing on the side.
Our dessert choice, Andy's famous bread pudding, was another audacious interpretation of an otherwise commonplace treat. It was warm, chocolatey, and mushy, which I like in bread pudding, especially with melting ice cream and chocolate sauce. And it was enormous. Six people would do it justice. We had to take three quarters of it home, and eat the ice cream or lose it.
And on the subject of portion size, they are bordering on obscene. It's done on purpose to evoke a farmer's supper plate after a long workday on the farm. Hash House is what we think of as a dining experience, not just a restaurant. It's entertainment. It's exploration. It's unforgettable.
From the blog For the Love of Food!
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