Central Oregon – This Smells Like Home

The aromas of Central Oregon are branded on my brain. Born and raised there, I had a lot of time to follow my nose. It amazes me sometimes how many memories of Central Oregon I can recall by the odors, fragrances and pungencies of my childhood: a newly-mowed hayfield after a late spring rain: driving outside Madras in the summer and being assaulted by ripe peppermint -- as if the entire region was chewing green Dentyne and exhaling simultaneously; asparagus juice on my hands from picking the wild spears that grew in rock patches along the roads; sage when it's in bloom; snow, just before a big storm; our pig farm.

Yes, a pig farm. And yes, it smelled. But I also learned what real bacon tasted like. From the huge garden my mother tended each summer, I discovered how minutes-old corn melts in your mouth. I realized that tomatoes actually have flavor.

One of the farm's other saving graces was that it sat on a 40-acre patch looking straight at the Monkey Face side of Smith Rock State Park, now one of the world's premier climbing destinations. Back then, we could watch the climbers from our porch, and knew when we heard the sirens that someone had lost a toehold. The soil in the area was rich but rocky, and the surrounding fields were lined by walls and spotted with piles made from the hardened lava that lay just beneath the surface.

Doug Maragas is trying to coax wine grapes in that same severe ground, just a mile or so from where we raised hogs 30 years ago. His winery venture just outside of Terrebonne is another telltale sign that Central Oregon continues to grow as a culinary tourist's dream. There are historic inns, bed & breakfasts, and even a dude ranch where you can go on an actual cattle round-up. After a latte, of course. And then there are the great places to eat.

I've been fortunate to have enjoyed some pretty spectacular meals in restaurants both here and abroad. The chefs all had big talent, and even bigger egos. That said, some of my favorite meals of the past several years have been in the new crop of chef-driven restaurants sprouting up in Central Oregon. They were prepared by humble pros who seemed to check their prima dona toques at the county border.

Jody Denton was one of the first to arrive. His Merenda Restaurant & Wine Bar helped catapult a resurgence for downtown Bend, a wonderfully walk-able city center that had teetered on the edge of forest products oblivion. His cassoulet is an ethereal experience.

The Blacksmith Restaurant is another dining gem downtown. Last time I was there I told the chef to forgo the menu and give me his best shot. Three hours and several courses later, I rolled up the hill to my hotel, fat and happy.

Though these and many other culinary immigrants have definitely changed the face of food and travel in Central Oregon, some stalwarts still remain. The Pine Tavern, where I remember having my first "real" restaurant meal, is still there. The Lodge at Black Butte Ranch, where we'd dress up and celebrate birthdays over prime rib and deep-fried mushrooms, continues on. As much as Central Oregon becomes cosmopolitan-ized, restaurants like these keep the region anchored in its rural roots.

Needless to say, this region's bounty of restaurants has expanded since those days in the mid-60s, when we'd pile into the car for the 20-mile trek to Shakey's. It was the only pizza parlor around, and served as my family's benchmark of a big night out. That smell of a hot pizza oven, with its aromas of crisping dough, pepperoni, and stringy mozzarella, is one I'll always associate with the mountains, desert and forests where my palate was first born.

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