Adam & Eats: Merle’s Steakhouse

Editor’s note: Adam Brandt is a graduate from the Cobra Kai School of Culinary Callousness, where he received their highest award, the Red Apron of Merciless Eating. Aside from eating and talking about eating, he makes pots, paintings, prints, books, photographs, and generally, a big mess. He has been the studio assistant at Mudpuppy Pottery for almost nine years and is attending a local university in a desperate attempt to earn a biology degree.

Lately, I’ve been pondering the question: If you were on death row, what would your last meal be?

This sounds much more macabre than it actually is. The question could be phrased many ways, but the real spirit of the question boils down to if one plate (or a few plates in my case) of food could sum up your entire person, what would be on the plate. I would have to order the chicken fried steak, with mashed potatoes, corn, and cover everything with peppered gravy. Maybe throw in a roll on the side with some real butter, and a tall glass of sweet tea, and some pecan pie for dessert.

That’s me on a plate (or three). Since this has been on my mind lately, it has got me jonesin’ for some country cooking and I had heard this place in Alma was reopening under new management, so I figured I’d give ‘em a shot. Boy, did I get more than I bargained for.

Located off of U.S. 64 in Alma is the new home of Merle’s Steakhouse. The place kinda looks like a barn that has been converted into a restaurant, but I think that’s the point. You’ll think it too once you get inside and see the stuffed critters, lassos, various farming implements, and assorted firearms all proudly display amongst gobs of southern kitsch.

Add the waitstaff’s sassy attitude and bright pink t-shirts, Merle (the proprietor) in his “Danger: Men Cooking” apron, and the various tablefuls of people talking at each from across the room, and you know you are in for some good, country cooking.

Like I said before, they’ve only just reopened so they are still working out the kinks in seating arrangements and the menu (they were out of chicken fried steak), but they were able to hold their own during a dinner rush before the big basketball game in honor of Alma Public School Superintendent Charles Dyer.

Not even when a small kitchen fire set off the sprinkler system in the kitchen, effectively closing the kitchen around 5 p.m., did the morale drop a note. This is when something beautiful happened and only a person who would describe him or herself as a plate of chicken fried steak would have noticed it. I witnessed table after table of people, who had yet to receive their orders, offer to help when informed of the mishap in the kitchen. I even overheard a group of sassy women offer to sing during the evening’s clean up. It was a beautiful moment. It makes me tear up a little just thinking about it.

I can’t leave you without at least talking a little about the food, so let’s do that quickly.

It is called Merle’s Steakhouse so naturally, you’ve got to try the steaks. Their steaks are fresh cut, made to order, and cooked perfectly. Whoever their steak guy or gal is, they know how to treat a slab of beef. If you like sweet potatoes, go for the sweet potato fries. Although, the honey dipping sauce came up a little short, the fries held their own pretty well.

If they are still out of the chicken fried steak when you visit them, try the equally southern catfish and get it the way that it is described on the menu with the hushpuppies, brown beans, and coleslaw. Those are some of the best beans I have ever eaten. It made me hit the drawing board again when it comes to making my own beans. The coleslaw is a light and refreshing way to round out the meal, especially after the heavy fried catfish, hushpuppies, and beans.

If I haven’t sold you on Merle’s, then there is no hope for you. You are obviously not nearly as sentimentally southern as me and the regulars of the Steakhouse. You should probably seek help and question why you are still living in Arkansas. (I’m only teasing.)

Until next week, good eating.

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When he’s not beating his eggs, Adam makes time to respond to e-mails that get past his hard-ass spam filter. You can try to reach him at [email protected]

Adam also has this thing called Sandwich Control.