Oddly enough, I was in the middle of putting at Pebble Beach when the call of the wild gave way, leading me to a New York state of mind. My cousin, who hails from Buffalo, was singing the praises of a certain restaurant where “Captain Picky Eater” claims he loves the food! Where might this magical place be, I quipped. “It’s in the middle of nowhere in Michigan.” Shazam, that’s right up this girl’s alley and as it turns out. It’s not too far from Grandmother’s house. His word and the word of an overt wine snob (bragging up the wine list) were good enough for me. A hunting I will go and go I did. He had me at meatloaf. If he thought they made enviable meatloaf, my competitive side had to go see what all the fuss is about. I’ll be the judge of that, I mused. Not only was he right, but he should also have mentioned to bring a friend or two because they are not shy on servings at this fancy “Hunting Lodge” in Howard City. A nice escape for weary Deer-Hunting-Wives and just regular folks to boot. And this is not new news.
This lighted beacon is like the Statue of Liberty of Howard City, if you will. Of course, that seems like quite a stretch until you experience the culinary delights from near and far. This historic monument on the corner of Edgarton & Ensley has been a staple since 1869 and has welcomed weary travelers in days gone by as The Golden Hotel.
I also got a feeling that I was somehow home. And it wasn’t too far afield. I recognized the huge palatial oak bar, which was formerly prominently perched in the Pantlind Hotel, where I had visited many times and later welcomed guests, as I was on the opening team of the Amway Grand Plaza Hotel in Grand Rapids. I’m thinking the well-heeled staff at The Forager has to deal with a lot of patrons who just stare off in amazement at their great luck having found such a gem that they almost want to either shout from the rooftops or keep it to themselves. I know I was on the fence with those feelings. For all the reasons. This particular day it was bone-chilling cold. Layers of clothing seemed like a whisper of assistance. Hot cocoa infused with bourbon cream chased the chill away for another day. It turns out that the hot cocoa concoction was personally created by Chef Brian Thebo.
Just like he does with each and every item that is served there. Or, by one of his staff he thinks of as family, whom he has taken along his trail of tours of duty. At one point, Chef mentioned South Florida as his training ground. Now, he is speaking my language. “Describe South Florida,” I coaxed. “Ft. Lauderdale to Key West.” “You don’t say. I work there, as my publisher and illustrator call Key West home.” It turns out we share a common bond, a dusty trail, and a favorite Key West bartender. Her name is Kara, just like the lovely server at The Forager. And it didn’t take long for me to ferret out the reason I felt so at home.
I love the place. And that’s because Chef Brian loves the place. It’s permeable, and the pride of ownership is oozing. I was amazed to learn that three partners, two of which share his first name, are the financial owners. Owner Brian Papke shared my feelings as he said, “It was very fortuitous of us to find such a high-level Chef.” Meanwhile, owner Brian was one of the hat-trick of hockey-playing kids who rolled the dice on a hotel they scored at an auction, partly as a way to keep their friendship tightly connected. They were betting diners would delight in fresh oysters, crab legs, steaks, and chops with a focus on fresh food like bluegill from the Great Lakes, so they called her The Forager. Owner Brian offered the doors flung open with a fury, with a flurry of diners since day one. Delicacies from the sea and steaks, any woodsman would be hard-pressed to bag. The meats are all hand-cut for thrashers and diners with birthday party appetites. And desserts that fill that bill as well, such as Cannoli’s and Apple Crisp.
This particular day I had gal pal Val in tow, which is always icing on my cake. Chef suggested the calamari for starters, and trooper Val was a squid virgin, so she was game. I’m a “love it” or “leave it” gal with a semi-open mind. It was Christmas time, and the calamari were dressed to impress. The round rings were atop a lovely tomato sauce and garnished with Coppola and poblano peppers. A lemon wedge sat to the side. “Dig in, Val,” I offered. She said, “You first.” I always listen to Val. She’s lucky I didn’t bring my cowgirl appetite and also that I matriculated from charm school, or I would have devoured that dish and hit the dusty trail back to civilization. Hands down, that calamari were the best I have eaten anywhere. Any time. Period. Batter up, what do you have next for us?
Val chose the Clam Chowder, which I was nonchalant about until the first taste. Eureka. He did it again. I can savor the clams, and as Val said, “I don’t want to drink anything to argue with the flavor of the food.” We decided to try a salad, for salad’s sake, and went with the goat cheese and beet salad. The dressing was delectable to the point I scored the remainder for a celebratory pre-Rose Bowl dinner that evening. It traveled nicely.
Next up were the chicken dishes. I chose a longtime Sunday favorite, the brined Miller Amish Chicken with homemade melt-in-your-mouth mashed potatoes and gravy, aside broccoli. Having roasted a walloping holiday Prime Rib of Beef led me to the poultry state of mind. And I didn’t hanker for anything fancy, so the Chicken Pot Pie filled the bill perfectly. It is served with a flaky crust perched over a medley of vegetables and organic chicken in a stew. Let’s just say I ordered another to take with for farm friends. That’s how good it is. Meanwhile, Val was on an adventure of her own, turning the tide by savoring things from the Sea. Scallops were calling her name. Val was smitten with the scallops, so much so she immediately purchased a gift certificate for her husband.
I had other ideas, and they are already in progress. The “coconut telegraph” got fired up, and I invited friends from South Florida to accompany me in the spring to enjoy their infused craft cocktails with homemade cherries. I will be back to beef well before that time and get a convoy to welcome in or plan an event in one of the side rooms. Just thinking about that sweet find pastes a smile on my face. The attention to detail around every corner deserves all the accolades bandied about this lovely landmark from Pebble to Palm Beaches. Well done, my Forager friends!
