Mooseburgers, Reindeer, and Pie—Oh, My!

 
(by Leslie)

I realize I’ve been amiss in my failure to write about the food up here. On the whole, Robin and I have been eating the same as we do anywhere—lots of stir-fry; salads; roasted chicken, vegetables and taters; Mexican; Thai curry. We haven’t gone out to eat much, but that’s not because of any lack of good restaurants—there are plenty. We’ve just been lazy homebodies for the most part.

When I imagine typically “Alaskan” food, I think of fish and game. Hunting is immensely popular here. Most every week there are ads in the paper about rifle and ammo sales, and it seems like just about all the permanent residents either hunt or know someone who does and who will keep them stocked with meat. And I get it: There’s so much game around—moose, caribou, duck and goose, porcupine (yes, porcupine—lots of folks think it’s mighty tasty).

Those who know me know that I love to try new foods. So I was hoping to get to have some moose and caribou while in Fairbanks. The problem is, it’s illegal to sell either of them; you have to know a hunter in order to get it. So you can imagine my glee when we were invited to an outdoor BBQ where the main menu item was mooseburgers.

A woman we met some years back in the standing-room line at the Met Opera in NYC, Jean, has a friend here in Fairbanks named Judy. Being new to the city and wanting to meet people, we contacted July and she invited us for dinner. When she informed us that it would be a BBQ, however, we were a bit taken aback. It was about 20°F, after all.

So we bundled up in long underwear, fleece-lined jeans, snow boots, fleece sweaters, jackets, and mittens and hats, and headed off to her house.

 Judy and Robin at the BBQ

Judy’s husband is a big-time hunter and trapper (there were all sorts of cool bones and animal skins around the place), and had shot the moose whose ground-round we would be consuming that night:

My thoughts? It tasted a lot like beef. Maybe slightly stronger in flavor, but not much.

And here’s the amusing part: After we ate, Judy was the one who suggested we head back into the house because she was cold. Robin and I—because of all our layers—were fine. Though Ziggy was chilled, and quite content to go indoors:

One restaurant we have been to—three times now, with all of our guests—is the Hilltop Truck Stop, about 20 minutes north of Fairbanks on the Elliott Highway.

The Hilltop is locally famous, as it’s the last stop on the long haul (450 miles—most of which is dirt or gravel) from Fairbanks to the Prudhoe Bay oil fields. Prudhoe Bay is where the Trans-Alaska Pipeline starts.

 Elena, Robin and Larry at the Pipeline

But the Hilltop is also famous for its pie.

There’s a sign by the front door telling customers what they must/can’t do (e.g., wearing shoes and shirts, etc.). One of the items says this:

 As we were there not too long after the killing of Trayvon Martin, the sign had more of an effect on us than it would otherwise have.

And then I saw these for sale in the restaurant:

Yes, that’s the Hilltop Truckstop logo on those hoodies. I made a joke about the sign and the sale of the hoodies to the cashier, who cracked up and said, “Yep—no hoodies allowed coming in; only going out.”

I must say, however, that the sign is not really needed; I doubt many “hoodie” types frequent the place. It’s more popular with folks like these customers we saw there:

As for the food? Well, it’s your typical truck-stop variety—greasy, and lots of it. Here’s the burger:

And here’s an order of chicken-fried steak with gravy, raisin toast, and eggs:

Yes, they do have reindeer sausage, which is very tasty (and spicy).

And I mustn’t forget the pie!