Long-time TCO fans may have picked up that I’m a city gal at heart. I love my life in San Francisco, with its walkable streets and abundance of creative restaurants. But I grew up taking many road trips, where I developed a deep love for small towns and their quirks.

It’s that love that made me so excited to read Marilyn Hagerty’s Grand Forks, a collection of 128 restaurant reviews. Hagerty published her food column focused on Grand Forks, North Dakota starting in the late ‘80s. She gained national attention for her earnest review of an Olive Garden opening in the area. And I’m glad, because it inspired Anthony Bourdain to investigate more – and to publish this collection.

I knew going into this read there would be a lot to enjoy. Not just the food descriptions — which I was eager to explore — but also the almost epistolary nature of these reviews, written initially for a fleeting, local audience. I set the read aside for Labor Day Weekend reading in Guerneville – not quite as small as Grand Forks, but I hoped a worthy setting.

Dining with Marilyn: Napkins, Soup, and the Soul of Grand Forks

Grand Forks was everything I hoped, and more. Hagerty’s writing was warm and inviting. Over the course of 100+ reviews, I got to know a little of her preferences for restaurants. She hates needlessly attentive service, and finds most restaurant soup too salty. She appreciates a good napkin or silverware service, and notices the little ambient details as well as the quality of the food. She’s willing to adventure into eating Indo-Pakistani and Japanese food, and is just as comfortable critiquing Michelin-starred restaurants as local joints. (A critic after my own heart!)

The whole reading experience reminded me intensely of reading the Cat Who series, a personal favorite. In the series, reporter protagonist Qwilleran and his friend Polly Duncan routinely visit their favorite local haunts, hosting friends and visiting family along the way. New restaurants a town or two over are cause for exploration, and the whole thing emits a sense of comfort and community (and gentle snark). One gets the sense that Qwilleran and Polly would have been right at home at Marilyn Hagerty’s table.

Rooting for the restaurants

But reading Grand Forks introduced two elements I wasn’t expecting. The first was my investment in the town. Hagerty frequently returns to a few local favorites — Whitey’s, Sanders 1907, and Gramma’s — creating a sense of familiarity. This creates a sense of familiarity with these locations, and I looked forward to seeing when they – and their staff – would pop up next. Hagerty also tells us the fate of each restaurant at the end of their last showing in the book. (Early in the collection, this creates mounting suspense leading up to 1997 – when a Great Flood took out many restaurants (and caused much damage). When the flood hits, I was just as devastated as I feared.)

By the end of the collection, I found myself hoping not to see the update on my favorite restaurant crews, knowing my time with them would then be over. I enjoyed learning which restaurants made it through strife, which new menu concepts lasted. I rooted for the resterauteurs trying to share their beloved foods in retirement, the young chefs excited to make their mark. Hagerty’s reporting style brought Grand Forks’ food scene to life in a way that dozens of dry histories of American food history never could.

Beyond the Olive Garden: a more nuanced view of small-town cooking

Even less expected was how much I learned about food and food culture in small-town America. Going into Grand Forks, I was expecting a pattern of simple food turned more global over time. What I found was bit more complex. Early in the collection, Hagerty’s writing contains plenty of Norwegian, German, and regional foods I’ve never heard of. Hagerty may eat naan or Irish pub food for the first time in these reviews, but she knows her rommegrot from her riskrem, and has strong opinions on walleye preparation. Despite the infamous Olive Garden review, Italian food had been around Grand Forks for years.

Post-flood, the food gets more international – but more similar to the broader food scene. Gone are mentions of local specialties, replaced by Mongolian bowls and sushi. Subways open – and flourish, perhaps replacing the small mom-and-pop joints where Hagerty had enjoyed a Denver sandwich and a cup of soup. I was expecting this kind of replacement, but I didn’t expect the loss of regional foods in small-town North Dakota. More fool me, I suppose – but it made me more enthusiastic to appreciate Guerneville’s charms.

Adventures in small-town NorCal

For those not familiar, Guerneville is a small town a short (1.5 hour) drive north of SF. We chose to spend the long weekend here primarily for its easy access to the Russian River, a popular spot for river tubing. But we turned it into a lovely weekend exploring the small town and its local food joints.

And Sonoma County, it turns out, is full of charming food outlets. We started at Golden Bear Station, which featured amazing mushrooms and an innovative Tteokbokki Bolognese. The chefs were warm and welcoming and the food hyper-local (the tomatoes were grown in the garden 15 steps from the door). Day 2 featured incredible barbecue with strong personality and even stronger flavor at Saucy Mama’s, followed by delicious and inventive ice cream at the Guerneville Bank Club. And the food at The Lodge at Dawn Ranch combined California Modern with Argentine and Brazilian twists – and a touch of play with guess-your-cocktail and custom cocktail experiences. Each of these restaurants had just as much personality and perspective and care as those in Grand Forks.

That sense of care expanded beyond the food into the rest of the town as well. Walking down River Road, we found several cute pop art joints and a lovely purveyor of stained glass. The bookstore, Books + Letters, had an incredibly well-curated selection. (Truly a book lover’s dream – the kind that gives you a window into the curator’s soul – and of course I picked up two new books I could have only found there.) Even the Safeway boasted a historical plaque, describing the history of the town and its role in rebuilding SF after the Great Fire.

The whole weekend reminded me of the joys of peak small-town America: the sense of place, the joy of community. As we tubed down the Russian River, we were welcomed by locals who laughed and joked as we bumped our way through the currents together. I’m not deluded enough to think every day is a sunny float on the river — but small towns can be delightful little islands of quirk and personality.

Up next: more travel

I would heartily recommend Grand Forks to anyone who loves food. Hagerty is a fun and clever writer, and her collection is an endearing journey through food history in small-town America. Who knows — you might even discover a new dish you’ll want to recreate at home. (I haven’t stopped thinking about a pork roulade stuffed with apples, spinach, and Gruyère since reading about it.)

The travels continue next week as I sojourn to the Big Apple for work – and play. Until then, stay cozy, and stay curious!