Through the Pass: Chatham Filling Station
Moist chocolate brownie oozed through my fingers like quicksand during its transport to a to-go container, creating a chocolatey Jackson Pollock on my pants and forcing me to rethink this article. Come to think of it, chocolate has launched me into spontaneity many times. When my craving for a chocolate croissant couldn’t be met because the bakery was closed, it motivated me to gut the doughy interior of a hard roll, stuff it with M&M’s and bake it at 350. A chocolate eclair in a window once convinced me to stand on a blistering sidewalk in a cartoonishly-long North End bakery line during a record-breaking Boston heatwave. I once apologetically cut in front of a little old lady at a wedding dessert bar, thanks to the siren song from the last chocolate ganache (sorry, Grandma). I’ll even admit to pilfering a chocolate pecan pie at a revolving dessert display in a Long Island diner, late at night, and a long time ago (the statute of limitations must be up, right?). So when the fudge hit the khakis in the case of that brownie, my focus hit a crossroads. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves…
The barbecue had started coming to our picnic table in waves a little over an hour earlier, and quickly became a feast decadent enough to make Eddie “The Beast” Hall woozy (stay with me, you can Google him later). Our server, Olivia Vasquez of Harwich, came at us from all sides with appetizers, starting with Kentucky Kimchi, which was so colorful with pickled red onion, turnips, banana peppers, shredded carrots and cabbage, it looked like some exotic holiday bursting from a bowl, with cider vinegar from within jumpstarting the party. The Korean chicken wings were about the meatiest we’ve ever eaten, delivering the perfect amount of heat and leaving spiced honey simmering on our lips while not overwhelming our mouths. Between the pop of the vinegar and the sizzle of the wings, our taste buds found repose thanks to delicately cornmeal-dusted fried green tomatoes — a perfect “go to” side. Speaking of sides, we hit ‘em all — a black bean and corn salsa salad, classic mac-n-cheese, a refreshing cranberry Cole slaw, Aunt Mena’s Calico Beans Casserole, a colorful veggie succotash, and a heaping pile of Hoppin’ John (black eyed peas, bell peppers, onions, rice and pecan-smoked shoulder bacon), which is a classic Charleston-born dish that has promised throughout the ages to grant the eater good luck, or at least cure their hangover. Olivia brings us extra plates so we can pick and choose, combine and maneuver. We were in barbecue heaven, and we were in Chatham, Massachusetts.
The Chatham Filling Station, affectionately known to its regulars as “The CFS,” is a beloved breakfast and lunch joint located on Old Harbor Road, just a block off of Chatham’s historic and bustling Main Street, but we were there for their new barbecue dinner menu. The man behind the barbecue concept is co-owner Rik Morse. Rik’s love for food travels the globe like an Airbus, and his culinary influences dance around his menu like customs stamps on a passport, with stopovers in Asia and the Caribbean. However, his passion for all things Americana is first and foremost, and he takes his patrons on a magical road trip, with journeys into the Lone Star state, the Bayou and the Carolinas, to name a few. It’s the low country meets high ambition, and Rik pulls it off with the warmest of intentions. “I love to make people happy. If I can do that through my food, all the better,” he tells us. But Rik can also induce smiles before you even get to your table. The Chatham Filling Station looks to be just that, a stop along Route 66, somewhere between Oklahoma and Feel-at-Home-a. This is our first time to CFS, but the familiarity washes over us like a cool roadside creek on a summer afternoon. An old gas pump greets you at the front door; weather-worn road signs and 50’s memorabilia line the walls; and even the menu is a replica of so many diner placemats I remember as a kid. This place feels good. And it tastes even better. But we’ll get back to Rik — right now we have more barbecue arriving.
The menu item that originally caught my eye, thick strips of sizzling bourbon pork belly in maple bourbon gravy, is fanned out across steamy, creamy Carolina steel-cut grits. A thoughtful touch to the dish is the addition of fried okra, which were perfect and crispy, and not mushy like okra often is, and we hastily popped them into our mouths. Not to be outdone, a small volcano of sweet “low and slow” braised pulled pork bellowed scents of mango barbecue sauce into the perfectly still night. Since we made the trek from Barnstable we figured why not go for it and ordered the sliced smoked chicken breast, which came with a sweet Alabama white barbecue sauce so good that we dribbled it on just about everything — not because everything needed it, but because everything deserved it. But it was the tender strips of smoky beef brisket that stole the show, slathered with a cowboy gravy that fired off more smoke than a six-shooter, and the hearty half rack of St. Louis ribs, which were some of the most tender we’ve ever not had to cut into. The rib sauce — which delivered copious amounts of honey, mango, brown sugar, molasses and smoked chipotle pepper — dripped a beautiful bullseye onto my pant leg, willing Cupid’s chocolate arrow to drop that heavenly moist brownie in the same spot 30 minutes later. I asked Rik, “Why barbecue? Why the new menu?” His answer stirs together a deep passion with the current needs of his customers. “Pit Master” Rik’s passion for barbecue started making appearances after dark, first for catering and then due to popular demand, for take-out, when Rik and his wife and business partner Caren owned the very successful Chatham Bakery from 2001-2006. And the locals ate it up. “I thought it was a good time to bring the barbecue back,” Rik explains, “These days folks need good, fresh food that doesn’t break the bank. Also, takeout is so important right now, and everything on the menu travels really well.” Sure, I think to myself, tell that to my pants. Which brings us back to that chocolate brownie and the bedrock of the Chatham Filling Station.
Caren Chybik Morse is the other half of CFS, and although every bite of our barbecue dinner would make Porky Pig squeal with delight, every time one of us bit into the corn bread or a buttermilk biscuit, someone’s eyes would roll into the back of their head (or in my case, make a rather embarrassing moan, so I’m told). After dinner, when we dug into the homemade brownies and the warm Charleston Caramelitas, that’s when my entire focus shifted faster than Dale Earnhardt, Jr. driving home with a trunk full of melting ice cream. When Rik overheard us raving about the baked offerings on the menu, he chimed in, “You should try our breakfast some time. Caren serves her Station Breakfast Sandwich on those biscuits!” And with that we ask Olivia for our check, and tell Rik, “We’ll see you in the morning.”
Of course, now it makes sense. Rik and Caren owned a successful bakery (and later owned Zia Pizza in East Orleans for a decade). Why wouldn’t they have killer breads and desserts (and did we mention the popovers?). Caren’s extensive pastry chef background reaches as far west as it does east — she started as a pastry chef in Hawaii, eventually owned her own pastry business on Nantucket, and later was pastry chef at Nantucket’s well-respected American Seasons Restaurant, where she met Rik.
When we arrived at CFS’s bustling breakfast scene the next morning, Caren had taken over where Rik had been standing just a few hours before. Behind the line, flames were licking the sides of pans, bacon was sizzling, pots were clanging, and Caren seemed to have total control of all six of her arms. Looking over her shoulder I saw her adding fresh blueberries to gigantic pancakes and, although I’m more of a savory-over-sweet guy in the morning, I managed to quickly scribble “pancakes — get” in my notebook. This time our wait person was Holly Hertling from East Orleans, who seems to have many talents, which include balancing several dishes with ease while flashing a smile that easily shines through a thick protective mask. One of those dishes held a deconstructed Huevos Rancheros which, given the current grab-n-go needs, Caren also offers wrapped up in a Texas tortilla. The omelet highlights fresh slices of avocado, bright pico de gallo, feta cheese, saucy black beans and Rik’s Ranchero Sauce. I was having a hard time pacing myself and, before Holly could return with more, every scrap of it was gone.
Although Caren’s sublime buttermilk biscuits are offered at breakfast with “Sawmill sausage gravy,” I had my heart set on the Station Breakfast Sandwich. It should be mentioned that the side biscuit at dinner is smaller than the jumbo breakfast offering and, as I launched into the sandwich, which consists of fried egg, avocado and cheddar cheese, Rik’s bacon jam oozed out one side and down my shirt. As my taste buds were detecting caramelized onion, thyme, rosemary, molasses, vinegar, and, of course bacon, my mind was wondering whether edible Cape Cod pays for dry cleaning. Last but not least came a beautiful fresh fruit plate and those mouthwatering pancakes. The blueberries were plump and fresh, and the pancakes were perfect. Soft on the inside, a slight crispiness on the edges, and light as a feather. Simply put, they are the best pancakes I have ever had. Afterward I sat back completely full and satisfied, soaking up the early morning sun. Rik came out with his ten-mile smile, offering a tall, cool chai frappe in an old-fashioned sundae glass with a mountain of whipped cream on top. Ignoring the fact that I would never order something as silly as a “frappe,” I politely took it and thanked him. As I sat there making those thick, slurpy sucking sounds through my straw, the chai frappe doesn’t just deliver wondrous flavors, I am transported back to a time when things seemed simpler and more carefree. Suddenly it’s as if I’m back in my childhood. What a nice journey this place has taken me on. The term “comfort food” gets thrown around a lot, but something tells me that “comfort” is Rik and Caren’s grand design. Regardless of their intention, what the Chatham Filling Station offers goes beyond filling your stomach. This filling station pumps a bit of nourishment to your soul.
