On Old Highway 68

I had missed yesterday’s auction but I had made an appointment to see a guy that supposedly had some interesting information. I pulled my van into the dusty parking lot of "Henry’s Hitchin' Post" on Old Highway 68, about half way between Tohatchi and Gallop, New Mexico. I got out and took a look around. It looked pretty much like any other western cafe; a neon sign with one letter that hadn't lit up in years, in this case it was the second  “H”, making it read, “Henry’s itchin' Post.” Cactus was growing out of neglected flowerpots, and strings of dried chili peppers dangled from the doorposts. I went inside and saw that a big old saddle was mounted on the wall behind the bar. That’s when I met Calvin “Dusty” O’Grady.

Dusty had been a fixture at the place for years and he agreed to meet me and tell me some of the history of the place. 

“Let me tell ya what made Henry’s Hitchin' Post unique,” Dusty began, “it was the food, Henry’s cookin'—dang, it was good! It wasn't very fancy, but it was always delicious. Fred Winchester used to say it was the best dang stuff he ever put in his dang mouth! People would ask old Henry, the cook, "What the heck do you put in this dang stuff, Henry?" and he would always reply, "Aww, it wouldn’t taste so dang good if you knew what I put in it!" That always got a big laugh from the boys—heck, they stopped trying to figure out how in the heck Henry did it a long time ago. It was just accepted that ol' Henry was about the finest dang cook any of them had ever come across.

“A few years ago, a stranger stopped in from Kansas City, and ordered a Porterhouse Special. He was a loud one, and he made it pretty dang clear that the only place to get a real steak dinner was in Kansas City. Let me tell ya somethin,' when Bette served him a huge platter of sizzling Porterhouse steak smothered in mushrooms, peppers, and onions, and with a side order of Desert ‘Taters, the smell alone dang near sent that stranger off his chair. He soon learned he didn't need no knife to cut through Henry's steak; a dull fork went through it just fine. He took that first bite and chewed a couple of times and then all of a sudden he got up and brayed like a dang mule, and then began twirlin’ and hoppin’ around the table like an Al Gore supporter just after the last polar bear fried to death at the north pole! Nobody never saw nothing like it before. When he was done, the stranger apologized to Bette, and announced to everyone within earshot; “That was the best dang steak I ever ate anywhere bar none!” He had just climbed Mount Henry for the first time and he liked it and there was no more talk of Kansas City that night, and that’s the dang truth!

“Then there was the businessman from Topeka who said you just couldn't beat a fresh trout thrown into a hot frying pan fresh out of the river, and then he went ahead and ordered one of Henry's famous Hitchin' Post Shore Dinners. As soon as Henry finished the dish, Bette emerged from the swinging doors and hollered out "Comin' through!” and customers made way as she delivered a sizzling platter of trout and fixin's to the man from Topeka. His attitude changed pretty dang quick once he took a bite. He got down on all fours and took to bayin' and barkin' like William Jefferson Clinton on the night he met that dang intern! After each bite of trout that businessman got out of his dang seat, threw himself on the floor and barked and bayed! He later declared that it had been the finest dang meal he had ever been served anywhere, anytime, anyplace.

         “I guess the greatest testament to Henry's mastery in the kitchen was the day that Julia Child visited Henry’s Hitchin' Post. This was a couple of years before she passed on and she came in with her possey and took over the booth near the pool table. Julia was thinking about putting together a book on Southwestern kwee-zeen, and heard that Henry’s was definitely worth a try. Well, they all ordered something different and it took a while to get everything just right but when Julia took a bite of them Beef Nuggets ala Henry, plates and platters went flying as she did a dang back-flip up and over the bar and landed right-side-up in that wall mounted saddle behind the bar! Everybody cheered and Julia bought a round for the house. She ate the rest of her dinner in the saddle, and after each bite she hollered and whooped like a drunken cowboy, waving her new ten-gallon Stetson and shootin' a dang six gun! Now that must have been some tasty dang beef!

         “When Ol’ Henry died a year ago, folks were sad of course, but they really wondered what would become of the Old Hitchin' Post. Well, Bette tried to keep it going for a while, but it just wasn't the same. They closed up the place a couple of months back and auctioned off everything yesterday. 'Julia's Saddle' went for $200 but Floyd Bonner had mounted it with so many dang bolts and screws nobody could undo it from the dang wall!. The last item on the auction block was Ol’ Henry's secret recipe book. Some fancy On-tray-Pee-noour from Cincinnati came in and bid three hundred bucks! I don’t know if he was a Jeen-yus or a just a dang fool but he got the works—all of Ol’ Henry’s secrets!”

I looked Dusty in the eye and asked him, “Did you ever get a look at the book yourself?”

“You’re dang tootin’ I did,” he said with an all-knowing smile.

“Well, what was Ol’ Henry’s big secret?” I begged.

“I didn’t look and nobody showed me. I ain’t no dang cook!”

©2010 Tom Roy