Archive for the ‘Food’ Category

Passing the torch at the Dundee Dell

August 29, 2016 Leave a comment

I have always been partial to the fish and chips served up at the Dundee Dell. The old line Omaha pub has a loyal following for its grub and spirits and for its ultra casual vibe. There’s something traditional and classic about the way it looks and feels and does things. So when I got the assignment from Food & Spirits Magazine ( to do this piece on the recent ownership change at the Dell I was more than happy to accept because I was curious to meet the man who’s headed the place for the last three decades, Pat Goebel, as well as the man he’s passed the torch to, Greg Lindberg. Both gentlemen have years of experience in the food business. Goebel inherited a legacy in the Dell. Lindberg made his name and success as the entrepeneur who brought fresh seafood to Omaha to a whole new level through his Absolutely Fresh Seafood markest and Bailey’s and Shucks restaurants. Selling the Dell to someone as experienced as Lindberg eases Goebel’s mind that he’s leaving it in good hands and Lindberg is respectful enough of what Goebel created there that he’s asked Goebel to help smooth the transition. Goebel’s pleased to do just that. It’s been a spell since I’ve dined and hung out at the Dell and after meeting the men and learning how passionate they are about the place what it means to them I’m eager to renew my own relationship with it. You can bet I’ll order the fish and chips and even though I really don’t imbibe I may break down  just to sample one of those aged Scotches the joint takes pride in. Oh, and on some other visit I have to try the hot pastrami sandwich that both Goebel and Lindberg recommended.


The fish and chips at Dundee Dell are crisp and delicious.


Passing the torch at the Dundee Dell

©by Leo Adam Biga

Appearing in the August 2016 issue of Food & Spirits Magazine (


In the wake of Piccolo’s closing, leaving Omaha one less signature Italian steakhouse, the Bohemian Cafe announced it would serve its last Czech specialties in September. So when rumors surfaced Pat Goebel was selling the city’s oldest pub, the Dundee Dell, local diners and imbibers alike quaked at the thought of some dillitante swooping in and ruining a good thing.

Fears were allayed when news got out the Dell was purchased by veteran Omaha restauranteur and wholesale food maven Greg Lindberg. The midtown landmark has joined his Absolutely Fresh Seafood, Shucks Fish House and Oyster Bar and Baileys family of businesses.

Since taking over last spring, with Goebel staying on to ease the transition at Lindberg’s request, the new owner’s made it known to devotees the magic that makes the Dell won’t change.

Lindberg, who often bent an elbow at its old 50th and Dodge location and followed it to its current 50th and Underwood site, appreciates what he’s inherited when he calls the homey  establishment an “icon and institution.”

“The pressure I feel is to not screw it up, because it is the Dundee Dell,” Lindberg said. “My witnesses or judges are the loyal customers and employees.”

He said being the steward of a legacy that goes back to 1934, when it started as a Jewish delicatessen, then went through a steakhouse phase, before tuning pub, is a “labor of love.” He’s also quick to add, “I believe I can make money with this. I think I can make it a good business and a fun place for me to be. I’m doing this because I want to do this.” There’s also a deeper reason that motivated him to buy the Dell – he didn’t want to see it shuttered the way so many historic restaurants have and chance a franchise opening in its place.

“I believe in small business,” he said. That belief goes back to his father who championed buying on main street as publisher of newspapers in Sergeant and West Point, Nebraska.

By the time Lindberg operated his own ventures, he saw too many mom-and-pops go under.

“I was selling fish to all these restaurants owned by hard working people trying to feed their families. The chains kept moving in and kicking these people out. That sucked, that is not the way I want my town to be, so I fight back.”


Photo of Greg Lindberg

Greg Lindberg


Lindberg admires that Goebel enjoyed a long run (he bought it in 1989) and “kept the vibe, the spirit” while giving it “a breath of fresh air” upon moving to its new digs in 2000. Lindberg’s added new systems, fresh carpeting and other overdue updates to provide “new energy” and “get it shiny,” but he’s kept most everything else the same. That includes the famous fish and chips and the hot pastrami sandwich. Holdover executive chef Mary Tomes is introducing new seafood and traditional English pub items. The Dell’s epic collection of Scotch varietals is being curated to further brand the Dell as a niche neighborhood joint where you can get certain scotches you can’t anywhere else.

Lindberg said his familiarity with Scotch was limited to drinking it, but he’s learning from Goebel, a bonafide connoisseur. Goebel’s vast store of spirits knowledge is not the only reason Lindberg asked he remain in-house awhile.

“A lot of the Dell is between his ears, quite frankly. Plus, he’s the face of the Dell.”

Lindberg’s getting ample face time with Dundee regulars. “Whatever the politically correct term is for people with money and education, well, they’re here,” he said, “and that’s cool, I like it.” The Dell can appeal to an upscale clientele looking for a relaxed setting, but looking at Dundee’s mostly gourmet eateries, it fills the inexpensive pub niche otherwise missing.

He’s learned things since starting his first business in 1979.

“A lot of times in my life it’s been knowing what not to do. I have ideas from here to the Interstate. single-spaced. I’m a list guy.

I’ve kept my last two phones and computers because they have so many lists and they don’t talk to each other. There’s some good ideas in there, but you can’t do everything.”

Many eateries go awry, he said, by “trying to be all things to all people – too many things on the menu.” “Ideally,” he said, “I’d shave off a third of any menu.”

He believes the front and back of the house are only as good as the people working them. He was impressed enough by Goebel’s tight-knit corps that he’s kept the entire staff intact.

“We haven’t gotten rid of anybody.”

“I could not be more pleased,” Goebel said. “It really is family.

So many of our staff have been here 10 years-plus. We take care of our people, we support each other. If somebody’s having a rough spot, we gather around and help them through it. If there’s a wedding or a new baby’s born, we all celebrate.”

Lindberg isn’t messing with a good thing. “Everybody talks about their place is family,” he said. “This is the real deal. There’s a lot of amazing stories about what Pat’s done for these people. If you’ve got good people, you can do anything, – I believe that in my soul. I’ve done my best to surround myself with talented, hard working people. I actually like ’em and they tend to like me.” Yes, running a business comes with hassles, but “good people take most of those away from you,” he said.

Goebel feels he’s leaving his people and place in good hands.

“Greg and I really see eye-to-eye on things. I wanted to find       somebody who’s vested in the legacy, in the tradition, in the Dundee Dell, and wanted to maintain that going forward, and I found that in Greg. I wouldn’t have done it any other way. I’m very invested emotionally here. I will always be. But it’s time for me to pass the torch.

“This thing needs to be respected and honored and cherished. It’s not just another part of a large operation. I mean, do we really need another Applebees? Does it make Omaha better? The Dundee Dell does make Omaha better.”




Lindberg said the timing was right. The Dell took a hit from extended street construction a few years ago that made accessing it a pain. Business further  lagged this last year. When he heard Goebel was seeking a buyer, he contacted him to discuss terms and discovered the depths of the struggles.

“It got rough. It was spiraling down. Staff were a little beat down over lack of money to fix things. The way I saw it,” Lindberg said, “if I didn’t do it, this thing was going to fall. It was close.”

Besides not wanting the Dell be another Omaha eatery casualty, taking on a new challenge is just what he needed.

“I’ve just been having a good time with Shucks and Bailey’s and Absolutely Fresh for decades. It wasn’t always fun, but it has been for quite some time. This has reenergized me. I don’t have to work, but I like it. I’m 61-years old, I’ve been doing this for 37 years. I’ve been saving money – not for the first 12 or so – but I’ve been saving money ever since. I’d be fine. I could retire.

“But then what?”

Ever the entrepreneur, Lindberg needs the rush that comes with business risk and reward. Then there’s the symmetry of it.

“I bought it from Pat, who had it for 27 years. He bought it from Neil Everett, who had it for 27 years. That’s Haley’s comet weird.”

Lindberg’s not sure he’ll make it  27 years himself, which would be 2043, but he’s happy to settle for another milestone.

“It will be a hundred years old in 2034. I can make it that long.”


The Long Goodbye for Bohemian Cafe: Iconic Omaha Eatery Closing After 92 Years

August 25, 2016 1 comment

Soon, there will be no more “dumplings and kraut today at Bohemian Cafe” as the venerable Omaha eatery’s familiar jingle went. As you probably know by now, this throwback ethnic restaurant that’s served up authentic Czech, German and Polish cuisine for most of its nine decades is closing September 24. It truly has been a landmark and anchor on South 13th Street for its immersive ethnic experience – from the exterior’s decorative tile and signage’s Old World style lettering to the folk attire of the wait staff to the specialty meat dishes with their rich, sopping-good gravies and sauces. It truly has been a destination place for residents and visitors alike who want something distinctly different.

It may not serve the most refined fare, but the Bohemian Cafe made its reputation specializing in some of the most delicious, satisfying, stick-to-the-ribs meals found in the metro. After 92 years the family-owned restaurant is bowing out of the hyper competitive dining scene knowing its departure is making lots of loyal customers sad. During its long goodbye, lines have been out the door as proof it’s made a lot of folks happy.



The Long Goodbye for Bohemian Cafe: Iconic Omaha Eatery Closing After 92 Years

©by Leo Adam Biga

Appearing in the September 2016 issue of The Reader (


When family owners of the Bohemian Cafe announced in May the restaurant was for sale and would close September 24, it marked another casualty among classic eateries calling it quits. An eventual surge in customers wanting to indulge Czech-German-Polish specialties was expected, but sibling co-owners Terry Kapoun and Marsha Bogatz never expected the deluge would start almost immediately. And not let up.

“We made the announcement on a Tuesday (one of two days during the week the cafe’s closed), and that Wednesday we served 500 dinners, where we normally served maybe 225 on a weekday,” said Kapoun. The numbers kept growing. “Thursday we served 600, Friday we served 700, Saturday 800 and then Sunday it dropped back to 650-675. We expected this maybe the end of August, the beginning of September, not the next day,” And certainly not every day since.

“It’s just overwhelming,” he said.

The droves coming for roasted meat in rich gravy, hearty bread dumplings, sweet-sour cabbage, kolaches, strudel and a Pilsner pint, combined with reduced hours, means long lines at the 1406 S. 13th Street eatery. The wait allows time to admire the facade’s decorative tiling whose folk art displays continue inside.

Queues of hungry diners have meant doubling the batches of dumplings and kolaches normally made. The same for the roasted beef, chicken, pork loin and duck. For the first time in anyone’s memory, the Cafe ran out of duck one evening.

Head chef Ron Kapoun, another sibling, learned the unwritten recipes from Laddie Svoboda. The slow-cooked meats with special seasonings and pan drippings, cream-laced gravies infuse dishes with deep flavors arrived at by practice and instinct.

Families used to commemorating special occasions and holidays there are returning to relive powerful sense memories. Sentiments get shared with Bogatz and Terry Kapoun’s wife, Steph, who split greeter duties. The Bohemian’s Facebook page is filled with reminiscences and farewells.

Terry Kapoun said several ex-pat Nebraskans have returned just for another meal.

Bogatz said the family’s “seeing customers we haven’t seen for quite a few years.” First-timers are also among the throng and they’re getting turned onto unfamiliar items like svickova, jaeger schnitzel, Czech goulash and liver dumpling soup.

“We’ve had a lot of new people in. They heard about us and they wanted to at least experience it once, and they’ve just loved it. They wish they would have been here before.”

After 92 years in business, 69 in the same family, the Bohemian will be no more unless a new owner steps forward and the younger set of the four-generation clan that’s run it since 1947 decides to continue the tradition. Terry Kapoun’s parents purchased the cafe from his grandparents in 1966 and he and his siblings later took it over. It’s the only job Kapoun and Bogatz have ever had. Their children and grandchildren have all worked there, The full-time wait staff, some on the job 30, 40 years, are regarded as family.



Bohemian Cafe: 1: liver dumpling soup 2: egg drop soup 3: jäger schnitzel 4: hasenpfeffer

Bohemian Cafe: Get the goulash!


Its end follows other beloved stand-alone dining spots now gone: Mr. C’s, French Cafe, Vivace’s, Venice Inn, Piccolo’s, M’s Pub. Only a few remain with such pedigree: Cascio’s, Johnny’s Cafe, Gorat’s, Joe Tess Place. Petrow’s, Dundee Dell, Howard’s Charro Cafe.

Terry Kapoun laments independents fading amidst chains.

“There were so many great restaurants just in this little area (Little Italy-Little Bohemia), and they were all family-owned.” With each loss, he said, Omaha “loses a little bit of its personality and character.”

Each had its own niche. The Bohemian stood out with Czech folk figures flanking the huge neon sign over the entrance, a wait staff attired in traditional garb and that Old World menu.

“To so many people, this is Czechoslovakia in Omaha,” Kapoun said.. “Customers who’ve gone to the Czech Republic tell us when they eat at cafes in Prague it’s just like eating at the Bohemian Cafe. We take pride in giving Czechs and non-Czechs an authentic cuisine experience.”

The owners say that where today’s entrepreneurial indies are apt to move on when the going gets tough, family-owned spots persevere. Kapoun said, “I don’t think there’s been a family restaurant where at times they didn’t pay salaries or had to hold them awhile when things were sluggish. Only in a family restaurant would things carry on this long or the same head chef still be there since 1979.” Ron Kapoun’s been rising at 2:30 a.m. to start cooking at 4 nearly every day for 37 years.

As Marsha Bogatz said, “You sacrifice for the restaurant.”

Even with advancing age and decades of long hours taking their toll, the 64-year-old Kapoun said, “I really thought I’d be working until I was 80 with the kids. It just didn’t work out that way.”

The Cafe’s evocation of homey nostalgia makes folks feel a part of it, which is why Kapoun regards himself the steward of a communal treasure.

“It was always that type of a feel. I’ve never felt like an owner.”

Open Wednesday through Sunday from 3 to 9 p.m. Visit

Pot Liquor Love

August 23, 2016 Leave a comment



Pot Liquor Love 

Not long after Pam and I began getting to know each other, we discovered several things in common, and some of what we found we both have a real passion for has to do with food. Having been in a previous long-standing relationship with an African-American woman, I already knew that the food I grew up eating and the food that many African-Americans grow up eating share many similarities. This, despite the fact that I am of Polish and Italian ancestry, two cuisines you wouldn’t ordinarily or immediately associate with soul food. But much of the food my late parents grew up eating and that they then weaned my two older brothers and I on is what could be called peasant cooking, which is essentially what soul food entails. The peasant connotation simply refers to the fact that people of little means, whether Polish or Italian or Black, historically make do with whatever is at hand. including what they eat. The humble rooted people on both my dad’s Polish side and on my mother’s Italian side certainly made do with what they raised and tended on the land and with what scraps of meat they could afford to purchase. The same with Blacks, whose soul food tradition derives from what was available from the sweat of their own brow working the land and what they could scratch together to buy.

Thus, the Polish and Italian cuisine I grew up eating, just like the Black soul food cuisine I was introduced to years later, features lots of greens, beans, potatoes, pastas (think spaghetti and macaroni and cheese), grains (barley, rice, grits) and lower end cut, slow cooked meats, including pig’s feet, cheek, hocks,  butt, ribs, oxtails, smoked turkey wings and legs and beef liver, although some of those formerly low cut low priced meats have since become pricey gourmet items. There are pan-fried and deep-fried connections, too, between my roots and Pam’s, such as chicken livers and gizzards. and, of course, chicken.

My mom and dad split the cooking. Their go-to dishes included: smothered pork chops (his), bean soup with hocks (his and hers), oxtail soup (his), braised oxtails (hers), oven-baked chicken (his), beef stew (his), Italian stew (hers), pig’s feet (his), greens (hers),

Pam has expressed surprise over and over again when, upon talking fondly about various dishes her family enjoyed eating, I come right back with, “Yeah, we ate that, too.” She is fairly amazed even now that I have consumed more than my share of ham hocks, for example, and that I still cook with them today. We didn’t have collards, but we did have mustard and assorted other greens. My mom grew up eating dandelions and she’d once in a while incorporate them into our greens as well.

The whole idea behind this mode of cooking and eating is to stretch things in order to feed several hungry mouths without straining the budget. That means lots of soups, stews, casseroles, bakes and concoctions where you throw in everything on hand to make what Pam’s family used to call “stuff.” Every ethnic group has it own variation of this everything but the kitchen sink dish that is more about expediency than it is culinary style. But Pam and I both agree that there’s never a good enough excuse for making something that lacks flavor. We are both big on bold, robust flavors achieved through liberal seasoning and cooking methodology. When it comes to meat, and she and I are both classic carnivores, we prefer slow baking, roasting methods that produce copious amounts of natural pan drippings that we spoon right over the serving portions or that can be the base for rich, delicious gravies and sauces. You might say we are connoisseurs of pan drippings because we appreciate the layered, complex, concentrated flavors they contain.

The resulting “pot liquor” is produced whether cooking beef, pork or poultry, but you have to have cuts that are bone-in and contain some fat, too. Fat and bone, that’s where the real flavor resides, and all the seasoning and veggies you add only help enhance the flavor. Yes, pot liquor is the really deep, fat and marrow released and rendered goodness that gets deposited in those puddles, streaks and bits. We never serve a meat dish without  some of the pot liquor over it. I love that term because it’s so apt to what the essence of pan drippings are. Rendered fat and bone is where it’s at and when enough of it is released and it gets to coagulating and browning to where those alternately gooey and crusty bits collect at the bottom and edges of the roasting pan, it distills right there in the oven or even on top of the stove into a heady, briny brew that really is best described as pot liquor.

Pam knows by now that one of my favorite food things to do is to take a hunk of bread and sop up the smear of congealed pot liquor left on the pan. Oh, my, that is a burst of flavor that rivals the best bites I’ve ever eaten, Not even a 4 or 5 star restaurant can duplicate that taste.

There are other pot liquors not exclusive to meat dishes, such as the brew created by cooking collards with ham hocks. Pam makes some righteous greens with hocks or smoked turkey lumps whose pot liquor is enough to get intoxicated on when sopping it up with corn bread or pouring it over most anything.

With the holidays coming up I am already salivating at the thought of Pam’s roasted turkey – she makes the moistest turkey I’ve ever eaten – and its pot liquor bounty that pairs well with the greens, the stuffing, the candied yams and everything else for that matter.

Sure, there’s more to life than food, but at the moment I can’t think what that might be. Cooking a meal for someone is as true an expression of love as I can think of. It is the epitome of sharing something precious and of delighting in someone else’s pleasure or satisfaction. Pam and I regularly take turns cooking for each other. Her home cooked meals bring me right back to my childhood and early adult years eating at home with mom and dad. She likes my cooking, too. It also takes her back. By now we both know what we like and what we don’t. Our tastes, with a few notable exceptions, are remarkably alike.

On our recent trips down South we experienced a few dishes with good to the last drop pot liquor love. Read those at–

Not sure whose turn it is in our couple cooking rotation. It doesn’t much matter though you see because whoever has the duty will be putting out big flavors. That’s what you get when you cook with love – flavor. The one cardinal sin we can’t abide is bland food. That and skimping on the pot liquor. When we sit down to dinner, it’s not so much “pass the salt” as it is “give me some more of that pot liquor, honey.”

I don’t mean to imply the lip smacking magic of our Pot Liquor Love is what keeps us together, but it sure helps.

Summer Miller’s book depicts area whole foods culture in stories, recipes, pics

“New Prairie Kitchen: Stories and Seasonal Recipes from Chefs, Farmers, and Artisans of the Great Plains”

I am very happy for my colleague and former editor at The Reader, Summer Miller, for the success she is having with her first book, New Prairie Kitchen. She has poured her passion for food and for the emerging Great Plains food culture that Omaha is on the leading edge of into her labor of love book. She has lovingly rendered the stories of chefs, growers and artisans involved in this movement as a way of life. She connected her passion with theirs and the result is a book of personal profiles and original recipes, all beautifully illustrated by Dana Damewood’s photography. My story about Summer and her book appears in the July 2016 issue of The Reader (


Cover of

Book depicts area whole foods culture in stories, recipes, pics

Summer Miller mines the new prairie culinary landscape

©by Leo Adam Biga

©Photos by Dana Damewood

Appearing in the July 2016 issue of The Reader (


Omaha author Summer Miller came to write her Gourmand World Cookbook Awards finalist New Prairie Kitchen in the midst of a life reset.

More than a recipe book, Miller profiles 25 chefs, growers and artisans involved in creating “the new Midwestern table” and its clean-healthy- fresh food credo. Each subject’s represented by signature dishes they provided and by photo portraits Dana Damewood made.

“I knew I wanted to tell stories,” Miller said.

She specifically wanted to share stories of this loose community of creatives she met while researching the book.

“I was passionate about this. I really believed in showcasing Nebraska and these people. I felt it was an act of service to them and to the region and to the whole idea of it. This book for me was always about promoting the people. What I find inspiring about them is their willingness to work against the grain and twice as hard because they believe in what they’re doing. They just don’t do it easy, they do it right. That reinsured me to do that with my own craft.

“I learned so much from the people in it. It was such a growth experience  – both the writing process and the human connections.”

She views the project as a collaborative. Her “thorough’ process entailed multiple interviews. When it came to recipes, there was “back and forth – tweaking, changing, conversation. My name is on the book but it was a major collective effort.”

Miller chose profile subjects – from Omaha Grey Plum chef-owner Clayton Chapman to Hastings Back Alley Bakery owners John and Charlotte Hamburger – who represent “people coming together to try and elevate our food culture.” “You didn’t have to be a James Beard-nominated chef to be in the book. I didn’t care if you had training or not. I cared that you used local products. That was the only filter. If we do something well here, we should use it and support it. They’re our neighbors.” Her subjects extend into Iowa and South Dakota.

Damewood’s photographic approach fit Miller’s vision.

“I needed somebody who could let people be who they were, who could work as a photojournalist and not have to have a studio set for everything, who would handle whatever came to us in the field.”

Miller worked closely with chefs “simplifying and making recipes more functional for the home cook,” adding, “I didn’t expect to become as involved in the food as I did.”



The project came into focus for the veteran Omaha journalist only after  she left reporting-editing for a corporate job and then got accepted to graduate school, When a chronic back problem required surgery and Miller found herself pregnant, grad school got scuttled. Between post-op recovery, new motherhood and unemployment – she’d quit her job – her old identity no longer fit. The book transformed her. It began with this avid gardener and home cook meshing her food interest with her storytelling instinct. She filed freelance food articles and penned a weekly seasonal eating column. All informed by the emerging farm-to-table movement she felt drawn to. Through Emerging Terrain dinners and other collaboratives, she saw chefs and growers partnering.

“We have this amazing pool of chefs and when they work with producers who understand how to grow something beautifully and at what point the sugar content of this vegetable is just perfect and at what point these greens reach their spiciest peak and the best time to pick them, that really excites these talented people to be creative. That in turn provides us as consumers with really good food.”

The more she surveyed the scene, the more of a local whole foods activist she became. She said, “Being able to eat well and to eat good food can come at the fine dining level and it can also come at the casual level.” Even living in the country and knowing growers, she said “it’s still hard for me to source local food.” That’s why the back of her book includes a directory of local whole food chefs and growers.

Thus, the book and its themes grew out of Miller’s own life.

“I grew up working in gardens. Once I had a family food became even more of a counterpoint in my own personal life. I think the rest of the world is kind of coming along to that, too. This has been going on for years, but it’s just really now hitting the new wave of local food. I really care about home cooking, I care that people do it and I care that people understand you can do it and it doesn’t have to kill you. I really believe families want to eat better,” said Miller, who teaches cooking classes.

Then there are food’s social-emotional dynamics.

“Feeding people has always been a way to comfort others. It lets them know they’re tended to. It’s not new to show people you love them through food. That’s what we do when we don’t know what else to do.”

She rues the family dinner’s become “vilified” in a foodie culture that makes chefs celebrities and eating out the norm.

“I think it’s too bad food today has become elitist. That’s so sad. I don’t think food is an art. It’s a medium and a vehicle and like any medium you need to respect it but you also don’t make it more than what it is. It’s a way to feed people, it’s a way to connect people, it’s a way to nourish ourselves, our souls, our bodies, our families, our relationships, and we need to find our back to that. I’m a home cook advocate – I’m like a defender of dinner.

“I don’t honestly like the word foodie because it puts the emphasis on the food and I believe the emphasis should be on how food brings us together. These things are big to me. Being able to make something nice and to serve my family a meaningful, memorable meal, especially around the holidays, is how I show love.”




She said the pendulum’s swung too far.

“I think it’s great we know what arugula is now, but I think we have to be careful not to elevate food above the people eating it because it’s a means with which to share our humanity with one another and to show love and compassion.”

New Prairie Kitchen’s message has resonated enough that the book went into a second printing within months of its May 2015 release by Chicago-based publisher Agate.

Miller did an extensive book tour last summer. People came out “in droves” to see her and some of the chefs, growers, artisans she had appear with her at several stops.

“I was gone almost every weekend. I was pretty drained by the end of that. I was definitely ready to be home with my family.”

The book brought her to the attention of EatingWell magazine, whom she now contributes to.

She’s delighted some fans use the book as a travel guide to visit featured venues.

This expert author likens the local food culture to where recycling was decades ago. “It wasn’t yet integrated into life but now we all do it. I think whole food will become that as well – it will become what we do.”

“The best thing coming out of this is people learning what food should taste like after decades of having flavors dumbed down. Once you have a truly well-made hamburger and you learn just enough to do it better yourself at home, then you will not waste the time, energy, environmental resources to go spend $8 on a combo meal

“Learning what food is supposed to taste like in its most unadulterated form is the first step in healing ourselves and our families. You have to be able to eat well every day, and you can.”

Follow her at

A Real Food Find: Finicky Frank’s

A Real Food Find: Finicky Frank’s

Upon discovering a great restaurant like Pam and I did last night at Finicky Frank’s, I am immediately thrown into conflict. Part of me wants to share the find with the world and part of me wants to keep it our little secret. Obviously, the former insitnct won out over the latter and with this post I am gladly spilling the beans and sharing the love about this charming place that serves up real food at the foot of Ponca Hills. I had heard some good things about Finicky Frank’s but being somewhat finicky myself, I wasn’t prepared to believe the hype, especially after being disappointed more times than not by supposedly good dining spots. This one though really does live up to the glowing reviews and recommendations. Mind you, I’ve only eaten there once, but the experience – from the food to the service to the decor to the vibe – was well above average and among the best I’ve had in Omaha. I rate the experience highly enough that it makes me confident and eager to go back and try more things on the menu. Before I get to what we ate there, I will tell you it features a small but well curated menu of burgers, sandwiches, pizzas, seafood dishes, pasta dishes and salads. This is New American Comfort Food. It’s not highly refined but it is prepared with love and passion. It is a made from scratch place that equally prides itself on fresh and whenever possible locally sourced ingredients. The proof is in the food and the flavor. For my dinner I actually ordered the lump meat crab cakes off the appetizer’s list and a house salad. The crab cakes were among the best I’ve ever had. Meaty, moist, luscious, flavorful. Quite good-sized too. More than filling enough for a dinner entree. One can also get a crab cake sandwich (served on a Broiche bun) with a choice of hand-cut fries or hand-battered onion rings on the side. But I wanted the crab to stand out, and it did. The salad I had was a nice mix of greens and veggies accented by a well balanced not too tart or sweet vinaigrette. Pam ordered the seafood enchilada. The idea was for us to sample each other’s dishes but we were so busy devouring our respective meals that neither of us got around to try the other’s. All I can say about hers is that it looked delicious and she raved about its generous filling of salmon, shrimp and crab and the homemade Alfredo sauce that topped the whole works, all of it baked to a yummy crusty gooey goodness. It’s a mid-ranged price restaurant where you can dine alone for $10 to $20 bucks and as a couple for $35 to $45. The couple that run the place – she’s the chef and he runs the bar and the front of the house – show a real commitment to excellence in every aspect of the operation. Real food, spot on service, a super clean evirronment, good art on the walls, a carefully considered design. All of it works well in concert together. There’s just a good flow and energy about it. But at the end of the day it’s all about the food, and this right here is the real thing. No pale, fake imitations or substitutions will do at Finicky Frank’s. If you’re looking for authentic, this is the place to go. It’s located at 9520 Calhoun Road just north of where McKinley Street intesects North 30th Street.


Cover Photo

Finicky Franks's Profile Photo

Requiem for the Bohemian Cafe

Requiem for the Bohemian Cafe


©by Leo Adam Biga

News that the Bohemian Cafe will close in September leaves me with mixed feelings. Don’t get me wrong, I love the place and all its high-caloric staple dishes, faux motherland decor, kitsch Czech knickknacks, waitresses from another era, and old-line customers who waddle in and out in the haze of an oncoming food coma, I am one of those customers. I was introduced to the place when I was a child. It was a go-to venue for extended family celebrations on my Polish side, which is the Biga side. Like many of you, I grew up hearing its radio ad jingle on KFAB, “Dumplings and kraut today, at Bohemian Café, draft beer that’s sparkling, plenty of parking, see you at lunch, okay?” and I am certain I will never be able to get it out of my head.

The other side of me is Italian (Pietramale) and of course Omaha’s Little Bohemia enclave is only a dumpling’s throw away from the Little Italy district.

More than once a gathering of Bigas occupied the party room at the Bohemian Cafe when I was growing up. It always seemed like a culturally excotic immersion experience. As the years passed, I continued going. It was one of my late parents’ favorite places to dine at. When they finally moved from North Omaha to South 9th Street right across from Grace University, I actually ended up eating more than ever before at the Bohemian. Usually with both of them or one of them. My brothers long since moved away to Colorado and as far as they were concerned the Bohemian was a must stop.



The owner of the cafe had it right when he told the World-Herald that a restaurant like his is more than just about the food, it is an emotional experience. Emotions easily rule out reasoning. There’s nothing wrong with the food there. For what it is, it is very good indeed. Unique among eateries here, too. But let’s just say it’s highly doubtful more than, say. 10 percent of its menu items are anywhere in the vicinity of heart healthy and maybe 10 percent of its ingredients are fresh, locally sourced, organic. It’s not the kind of place, I dare say, that has relationships with area small famers and purveyors. That’s just not what it does. That’s just not part of its DNA or character. It is all about doing things the same way. That’s both good and bad, of course.

The local restaurant scene has a few old independent holdovers left around who also remain unchanged. I expect they will all soon be gone, too. Not necessarily because the mass of us are choosing or demanding healthier, fresher options, though more and more of us clearly are, but in fact because there are so many more good restaurants to choose from today than 5, 10, 15 years ago, and each with its own indvidual take on cuisine. The options are staggering. And they simply do things at a higher level. Their food may not always taste as good as the Bohemian’s but it’s comfort good done at a fine dining or gourment level. For about the same price.

The Cafe’s owner acknowledged he and his staff are out of touch with the times, including the need for 24/7 social media branding. If I could make it happen, i would choose to keep the Bohemian going, but with some updates and other changes, while keeping the integrity of what sets it apart. The owner has said he would embrace someone taking it over, It’s possible, I suppose, but I don’t see that occurring. I will miss it. You can be sure i will enjoy at least one more authentic Czech meal there, probably one of its veal dishes, soaking up the delectable richness of that pot liqoured gravy, and happily stagger out in the midst of a diabetic onset episode. if you come upon me in the throes of that delirium, please don’t interfere – it is all part of the experience. And so, South 13th and environs loses another anchor amenity (I miss you Marino’s and St. Wenceslaus and Angies and all the rest). But we do have new amenities in the House of Loom and the Blue Barn. We have reactivated amenities in the Burlington Station becoming the home to KETV. Change happens. You lose things, you get new things.

I just don’t know what I’m going to do to feed my kolache fix come this fall. Oh, I know I can find kolaches elsewhere, but the point is they will never be the same. Same with the sweet and sour cabbage and the bread dumplings. Now, kindly join me in a tribute, nostalgic singalong of “Dumplings and kraut today…” while we knock back a cold dark stout.


Charles Hall’s Fair Deal Cafe

May 11, 2016 2 comments

For years Omaha’s most famous purveyor of soul food was the Fair Deal Cafe. Its proprietor, the late Charles Hall, served up some righteous fare at his North 24th Street place that was also known as Omaha’s Black City Hall for being a popular spot where community leaders and concerned citizens gathered to discuss civil rights and politics. Mr. Hall and the Fair Deal are gone and sadly the building has been razed. But at least a new development on the site will be taking part of the name as a homage to the history made there and the good times had there. On my blog you can find another story I did that used the Fair Deal as the backdrop for an examination of what makes soul food, soul food. I gathered together some old school black folks to share their wisdom and passion about this cuisine. I called that piece, A Soul Food Summit.


Charles Hall’s Fair Deal Cafe

©by Leo Adam Biga

Originally appeared in the New Horizons and The Reader


As landmarks go, the Fair Deal Cafe doesn’t look like much. The drab exterior is distressed by age and weather. Inside, it is a plain throwback to classic diners with its formica-topped tables, tile floor, glass-encased dessert counter and tin-stamped ceiling. Like the decor, the prices seem left over from another era, with most meals costing well under $6. What it lacks in ambience, it makes up for in the quality of its food, which has been praised in newspapers from Denver to Chicago.

Owner and chef Charles Hall has made The Fair Deal the main course in Omaha for authentic soul food since the early 1950s, dishing-up delicious down home fare with a liberal dose of Southern seasoning and Midwest hospitality. Known near and far, the Fair Deal has seen some high old times in its day.

Located at 2118 No. 24th Street, the cafe is where Hall met his second wife, Audentria (Dennie), his partner at home and in business for 40 years. She died in 1997. The couple shared kitchen duties (“She bringing up breakfast and me bringing up dinner,” is how Hall puts it.) until she fell ill in 1996. These days, without his beloved wife around “looking over my shoulder and telling me what to do,” the place seems awfully empty to Hall. “It’s nothing like it used to be,” he said. In its prime, it was open dawn to midnight six days a week, and celebrities (from Bill Cosby to Ella Fitzgerald to Jesse Jackson) often passed through. When still open Sundays, it was THE meeting place for the after-church crowd. Today, it is only open for lunch and breakfast.

The place, virtually unchanged since it opened sometime in the 1940s (nobody is exactly sure when), is one of those hole-in-the-wall joints steeped in history and character. During the Civil Rights struggle it was commonly referred to as “the black city hall” for the melting pot of activists, politicos and dignitaries gathered there to hash-out issues over steaming plates of food. While not quite the bustling crossroads or nerve center it once was, a faithful crowd of blue and white collar diners still enjoy good eats and robust conversation there.

Fair Deal Cafe




























Running the place is more of “a chore” now for Hall, whose step-grandson Troy helps out. After years of talking about selling the place, Hall is finally preparing to turn it over to new blood, although he expects to stay on awhile to break-in the new, as of now unannounced, owners. “I’m so happy,” he said. “I’ve been trying so hard and so long to sell it. I’m going to help the new owners ease into it as much as I can and teach them what I have been doing, because I want them to make it.” What will Hall do with all his new spare time? “I don’t know, but I look forward to sitting on my butt for a few months.” After years of rising at 4:30 a.m. to get a head-start on preparing grits, rice and potatoes for the cafe’s popular breakfast offerings, he can finally sleep past dawn.

The 80-year-old Hall is justifiably proud of the legacy he will leave behind. The secret to his and the cafe’s success, he said, is really no secret at all — just “hard work.” No short-cuts are taken in preparing its genuine comfort food, whose made-from-scratch favorites include greens, beans, black-eyed peas, corn bread, chops, chitlins, sirloin tips, ham-hocks, pig’s feet, ox tails and candied sweet potatoes.

In the cafe’s halcyon days, Charles and Dennie did it all together, with nary a cross word uttered between them. What was their magic? “I can’t put my finger on it except to say it was very evident we were in love,” he said. “We worked together over 40 years and we never argued. We were partners and friends and mates and lovers.” There was a time when the cafe was one of countless black-owned businesses in the district. “North 24th Street had every type of business anybody would need. Every block was jammed,” Hall recalls. After the civil unrest of the late ‘60s, many entrepreneurs pulled up stakes. But the Halls remained. “I had a going business, and just to close the doors and watch it crumble to dust didn’t seem like a reasonable idea. My wife and I managed to eke out a living. We never did get rich, but we stayed and fought the battle.” They also gave back to the community, hiring many young people as wait staff and lending money for their college studies.

Besides his service in the U.S. Army during World War II, when he was an officer in the Medical Administrative Corps assigned to China, India, Burma, Japan and the Philippines, Hall has remained a home body. Born in Horatio, Arkansas in 1920, he moved with his family to Omaha at age 4 and grew up just blocks from the cafe. “Almost all my life I have lived within a four or mile radius of this area. I didn’t plan it that way. But, in retrospect, it just felt right. It’s home,” he said. After working as a butcher, he got a job at the cafe, little knowing the owners would move away six months later to leave him with the place to run. He fell in love with both Dennie and the joint, and the rest is history. “I guess it was meant to be.”


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