thelocaldiner.com

We try to steer clear of Wal-Mart for shopping we could otherwise do at local grocery, but sometimes a roadtrip demands a store for both extra truck cupholders and industrial quantities of snackfoods. As we walked down skylit grocery aisles wide enough to drive through, we discovered that Wal-Mart not only had pretzel kegs and every variety of Easy Cheese, but also had localized its inventory to a surprising extent.

First we found Tim’s Cascade potato chips, acclaimed as the finest chip in the land, including a limited edition wasabi flavor. As it turns out, Tim’s is now owned by Birdseye, so maybe this wasn’t a surprise. Just across the aisle there stood two self-serve flour mills filled with Wheat Montana grain, something I noted last year but had not yet seen. They even sold flats of Montana’s Treasure bottled water, tucked away between Dasani and Arrowhead. But all of these things are available elsewhere–you could find them at most gas stations without a long walk from the parking lot.

The real value of Wal-Mart’s food store was finding foods you just can’t get anywhere else in Helena, unfortunately. They had the sweet-garlic Vietnamese hot sauce Sriracha, for example, something we usually had to get at an Asian seafood market in Bozeman. And tucked near a 35-cent avocado display were industrial-sized bags of ancho chiles, dried yet still supple, a key ingredient for mole that I previously could get only by mail order.

Helena’s due for another local grocery, and I’ll keep my fingers crossed that they’ll have the hot stuff I need. But until then, I reluctantly must admit that the best specialty food store in town is the Wal-Mart.

In the 1970s, at the intersection of State Highway 85 and Interstate 90 in Belgrade, there stood the light towers and grandstand of the original Gallatin Speedway, the tall dark pyramid of a sawmill smokestack, and the two long plastic quonset greenhouses of my grandparents’ tomato farm.Â? The screaming stockcar races and the soot-belching pyramid disappeared from the intersection years ago, but those greenhouses remained.Â? Until sometime last month, apparently.

My grandparents built Belmont Gardens from scratch in the late 1960s as a semi-retirement project after decades of dipping candies and jerking sodas at their fountain on Main Street in Bozeman.Â? It was a state-of-the-art climate-controlled hydroponic operation at the time, densely packed rows of tomato vines pollenated by some sort of walking reverse-vacuum my grandfather referred to as “bee machine”.Â? Inside the greenhouses was hot, moist, and almost pungent with the fragrance of tomato plants.Â? Outside in the shop the perfectly red and sweet tomatoes lined the shelves in row after row of flat boxes, 24 or so per box, prices indicated in my legally-blind grandfather’s large felt-tip script.Â? There would always be a few spare fruits on the table by the cash register for my brother and me, and a rusty salt shaker filled with sugar (not salt) to season them.Â? It must have been the sugar that got me started on a lifetime tomato habit.

I would join my grandmother for deliveries in her station wagon, with her little dog, a bag of stale Cheetos, and an oldies station punched in on the a.m. radio.Â? We drove a circuit that started at Lee & Dad’s in Belgrade, then head to Bozeman for stops at Van’s on North 7th, Heeb’s on East Main, and Thriftway in Livingston.Â? (Amazingly, all of these family supermarkets are still in business, though it’s a little harder to get local produce at them.)Â? Along the way, she recited with me the names of the mountain ranges as they appeared over the dashboard:Â? Tubacaruts, Bridgers, Spanish Peaks, Hi-lights, Ubsorkees.Â? I didn’t learn the spelling at the time, and that helped me with the pronunciation.

Almost twenty years ago, my grandparents sold the tomato farm and moved to a new development on what was then the outskirts of Bozeman, in a modest rambler that at the time had a clear view of most of those ranges I learned about.Â? As the years passed, my grandfather died, newer and bigger houses sprung up between the rambler and the ranges, and my grandmother eventually moved back to her childhood home of Livingston and into a rest home.Â? But every time I drove I-90 through Belgrade on my way to see her, those greenhouses stood sentry over our memories of the place, surrounded first by a farm implement dealer, then a used car lot, then a housebuilder’s model homes.

This past Mother’s Day weekend I found the greenhouses torn down.Â? It was the model homes that eventually conquered those greenhouses, of course.Â? Belgrade is Montana’s fastest growing city, adding more than 20% to its population in the last few years as variations on those model homes begin to fill in the I-90 corridor to Bozeman.Â? Demand for housing is so high that my grandparents’ house and shop stood braced on trailers, ready to be dropped into some new cul-de-sac.Â? Maybe if someone could have moved into those two long plastic quonset greenhouses, they would still be standing at the intersection of State Highway 85 and Interstate 90 in Belgrade.

The avocado industry tells us that Cinco de Mayo is a time for guacamole–nearly 40 million pounds of it.Â? We love guacamole (best with just avocado, onion, serrano/jalepeno peppers, cilantro, and salt to taste), but figured Mole Poblano is a more fitting choice for Cinco de Mayo.Â? The holiday celebrates the unlikely victory of Mexican troops over the invading French army at the Battle of Puebla in 1862, though the French went on to bring in reinforcements, win Mexico City, and rule until 1867.

Traditional mole as we know it (mole is simply an indigenous word for sauce) was born in the convents of Puebla long before the battle.Â? According to Diana Kennedy, the Julia Child of Mexican cuisine, nuns created mole for visiting church dignitaries, and either wanted to blend a sauce from Old and New World ingredients, or spilled their spice rack into a pot of turkey.Â? Both turkey and chocolate come pre-Columbian Mexico.

Mole is a sauce greater than the sum of its parts–Kennedy’s recipe has more than 20 ingredients–and chocolate actually plays a relatively small role.Â? The fruity, roasted notes and silky body come from toasted chiles and nuts.Â? Every recipe, even every batch, will vary, but here’s an easy way to start:

1.Â? Toast in a cast iron pan or toaster oven until fragrant and soft, being careful not to scorch:Â? Approximately 10 mulato chiles, 5 ancho chiles, and 5 pasilla chiles (all dried–you can substitute more readily available New Mexico or California
chiles if necessary, but most of the chiles should be either mulato or
ancho; you can find all of them at Gourmetsleuth.com).Â? Put the chiles in a bowl of warm water to soak during the next steps, then drain, stem, and seed before blending.

2.Â? Toast until fragrant:Â? 1 tsp. coriander, 1 tsp. / stick cinnamon, 1 tsp. anise, 1/2 tsp. / 4 cloves.

3.Â? Toast until fragrant but not browned:Â? 1 cup almonds / sesame seeds / pumpkin seeds / mix, and two cloves garlic.

4.Â? Blend until smooth all ingredients, plus:Â? 1 chopped white onion, 1 chopped tortilla, 8 oz. tomatoes or tomatillos, and 1/3 cup raisins, 1 14.5 oz. can chicken broth (or more if necessary to release blender blades).

5.Â? Fry blended mixture in 2 tbsp. vegetable oil over medium-high heat for a minute or two, stirring constantly.

6.Â? Reduce heat to low, mix in and melt 2 ozs. unsweetened chocolate, and simmer for at least 30 mins.Â? Gradually add more chicken broth as necessary keep sauce from burning.

7.Â? Add 2-3 lbs. browned chicken during the simmering process to cook, or serve over roast chicken or (more authentically) turkey.Â? Serves 6-8, and can be frozen and later reheated with additional chicken broth.