Partying at Murry’s
The band was playing loudly and the fried catfish was hot at the iconic Murry’s, just west of Hazen on U.S. 70. And this was on a Sunday afternoon.
Murry’s isn’t open to the public on Sunday, but owner Stanley Young decided to throw a party after complet- ing a grueling schedule of chemotherapy for cancer. Stanley and his wife Becky have friends across the state, and people drove to the Grand Prairie from as far away as northwest Arkansas for the celebration.
Rather than mingling with the guests, Stanley and Becky were at their usual spots in the kitchen, making sure everyone went home happy. At one point, Stanley whispered to me: “Let me know when you’re coming through the food line. I went over to the Cache River and picked up some buffalo ribs and flathead just for you.”
The pond-raised catfish the couple serves is wonderful, but Stanley knows I prefer catfish and buffalo caught by commercial fishermen in the languid rivers of east Arkansas. That preference dates back to my childhood when my grandfather in Des Arc would send me a block over to Main Street to visit the fish market that was long a staple in that White River town.
“Get me a few of those fiddlers if the fishermen are bringing them in this morning,” he would say, referring to small catfish that are fried whole.
We often made the short trip from Des Arc to DeValls Bluff to eat fish at the original Murry’s or barbecue at Craig’s. Mike Trimble, a former Arkansas newspaper writer and one of the state’s greatest storytellers, once said the original Murry’s “appears at first glance to be a minor train derailment.”
Trailers were strung together as dining rooms. It was a brown-bag establishment in the tradition of the old Delta restaurants. People in Little Rock would rent buses to take them to DeValls Bluff for feasts of fried catfish (Olden Murry might throw in fried crappie for special friends), turnip greens and black-eyed peas. Murry (Becky’s father) opened the restaurant in the 1960s after an injury forced him to end his career on a U.S. Army Corps of Engineers snagboat.
Famous food writer John Egerton once called Murry the “Rembrandt of the kitchen” while describing the “rambling catacomb of interconnected coaches, trailers and prefabricated rooms.”
When I was a young newspaperman in Little Rock, I often would load up my car with friends. We would eat barbecue sandwiches at Craig’s as an appetizer and then go to Murry’s for catfish. I don’t do two meals in one night anymore, but I still love the food at both places. Though Murry’s is known for catfish, Stanley cooks some of the best steaks and chicken-fried steaks in Arkansas. This might be sacrilege, but I think Stanley is a better cook than his father-in-law was. Stanley told a writer for Arkansas Life magazine several years ago: “I’m not licensed to sell wild game in the restaurant, but I like to keep some on hand for my regulars and friends when they come in.”
That’s another reason I’m glad Stanley is my friend. I’ve had duck, crappie and even frog legs Stanley gigged (not the farm-raised ones on the regular menu). It pays to know the right people. Stanley, by the way, now serves on the selection committee for the Arkansas Food Hall of Fame. Murry’s is a previous inductee.
Egerton’s book, which was published by Alfred Knopf in 1987, is considered by food historians to be a classic. He wrote at the time: “Olden Murry has been frying fish for the faithful for about 20 years, before which he was a riverboat cook on the Mississippi. On the wall inside the place is a photograph of U.S. Sen. Dale Bumpers. It’s autographed to Olden Murry, ‘the best cook in Arkansas.’ With generous allowances for political overstatement, Bumpers may have been right on target.
“Here is a man with 45 years cooking experience whose reputation is secure, not only for the catfish he prepares but for the steaks, chicken, quail, frog legs, barbecue, shrimp, oysters and veal. He makes his own mealbased and flour-based batters and breading to dredge his seafoods and meats in, and he keeps the formulas to himself. He buys catfish both from fishermen on the nearby White River and from commercial processors.”
Egerton explained that the secret to Murry’s catfish was that “he completely empties and refills his deep-fat fryers with fresh cooking oil at least twice a week—a sure sign of devotion to quality—and he cooks his fish quickly at high temperatures, the better to seal in flavor and produce a crisp, crunchy crust.”
Murry told Egerton, “Every batch is different, so you have to pay attention.”
Stanley has followed that advice for decades, though he moved the restaurant a number of years ago to a more modern building between Hazen and Carlisle.
Of the DeValls Bluff location, Egerton wrote: “There’s no sign of any kind outside Murry’s Cafe, and there are none out on the highway, but it is not at all unusual for 200 or more people to show up there on any given night, many of them having driven 60 miles from Little Rock. Most of the people who work at Murry’s are members of his family, including a majority of his seven children. Murry’s is a home-folks kind of place, the same staff serving consistently fine food to mostly regular customers in plain and unpretentious surroundings.”
Murry’s serves dinner on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights. Be sure to start with the onion rings, the best in the state. Becky or one of the couple’s daughters likely will take your order.
Get back to full speed soon, Stanley. You’re a legend, and we need you in the kitchen.