Scratch Made
Fork and Hen
Readers, this is a restaurant you really ought to be rooting for.
This little restaurant that could, like the literary locomotive, might be small and slightly unknown, but damn if it doesn’t have a big, giant heart and a whole heap of talent. “Our cultures clash but we make great food together,” says Mark Traugutt, one half of the owner/chef duo at Fork and Hen.
Mark, a Brooklynite whose resume includes Le Bernardin Privé, and Alfonso Duron, an accomplished chef from Juarez, Mexico, hail from different homelands but their varied perspectives create surprising, thoughtful, and noteworthy dishes that incorporate the best of both their worlds while adding in a ton of Southern comfort-food flair just for fun.
“We met working at The Founders Club years ago and quickly became best friends. We’re like brothers,” Mark tells me. “We knew we eventually wanted to open our own place, so we took a chance on this small spot across from Ringling College of Art and Design.”
He’s talking about the old Leaf and Lentil space that has gained a reputation for chewing up restaurants and spitting them out. Any Sarasotan knows there are a few spots in town that just seem cursed for restaurants but Mark feels certain they can break the spell on this one. I, for one, think they definitely have a fighting chance.
The place is small. Super small, actually, but it’s perfect that way. It feels personal, homey, like the kind of spot you return to time and time again because the chef knows you, knows stories from your life, knows that you like your papas bravas with a little extra romesco and pimenton, knows you never come in on Tuesdays because you have a standing in-office meeting with your boss.
And while all that charm is good for the heartstrings, it wouldn’t matter one iota if the food wasn’t fantastic. Which it is. Think Southern food favorites mixed with Latin American flavors and the sophistication that comes from fine-dining backgrounds. It’s rich and filling in that satisfying way we all love—like fried chicken, grits, and mac ‘n’ cheese, but also bright and bold with a touch of refinement that clearly comes from their individual experiences. For instance, the fried chicken comes with maple lavender butter and the grits are smothered in birria consomme.
Did you hear that? Maple lavender butter and birria consomme. Why are you still reading this article? Stop. Go there now. Alfonso sent me home with a takeout box full of their Creole Brussels and Cauliflower topped with smoked lardons, hot honey, green onions, and fondue. I ate it in the car. With my fingers. No joke.
This cozy joint just hits different. Both Mark and Alfonso have an overwhelming authenticity about their love for what they do and their desire to use their food to connect with people on a human level.
“I worked in very high-profile restaurants when I was younger and thought that’s what I wanted to do as I grew as a chef,” explains Mark, “but now I realize this is what I love: this more mom-and-pop type of place where we work with local farms, focus on seasonal options, have a constantly changing specials board, and make everything from scratch, in-house.”
You can hear the sincerity in his voice. You can tell that both he and Alfonso aren’t in this for the fame, even though both have impressive resumes and could have easily climbed that ladder. They’re here for the love of food and the love of this community. They’re here to feed us like family.
See you soon, gents.
> Fork and Hen: facebook.com/ForkAndHen
