On my way back from Little Rock, Arkansas a couple weeks ago, I remembered a friend had mentioned visiting the café in Oark. For some reason I cannot understand, I wondered where the little village was. I didn’t know much about it. As it turned out, it nestled in the Ozark National Forest about an hour from where I graduated high school in Huntsville. Several of my friends and I traveled all over that part of the state, but I cannot remember ever visiting this little village.
It sits off state highway 215 along the Mulberry River. As of the 2020 census, 43 people called it home. It has a post office and both an elementary and high school. The high school—similar to the one I attended in Iceland—hosted grades 7-12 and enrolled around 75 students. They even have a mascot. The hornets.
When I drove into it, I decided my wife and I needed to visit for one of their famous burgers the next Saturday. I asked her if she wanted to, and we hopped in her Subaru Crosstrek and took off. The scenery along the route took our breath away. I have always liked traveling the Pig Trail–highway 23 going from Ozark along the Arkansas River valley all the way north to the Missouri state line above Eureka Springs.
We pulled into town past the school buildings and parked in a large gravel lot about forty yards from the café. A covered pavilion with several picnic tables next to a large field sits across the lot from the general store/café. A couple people ate lunches with several dogs as audiences waited to see if any morsel fell from the table. One young canine rested his head on the bench beside a woman eating a sandwich. It looked up at her with puppy dog eyes. We never saw whether she shared with it or not. Another interesting thing to behold in the pavilion was the library lockers. Not having a library of its own, a resident can order books from a nearby library to have delivered. What a great idea!
Stepping into the inside of the store/café took us to another world. The hardwood floors certainly looked like the originals. License plates from different eras across many states adorned the wood plank walls along with antique items—half of which I could not tell you theie purpose. 
Groceries and sundries took up one side of the building, and this included the necessary gift items to satisfy the bumbling tourists looking for something to remind them of their adventures. T-shirts, hats, stickers, postcards, and magnets. They had them all. The cashier doubled as the person taking your order should you want something to eat. My wife and I took three hours for a two-hour drive to get there. We wanted lunch. I ordered the Texas BBQ pepper jack cheeseburger with grilled mushrooms added, and Chrissi wanted the cheeseburger with grilled onions. For desert, I selected the peanut butter pie, and she had the apple. We both loved our food.
Next to our table, an old cigarette vending machine hung on the wall. Only a nickel got you your choice of Luck Strike, Chesterfield, or Camel cancer sticks. The owner told us later, he has pulled several nickels out of the non-working machine. As our children grew up, they often told their mother they didn’t like to go with me to the grocery store. They asked her, “Does Daddy know everyone?” Nope, I do not. However, what I do is never meet a stranger. And that didn’t change that Saturday.
Sitting to the table next to us was a couple from Benton, Arkansas. Like us, they like to explore. They said they woke up that morning and queried the best burger in driving distance. The algorithms led them to the Oark café and general store. They were well pleased, considering their route took them almost three hours and over a dirt road for part of it. We talked about places we’d been. She was a teacher and he owned an IT consulting business. We talked about industry. We talked about both the problems and the joys of education the world over. When they left, we exchanged cards.
We spent time shopping. Chrissi wanted a t-shirt, and I bought a sticker to put in my travel journal. We finally left as the place started to fill with twenty or more visitors, all of them wanting to experience the famous burgers. On the way out, I stopped by the kitchen and asked how they made such a great cheeseburger. The answer: they make them with love.
