By Johanna Wilson Jones

A white, 1972 Volkswagen Super Beetle provides nostalgic eye candy for the exterior of a fairly young – but already much beloved – restaurant called the Hippie Hen House.

The brightly colored hen next to the sign that says, “Hippie Hen House.” Below its name, these words are written, “Where the LOCALS Eat *& Drink!” And the steady flow of people coming in and out proves the signage doesn’t lie. The Hippie Hen House has earned the patronage of people who like good eats in an inviting atmosphere.

A large chunk of credit belongs to Chef Steve Hock, who entered the restaurant industry in a most unconventional way and for a quirky reason. More on that later. For now, what is most important is that the Hippie Hen House is a dream realized for a Baltimore native wanting to put a little bit of Maryland into Murrells Inlet.

The Accidental Chef

It was a sunny Tuesday afternoon when Hock sat down at a four-top table at the Hippie Hen House and shared how he grew up around good cooking, but he never imagined he would one day become a chef.

His maternal grandmother, Mae Tate, was a resourceful and gifted cook who mastered the art of recycling and repurposing food. The “Hen” in the eatery’s name is a tribute to her because she loved roosters and hens.

She grew up poor in the Johnson City, Tenn., area, and eventually lived in Baltimore. She recycled virtually everything before recycling became prevalent.

Old coffee would be used in the red-eye gravy that accompanied her biscuits. Stale biscuits would be metamorphized into a delicious dessert.

“She would take out a can of peaches and whipped cream and pour it over those biscuits and let it sit,’’ he said. “We had like a peach cobbler for probably less than a dollar.’’

Time with her gave him the art of recycling or repurposing what could be consumed and what couldn’t.

“She was just so frugal,’’ he said. “I lived at my grandmother’s house with my mom, and I think my grandmother wanted me to be self-sufficient. She taught me how to cook, iron, do laundry, and all that – but cooking was the big thing. She wanted to make sure I could do that, although I would eat cereal most of the time.”

Hock described her various dishes as “poor food,’’ meaning that she utilized food that was cheap and plentiful to feed their family.

“She married a guy who she didn’t need to worry about a nickel, but you would have thought she was still poor,’’ Hock said. “She walked around in her housecoat and came out and did her yard work. It was embarrassing when my friends came over…She was a character.”

Her eccentric habits, however, didn’t subtract from her ability to make simple meals taste delightful, although they weren’t the healthiest.

Her trio meal of soup, beans, and cornbread was canned kidney beans cooked with pork fat. She would pour the mixture over the freshly made cornbread.

“It was a treat if we got cabbage underneath it or something,’’ he said.

Even though he was as young as five when he began hanging out with his grandmother in the kitchen, the cooking bug took a long time to bite Hock.

He worked in the restaurant industry in high school and college, but the experiences were severely underwhelming.

“I didn’t like it,’’ said Hock after letting out a heavy sigh. “It was not even close to being glamorous if you would call it that now. It was not a good experience for me. I did it to make a way through college.”

What he did, instead, was go into a different business. He started a company called “Rolling Door Boards.”

“They banned alcohol and tobacco ads in Baltimore City,’’ he said. “So, I put ads on the side of newspaper delivery trucks. I was only (22) years old, and it took off – it took off too big.’’

So, he teamed up with two attorneys who helped him craft a proposal to sell his business to a media company. The deal allowed him to get residuals “for quite some time,’’ and Hock pursued other ventures.

It was during that time, in his senior year in college, that Hock discovered he had testicular cancer that had spread to his lymph nodes. He had to begin treatments. The money he made when his business was sold gave him the economic cushion he needed for treatment and recovery.

“I was out of commission for seven months,’’ he said. He was 24. “So, I had to go back for my last semester of college, and I finished up after chemotherapy.”

Fast forward. Seven years ago, at 47, he discovered he had cancer in his left eye. He has no sight in that eye.

To treat the eye cancer, surgeons had to take his eyeball slightly out, cut the back open, and then put a tiny radiation disc beneath the tumor. Then, a lead patch had to be placed over that eyeball. For five days, he couldn’t be around people and animals.

“My mom was leaving stuff outside my door like I was in a prison cell because of the radiation coming from the patch,’’ he said. “There was no chemotherapy, but the radiation was pretty tough on me.”

It burned.

“Once I got past five (years of remission), it was almost like a death sentence,’’ Stock said. “After five years, it’s like a 50-50 shot (of survival). If it spreads, you can’t cure it. It goes to your bloodstream.”

The cancer is still there, but it has shrunk. He gets tested every six months.

“So, it’s never grown anymore, and that is a very good sign,’’ he said.

The cancer is what made him a professional cook.

At the time, he had a GPS company in California. He told the people he worked with he was resigning. He let his business partners know he would stay on, if needed, for a maximum of 60 days. It was 2016. He opened his first restaurant in May of that year in Catonsville, Md.

Farmhouse Greens – an eatery that sold salad, acai, and poke bowls – took off. Hundreds showed up on opening days, lines snaked. The social media campaigns taunting the debut of Farmhouse Greens worked too well.

“I knew food. I knew food service, and I knew business,’’ he said. “But I didn’t know anything about running the business. I knew how to prep everything. I knew the layout. I am extremely detail-oriented. It was a blessing and a curse.’’

Fast forward again to the moment when Hock was operating three businesses all within the same block. Each was vegetarian and vegan friendly, including a vegan creamery and a burger and sausage company. The businesses were completely different because Hock bored easily.

“Twenty-five percent of my menu and customer base was vegan,’’ Hock said.

Hock sold the businesses as a package and started hunting for a new restaurant adventure.

Crab Cake Bravado

Maryland folks are arrogant when the discussion is of crab cakes. They think they make them best, and they roll their eyes or shake their heads at futile attempts to imitate the original Chesapeake Bay crab cake. Just like only God parted the Red Sea, Maryland peeps think nobody can make crab cakes like they do.

Hock is among that crowd.

Rewind. So, after selling the trio of Maryland businesses, he and his friend, Shelly Frey started driving.

“We rode around, looked for different places up and down the (East) Coast,’’ he said. “We came here. The deciding factor was the crab cakes.”

They wanted to bring the authentic Maryland crab cake to Murrells Inlet because – before the Hippie Hen House arrival – they didn’t think any existed in the area.

Southern belles somewhere are clutching their pearls right about now. How dare they?

“The jumbo lump crab cake – the Maryland crab cake – is very distinctive,’’ Hock said.

He said it was “almost embarrassing” to discover how folks on the Grand Strand were massacring the cherished Maryland crab cake.

When he arrived on the Grand Strand, he discovered green peppers, onions, remoulade, shredded crab meat, and panko. Side note: If you add any of those ingredients to crab cakes, Hock said it’s offensive.

Anyway, that’s how the Hippie Hen Henhouse was born on March 14, 2023. True story.

Now, take notes. Hock declared Maryland crab cakes have seven or fewer ingredients. He is not giving his recipe away, but he did reveal it must contain jumbo lump crab meat and Old Bay seasoning.

“When we came here, folks weren’t even used to Old Bay,’’ he said. “So, I took Old Bay out (of the recipe) and gave them Old Bay shakers.”

The crab cakes here are notably delicious and discerning mouths will certainly taste a difference and realize they have consumed countless imposters.

There are more than crab cakes at the Hippie Hen House. They have lighter fare, including a scrumptious roasted Brussels sprouts salad. It is sweetened with Craisins, tossed in a balsamic vinaigrette, and crowned with crispy onion straws. There are also smash burgers and Eastern Shore soups on the menu.

“(His) burgers are my favorite, ‘’ said John Scully, his stepdad who lives outside Houston. “I’m very discerning about burgers. His (burgers) never disappoint!”

To his credit, Hock does an outstanding job with the crabby Old Bay fries. The house-made fries are smothered with silky cheese sauce and then topped with lump crab meat and dusted with Old Bay.

“Oddly enough, my favorite thing he cooks is his grilled cheese,’’ said Shelly Frey, who co-owns the restaurant with Hock. “He (uses) raisin bread, goat cheese, and a smidge of fig jam. Delicious!”

Sisters, Peggy Renoe and Kathie Sher are loyal customers.

“The Surfside crab pretzel is our favorite,’’ Sher said.

“It comes from Benjamin’s Bakery (& Café) in Surfside Beach, and it’s huge,’’ Renoe interjected. “They put lump crab meat on top and add cheese.”

They never can finish it and always take leftovers back home.

“The Hippie Hen Henhouse is one of the better new restaurants,’’ Renoe said. “That’s for sure.”