Get Out North Idaho

Wendy's

2012-02-02T12:14:00.000-08:00

Wendy's
202 East Appleway Avenue
Coeur d'Alene, ID
(208) 676-8699
(and many other locations)

In the beginning there was nothing and God said 'Let there be light', and there was still nothing but everybody could see it. ~ Dave Thomas

You know I have a general rule forbidding myself from doing write ups on national fast-food chains, but little rules are for little minds and today I was a) in the mood to write a blog entry and b) just too damn lazy to get out of the car and check out a real, actual restaurant. So. This combination of circumstances caused me to trek through the drive up window of a place I consider to at least be one of the more tolerable burger chains on Junk Food Way, Wendy's.

As a young girl, Melinda Lou "Wendy" Thomas rocked kind of a broke down Pippi Longstocking look. She had nearly an identical hair and fashion sense as Miss Pip, but with a blank smile instead of a mean scowl. To be honest, I prefer Pippi's cruel spunk over Wendy's innocuous grin, but the latter's caricature has become inescapable, appearing on every Wendy's sign, cup, napkin, and advertisement nearly everywhere, from Toledo to Trinidad and Tobago.

Wendy's father, the late fast food folk-hero Dave Thomas, christened his first restaurant in 1969 in Columbus, Ohio, after his daughter's nickname and fashioned their infamous logo after an especially creepy photo of the poor girl in bright red pigtails and a fugly church rummage sale blouse. Here in Coeur d'Alene, her freckled face has loomed over Appleway since some point in the late 70's early 80's (I can't recall exactly when it appeared), and was one of the very first fast food joints to appear on that stretch not long after Ronald McDonald rode into town on Grimace's big purple ass.

When I was growing up, the Coeur d'Alene Wendy's was a pretty hot place to go eat. My parents liked it because it was one of the only, if not the only fast-foot joint that had a lush, well-stocked salad bar (now long gone) and also a groovy baked potato situation. I remember thinking it was so totally oddball that their burger patties were square and the bun was round, it nearly blew my mind. Like trying to push a square peg into a round hole, only upside down and reversed and much more delicious.

The novelty value of the square patty clearly worked well, and I remember always having to spend a lot of time hanging out in the winding labyrinth of pole barriers set up on front of the order counter behind a large crowd of hungry strangers. It was always worth the wait, because even as a young one, I could recognize that there was something different about Wendy's food, something that set it apart from other shady burger chains. Plus, Wendy's has always been home to the inimitable Frosty, sort of a cross between a thick milkshake and a dish of soft-serve ice cream that was a favorite of mine in my pre-lactose-intolerance era (oh age, how you disappoint me).

It would take a huge husky dude or a very hungry butch lesbian to finish of one of Wendy's mondo-sized "Dave's Hot-n-Juicy" 3/4 lb. triple patty cheeseburgers (nearly 1100 calories!). Wendy's patties are already significantly more significant than the other chains, and three of them piled high on a bun with layers of cheese, tomato, lettuce, pickle, onion, whatever, is a huge undertaking that I've never had the tummy to tackle.

When dear old Clara Peller repeatedly commanded the question "where's the beef?" way back when, it was always Wendy's where she found the answer, and to this day Wendy's will serve you a sandwich with enough "100% real North American, fresh, never frozen beef, hot off the grill" to keep you running to Rite Aid for Dulcolax for days.

Wendy's was one of the first fast food operations to cash in on the "I love bacon" trend that's been happening in our culture for several years now (get your bacon toothpaste here), and even though it sounds remotely like a win, there's something intangibly evil about their Baconator® Triple (nearly 1600 calories!), which goes something like this: bun, ketchup, mayo, bacon, cheese, beef, bacon, cheese, beef, bacon, cheese, beef, ketchup, mayo, bun. Can you even imagine?! It's another product I've never had the nerve to try. Although I'm not exactly innocent when it comes to crimes of cholesterol, this one is enough to make even my arteries shudder in fright.

I probably hit Wendy's about once every three months or so, and I usually stick with the basics - a classic double burger, hold the lettuce and pickles and a medium fries. Nothing to make jazz hands about, and certainly not as good as a local place like Roger's or even Zip's, but still a major improvement over a meal from Burger Queen or Jack in the Crotch.

A while back, I ventured out of my comfort zone and ordered a "Cheesy Cheddarburger", and it was cheesy as fark, but not in such a good way. It was a basic cheeseburger, noticeably smaller than what they normally serve, and in addition to their normal faux American (note: not cheddar) cheese, they also pumped on a glop of bland canned cheese sauce (note: also not cheddar) to a messy, quite unappetizing effect - I couldn't even eat more than half the thing. Fortunately, I'd made a healthful decision to choose a side salad over fries, and I was able to feel satisfied with that, even though my intestines momentarily thought my leafy greens digestive enzymes had given up and gone home long ago due to neglect.

Today I tried out their 5 Piece Spicy Chicken Nuggets and they were so spicy that every time I took a bite of one I had to sneeze. No joke. There was a peppery burn to them that did something reactive to my delicate sinus tissues, they were rebelling against the pepperiness of the day-glo orange nugget breading. That's okay. It was a rather sneezy meal, but my tongue was telling me they were actually quite tasty, and I had plenty of napkins handy to catch my many aaaaah-choos.

Wendy's nuggets aren't bad and actually seem to resemble actual chicken (I know it isn't real chicken), and also passable was the accompaniment, a Sour Cream and Chive baked potato, which although it came mysteriously without chives, was still fine and filling and less guilt-inducing than a pile of fatty French fries.

Melinda Lou "Wendy" Thomas grew up to become a successful franchise owner of dozens of Wendy's restaurants in the Cleveland area and has appeared in Wendy's ads for the last several years. She looks nothing like the scary pigtail girl of her youth, whereas Pippi Longstocking will have eternal youth. Still, Wendy wins - Pippilotta Delicatessa Windowshade Mackrelmint Ephraim's Daughter Longstocking has faded into the great mists of time, and Wendy is raking in the dough selling burgers that aren't quite amazing, but that are fast and edible enough to handle when the forbidden craving strikes.

Scrud's Gourmet Grub

2012-01-24T16:27:00.000-08:00

Scrud's Gourmet Grub
206 N. 4th St., Coeur d'Alene, ID
(208) 667-6000
Facebook

As the rushing ravages of times and age wear on, memories of my childhood seem to be getting harder to drudge up from the grey matter. Certain things, however, have managed to not fade away into the mental miasma forever. Pulling the kitchen drawers out so I could climb up onto the counter and mix my own baby bottle of chocolate Qwik milk (age 2). My complete and utterly bizarre obsession with vacuum cleaners (age 5). My mother finally agreeing to buy me my first 45 single (Blondie's "Rapture") at Pay-n-Save drug store (age 7). My very first job as an exotic go-go dancer in a Tokyo-themed leather disco in Munich (age 9).

Okay, maybe that last one is just a case of false memory syndrome, but one thing that did happen for sure was that when I'd walk the two blocks to my grandmothers house from Harding Elementary during lunch recess, she would make the most unbelievably amazing hamburgers for me to eat. In fact, although I've had countless hundreds of burgers over the years since then, from cruddy burgers to bloody burgers to Huddy burgers to fuddy duddy burgers, and while many were fantastic in their own way, I've never been able to find anything that matched her magic recipe.

That is until now, pretty much. The patties served up at Coeur d'Alene's Scrud's Gourmet Burgers would give my grandma a moment of pause and a mildly jaundiced eye. Just like hers, these babies are hand-formed and thick, but not thick enough to have that sense of meatloaf-esque overkill that some places like to do (hi, Nosworthys). Just like hers, they're moist and juicy without being total grease bombs, and there's a certain deep auburn richness to the flavor of a well cooked beef patty that they both have in common.

Naturally, there's somewhat of an unavoidable giggle factor to the name Scrud's. In times of confusion during the internet age, we sometimes turn to the Urban Dictionary for guidance when we encounter a strange or vaguely rude sounding idiom, and that's what I did after first hearing the name.

"Unkept, greasy looking, 20-30 something individuals that take pride loitering in parking lots of convenience stores, coffee shops, 7-Elevens etc. Scruds are most often in groups, congregated around pick-up trucks wearing some sort of Nascar / Ski-Doo paraphernalia. There is really no purpose to their actions."

"Scrud is a slang term for Cannabis/Marijuana used in the town of Rotherham, UK"

As much as marijuana and delicious burgers will always go together forever like Daryl Hall and John Oates, and as much as greasy 20-something Nascar parking lot loiterers will always love food of any kind period, I thought "uh, that just can't be right, sister". And, of course it isn't - the eatery was named after the owner's teenage nickname. The Scrud's menu tells the whole story and then some:

"When I was about 16, I got up early one morning with my brother to cut firewood. I jumped out of bed, pulled a beanie over my 12 inch mullet, slipped into some insulated coveralls and put on my boots without tyine the laces. I didn't shower, brush my teeth or even brush my hair. I jumped into our pickup and fired it up, looked over at my brother who was staring at me and he said "you're a SCRUD!" and it stuck. We opened our first retaurant in Mountain View, Wyoming in 2009. We decided we wanted a little more city life and moved to the Inland Northwest and reopened our restaurant in the Fall of 2011."

Moving to Coeur d'Alene because you're longing for "a little more city life"? I don't know anything about Mountain View, Wyoming, but it must be a quaint hamlet of the first degree. Anyway, we love any story involving a mullet here at Get Out North Idaho, and both times we've visited Scrud's we were delighted and impressed, no matter what the name might have happened to be (and it's much, much better than these restaurant names).

The building's interior hasn't changed dramatically since it's former occupant, the Kootenai Cafe (or whatever it was last called), gave up on its sadly brief life and passed on. No need, the place had been remodeled within the last year or so anyway. The main noticeable changes include the addition of some baseball-themed stuff and other forms of classic Americana.

They've hung "Wall of Fame" and "Wall of Flame" photo boards for pictures of those few proud souls with duodenums of steel who managed to successfully finish either the 5 pound "Bodalicious Burger Challenge" ($24.49) or the hotter-than-holy-f*@k hot wing "Dig Your Own Grave Challenge" ($14.99). Another fun touch is the graffiti wall around the front door where visitors can take sharpies and sign their names or draw obscene pictures (I didn't, promise).

Before I popped into Scrud's for lunch today, I hopped onto their facebook page and came across this post:

"New burger this week; the Athol. Bacon cheeseburger with provolone, and topped with onion rings and spicy barbecue sauce. Also have the same burger topped with pepper jack and bottlecaps (battered jalapenos) and spicy barbecue sauce. We call that one "My Athol's On Fire"!"

Hm. Sounds pretty tasty but A) I was quite leery about publicly announcing that particular statement and B) I generally prefer my no-no to stay free of too much raging heat. So, when my delightfully friendly server, Miss Sicka, arrived to tell me about the daily special and that they carried bottles of vintage Moxie cola, I avoided the issue completely and asked for a Ghetto Burger ($8.49), which is basically a traditional cheeseburger with all the toppings - crisp romaine lettuce leaf, a thick and cool tomato slice, red onions, hand cut pickle rounds, with an onion, cheese, and garlic infused patty.

Grandma never infused her burger patties with anything but tender lovin' care, so in a way Scruds is one-upping her a bit on the creative side. And what sends it all over the edge of true culinary euphoria are the incredible, crispy brown had cut fries that make a huge dramatic ruckus that's audible from the open kitchen when they're thrown into the fryer and taste like the reason for the very existence of the Divine and Sacred Gift of Potato. These little lovers are unique to Scrud's and must be enjoyed with copious amounts pink, yummy fry sauce.

A few weeks prior, I'd ordered a "Bo Sox" burger for take out on my way to work and so far, it's my favorite Scrud's burger on offer. As regular readers may know, I'm a sucker for a bleu cheese burger, and this one actually had the pungent fromage stuffed into the burger patty itself along with chopped bacon (bacon!), and came topped with provolone on one of their toasty, buttery buns. I had to mow it down quickly, but it was so great I knew I was in love, and I knew that if the place could survive the terrible curse that seems to cause every business that moves into the place to crumble (and they've all been actually quite fab), they'd become one of my permanent haunts. And I firmly predict they will.

So if you happen to catch me in Rotherdam, UK, and I ask for some Scrud, it means I'm most likely longing for a Bo Sox burger. But if you happen to hand me something else instead, at least I'll be able to smoke my homesick blues away.

Best Sandwich Shack

2012-01-16T07:00:00.000-08:00

Best Sandwich Shack
512 Best Ave., Coeur d'Alene
(208) 625-0629
Facebook

Naturally, people I run into are always telling me about the various places they've dined, talking about how I simply must check out this or that new or semi-obscure eatery. Most of the time, my response is "Eh - been there, done that - you must not follow my blog very well since I reviewed them ages ago, kiddo." But once in a while they tell me about somewhere I've never actually heard of or that I'd never thought was worth locking into my brain. There's limited space up in there, you know.

One such place was the Best Sandwich Shack - I've had more people mention it to me in the last few months than anywhere else I can think of, but perhaps the lack of memory commitment on my part is somewhat of a classic "who's on first" scenario.

Them: "Oh, have you tried that one sandwich place over by the one taco stand over by that one fabric shop, it's the best!"
Me: "No, I don't think so. What is it?"
Them: "It's the Best Sandwich Shack."
Me: "Okay, you already told me that it's the best, what's it called, where is it?"
Them: "It's the Best...on Best."
Me: "Uh, yeah, I kinda figured out it was on Best Avenue, and I can tell you think it's awesome, does it have a name?"
Them: "Uh, yeah, I already told you it's the Best Sandwich Shack."
Me: "Never mind, I'll just have to figure it own on my own I guess. Go kick rocks, chump."

Okay, so that never actually happened, but I can imagine the possibly of it happening at least. Thing is, after having finally visited the Best Sandwich Shack, it wouldn't matter what the name of the street is that it sits on, it is indeed THE best, no doubt.

I drove into the little parking lot adjacent to Lyle's Fabrics where the shack sits, next to the aforementioned taco truck, an espresso stand and who knows what else, and pulled my car right up to the little window. Hint: I sorta learned this the hard way, but in retrospect I'm thinking it's meant to be a walk-up window, not a drive up window. I realized this when another hungry customer pulled into the lot, got out of his rig and knocked on my window: "Hey buddy, you mind if I squeeze in here to get my order?"

Come to think of it, the kind sirs running the shack had given me kind of an odd look when I shimmied my Mercury Mystique directly up next to his building, but how was I to know it was supposed to be a walk-up scenario with no cement parking barriers or anything to pitch a clue at me? Mea culpa, I guess, and fortunately I was handed my food right away after I realized my faux pas and Mr. Window Knocker was able to pick up his order without any trouble.

I drove home with the aroma my foil-wrapped silver torpedo of joy creating such an alarmingly magnificent pong in my car that I was compelled to drive down 7th street 5 miles over the speed limit so I could get home right now and dig in! (I know, I'm such a rebel). I'd ordered the daily special, which was a Pizza Cheese Steak sub, and when I unwrapped my package, my eyes bulged out of my head and my large intestine bulged out of my tummy at the beautiful monstrosity that laid before me on my desk.

And immediately after my first bite of thin-sliced steak, mushrooms, pepperoni, mozzerella and fresh-baked bread, I knew the hype was valid - it was a rich, gooey, and deliciously unique Philly for real. I powered through my sandwich lost in a pleasure zone and although I was as stuffed as a pimento in a cocktail olive, I simply had to treat my mouth right away to the free brownie Best Sandwich Shack hands out with every order. It was homemade, dense and as killer as the main course. Oh golly, I'm not worthy! Needless to say, after plowing through so many love-drenched calories, the napping couch was my afternoon fate.

Shack culinary team "Kip and Dad" (this is how they list it on their Facebook page) aren't kidding when they say they make the best Phillys in Idaho. The "Meat Your Maker" is a bit higher on the cost scale than most sandwiches, but it includes pretty much every form of meat you could possibly dream of, including bacon, and is even listed on the menu with a heart attack warning. They serve a Chicken Philly, a BBQ Beef Philly, a Sweet and Spicy Turkey Philly, as well as links of handmade New York style sausage.

After such a monumental first experience, I had to return to the scene of the pleasure crime a week later for another go. This time I called ahead and WALKED up to the window to pick up my Whiz Cheese Steak and I was treated to some entertaining father and son humor along with my sandwich. When I got home and opened it up, it was a wonderfully sticky mess of melted Cheez Whiz and hot beefy goodness - so scrumptious, and the final evidence needed to declare that yes, yes, yes - Best Sandwich Shack really is the best of its kind in the town, and probably the state, and possibly the entire Northwest.

I'm not the only one with that opinion either. The Shack is listed as the #1 rated restaurant in Coeur d'Alene out of 110 listings on TripAdvisor and the comments there are as gushy as the Trevi Fountain. Highlights among all the customer reviews include:

"Its like a party in my mouth. You are all invited! The people and food are absolutely amazing, and its the best philly-isk experience in town! Cheese-steaks just like Philly! This place is beyond delicious! Hands-down the best sandwich shop I've ever been to! & super great prices for the amazing food! I will definitely be back! & great for grabbing a quick bite for lunch. This is definitely my friends' & I new favorite place! I'm already craving another one! :)"

"The Best Sandwich Shack is on Best Avenue, so I thought maybe they were trying to fool you with the street name. I was happy to be wrong. These are literally the best sandwiches. In fact, I've lived in different areas of the U.S. and this is actually the best place for sandwiches I've ever been."

"I am hooked on the Philly with Cheese Whiz....absolutely wonderful. The father/son team who run the restaurant are always fun to talk to and I enjoy their upbeat attitudes. They also have punch cards!! I like free stuff :)"

"We love The Shack!! They have the best sandwiches in town, they personable and funny too... everything on the menu is awesome, you gotta try them."

"I no longer live in Coeur d'Alene, but whenever I come through, I have to stop in. It's a little shack, run by a nice family that knows what they're doing. Be sure to try the Philly, it's the best one this side of the Mississippi."

What are you waiting for kids? If you know what's "best" for you, you will point your hunger radar at the best Sandwich Shack and make your way in like now, momentarily, nowadays, on the double, promptly, pronto, right away, right now, soon, straightaway, these days, this day, today.

Readers Write: Remembering the Rathskeller and the Rock

2012-01-15T13:05:00.000-08:00

Old OLD timers might enjoy the below comment that came through recently from Get Out North Idaho reader Gerry on a post I did in 2008, "60's in Cd'A Provided Some Eye Popping Events".

It's interesting to read a little of the history of the Rathskeller. When I was in college, I thought it was a really cool place. It had some Seattle Bands as I remember, and was generally packed when I was there. I never was aware it was family run.

The Rathskeller and the Rock were the only two reasons I ever came to Idaho. I was 20, so Idaho was heaven. The Rock was an old 2-story schoolhouse with a round rock facade exterior just west of Post Falls that had been converted into a night club appealing to the younger crowd. It was huge, and it routinely had big bands from Seattle like Merilee Rush and the Turnabouts playing there on weekends.
It was where I had drunk my first beer ever. Had to add some tomato juice to it to cut the sharpness of the flavor of the beer. After several times there, I didn't need the tomato juice.

After drinking in Idaho, my sidekick and I would navigate back in the direction of Spokane hoping not to get stopped by the police. We usually ended up at the Zips on Division at 3 in the morning where my friend worked and his connections got us very well priced hobo steak sandwiches.

I've tried over the past few years to find locations of both the Rock and the Rathskeller, but couldn't remember exactly where they were. Now I know to look at 14th and Sherman for the Rathskeller. But the Rock? Don't know if the building is still standing, wouldn't know where to look.

Also, this comment by Candace Conradi from many moons ago on the same article had somehow managed to escape my notice but provides some fascinating and personal information about the Rathskeller. A belated thanks to you, candace, for this neat insight:

Funny how things come back to the surface. I just read this post from January 2008. I am one of the co-owners daughters and I am very proud of what the Rathskeller did for the community. It gave a place for young people to gather. It was, yes, a tavern. There was beer that flowed and yes, sometimes people abused that right. Things have not changed as far as I can tell. Beer is still consumed and abused today. To call our business anything other than a business is like saying that grocery stores cause obesity.

The Rathskeller hosted live entertainment for 20 years, offering top acts that drew literally thousands (if not tens of thousands) into its welcoming space over its life. It pulled visitors from Canada, Washington, Montana, Oregon and brought tourism to our humble little town; it provided and paid taxes for the citizens. It was one of the best "fast food" places and probably the most popular pizza place in town. There were many naysayers at the time, but I can honestly say that many of them were closet fans, enjoying a beer, pizza or hamburger in the shadows. Our business was run by my Grandmother Anne, affectionately known as "Annie," my mother Jackie and my Aunt Lolly who were beloved by many. They were all single mothers who created a powerfully influential business that served the community. Far ahead of their time, by their example their children all went into the world, strong and confident that they could do anything.

This past Tuesday evening we watched Glee, our favorite program on television. Its theme happened to be "Rumors." While all thing in life are imperfect, the other side of that coin is that they are also good in many ways. Often what is seen with our eyes (or through the eyes of our parents) is perceived only in part and not in whole and thus inaccurately. We choose to place our judgment and opinions rather casually, with little thought of how they land. The Rathskeller was a place that colored the history of our little town. That cannot be changed.

Coeur d'Alene has grown up into a very sophisticated luxury vacation destination. The Rathskeller only a distant memory. But it still holds the imprint of those earlier days, when life was more simple. We had more fun then, and in some ways, and I miss some of those simpler times. I am proud to be the offshoot of such amazing women, a part of the history that colored our fare city. I cannot change anyone's point of view or perspective but I can offer the possibility of change. Every decade has its own imperfections and Coeur d'Alene was touched by the massive movement of the 60's like every other place on earth.

But the Rathskeller, well it was just a place to go, dance, socialize and have some fun. I loved the imprint it and my family made. I am forever grateful for their courage, their strength and their example. Years have softened me to their hardships, their struggles, and their own challenges. What has remained unchanged for me is their example, an amazing gift I passed onto my children. To be strong, a leader, and striving for my best self was and remains today my greatest gift.

2011 in Review Part Two: Great Cupcake Wars and Other Tales.

2012-01-02T12:49:00.000-08:00

Battle: Frosted vs. Sweet B.
Like sweaty ultimate fighters standing in opposite corners of the ring ready to kick some serious fluffy baked booty, Frosted and Sweet B. cupcake shops both opened in mid 2011 pretty much kiddy corner from each other at 5th and Sherman in downtown Cd'A. Immediately, the competition was deliciously bitchy. I'm acquainted with people who know both shops' owners (they come into my bar and blab), and they were constantly updating me on drama queen vibes from both contingencies.

On the internet side, the Yelp! flame wars started right away. I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that "Ashley J." is an associate of the Sweet B. girls - she logged in and wrote this about Frosted...

"The store claims they bake them themselves but they are really shipped in from an outside bakery and jacked up in price. You would have a better experience at one of the MANY other cupcake bakeries in town. The store is small and cramped and down in a basement no where to sit and enjoy your over priced cupcake."

...then she hopped over to the Sweet B. Yelp! page to write this:

"They have a darling store to sit in and enjoy a cupcake and bottle of milk. Just perfect for an afternoon snack with a friend or the kids. I actually found myself surprised that I enjoyed their store so much seeing as how I, honestly, am not a big fan of cupcakes...You can't chew on the undissolved sugar like you can at Frosted.. but hey, maybe you like that sort of thing. Sweet B bakes everything from scratch daily, as opposed to their competition who brings it all in from a local bakery and then calls it their own."

You go, Ashley J. And from what I've gathered, it's that last point of contention that was the coup de gras for Sweet B. Theirs were baked on site, whereas Frosted had them shipped in naked at the crack of dawn from some undisclosed location and then just broke out the frosting vats and sprinkles. And it is true, but this is actually okay with me, because they taste el yummo regardless. I've matched cupcakes from both shops against each other several times (too many!) and I'm willing to declare it a draw.

Both are creative with flavor varieties, both shops are welcoming and cordial, and I mean really, how could anyone complain about the one-two punch of a fresh, innocent Red Velvet cupcake with cream cheese frosting arriving rapidly at your lips, no matter what the source? Can't we all just get along, fat, happy, and full of cake?

Closing: The Dive
Early in 2011, I found myself in Sandpoint for one reason or another (must have either been glass bong shopping or finding that perfect pair of used Birkenstocks), and came across The Dive. It was rather hard to miss. The exterior was a nice shade of traffic cone orange and the whoops and hollers from the mechanical bull riders inside the barn-like interior were echoing out into the afternoon streets. We decided to brave it and venture on in and we were pleasantly surprised by a fantastic, huge bacon cheeseburger and cheap, ever flowing pitchers of Laughing Dog Ale, as well as an incredibly convivial treatment from the guy working the bar where we decided to sit. Lots of people were in there, it seemed to be popular, thriving, and fun - especially on the weekends when a progressive dance type DJ took control.

Later that day, I "liked" The Dive on Facebook, like I always do with pretty much everything these days, and the online breakdown and drama that ensued on their page which fell in line with the place's sudden demise was both amusing and embarrassing. On September 19th, the owner posted simply "no more dive", but the before and aftermath included such peppery gems as this (hide your eyes when you read this, grandma):

Thank you to all the people in Sandpoint that said "fuck you" to the bigot racist, self-centered, assholes and biggest idiots I have ever met. This place went down hill because you can't do business, any business, in any town by serving shitty food, watered down drinks, and horrible service. You can't find quality employees buy fucking them over and paying shit wages. Fuck you, Lex Sparks and fuck you Jake Hatfield. You are the reason this business went to hell, and your better then everyone attitude is the reason everyone hates you.

Well, then. No idea what the reality of that high octane situation really is, but at least I'll always have the photo I took of a certain friend (you know who you are) drunkenly straddling the mechanical bull - possibly a lucrative future blackmail opportunity.

Opening: Fire Artisan Pizza
This year chain-store cardboard delivery service Domino's Pizza introduced a line of non-appetizing "Artisan" pizzas (sorry, but the idea of a "Tuscan Salami & Roasted Veggie" pizza pie makes my gag reflex go all giddy). Naturally, these were no different than a regular Domino's specimen, except for the fact that the dough was rolled in a rectangle and the toppings were *ahem* gourmet. Like any major American food chain, Domino's was acting response to a national trend. Wood oven fired old-old-school pizzerias have been torching up the nation like an Italian cigarette for a few years now, and the hotness finally hit Coeur d'Alene this year with the opening of Fire Artisan Pizza, next to the Christmas by the Lake shop on Sherman Ave. downtown.

The pizza pies that Fire puts out make the Domino's version seem truly patheti-sad indeed (and I did actually try the Domino's version when a customer at my bar ordered one and FORCED me to try it - it was pretty meh). Fire is a real deal hit - in fact out of all the restaurants that have opened this year, I get the impression that people are more jazzed about Fire than any of them. Because who doesn't love a delicious, oven-fresh pizza made with heart using exclusively local ingredients (when possible). Personally, I'm a cheese lover so for me, the Parma (prosciutto, gorgonzola, pecorino, mozzarella and provolone cheeses, finished with truffle oil) is like heaven on a crust.

Closing: Ciao Mambo "Glacier Restaurant Group spokeswoman Erica Coffman, based in Whitefish, Mont., said the company regretted closing the North Idaho location." This blip from a short SR article that ran earlier this month was basically the only tidbit I could find on the closure of Hayden's Ciao Mambo Italian restaurant. In other words, no nitty gritty gossip or real explanation on the situation.

I posted something about it on the Get Out North Idaho Facebook page and someone commented that they'd heard the owner of the plaza it was located in decided to double the rent on them, and they basically told him to go eat a crunchy biscotti and got the heck out of there. Apparently, the owners are taking the money to their Spokane location, where they plan on installing a full bar of booze, something we here at Get Out north Idaho can always stand behind. Hayden -1, Spokane +2.

2011 in Review Part One: Another Year, Another Case of Extra Strength Rolaids

2012-01-02T10:36:00.001-08:00

2011 wasn't necessarily a year to shoot off a bunch of expensive fireworks into the midnight sky about (whoops, don't tell Duane Hagadone that!), but as per usual there was a lot of action happening on the local restaurant and nightclub scene. Openings, transformations, and transgressions kept our forks full and our martinis loaded in a year filled with tsunamis, Occupiers, evaporating dollar bills, McEuen Park drama queens, and too much brain-meltingly bad pop music (Ke$ha, LMFAO, etc.) to even remember.

Truly, we needed every excuse possible to get out on the town and let our minds drift away into the bottom of an empty pitcher of Pabst or get into food coma mode after a particularly dank plate of double cheese burger, pizza margherita, or volcano roll. Each day for the next week or so, Get Out North Idaho will be looking back on the year that was, wasn't, and might have been in the world of local eatery and drinkery closing, openings, and whateverings.

Opening: Seasons of Coeur d'Alene
A lot of people were pissed all to pieces when it was announced in 2010 that building owner Pepper Smock was giving a month-or-so notice to the Coeur d'Alene Brewing Company that they needed to pack their glass growlers and heavy-duty ale filled pipes and tanks and skedaddle so he could open up some kind of très chic and pretentious hot spot for yuppie tourists. But really, isn't that recurring naysayer meme about any kind of downtown improvements starting to get awfully tiresome? Anyway, I'd heard complaining tongues wag about the Brewpub having various quality issues ever since they'd transitioned from T.W. Fishers quite a few years back. Personally, I never hung out there a lot, but the times I'd visited were just fine.

So, after stripping the building down to its ancient brick skeleton and rebuilding it into a modern lady with neon eye shadow and spray-tan cheeks, its doors opened in Summer 2011 as Seasons of Coeur d'Alene Fresh Grill and Bar. How did the fair people of the Lake City react to its shimmering interiors and the fancy-priced comfort foods that make up the (allegedly) seasonally changing menu? They came in droves, and it became immediately the kind of place where you'd want to take Aunt Madge and Uncle Merle from Kalamazoo to impress them when they come to town to visit.

Most tellingly, our own Jesi B., who tended bar at the old brewpub for a lot of years and was both devastated and enraged when it was forced to close, and who vowed never, EVER to even step foot in Seasons once it opened, has fallen on the dark side and absolutely loves the place after all. Best of all: Seasons has a piano bar and serves a martini named Lady Gaga.

Transforming: The Torch Lounge Becomes Rendezvous
The beginning of 2012 saw the gradual transition of The Torch Lounge into Rendezvous. No tremendously Earth-shattering (or should I say boob-quaking?) changes have transpired within the hallowed walls of Coeur d'Alene's only "gentleman's club", which existed for nearly 8 years under the Boise-based Torch banner. It still can be nearly impossible to get a drink at times, the wall-size TV screens are phenomo-mammoth, the music doesn't know whether it wants to be stripper-ish or Jersey club-ish (or both), and the men's room still wins the award for most foul place in the greater Cd'A area, period.

Still, where else are you going to go to watch buxom young thong-bikini clad mademoiselles dance fast and slow at the same time to a dubstep remix of Nickleback while drunk people bounce around in a blacklit room full of party foam on a bungee-strung robot bull? Rendezvous is all about the events, and they can be creative indeed with their concepts - "Glowstep" Party, anyone?.

Opening: The Copa
As we all know from reading the holy verses of the Book of Manilow, the Copacabana was a place where thirty years ago, they used to have a show but nowadays it's disco for Lola, the showgirl with yellow feathers in her hair and her dress cut down to there, sitting there so refined and drinking herself half-blind. Hayden's The Copa was named after the older-than-old New York drinking establishment that inspired Barry in the first place, but is it as boozy and woozy as the place where Rico and Tony once rumbled?

I haven't checked it our yet, so I can't be sure, but from what I can gather between their zero-info "the Coppa.com" website ("Under Construction" - what is this, 1998?), and their lazily updated facebook page, it doesn't seem particularly wild. A Nils Rosdahl article from July reveals that the Copa is owned by former Idaho State Senator Mike Jorgenson, who I have a hard time picturing in a polyester disco suit. Rosdahl mentions that they do have a full booze bar, and that they serve "seafoods, steaks, sandwiches, soups, several sides" and have a Tuscan vibe. Yawn.

Closing: Casa de Oro
The official name was "Casa de Oro Restaurante", and like that extra 'e' at the end, thrown in for the sense of authenticity, I always felt like this place was really kind of an unnecessary addition to the Coeur d'Alene Mexican eatery scene. We've never had a Mexican restaurant shortage around here, and Casa de Oro just never really offered me anything unique to scream "olé!" about, I guess. I've been there a handful of times over the years, but never actually got around to doing a full-on review.

I don't even remember specifics about their cuisine or service, all I can remember is a friend and I shooting dirty looks over dinner at some woman with a Joan-Crawford-of-the-trailer-park parenting style who became the main focus of every patron in the joint as she berated her mortified children publicly over some minor trip or another. I'm sure Casa de Oro had it's fans, and for them I offer my condolences, as well as to the restaurant's staff who lost their jobs in an economy that smells like three week old mole enchiladas.

Greek Street Revisited

2011-11-30T12:27:00.001-08:00

Greek Street Pizza & More
225 W. Ironwood Dr., Coeur d'Alene
(208) 664-0604

Last time I crashed the Greek Street lunch party in September 2010, I ordered a "pizzaloni" - sort of an illegitimate love baby between a calzone and a hunk of deep fried scone bread. I thought it was fully brilliant, and I wrote:

"...when I returned home and opened the Styrofoam to-go box, my taste buds immediately started weeping tears of joy, realizing they were in for a treat like they hadn’t experienced in ages. Indeed, with an oozy meld of Asiago, Romano, Mozzerlla, and real Parmesan inside a lightly crispy golden shell of homemade dough, it caused a pleasant rush of food euphoria. The red sauce was a bouquet of garden-fresh Italian herbs and sweet tomatoes and the pepperoni was positively packed with flavor. Simply incredible."

That's pretty gushy-mushy, even for me, and although I was craving to re-experience the bliss today when I visited Greek Street for the second time ever, but the wall poster of a iconic looking basket full of a gyro and fries prompted my eyeballs to tell my appetite to reconsider.

The lone employee on duty was visibly annoyed with me at first, and I don't really blame him. I asked for the lamb gyro lunch special basket with extra feta, and he came back at me a bit abruptly with the news that Greek Street was out of feta cheese. A Greek restaurant out of feta cheese? That's like a Subway out of bread (this actually happened to me once), or a strip club out of dollar bills. It just ain't right. Especially when there's an Albertson's deli case ripe with cartons of feta cheese around the corner in the same shopping center.

So I was thinking, "uh...I dunno what I want now, maybe a pizzaloni after all. Maybe, but uh...what kind of pizzaloni do I want?" Or do I want a...uh?" There were other customers waiting on their food and I was holding up the show, and my man rightfully snapped at me that he would be back in a bit and would return was I was through with my fits of indecision.

He returned about six minutes later. "OK, I guess I'll take the lamb gyro lunch special basket after all but with a sprinkle of mozzarella instead." He rolled his eyes a bit at me and slapped my order ticket up on the line. In the ten minutes it took for my order to appear his irritation with me must have faded some - he issued me a warm "thanks for coming in", a wave and a smile as I turned and left with my take-out order.

My lunch, despite its to-go Styrofoam and foil wrap, actually looked pretty close to what had appeared on the pop-art-ish wall poster in the restaurant. My fries had turned a bit chilly, but were still very tasty - a sprinkle of Parmesan and herbs always serves to enhance the mood of any potato situation like culinary cymbalta.

The gryo was a delicious but messy beast. I had to stop eating at one point to go get a wet towel to clean up my desk, my creamy hands, and the front of my shirt. The tzatziki sauce was poured on that thing so thick and rich that every time I went to pick the thing up and take a bite, I practically ended up with the tangy white sauce in my hair and up in the crevasses of my...well...never mind.

Anyway, the lamb was cooked to an almost crunchy texture and it was terrific, the tomatoes, lettuce, and onions were mighty fresh, and the pita was warm and chewy-soft, not a hint of chewy staleness. Do they make the babies on site? If so, I want a half-dozen to go some time so I can make peanut butter and banana pitas for breakfast (Is that weird?).

Yes, despite the trace amounts of snarly and slow customer service (forgiven, it was sort of busy and he was the running the place solo), Greek Street is a clean, convenient and classic place for a variety of Greek lunch treats and power-packed pizza products. /alliteration button off.
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Side Street Place

2011-11-15T11:24:00.001-08:00

Side Street Place
1780 E Schneidmiller Ave., Post Falls
(208) 777-8444

I guess they could have decided to name it "Some Random Space" or "Building on a Road" or something even more inconclusive. In a way, the name "Side Street Place" is refreshingly unpretentious, but at least for me it's a little on the hard-to-remember side. In fact, when I sat down to rattle off this review a couple of days after stopping in for lunch, I had to dig in my wallet to find the receipt so I could look up the name before I started typing out my thoughts.

To the credit of the sociable waitstaff and the mighty kitchen wizards at Side Street Place, the name is fortunately the only thing unremarkable about this new entry into the Post Falls diner scene. Housed in the shell of a former Wingers fail, new owner Betty Romps has kept the menu nearly identical as that of as the restaurant's most recent former incarnation, The Breakfast Nook. Nothing wrong with that, really - why get artsy fartsy and mess around with a line up of breakfast and lunch items that's perfectly classic and complete already? And there was no reason to take out the original Wingers interior decor situation of dark green and off-white checkered tile, a fifties style open kitchen and bar-stool lunch counter, and an eye-dazzling ceiling of faux-retro shiny silver hammered pattern squares. It still works.

If you've been to the Breakfast Nook, you already get it - variety of omelets, pancakes, waffles, biscuits and gravy, minced ham scram, Cobb salad, a smattering of burgers, chicken fried steak, tuna melt, French dip, and so forth, and so on. Side Street Place even keeps the Nook's oddball attractions, like the calamari burger and the breaded razor clams with eggs, potatoes and toast. (Clams for breakfast? Really? Why not, I guess.)

I'll admit, although my last few visits there haven't necessarily been anything to cackle and caw about, I do love me some Breakfast Nook action, at least in its Coeur d'Alene Fourth Street incarnation (I never did have a chance to check them out in Post Falls), but I'm going to just be blunt and throw this right on out there - the meal I was served at Side Street Place kicked the Breakfast Nook's roostery little bum.

A friend and I were talking just the other day about how dining out solo can sometimes seem a little awkward. You always wonder in the back of your mind if the hostess is thinking, "oh, this poor lonely chump must have some kind of hot, fresh B.O. or perhaps an anti-social personality disorder and can't even find another soul willing to share the same table space".

We decided it was worth it. Once you get over the initial party-of-one weirdness, it can be a quite enjoyable thing to sit down, relax, maybe read the newspaper, and just take in a dining experience without the distraction of friends and family yammering directly at your face while you're trying to eat.

I'm quite used to chowing solo anyways, and actually, the hostess at the Side Street Place didn't make me feel like it was such a big deal - the place was quite busy with a Sunday lunch rush with an after-church vibe (large groups), but she still sat me at a huge window booth with a gorgeous view of Interstate 90 and the freshly snow coated mounted behind it. All to myself, where I could just sit and eavesdrop in peace.

My waitress offered me a cup of coffee and naturally I said yes! I was fueling up for a day of Post Falls thrift shopping and I needed my caffeine to get the job done. And a damn good cup of coffee it was. After a few moments of vague indecision, my girl returned a few minutes later and I ordered the Breaded Pork Cutlet with eggs, hash brown and toast. I think it was the power of suggestion about the inclusion of applesauce that made me choose it over the Denver Omelet (what I usually order off ye olde Breakfast Nook menu.) The phrase just kept echoing in my brain in a a funny Bogart-ish accent: "porkchopsh and appleshaush, porkchopsh and appleshaush". Blame it on the Brady Bunch, I guess.

I did have a Sunday newspaper handy while I awaited for my meal to arrive, but I didn't actually get into it at all. I was too interested in letting my mind go adrift into the conversations of the other folks around me. A father was patiently doing basic math problems with his elementary school aged daughter. The glitzy looking older couple next to me were wearily planning yet another trip cross country in their RV, how blah, like they'd seen it all before.

A group of ladies working a Menonite Chic sort of look were excitedly discussing their impending Big Lots shopping trip. Some old graying hippie held up my waitresses for what seemed like an eternity between coffee refills, going on about how he used to play in the Jimi Hendrix Band way back before Jimi Hendrix was Jimi Hendrix.

I was fully enjoying getting caught up in the business of total strangers, but the spell was completely broken when my waitress dropped a plate of food in front of me that made me declare "good gravy!" My pork cutlet platter was amazing to the eyes, soothing to the brain, tasty on the tongue, and totally tubular in the tummy.

A tender pork slice delivered in a golden crust of breading and with a ladle of country gravy plopped on top., a delicately folded, bright yellow rectangle of scrambled eggs, a giant hill of superbly crispy hash brown action - the most amazingly perfect specimen of crispy shredded hash browns I've come across since the grunge era, in fact. A side plate of buttery sourdough toast (with a jelly bonus), and that all-important ramekin of applesauce.

It was delish, and I was so hungry and enamored with my meal that I can't believe I ate the whole mothertrucking thing! Except for the applesauce. I was saving it for last, and honestly, I got way too full after my last forkful of hash browns that I just couldn't fit any more in me. So sorry, Peter Brady, I couldn't do it. Anyway, the purpose of the applesauce seemed more decorative more than anything else, two tablespoons of the stuff just doesn't balance with the mondo pork-egg-potato-toast quotient.

Side Street Place, even with its mentally slippery name and its lingering Breakfast Nookiness, was quite a few notches above what I was actually expecting, offering an inviting, neighborly place to eavesdrop solo or dine en masse and make plates of golden grub disappear forever in bliss.

With a green and white tile and panel contemporary decor, the place (originally a Wingers restaurant) seats about 100 guests in booths and at tables and a bar. New owner Betty Romps renamed the eatery to separate it from the Breakfast Nook in Coeur d'Alene. She has previous restaurant experience in Newbury, Calif., where she moved from with husband Howard who discovered North Idaho while stationed at the former Farragut Naval Base on Lake Pend Oreille.

Pizza Factory

2011-11-01T14:42:00.000-07:00

Pizza Factory
503 W.Appleway, Coeur d'Alene
208-765-3434

My chubby little typing fingers haven't been bloated in this sort of special way in quite a while. They've so missed the satisfied but uncomfortably full feeling that comes after an hour or so spent at an all-you-can-eat pizza lunch buffet.

Back in the day, the endless pizza slices and salad bar at Godfather's Pizza on 4th and Appleway in Coeur d'Alene was the backdrop for many face-stuffing events. We'd arrive just in time to watch the Sally Jesse Raphael Show on the overhead TVs, and get caught up in all the out-of-control-teens or drag queen antics. Sally and her goofy red glasses haven't graced our screens since around 2002, and the Coeur d'Alene Godfather's disappeared for good not much longer after that, so that serves to describe how long it's been since I've experienced some pizza buffet love.

And really, it was there the whole time. I knew somewhere in the dark corners of my brain that the Pizza Factory (formerly known many moons ago as the Pizza Shoppe), tucked away back on the north end of the strip mall/shopping center at Appleway and 95, served up an all-you-can-eat lunch spread, but it didn't actually occur to me until earlier today to pop in and check it out.

I must not be the only one who for whatever reason forgot all about their buffet situation. When a friend and I arrived at what should have been the height of lunch rush, the place was completely deserted, save for one lone office-y type lady, casually grazing away her lunch break and staring out the window at the wig store across the way. I thought "Ah, well - more pizza for us, I guess!"

But after paying the dementedly bored looking cashier girl and getting our drinks, we noticed that there was only one trusty little tray of pizza occupying the hot table, lazily warming itself under the heat lamp. But it appeared fresh, and the one pizza was made up of three different varieties - Hawaiian, classic pepperoni, and some kind of intense looking meat combo. I piled a slice of each on my beige plastic plate and delivered it to a large table next to the video game area.

I wasn't quite ready to settle in yet - a visit to a pizza lunch buffet wouldn't be complete without a trip through the salad bar. Kudos to Pizza Factory for stocking such a complete, fresh, and lovey salad bar despite the apparent lack of public interest. When I go for a salad bar, this is what ends up on my plate - lettuce (of course), slices of purple pickled beets, black olives, a ton of sliced boiled eggs, sunflower seeds, a pile of croutons and several large scoops of thousand island dressing. That's pretty much it - carrots, broccoli, tomatoes, and cucumbers can bite me. I always try my best to turn something potentially healthy into a carb and fat laden mess, and I definitely accomplished that mission.

The video arcade area of Pizza Factory isn't particularly enormous or impressive, but I was drawn to sit in that particular section of the place perhaps because I spent a large portion of my youth in the 1980's hanging out in environments where there was a solid wall of boopy bleepy noise coming from rows of electronic video games machines. It's a sound that's still comforting to me to me to this day, and eating hot pizza slices in that environment always transports part of me back to my teenage years.

I dug into my soupy salad first, and it was exactly as good as expected, and I mean that in the best way possible. Thousand island dressing is so viscous and sweet, it turns pretty much everything it touches into a sort of dessert. The sweetness of the pickled beets sealed the deal, and the boiled eggs lent a breakfasty feeling to the affair. Heck, it was like having all six daily meals at once (there are six meals, right?). For whatever reason, salad bars are rather rare these days and they are missed, at least by me.

The pizza at Pizza Factory is great! In my opinion, they are one of the most underrated franchise/chain pizza places in the country (120 locations in five states). I can't stand the sweet crust of Dominos Pizza, and their chintziness with toppings. I like Pizza Hut, but the sauce and general greasiness inevitably gives me death heartburn that lasts into the wee hours of the middle of the night. Little Caesars pizza is weak in too many ways for me to get into. But Pizza Factory does it just right. The crust is just the right thickness and baked to a crisp delicious golden brown. The sauce is bright and tasty and doesn't overwhelm the flavor of the plentiful cheese and toppings.

I think Pizza Factory survives on being a gathering place for larger groups of people, like kids softball teams and family reunions (we had one there a few years back and they gave us our own room and treated us royally). I've heard from a few in-the-know folks over the years that their sub sandwiches are gigantic and exceptional, and that their spaghetti and pasta dishes are excellent as well. Clearly, the place must get people-y at times - including the Pizza Shoppe era, they're one of the longest surviving pizza joints in town.

Chowing down on my truly fantastic mega-loaded slice of all meat pizza (pepperoni, Italian sausage, ham, ground beef, crispy bacon), I looked around the empty restaurant and wondered why the heck more people weren't taking advantage of such a great deal - $7.99 for all-you-can-eat salad bar, excellent pizza, and a bottomless soda. Maybe it was just a way off day, but the demeanor of the counter girl and the owner/manager guy that eventually emerged from the back indicated that they were used to the place being not-exactly-hopping during lunchtime.

I guess until the secret gets out (here it is, folks!), we will have the place to ourselves and as much thousand island dressing and mega-meat pizza as our hungry hearts desire.

Get Out Goes West - Taste of India

2011-10-26T19:00:00.000-07:00

Taste of India
3110 N. Division, Spokane, WA
(509) 327-7313

North Division Street in Spokane is one of the most visually cluttered stretches of road in the great Northwest, if not the entire nation. Little ticky tacky mom and pop pawn shops mingle with mega malls, bong stores, eleventy million Chinese restaurants and legally questionable happy ending massage parlors. Wordy signs of every color, size, height and width imaginable hover over the landscape from all directions, up down and sideways.

It ain't necessarily pretty, but gazing down from my perch at the the window seat at the south end of Taste of India, the long grey stretch of Division that runs between the restaurant and the grey, blocky edifices of downtown Spokane seemed kind of charming in a doomy, post-industrial kind of way.

Maybe it was just the hazy, hallucinatory bliss brought on by three and a half trips to Taste of India's alarmingly magnificent buffet situation that had me looking down at dirty old Spokompton in such a wisty-eyed way. Indian cuisine is something you really can't find much of in North Idaho, unless you count a trip to the frozen food section for an Amy's Organic Palak Paneer, which actually isn't that bad when the craving strikes, but doesn't come anywhere close to the real deal. And Taste of India is the real deal, no doubt about that.

Proper preparation of authentic Indian cusine requires a clay oven known as a Tandoor, and Taste of India's Tandoor is evident smell-wise as well as visually, proudly displayed via the semi-open kitchen in the family-run establishment. As their menu explains, great Indian food also requires a lot of spice knowledge - a good Indian chef understands that "the art of Indian cookery lies not in high spicing but in the delicacy of spicing".

Owners Ajit and Hardish Singh and their crew get it, for the most part. Not that Taste of India isn't utterly addictive, affordable, and quite copacetic overall, but as a person who likes his curries and such to go bang bang in his mouth with spice and flavor, the entrees offered up on their $9.99 all-you-can-eat lunch buffet are a bit on the flaccid side. I'm thinking that they're wanting to keep the buffet table safe and neutral for the sake of spice weaklings who might faint at the sight of a decent ultra-spicy, red and saucy, tongue singeing plate of Chicken Vindaloo.

I reckon that's understandable, and perhaps next time I'll order a dish from the real menu and see if I can have them kick it up a few notches, but my roommate and I were left with a touch of bland-itis on our recent pilgrimage to the Taste of India buffet line. I'm not really complaining, I love the place anyway for various other reasons - the service is friendly and the atmosphere is relaxing and un-rushed with Bollywood music playing softly in the background, walls in muted mustard and eggplant, crystal-esque chandeliers, and a colorful Hindu-flavored mural.

We arrived a little early for the lunch rush that would soon encroach, so we had the advantage of not having to wait in line and we had pretty much the first stab of the day at the just-prepared bins of fabulousness, before the cootie people had a chance to spread their little filthy germs all over the buffet table. Actually, I'm not terribly freaked out by the ill potential of a public buffet scenario, but my roommate most certainly is and he was happy to have beat the crowd.

I always like to try a bit of everything on offer, and on the day we arrived there were some familiar favorites as well as a surprise or two. Naan (a leavened flatbread) is the backbone of any Indian buffet and Taste of India does it very well, with both plain and garlic Naan cooked to a heavenly textural perfection in the Tandoor - a little chewy on the outside crust and soft and tender inside. The cracker-like Papadum bread adds some necessary crunch to the plate, and I like to use it to sample the various chutneys and sauces available on the cold table. Basmati rice always rocks, providing a fluffy, delicately flavored bed for the various entrees to splay themselves upon.

Butter Chicken - just the name alone is enough to make Paula Deen don a sari and dance the Bihu to a little Bhangra music, although it's not as buttery as it is tomatoey. The sauce did seem just a touch on the thin and watery side, it was sweetly tangy and the chicken itself was tender and moist. Similarly, the perfectly-done Tandoor-cooked chicken meat itself was the highlight of the yellow Chicken Curry on offer, rather than the sauce it was cooked in. It was pleasant enough, but that's all it was, and like I said earlier, I prefer my curries significantly kickier in the turmeric and red chili departments.

I'm a big fan of Saag Paneer (cubes of a mellow, homemade cheese and pureed spinach in a flavorful sauce), and I was more than happy with taste of India's version, but my less-experimental roommate wasn't so keen, calling it "hippie baby food" and leaving it untouched on his plate. The Tandoori chicken was a bigger hit with him - he must have eaten three birds worth of red, garlicky thighs. I prefer to chow on the drumsticks, cooked so magnificently to falling-off-the-bone sublimity. Also, both of us were totally enamored with the crunchy bits of deep fried spinach dipped in creamy yogurt sauce. Deep fried spinach!

I realized I might have a serious Naan problem, a potentially life-destroying addiction that I'm guessing they don't really have rehab clinics for. Even after I was full up to my armpits, I kept going back for more of this amazing breadstuff. For dessert they had weird little fried dough balls soaked in a cold, sugary syrup - a dish called Gulab Jamun. Honestly, neither my roommate nor myself were particularly impressed - they were unenjoyably soggy and mushy and just plain odd. So, to make up for the slight disappointment of the dough balls, naturally I went back for just one more piece of Naan.

Overall, the dishes served at Taste of India may not the best ever but they're quite good and in my opinion they're by far the most authentic Punjabi in Spokane. Fully stuffed, I struggled up the short flight of stairs to the top section of the restaurant where the register was and had a complete doh! moment. I'd been to the place a handful of times and never realized that an extensively gorgeous bar of booze took up a significant portion of the upper level of the place. I guess I'd always left the money on the table and exited through the south door. My roommate and I smacked our foreheads V8-style and looked at each other thinking "Damn, we could have been having cocktails the entire time!" Ah well, there's always next time and there most certainly will be a next time.

Hn’ya’(pqi’n’n

2011-10-16T23:22:00.000-07:00

Hn’ya’(pqi’n’n - A Gathering Place
Coeur d'Alene Casino Resort
37914 South Nukwalqw Road Worley, ID
(800) 523-2464
www.cdacasino.com

Bewitched. Funky disco chickens. Wizard of Oz. Cherries, bananas, peaches, and parrots. Mega deluxe super four-leaf clover diamond golden leprechaun queens. I do love the geniuses who think up all the totally deranged themes and names for slot machine screens. Truly, a visit to a rural casino is one of the most insanely surreal, detached-from-reality situations that exists within the realm of modern human existence. It's a drug-free psychedelic experience (no, I wouldn't know anything about that sort of thing), equally as enrapturing as it is bewildering.

Never any clocks in view because they want you to forget about sort of thing. What is time? It could be 3 p.m. or 3 a.m or 13 a.m. Who gives a puff what time it is? Not the bonanza of chain-smoking zombied-out old ladies, chained to their favorite slot machines by the curly plastic straps of their Coyote Rewards cards for hours, days and weeks. Why bother with such trivialities when you're up another $13.79?

The vibrating blur of the eternal human soup. The acid flashback color patterns of the carpeting. The pong of cigarette smoke and the ambient slot machine bling blong bling noises that continue uninterrupted day, night, dusk, dawn, and dream. And the Coeur d'Alene Casino on any given Saturday night can be an intense awake dream indeed, especially when there's a hardcore party girl involved.

I hadn't actually managed to trip my way down to the Cd'A Casino since their mega-expansion earlier this year, but I was invited to a surprise birthday party for an old friend last week at Hn’ya’(pqi’n’n, the casino's new restaurant/bar hot spot. Coincidentally, my old drag name is "Hn’ya’(pqi’n’n", and the birthday bitch has been my homegirl since 6th grade, so it was an invite I just couldn't turn down.

Huge, massive or even ginormous aren't words that do the expanded casino any justice so I had to consult my trusty old friend, Thesaurus.com. I do rather like "behemothic" and "empyrean", but "super-colossal" probably describes the feeling best. The structure is ultra-modern, all steel, glass, and colored light strips and it seems to stretch on for blocks and blocks. The super-tall, retro-futuristic, color-changing totem pole structure out front is in itself enough to warrant spending an entire night tripping on psychedelic mushrooms and doing circular dancing rituals around it to summons the aliens. (I wouldn't know anything about that either, ahem.)

We weren't thrilled about having to park in the outer Bongolian region of the parking lot when we pulled in off the curvy, slightly confusing new entrance ramp, but as soon as we'd slammed the car doors behind us, a man on a 4-passenger go-cart appeared from nowhere and said "wanna ride? Hop on!"

So we did, and landed at the entrance door closest to our destination, Hn’ya’(pqi’n’n, just in the nick of time to join a table full of the birthday girl's friends and family waiting in anticipation for her to come around the corner with her boyfriend, totally unaware of the shouts of "surprise!" that were about to greet her. And surprised she was, for somehow her man had managed to keep the whole thing under wraps for two weeks, and she thought they were just coming down from their room in the casino hotel for a quiet, relaxing birthday dinner together. Oh, girl - uh-uh, no way, not quite.

The birthday party was consuming booze beverages at an alarming pace before the band, Eclectic Approach (photo left), even did their first "check one two, check one two", so when they finally did start, the crowd went mildly berserk, especially Brandy, the birthday princess herself. I have to say, Eclectic Approach are one of the best lounge/party bands I've ever witnessed - those boys were young, good looking, energetic, talented, and good looking (yes, i said good looking twice). They started with a dance-funk song in which the singer seemed to make up lyrics off the top of his head about Brandy and her birthday, and somehow it didn't come off as corny at all. This guy's rhymes were smooth and cleverly hilarious.

A few more songs in he asked the crowd to pick a random word and they would make up another song about it. "Pickle!" I hear Brandy shriek from behind me, and the band was off, the singer freestyling a silly and slightly dirty song about the many joys of our green vinegary vegetable friends. Later, he asked the crowd for another song title and on my suggestion Brandy yelled the words "moist towelette!" and we were just tipsy enough that we were convinced we'd contributed to the creation of a brilliant (maybe not so radio-friendly) pop masterpiece. "She needs a wet towelette/To clean up all the sweat/from places where she'll never let you get".

I'd been enjoying (ahem) several tall 23 oz. cups of Kokanee beer for a mere $4.25 each, but I'd soon get a chance to dabble with the hard licks! Brandy literally grabbed me off my chair and said "C'mon! Just follow me!" I was actually following a group of about 10 members of our party on a wild adventure chase through the machine dazzle and throngs of gamblers on the main floor of the casino, through the other lounge where we had to stop briefly for a few shots of Fireball each, through the empty non-smoking game room (who ever goes there?), past the old cafe and the gift shop, through the lobby area of the old hotel, down the hall and into an awaiting elevator. Running the entire time, I was huffing and puffing out of breath and Brandy was waving hello to strangers, giving them no chance at all to be unaware of her birthday, and threatening to expose her tatas to various oogling old men. That's my girl.

Unfortunately, the elevator decided it wasn't about to heft ten rowdy drunk asses up three levels and started making an exasperated honking sound which drew the attention of two Casino security guards. Fortunately, they just laughed at our antics and rolled their eyes as we ran out of the elevator and started stumbling up the stairway instead.

We poured into one of our people's rooms (no idea whose), and crashed momentarily on the beds and comfy chairs for a couple shots each of delicious Pinnacle Whipped Cream Vodka and a random tipsy group conversation about who was the sexiest Muppet (the consensus: female=Miss Piggy, male=Elmo). Probably very sick and wrong, I know, but a good way to pass the time when you're passing the bottle around in a garishly decorated Casino hotel room.

A few folks decided to hit the machines for a bit on the way back to good ol' Hn’ya’(pqi’n’n, but I headed first for the gorgeous, new green-granite-countertopped restroom and then to the party to find some sustenance to stuff into my rapidly drunkier and drunkier system. The bar was hosting some kind of all-you-can-eat BBQ situation, but that sounded like a bit much, so I took the cue of a new friend sitting next to me at the party table and ordered the "Burger Flight", which was a sampling of three of their different signature burgers, a Mini Puburger, a Mini Kobeurger and a Mini Umami Lamburger.

With all the birthday chaos going on around me, and the constant alcohol-fueled chit-chat with various other table-sitters to distract my growling tum-tum, it seemed like my meal arrived confusingly fast. And what a site it was to see - each of the three mini-burgers had copious amounts of lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and pickles actually piled directly on top of the upper bun, all attached with a long wooden pick. This was ideal, since I don't love tomatoes and pickles on my burger, I could just toss them aside before getting down to business. Or more specifically, I gave them to a strange drunk girl who was begging me for them: "yer not gonna eat that stuff? Hot!"

The Mini Pub Burger features "beer-butter basted ground short rib" and was rather plain (maybe I'd already had too much beer at that point to notice the nuance of the marinade) but went down well in two and a half bites. The Kobeurger's novelty situation is this: "Snake River Farms Wagyu beef topped with truffle cheese and served with butter leaf lettuce, tomato, oxtail marmalade and foie gras aioli." This item fared much better, like a creamy lightning flash of "say what?" in my mouth. A great blend of flavors and textures and I'm pretty sure I'll be ordering the maxi version of this one next time I hit the Casino.

Lamburgers are one of my favorites, and Hn’ya’(pqi’n’n's version features "domestic ground lamb grilled over rosemary and topped with sautéed shitake mushrooms, umami mayonnaise, roasted tomato ketchup and Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese." I'd also been devouring the giant pile of ranch cut fries that came with my burgers, so one bite into this amazingly rich burst of umami-ness and I was suddenly almost full enough to hit the Edge of Glory (that's an eating-too-much-food-whilst-drinking-heavily term that Lady Gaga stole from me), so I handed the rest of it over to my pickle-and-tomato girl to finish the job.

I waddled over to the game floor with a few friends and watched them play a few slots, but I'd spent all the cash I brought along for gambling on drinks and dinner, and ultimately I'm glad I did. I'm not much of a gambler anyway, and I was happy to have spent my cash on an amazing meal and an fantastically surreal experience overall. It was a birthday Brandy (or anyone else there) is unlikely to forget any time soon, and it inspired me to start making copycat plans to have my big 40th (shocking, isn't it!) birthday celebration there next spring.

The food began to make my eyelids droopy and time was making my generous buzz wear off, so I told my much more sober roommate it was time to exit the tribal Taj Mahaj of the Cd'A Casino and make our weary way back north to town. Brandy decided to walk us out, and the crazy birthday girl was significantly more blotto than either one of us. The last image we saw as we hopped on the four-seat cart back to the car was her flashing her generous bare breasts full-on at us, and the priceless look on the faces of the older couple we were riding with made the whole evening worth it times a million.

Fire Artisan Pizza

2011-10-04T15:10:00.000-07:00

Fire Artisan Pizza

517 Sherman Ave., Coeur d'Alene
(208) 676-1PIE

Since opening earlier last month near the tail end of an unusually not-so-sizzling summer, Fire Artisan Pizza has been setting the downtown Coeur d'Alene restaurant scene ablaze. Basically, the buzz has been all Heavy Debbie up in local culinary circles that, to put it in the most irritatingly obvious way possible, Fire is hot. Wait - I think we can do better than that. How about: Fire is hotter than a two dollar pistol on the 4th of July. Even better: Fire is hotter than a nanny goat in a pepper patch. Or, my favorite: Fire is hotter than two rats screwing in a wool sock in the desert. (Thanks to the Cliche Finder site for these gems).

Ironically, the first time I was able to try their product, it was a couple of slices of cold pizza brought to me at my bartending job by a friend who had visited Fire earlier in the day and had a bit of leftovers to share. It was a simple cheese pizza, and although Ellen Degeneres might tell you otherwise, a plain old cheese pizza isn't necessarily the most exciting thing in the world, especially when it comes to you at a temperature only slightly warmer than Lake Cocolala on a moonlit October night.

But I'd been dealing with a crowd of tipsy drama queens all afternoon, and I was starving, so even a cold cheese pizza seemed like a luscious treat at the time. And guess what: it actually was! Looking at the menu later on, I realized my friend had ordered a "Parma" (prosciutto, gorgonzola, pecorino, mozzarella and
provolone cheeses, finished with truffle oil - $14) but he had them hold the meaty part. I don't blame him really, because every time I think of the word "prosciutto" I once again think of Food Network hostess Giada Di Laurentis savaging the word in a hardcore over-pronunciation style and I immediately lose my appetite. Granted, she does have a nice eyebrow situation.

Anyway, the crust had gone from crispy to chewy on its long adventure toward my face, but that actually somehow added to its charms and it still tasted like a real deal delicious concoction. I ravenously finished everything in my friend's take home box, leaving him with nothing to actually take home. To make up for my uncontrollable piggishness and basic lack of social grace, I bought him a tall double whiskey and coke and both of us were quite content.

I figured that if a few slices of rather-less-than-fresh pizza could impress me that much, then it would be worth it for me to actually leave my recent constant work/Bewitched rerun cocoon to go downtown and make an attempt to put my tongue parts on a hot out of the oven slice or six of what Fire had to offer.

Hungry I was and hungry was I when we walked into the recently renovated Sherman Avenue spot that Fire occupies next door to the year-round "Christmas By the Lake" store I've never, ever visited (I lean toward Neo-Confucianism and am allergic to mistletoe). The hostess fluttered her hand around the room as she told my lunch pal and I to sit wherever, so we grabbed the table closest to the waitstaff station so we could hopefully hear them gossip and bitch under their breath about how horrible all the customers were and how they should all die in a "Fire"-y car crash in their 2012 Volvos on their way back to Woodnville, WA or Carmel, CA.

That never happened. The staff, especially our server Sean, were as prompt and polite and as Xanex librarians - no snatchy tongues flared. \There was no one for them to kvetch about - the place was basically empty save for a couple of random Craigslist dates happening in one corner and a young photographer guy with a Seattle problem running around very intently taking pictures of the place for a possible future "CDA Magazine" feature spread or something. Granted, it was around 2 pm on a Tuesday, so it was after the main lunch rush buzz most likely would have already come and gone.

Noticeable immediately was Fire's decor, which, also like the photographer boy floating about the room, seemed very Seattle damaged, but in a good way. Your basic nouveau retro circumstance. Bare concrete floors, half-walls made of raw, splintery wood blocks, open ceilings with exposed venting doo-dads, and giant black-and-white blown-up photos of (I think) random Seattle people and places doing the things that random Seattle people and places do best: looking cool in a naturally hip, slightly insouciant kind of way.

The plastic white chairs were retro like the chairs I might have sat on during first grade in 1978, but I was afraid they weren't quite sturdy enough for my frankly fat ass, so I chose a "booth" seat (aka an orange linoleum covered block of wood bolted hard to the wall). Adding to the artsy, gourmet vibe are the little round dishes of grey sea salt that adorn the center of each table, each filled up only a slight amount as if to say "we're too urbane to give you a full dish and you need to watch your salt intake anyway, Dumbo." Also, a nice touch was the fresh cucumber slices placed inside our water glasses - much more interesting than a boring old lemon to add interest to plain agua.

Don't get me wrong, Fire looks very cool (these lame ironic puns have got to stop!), but the main draw here is the simplistic fabulosity of the wood-fired pizza, made right behind the counter in a brick lined cubbyhole and brought immediately to your table all melty and sizzling. There are ten combo options available, and highlights include the "Banion" (bacon, onions, mozzarella cheese, tomato sauce - $12), the "Crimini" (crimini mushrooms, thyme, garlic olive oil, mozzarella cheese - $12), and the evocatively titled "Meat" (fennel sausage, pepperoni, salami, bacon, mozzarella cheese, tomato sauce - $15).

I love the whole musky chèvre thing, so I ordered the "Billy" (goat cheese, roasted red pepper, Kalamata olives, tomato sauce, fresh arugula ($13). This grand-to-behold pizza was even better than the cold one that my friend had delivered to me the week before - the peppery arugula was fresh and piled high atop sweet roasted peppers and large, par-melted chunks of crumbly goat cheese. The taste of the sauce was planets away from Domino's or Pizza Slut, with the distinctive flavors of the ingredients all popping in to say hello and dance a little jig with my taste receptors.

The crust was crisp, perhaps a bit too crisp for my taste, the only possible flaw I could find with the whole affair. I'm told that an extra-browned, borderline burnt crust is normal for wood fired pizzas, so I guess I'll let that one go. I had a slice of my friend's "Crimini", and it was magnificent as well, dense with rich mushroom taste. the pizzas at Fire aren't enormous, in fact they're just the right size for one person, which makes it fun to trade off and sample slices of what your co-conspirators have ordered.

The denouement to the climax of our glorious Fire Artisian Pizza tale was the literally mountainous, oven-fresh chocolate chip cookie Sean brought us out after we were already stuffed to the gills. There's always room for dessert! Especially when it's a literally mountainous, heavenly, doughy sort as this. Oh God, yum! By the time I paid the tab and got home, I'd lost complete focus on the rest of the busy day ahead and opted to tell the world to burn in a pit of heck in favor of a nice naptime.

Local Noise: Not Quite Punk

2011-08-31T14:38:00.000-07:00

Name: Not Quite Punk

Hometown: Sandpoint, ID

Genre: Rockabilly/Ska/Swing/Punk

Band Members:
Brian Grise: Vocals & Guitar
Paz Rainbow: Trumpet & Vocals
Myles Larson: Drums & Vocals
Reese Warren: Lead Guitar & Vocals
Troy Falciani: Bass & Vocals

Influences:
Rancid, Bad Religion, Mad Sin, Django Reinhardt, Voodoo Glow Skulls, Mad Caddies, Scott Joplin, Fats Waller

Releases:
"Hometown Heroes & Degenerates" (LP, Forthcoming)

Bio:
"Formed in late 2009, Rockin' is this band's #1 goal, and their Guitar, Trumpet and Bass driven sound will make your foot want to tap right out of your shoe! Swingin' with Not Quite Punk is a style all it's own, influenced by greats such as: Django Reinhardt, Sublime, Stray Cats, Mad Sin, Rancid, Mad Caddies and more. The reminiscent yet unique and new sound of N.Q.P. is a mixture of Brian's swing & rockabilly influence, Paz's ska and jazz trumpet, Reese's shredding guitar solos and jazzy progressions, Troy's smooth bass lines, and Myles' booming swingin' drums. It is a sound that appeals to audiences of all ages.

After a little more than one year, Not Quite Punk slayed 70+ gigs in the Northwestern U.S. during 2010 expanding their fan-base through Washington, Idaho and Montana, and is now expecting release of their first studio album titled: “Hometown Heroes & Degenerates” due May 1st 2011. A very busy year has had them playing months of back-to-back shows, sold-out shows, and playing for big audiences including: Missoula Hempfest, 3 live on-air hour long sets on one of the nation's top AAA FM radio stations, Schweitzer Mountain Resort, Relay For Life, and Sandpoint City Beach Music Festival and many more. N.Q.P. has recently launched a new website, is currently working on a new music video and preparing for a Cd Release Tour in summer 2011."

Upcoming Shows:
September 3 at the Grail Venue, Coeur d'Alene, 7 pm
with Jesi B. & the All Rites, Icabod and RFB

Links:
Home Page
Facebook
Reverbnation

Music Widget:

Videos:

Red Bowl Fresh Grilled

2011-08-29T14:52:00.000-07:00

Red Bowl Fresh Grilled
1650 W Appleway, Coeur d'Alene
(208) 676-9340

It's perhaps a smidge on the perplexing side that an eatery advertising itself under the moniker Red Bowl serves all their items in plastic black bowls. The situation conjures up several ponderous questions. Does the plastic bowl wholesaler charge an extra .02 per for the red ones? Was the name "Black Bowl" somehow too morbid and un-cheery or was it already trademarked by a bowling alley with a African-American History theme? Did they at one point consider the name "Green Bowl" but thought better after realizing they might be mistaken for a medical marijuana dispensary?

We may never know the reason, but after a couple of trips to Coeur d'Alene's Red Bowl Fresh Grilled, located deep inside Goodie's Conoco gas station/c-store, I've concluded that it wouldn't really matter if their food was served in Pistachio Puke or Burnt Hair Ochre colored bowls, it would still be pretty darn okay.

Speaking of ungodly color happenings, Red Bowl lives in the former shell of a Taco Time outlet, and while they've applied some red linoleum atop the main counter, and splashed some red paint on the walls surrounding the order area, the cupboards in the kitchen are still neon Taco Time lime green. This vibratingly optical color combo was giving me a mild case of vertigo as I stood at the order counter the first time trying to decide what was what for lunch. Another noted decor tragedy is the appropriate-of-nothing rack of small silk flowerpots for sale near the soda machines. No thanks, I'll buy grandma's birthday present down the street at Tuesday Morning instead.

Yakisoba, rice bowls, and stir-fry combo plates make up the bulk of the Red Bowl menu board. I've described it to friends as sort of a poor man's Noodle Express, but in actuality that makes the place sound significantly more ghetto than it really is, at least food wise. All the staples of this sort of fast-Asian grill are here, a few dozen options overall with no major surprises, none at all, really.

I do appreciate that they cater to people who don't make up their minds so easily (pointing to myself) by offering three combo plates that include a couple of different entrees - Chicken & Short Ribs, Chicken & Spicy Pork, Short Ribs & Spicy Pork ($7.99 per plate). Okay, not an amazing variety of options there, but as an entry point into the world of Red Bowl, it seemed like the right thing to do, so I ordered a #6 (Chicken & Spicy Pork) to go.

When the counter girl disappeared into the the back somewhere and I heard some sizzling and clacking spatula action, I realized that everything was being whipped up from scratch, rather than served out of a metal heat-lamp-fueled bin of some kind. In fact, all the old Taco Time gear in the front part of the kitchen is just sitting there totally out of commission. Everything goes on behind the scenes now, so I suppose all the cooking cacophony could be just an elaborate fake-out and in reality, everything they serve up comes from the frozen foods section of Grocery Outlet. You know, those little microwaveable black plastic bowls.

I think not. My maiden meal from Red Bowl was pretty darn good - both the chicken and and pork were fresh and tender, served Teriyaki-style with a nice, tight ball of white rice and a pile of salad-y veggies. It was good enough to warrant a return visit, this time with Jesi B., and with the intention of actually sitting down at a table to dine and bathe in the luminescent ambiance of a busy quickie mart at noontime. Red Bowl is certainly not the kind of place you'd want to suggest for a meeting with your high society friends, but we were quite entertained by the crowd nonetheless - a dozen-or-so buff and burly Avista utility men who had arrived for lunch at the same time as us. Bonus!

This time around, I decided on the Shrimp Yakisoba ($7.99) and it was quite scrumptious with large florets of non-soggy broccoli, carrots, and lots of big, tasty shrimp. Eight bucks seems to me like it's just a tad pricier than some of the other places that serve this sort of thing, but we got a heaping ton of food, and it was well worth every Roosevelt dime spent. In addition to the main course, I split an order of potstickers ($3.99) with Jesi, and these did actually give the impression they were imported from the freezer section. They weren't terrible though, and I suppose there's only so much one can do with a potsticker. Still, we devoured everything, and left feeling satiated and blissfully a-bloat.

Last week, I returned for another dose of Red Bowl - I needed to give it another whirl before I could form a final opinion, desperately (okay, maybe I'm a little hooked). The Crispy Chicken Plate ($6.99) and a perfectly adequate egg roll ($2.99) tilted the decision all the way over into yes! territory. They could and should refer to it as Chicken Katsu on the menu, because that's really what it is, and Chicken Katsu is one of my most beloved Hawaiian plate lunch items. I love the pounded-down thinness of the chicken meat, coated in that crunchy deep-fried coating and served with that tangy, ketchup-and-Worcestershire based sauce that's so yummy when it gets all mixed into the white rice. Heaven!

On the whole, Red Bowl won't win any Idaho Cuisine magazine Fork-in-Cork awards for its posh atmosphere, but it is a great place to pop in and grab a convenient, appetizing and very filling meal. And where else in town can one pick up a case of Natural Ice beer, a copy of the National Enquirer, and a jumbo-size box of Junior Mints on the way out the door after chowing down on a black plastic bowl full of Tofu Yakisoba?

Local Noise: Ghoul's Crypt

2011-08-14T16:53:00.000-07:00

Name: Ghoul's Crypt

Hometown: Post Falls, ID

Genre: Horror/Punk/Metal

Members:
Ghoul: Vocals/guitar
Jasin Gorgoth: Bass/backing vocals
Scott Hankins: Lead uitar/backing vocals
T-Bone: Drums

Reverbnation Bio:
"Ghoul is the founder of the DIY label Haunted House Productions and has become respected in the music community as a business-minded legend of the horror/punk/rock scene. A guru whose musical fame mostly stemmed from success as the singer/songwriter of the underground 90's horror/punk group "HUMAN MONSTER". A leader with a focused and structured musical direction, who is versatile vocal style and range has over the years been compared to by many as: "if DANZIG had a prodigal son, Ghoul be thy name"... having the mind-set of combining catchy rock/metal hooks w/ breathtaking vocal howls.

With an array of song writing ability that covers such genres as rock, metal, punk, horror, death, and rock-a-billy (to name a few), the group's focus will consistently and strictly produce music with a "do it yourself" mentality, sustaining thus another notch in this front mans belt, unveiling the heavier stoner/doom/garage sound that has become the focus and direction of this new super-group. With an all star line-up that was carefully hand selected by Ghoul himself, evil has a face and name and it's "Ghoul's Crypt".

Gorgoth was born, raised, bred and fed in the dark ages of the 1970's... Hailing from the dulcet desert lands of Arizona. Influenced and instilled at an early age by classic 70's rock groups such as Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin. Joining as Ghoul’s full-time bassist in April of 2010, Jasin (Ghoul’s #1 comrade) has played a key role in helping write and form many diverse playing styles using thumb, finger and pick applications as needed during recording sessions within the walls of Ghoul’s garage. Gorgoth has undeniably enhanced Ghoul’s writing ability and has nourished the evil/melodic/gloomy style and tone that is rich in playability, which has brought the “heavier” edge that has become “the sound” of Ghoul’s Crypt."

Upcoming Show:
Saturday, Sept. 24 - Umatilla County Fairgrounds, Hermiston, OR

Links:
MySpace
ReverbNation

Music Widget:

El Paisa Mexican Food

2011-08-08T14:42:00.000-07:00

El Paisa Mexican Food
1801 N Lincoln Way, Coeur d'Alene
(208) 704-8775

Driving absentmindedly north on Lincoln Way one afternoon last month, my wandering eye was caught by a bunch of balloons bobbling in the afternoon breeze, tied to a sandwich board bearing the image of a hungry, pissed-off looking Bramha Bull. Once I realized what it all meant, I had to roll my eyes so hard I nearly swerved off the road. Lordy lord. It was yet another Mexican restaurant in a town with eleventy thousand Mexican Restaurants. Sometimes it seems like another new one pops up somewhere every few weeks, and I haven't been terribly impressed with the majority of them lately (Taco Loco, you do rock).

Still, I was curious to investigate, since somehow the newsflash regarding El Paisa's sudden appearance on the Coeur d'Alene food scene never crossed the Get Out North Idaho radar. Problem was, I'd actually just eaten lunch and wasn't I remotely grumbly in the tummy for some taqueria nuevo action. I decided to just run in and give it a quick the re-furbed former Donut House a looky-loo and grab a copy of their take-out menu for future reference.

It was around 11 a.m. when I popped in, and the eatery was fully devoid of customers. I sorta got the eerie feeling that they'd only had their door open for business for a couple of hours max, and I was probably one of the first faces they'd seen come through, ever. I was greeted by three desperate, anticipatory smiles and a booming, warm "hola, bienvenida a mi amigo!" from owner/chef Francisco Padilla, who along with (I'm assuming) his wife and the cash register girl, gave up their counter lean immediately and snapped into action for me.

Oh, I'm just grabbing a take out menu real quick", I stammered, but they seemed so deflated that I gave a quick glance up at the menu board and said "um, actually, on second thought I think I'll get a glass of Horchata." Mmm, horchata. I can never pass up an opportunity to order a glass of the refreshing, candy-like Mexican beverage.

From where I was standing on the other side of the counter, I watched the Senorita do something I haven't seen very often, if ever. I watched her make horchata by hand, pouring the rice milk into a little pitcher and then blending in the vanilla, cinnamon and sugar right there on the spot. No dispenser-type machinery involved. Plus, she did it with a giant smile, as if she were putting on a little happy show for an audience of one in an attempt to impress me and ensure that I would return someday soon to actually dine on food.

It was a magnificent beverage, and the experience put El Paisa at the forefront of my brain until two days later, when I was able the first of many comebacks. On my earlier breeze-in, I hadn't really had the chance to absorb the random nature of the ornamentation cluttered around the walls. In the most charming way possible, it looks as if someone's dear abuelita spent an afternoon scouring the downtrodden art bins of every Salvation Army and Goodwill in the suburban barrios of San Diego.

There's a couple of framed tourist posters that, upon close inspection, reveal themselves to be images of the Greek Isles instead of Mexico. There's a kitschy black velvet painting of a psychedelic toreador that will certainly frighten children and the elderly. A photograph of a boring tiger, some unidentifiable brass hangy-thing, several Country Living 80's ceramic and/or toll-painted pictures of country cottages. It's a bit like a compendiary history of tragic and forgotten mortgage office decorating trends, late-20th-century edition.

Who cares, I suppose? One has to start somewhere and what they had going on was way better than the visual impression left by my first visit to another new Cd'A Mexican Restaurant, Atilano's, who had electrical wires coming out of open socket boxes and swashes of red paint all willy nilly on the walls to cover up any evidence of the dead KFC it took over from (note: Atilano's has since "decorated" a bit more). Anyway, El Paisa is utterly spotless otherwise, if not a touch utilitarian and cold with it's slate grey tables, chairs and nubby carpet..

There's nothing chilly about the service at El Paisa, each of the half-dozen times I've come in, they've been nothing less than engaging. It's always the husband and wife, and sometimes the counter girl, who is frankly the only one who'd likely be able to muster up much of a score on the ACT Combined English/Writing test. It happens like this: you order with her, and she shouts your order back to the other two in Español and they snap rapidly into action.

The times I have visited when she wasn't around, I did pretty much figure out that the other two do know un poco de Inglés, but as I've mentioned in past reviews, I like to use these opportunities to be able to fully geek-out with my ghetto Spanish skills. To their credit, he El Paisa folks didn't cluck or chuckle at me for doing so, in fact they responded in kind (slowly, as not to confuse the tragic gringo).

Here's the thing about El Paisa: OH MY GOD! THEIR FOOD IS LIKE, TOTALLY TUBULAR! Yes, that statement does belong in all caps and it's also an homage to how I was the only male Valley Girl in the 6th grade at Lakes Junior High, an age at which I had my first unforgettable experience with authentic, non-Idaho Mexican Cuisine at some long-forgotten dark, sketchy joint near my Aunt's house in San Jose, California. I've been trying to find a chile relleno platter that comapres with that fond, fuzzy memory from so many years ago, but with no real luck. El Paisa finally took me back to that happy place.

Okay, maybe I'd just starved myself to the point of delirium before I dug in, but regardless the dish was bright in flavor and light in texture, unlike some other chewy, burnt-egg tasting chile rellanos I've had the misfortune of suffering through. The cheese was bubbling up from underneath like a molten golden tar pit, and the thick red sauce was a rich puree of fresh-plucked tomatoes, herbs and Mexican spice. Rice is rice and pinto beans sprinkled with cheese are pinto beans sprinkled with cheese, but El Paisa does them really quite nicely, especially with a few generous splashes of their homemade green and red hot sauces (yes, both - why not?).

It escapes me now what exactly Jesi ordered on that maiden voyage to El Paisa, but I do remember she was equally smitten. In fact, separately between the two of us, we've returned nearly a dozen times since and the only minor complaint to arise has been that one day Jesi said the rice tasted "a bit off". Not unlike the hungry, pissed-off Bramha bull on their logo, I've plowed through sweet pork enchiladas (good heck, these were tender, succulent and just the right kind of sweet), taquitos rancheros (I never knew what a taquito could really be until I tried these, served with some sort of amazing ranch-dill sauce), and chicken tacos (made my bland experience with the ones at Atilan's fade into the mist). Fortunately for the Padillas and Co., it seems that I'm not the only one who finds El Paisa so addictively toothsome - on each visit the place seems increasingly more full of fanatic and famished folks.

Each time I've dropped into El Paisa for lunch, including the requisite glass of Horchata, I've ended up pulling less than $7 out of my wallet and have always come away feeling sweetly spent, like the joy synapses located inside both my brain and tummy were recovering from some kind of sublime and intense Mexican-food-gasm. And like various other other kinds of of "gasms", I always feel exactly like rolling over and having a little siesta afterwards.

The Awakening of Coeur d'Alene - 1981 Vs. 2011

2011-07-25T15:27:00.000-07:00

The Facebook group "Old School Coeur d'Alene" can be massively entertaining for folks like me who are fond of yammering on about a time long ago when our town was less prone to artsy-fartsy foofaraw, touristy rattleclap, and those pesky trees and flowers making everyone's allergies flare up. Call me old, and I'll smack you with a Hall & Oates record.

The "THEN" images posted below were swiped from that group's page and landed there Saturday courtesy of Dave Bellamy, who writes, "My dad was on the plannng commission and this still and these pictures were gathered as part of a proposal looking at putting up a cover over the downtown area of CDA. It never panned out but the planning did lead to the downtown we have now." The image on the left is the cover of the proposal pamphlet - love that totally hideous graphic design.

I was nine years old in 1981, and I spent a lot of time riding my bike downtown to waste time looking at records and comic books or hanging the arcade that was next to the Donut Shop on 2nd between Sherman and Lakeside. These pictures sent me into a fiercely aging but highly enjoyable time warp, as they will for anyone who is old enough to have been around at the time. The nostalgia is a ton of fun, but I still rather think that overall our downtown is better than ever here in 2011. What do you think?

THEN

NOW

Looking east on Sherman Ave from 2nd Street. The JC Penny's block is now the CDA Resort shopping plaza and the new Splash nightclub seems to be located exactly in the same spot where I watched my mother pick out bras and shoes before I'd run of to ride the city's only elevator up and down all three stories just for kicks.

The much-beloved, long-kaput Wilma Theater is front and left, now a patch of grass which sits emptier than empty and occasionally showcases expensive boats for one of Hagadone's marine outfits. Notice in all these old pics the complete lack of trees and greenery in 1981 - it's so much more lush now compared to the barren storefronts of back then.

THEN

NOW

The Iron Horse is still the Iron Horse, but they've significantly improved their facade - the fake train motif was seeming retro and way fugly even in 1981, if I recall. At this point, presciption dolls were the hot thing on 4th and Sherman, since two buildings which sat on that corner held pharmacies, but tastes have apparently changed and now booze served by the Moose Lounge (formerly Wilson's Pharmacy) and coffee served by Java (formerly Hart's Drug) are the mood-altering substances of choice.

Additionally, Mariposa was a woman's fashion store now occupied by Icon night club, which leads me to wonder if any of the fashion styles peddled there thirty years ago, possibly modeled by the lovely gals trying to cross the street on the left of the photo, have managed to cycle back into vogue for the place's modern clientele (mot likely, yes).

THEN

NOW

In 1989, the Duane purchased this entire block and turned it into "the Shops", a distinctly not-for-bargain-hunters shopping plaza, that is literally attached to his ever-expanding Resort situation. In 1981, the land held, among many other things, JC Penney, Fischer's Western Wear, Marie O'Briens Clothing Store, and the legendary Fore-n-Aft cocktail lounge, which everyone remembers for their faaaabulous ice cream drinks and alluringly dank and smoky, cave-like atmosphere.

I do vaguely remember that odd little covered bench on the corner that was just kind of plopped there for no apparent reason (looks kind of like a bus stop, but there was nothing even slightly resembling CityLink back then). I guess it was just a nice little place to plop down, relax and enjoy a gorgeous view of Lake Coeur d'Alene, a view which is no longer visible now that the concrete grey north wall of the Resort parking garage is the only thing one can get an eye full of from that particular vista.

THEN

NOW

The place on the lower left is exactly the same, except for a paint job or five. In fact, I think it was a real estate office or something then and it's a real estate office or something now. Long gone is the crumbly little yellow building that held (I think) a print shop, replaced by a wildly imposing bloc of windowless, brick condos. The quaint Chevron gas station at 7th and Sherman has been gone since around the time the gas "inflation" crisis meant that you paid slightly over $1.25 a gallon. Somehow, they managed to fit the Red Rose Hotel on that tiny corner after the gas station was razed, which still exists as the comfortable and severely under-rated Resort City Inn.

THEN

NOW

Looking west from 6th/5th on Sherman, many of the buildings now are structurally the same as then (although any changes we could see are blocked by trees in the "now" shot), but of course all of the names have changed, the sole exception being the trusty old Camera Corral, which will likely outlive us all.

A few names are visible by zooming into the 1981 image that bring back some warm fuzzy fond memories: Total Eclipse record shop (located in the "5th Avenue Mall"), the Craft and Hobby Store, the Bookseller (corner of 5th and Sherman), the Diamond Shop, Commercial Printing, and Burts Music (the latter two have survived to the present in new locations).

THEN

NOW

Click and enlarge this one to see what Hudson Hamburgers looked like back when it was a mere 70 years young. "Middle Age Crazy", the lead attraction at the Wilma Theater, was an impossibly obscure romantic comedy starring a late-career Ann Margaret and Bruce Dern with the tagline "There'll be a hot time in the hot tub tonight!" and a not-quite-classic Jerry Lee Lewis theme song. Murder mystery "Eyewitness", with Sigourney Weaver and John Hurt, rates a bit better, but not by much. Still, I'm sure there were worse ways to waste a Saturday afternoon than spending a whole dollar for a double feature, and another dollar on a large, buttery bucket of popcorn.

THEN

NOW

Corner of Front Street and 4th Street, Facing North. Okay, Bank of America - you look exactly like you did 30 years ago, which for many people is a rare and wonderful blessing, but it really is time for an exterior face lift. I seem to recall that Ace Hardware was maybe a more fun place to shop back then, carrying not just hammers and nails but also toys, gadgets, rubber flip-flops, and hot electronics such as portable 8-track tape players for you to take with you to your favorite hidden Tubbs Hill beach.

Local Noise: Rose Robbins

2011-07-18T13:30:00.000-07:00

Name: Rose Robbins

Hometown: Coeur d'Alene

Genre: Pop/Jazz/Trip-Hop/Soul

Influences: Everything But the Girl, Nina Simone, Joni Mitchell, Sarah MacLachlan, Alicia Keys, Tina Turner, Suzanne Vega, Sting, Les Nubiennes, Sade, Seal, Annie Lennox, Enya, Clannad, Pink Floyd, U2

About:
With a voice as warm and haunting as a June evening, Rose Robbins mesmerizes with poetic lyrics and tunes that stay with you long after the last note has died away.

Reminiscent of Sade, Robbins pens music that is throughly modern but with a vintage feel. She has won various awards for her music, including "Best Song of 2004" in the International Online Music Awards, and Top 500 in the Billboard World Song Contest three years in a row.

Press:
"When Rose Robbins walked out on the stage and sat down at the piano, the audience could be forgiven for wondering, just for a moment, what kind of music this slender, delicate-looking woman could produce? Then she began to sing and play with such maturity...and in a voice so stunningly rich and deep that I, for one, was quickly transported far away...." ~ Astoria Review - Peter March

"The last time a female vocalist smacked me this hard on first listen, her name was Baez, and it was back in the early sixties." ~ The Daily Pundit - Bill Quick

Get Out North Idaho Says:
How in the heck did Miss Robbins manage to sneak under our radar for so long? The Sade comparisons are correct, this low-key local diva's voice is pure silk and honey and her jazz-pop arrangements are fetchingly easy on the ears without ever resorting to being cloying or cheesy. Despite her apparent youth, her voice drips with experience and her music production is airy and glistening with a professionalism that's glossy like a sweet, glazed strawberry. Delicious! Light electronics bubble underneath and even a dash of funk occasionally pops in to force toes to tap and heads to bop.

Discography:
Close Your Eyes CD (2005)
Rain (Single, 2007)
Chase the Lonely (Single, 2010)
Sleepy Siren (Single, 2010)
Divide (Single, 2011)

All CD's/Downloads available through CD Baby here.

Links:
Homepage
Facebook
Reverbnation

Music Widget:

Video:

Music Video for "Divide":

Ugly Fish Asian Bistro

2011-07-12T08:00:00.001-07:00

Ugly Fish Asian Bistro
1927 W Riverstone Dr.
Coeur d'Alene
208 667 3689

Once upon a time, deep in the darkest dark zone of Osaka Bay, there was a bright young Caulophryne Polynema named Coco LaStrange. All the guys thought Coco had a real great personality and could really be a groovy pal to spend an afternoon fusing bloodstreams together with or watching old re-runs of "Gimme a Break" (Male Hairy Anglers are well-known for their love of Nell Carter), but none of them wanted to bring her back home to mama's sea-cave and would never consider putting a shiny ring on her tentacle. Sadly, Coco LaStrange was an ugly-ass fish.

So, in an effort to lift her deflated spirits, Coco enrolled herself at the Thousand Fathoms Institute of Totally Fricken' Awesome Asian Cuisine. To make a dumb story short, she graduated with highest honors and went on to open Coco's Ugly Fish restaurant, which garnered ecstatic reviews from the press and three stars in the Michelin Guide.

Celebrity sea creatures and their Remora-like paparazzi would travel all the way from the thermocline in droves in order to ingest one of Coco LaStrange's amazing culinary creations. Now absurdly wealthy, it didn't take long for a handsome young gold-digging Umbrella Mouth Gulper Eel to come along and scoop her off her fin. Our dear Ugly Coco married her enormous-jawed lover and lived happily ever after.

Our deep-sea heroine may or may not have served as an inspiration for the proprietors of Coeur d'Alene's new Ugly Fish Asian Bistro when they were coming up with a name (update: she didn't, I made it up), but if I were to adapt that story into an off-Broadway music, this slightly surreal, mega-funky eatery in Riverstone would be perfect to serve as the backdrop.

Right upon entry, the decor of the place is striking. A softly trickling grey marble waterfall and a wrought iron wall of bubbly circles in the entryway lead in to a room that reminded me immediately of a night-club scene in an old mid-60's Japanese spy film. The retro-futuristic overhead lamps and trippy wave-textured white walls are pure Op Art kitsch and the red velour luxury of the booths and chairs, black linen tablecloths and edge lights that gradually, almost subconsciously, change colors, make Ugly Fish a local dining environment that's literally like no other. It's one I happen to find particularly comfortable, and even the schmaltzy elevator jazz pumping out from the sound system seemed soul-pleasingly loungey.

The Ugly Fish menu is like a coffee-table art book, pages and pages of kaleidoscopic food pornography, wild fonts and playful layouts, all bound together with a thick textured maroon rubber cover. Those things are big and heavy, like a deluxe-edition Japanese import KISS triple live LP on 180 gram vinyl. There are so many items on the menu, it's a bit mentally exhausting with the weight of possibility. In fact, everything on the menu has an item number attached to it, and in full there are around 150 choices to make.

Let's break down a few highlights:

Appetizers -
Crispy Calamari with Jalapeno Dipping Sauce ($8) (someone at a table near us ordered this and it was a mouth-watering tower of fried squid rings). Crab Haumaki and Shitaake Mushroom Egg Roll with Spicy Ponzu Sauce ($9). Chilled Drunken Chicken Top with Shave Shao Xing Wine Ice (that one reminds me of an particularization wild date had once back in my '20s).

Chef Signature Items -
Peking Roast Duck with Duck Soup and Walnut Orange Ginger Miso Salad ($32). Black Tiger Prawn with Thai Basil in Kaffir Lime Sauce ($25). Shanghai Wine Red Raised Pork Shank Osso Bucco ($21).

Chef Signature Rolls -
Banzai Roll ($14) (salmon, eel, cream cheese, crabmeat, "bake in dynamite sauce"). Tango in Snow Roll ($14). (rolled white tuna roe, with white tuna, fried garlic, green onion and flying fish roe). Las Vegas Roll ($12) (tempura shrimp, asparagus, spicy tuna, avocado, and mayo sauce).

Traditional Chinese-American favorites such as a three-star spicy General Tso's Chicken ($13), Cashew Nut Chicken ($12), and Moo Goo Gai Pan ($14) are available in force as well, as are salads, fired rice, hot pots, and desserts. Ugly Fish touches lightly on Thai and Korean cuisines as well, but the sushi is what pretty much takes up the bulk of the menu, and a sushi itch was the main reason a friend and I decided to pull into the quiet corner of Riverstone and meander in last weekend.

Our waitress was enormously considerate and helpful throughout our experience, answering our questions about which items were freshest and finest that day with the encouraging reply "Let's put it this way. Everything you see up there in the chef's cooler was swimming around a few hours ago". Our busboy never let our water glasses get less than 5/8ths full, and when we asked for a couple pints of beer, he told us he couldn't get them for us (not old enough), but he passed our order to our waitress who brought them out immediately. There's a lot of staff running around, and they seem to communicate well.

After gazing starry-eyed at the menu for a while, we concluded that the best option was to order a couple of big "special rolls", a quartet of nigiri-style sushi pieces and split everything up. After we placed our order, we had to have a moment of silence for the late Takara, which was our favorite local sushi place for many years for a lot of reasons. One of them being that they'd always automatically bring out bowls of Miso soup and Sunomono (cucumber vinegar salad) with every order. We missed their presence at Ugly Fish.

Our rolls arrived first, a Rainbow Roll ($11) (assortment of red snapper, tuna, salmon, and yellowtail wrapped around a basic California Roll) and a Crunchy Roll ($9) (also a California Roll, with the added insertion of tempura shrimp and fried with an exterior layer of tempura.) We didn't keep either around long enough to get to know them intimately, merely made acquaintances - they were simply too tremendously fresh and palate-pleasing to let linger.

We finished our experience with one piece each of wasabi and soy soaked nigiri pieces (Yellow Tail, Salmon, White Tuna, and Blue Fin), and each seemed more rich and butter-melty in texture than the last.

You've probably gathered by now that Ugly Fish isn't likely to end up in the "Cheap Eats" edition of the Inlander anytime soon. One expects to pay a bit for quality sushi, and frankly, both my friend and I were feeling as suddenly poor as Paul McCartney after his divorce from Heather Mills.

Still, while we weren't able to really delve into the impossible plethora of food dimensions on offer at Ugly Fish (I may do a part two review covering their non-sushi side), we were able to get our sushi fix well taken care of without putting down a completely outrageous amount of cash (the bill came to just around $50) and left feeling full, content, and impressed.

Black Happy: Settin' Dogs on Fire DVD

2011-07-12T08:00:00.000-07:00

Coeur d'Alene's legendary Black Happy finally released their "Settin' Dogs on Fire" concert DVD last month and for the band's many fans, it was well worth the wait. The DVD was originally planned for release last winter, in time for Santa to stuff it in all the good kids' stockings, but for whatever reason, delays delayed it.

The film ended up making it's big screen debut at the Garland Theater in Spokane on June 18th with a celebratory release party that prompted one commenter on the band's page to say "Great release big-screen-version! Have to say, incredibly well-miked songs, it's better than any overdub would have been. I hope we see more of y'all 'real soon'."

Future Black Happy reunion plans remain a mystery (a while back I heard rumors about an unreleased song from the archives that was being resurrected and worked on), but in the meantime we have this sparkly document to keep us Pegheads occupied. The live section of the DVD features clips from all five 20th anniversary reunion shows that took place last August, and the footage captures the reinvigorated 8-piece sounding possibly even tighter and shinier than they did back in the olden days.

They might have lost quite a few feet of hair collectively, and the jumping around manically is kept to a minimum, but it's obvious that the months of rehearsal leading up to the shows paid off big time. These guys might be rapidly approaching middle age (sorry, guys - I know the feeling), and most of them dropped out of the professional music biz when Justin Bieber was still toddling around in his designer Huggies, but damn if they don't still know still know how to get a crowd of sweaty thirtyish and fortyish folks partying like it was 1992 all over again.

Personally, I'm fondest of the footage shot at the Knitting Factory in Spokane but that's most likely due to the fact that I was actually there in the audience watching the action happen real time. Try as I might, I can't spy myself in any of the crowd shots, but that's probably a good thing since I was a sweaty, dancing mess, as was the rest of the utterly bananas, mindblown sold-out crowd.

The audiences at the three sold-out Crocodile Cafe shows in Seattle are just as much chanting along and punishing the dancefloor as the Spokane crowds, a testament to how Black Happy's appeal never faded but grew in leaps and bounds. The "behind the scenes" clips of the band and their cohorts that the producers of the video, [NTH]Frame, slipped in between the concert clips add an enjoyable warmth to the proceedings, bringing home the fact that there was always an element of randomness and humor to the band.

"Settin' Dogs on Fire" also includes a twenty minute documentary about the Black Happy story from the beginning to the end (almost), featuring interviews with the band members and their various associates and supporters, as well as quite a bit of previously unseen and ultimately rare video clips of the band performing and in the studio. It's engrossing stuff for longtime fans to watch, with trombonist Jay Carkhuff and drummer Jim Bruce providing a lot of the raw facts and brothers Mark and Paul Hemenway (guitar and vocals) providing some comic relief with their "huh, what?" approach to the line of questioning.

The documentary does a smooth job of laying down the Black Happy saga, but a few details about the breakup of the band were omitted. Black Happy fans (and half the band) were confused as heck when, after performing all over the country and hitting some of the highest heights a Coeur d'Alene funk-pop-metal band would ever be expected to realistically hit, they suddenly broke up. Basically, according to legend, it was bye-bye horns, and hello to a leap on the "Seattle Sound" bandwagon.

I remember seeing a little blurb at the time in The Rocket (a much-loved, long gone Seattle music rag) that simply said that Black Happy was over and that a horn-less quartet called Shoveljerk (named after a key track on Black Happy's "Peghead" LP) was currently in the studio working on a new record and had signed to a national label, Capricorn Records.

When their album "Swarm" eventually emerged, it didn't exactly burn up the Billboard 200 chart, in fact it quickly made friends with the budget bin, despite their track "Killing My Buzz" having appeared on the soundtrack to the film "National Lampoon's Senior Trip". Listening to "Swarm" now, it's really not a terrible record, but in 1995 there were just too many dozens of other bands fighting a losing battle for entry into the post-grunge sweepstakes. To me at least, the final irony was that right after Black Happy ended, upbeat rock-funk-punk bands featuring horns like the Mighty Mighty Bosstones suddenly became the new hotness and Black Happy, who helped originate the sound, had missed the proverbial boat.

"Settin' Dogs on Fire" seems to purposefully gloss over the entire Shoveljerk part of the story, never actually mentioning the "S" word even once, and in the interviews, band members still seem a little bewildered and borderline regretful when the subject of the breakup is approached. The documentary ends on a somewhat melancholy note, but ultimately, there is a cheery ending to the story. Nearly 20 years after the band's demise, Black Happy had become local music legends and the ranks of their enthusiastic fan base had swollen.

So much so that fans rallied hard on Facebook and elsewhere, ultimately resulting in reissues of their albums and the sold-out Seattle and Spokane reunion concerts documented so colorfully and with love. Even if Black Happy never perform another note together, it's fantastic that their story was finally able to end on the highest of high notes, bringing a much needed sense of resolution to the fans, as well as the musicians themselves.

"Settin' Dogs on Fire" is avaiable for purchase at:
Black Happy Website
The Long Ear (Coeur d'Alene)
4000 Holes (Spokane)
Sonic Boom (Seattle)
Easy Street Records (Seattle)
Wall of Sound (Seattle)

Official Trailer:

Unofficial Fan Videos:

Shoveljerk: "Killing My Buzz"

Dan-Efit 2011 - 10 Local Bands Perform this Weekend at O'Shay's

2011-07-10T21:06:00.000-07:00

When: Friday, July 15 at 6:00pm - July 16 at 11:00pm

Where: O'Shay's Irish Pub and Backyard Theater, 313 Coeur d'Alene Lake Dr.

Who: (links go to artists' Facebook pages)
- Kari Marguerite and the 76
- Jesi B. and the All Rites
- Cris Lucas and Pals
- Flying Mammals
- The Jess Kunz Revolution
- Goodnight Venus
- The Sticky
- Robby French
- Daniel Abram and the X'd Out
- Tabitha Coldiron

Why: "This is a two night Rock and Roll concert featuring 10 local bands, who are raising money to help our friend Daniel Mills, who just had an emergency appendectomy. The *suggested* donation to attend both nights is $10, but no one will be turned away, so come everybody, and bring your friends."

How: Click "I'm Attending" on the Facebook invite here - it's incredible that as soon as Jesi B. started putting the word out this situation, all this amazing local talent rallied together within days and formed a plan of action to help out a friend. It's a win for local audiences as well - the absolute queens and kings of the North Idaho music scene all gathered together for two nights of top notch entertainment. Not every burst appendix has a silver lining to it, but this one certainly did.

Look and Listen: Here are some audio/video previews of the acts that will be making appearances on the O'Shays Amphitheater stage.

Kari Marguerite and the 76 "Strange Religion"

Jesi B & the All-Rites "Map of the World"

Cris Lucas "Man in the Mirror

Flying Mammals "Go"

Jess Kunz & Riverboat Dave: "That's Alright Mama"

Goodnight Venus "Headspace"
Headspace (goodnight venus practice 4.4.11) by Goodnight Venus

Robby French "Serve Yourself (from Pump Boys and Dinettes)"

Daniel Abram and the X'd Out "Sarah"

Tabitha Coldiron "The Game We're Playing"

4th of July Weekend - Live Music Listings

2011-07-02T14:39:00.000-07:00

Saturday, July 2
315 Martinis & Tapas, Cd'A - Darin Shaffer (Acoustic/Ambient) - 6 pm
Baja Bargarita, Cd'A - DJ Brentano - 8 pm
Bistro On Spruce, Cd'A - All That Jazz (Jazz) - 6 pm
Calypsos, Cd'A - Syndicate Worship Band (Christian Pop) - 6 pm
Carlin Bay - Yesterdayscake (Classic Rock) - 8:30 pm
CDA Casino - Ryan Larsen Band (Country) - 8 pm
City Park, Harrison - Generation Gap (Classic Rock) - 2 pm
Coldwater Creek Wine Bar - Not Quite Punk (Rock/Variety) - 5:30 pm
Conkling Marina and Resort - Phoenix (Rock/Variety)- 8 pm
Curley's, PF - The Cruizers (Classic Rock) - 9 pm
DiLuna's Café, Sandpoint - Nikki Forova and April Meservy (Pop) - 7:30 pm
Gateway Resort and Marina, Harrison - The Jam Band (Rock)- 8 pm
Gig's Landing, Harrison - Bill Bozly (Acoustic/Rock)- 5 pm
Hogfish Bar & Grill, Cd'A - Eclectic Approach (Rock/Variety) - 9 pm
Icon, Cd'A - DJ Eddie P. - 9 pm
Iron Horse Bar & Grill, Cd'A - Scorpius (Classic Rock) - 8 pm
Mik's, Cd'A - DJ Jason - 8 pm
Moose Lounge, Cd'A - The Keep (Rock/Pop) - 8 pm
One Shot's, Harrison - Big Mumbo (Rock/Blues) - 6 pm
O'Shay's Irish Pub Eatery, Cd'A - Bobby White Band (Rock/Variety) - 7 pm
Park Place, Sandpoint - Bright Moments (Jazz)- 2 pm
Rendezvous, Cd'A - Mayday Transmission, Fallen Regiment & 33 (Rock) - 9 pm
Splash, Cd'A - The Hitmen (Rock/Variety) - 8 pm
Tito's, Cd'A - Ron Greene (Rock/Acoustic) - 6 pm
Welukws Bar (CDA Casino)- Frantz Brothers (Jazz) - 5 pm

Sunday, July 3rd

CDA Casino - Strictly Business (Rock/Variety) - 8:30 pm
Conkling Marina and Resort - Phoenix (Rock/Variety)- 7 pm
Hogfish Bar & Grill, Cd'A - Eclectic Approach (Rock/Variety) - 9 pm
Ivano's Del Lago at Beyond Hope - Inbred Goat Ropers (Punk/Funk/Country) - 4 pm
Mik's, Cd'A - DJ Jason - 8 pm
One Shot's, Harrison - Big Mumbo (Rock/Blues) - 6 pm
Panida Theater, Sandpoint - Roy Bookbinder, Marshall McLean, Josh Hedlund (Rock) - 7:30 pm
Sun Meadow Nudist Resort - Pit-n-Dale (Folk) - 7 pm

Monday, July 4
CDA Casino - Strictly Business (Rock/Variety) - 8 pm
Gateway Resort and Marina, Harrison - The Jam Band (Rock)- 4 pm
Templin's Resort, PF - Sammy Eubanks (Country/Rock) - 4 pm

Local Noise: Jawbo

2011-06-29T13:19:00.000-07:00

Name: Jawbo

Genre: Rap/Hip-Hop

Hometown: Coeur d'Alene

Upcoming Gigs:
Viral Versatility Record Release Party
Friday, July 1 @ 9 pm
@ Rendezvous, 216 E. Coeur d'Alene Ave., Cd'A
info

Tidbits:
Jawbo's birth name is Jory Sutton.

Jawbo is currently negotiating a contract with professional boxer Evander Hollyfield's Atlanta-based Real Deal Records, home to Nuwine, Sason and Exhale.

Reverbnation Bio:
"Jawbo is one of the leading artists in the Northwest. Jawbo has been recording music since the age of 14. He has already appeared on many albums including his early 2008 solo album "My Music" as-well as his 2009 group release "Black 17 Northwest Roulette" and many other local and leading artists albums. Jawbo's solo album 'Viral Versatility' will be released in July 2011.

Jawbo has many talented producers and engineers backing him including Squintz Wavbenderz Productions, Riot Division Digital and Risky Division Digital director/video producer. Jawbo is down to colab with any artist about there music and is always looking for financial backers and promoters so be sure to contact him with any questions / opportunities."

Links:
Reverbnation
Facebook

Music:

Weekender Jawbo Feat Squintz Riot & Risky by Jawbo

Breeze Wit a Mack FT KROWN ROYAL & RIOT by Jawbo

Video:

News - Mexican Restaurant No. 44: El Paisa

2011-06-28T12:51:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I find myself just sittin' around and wondering: "¿Que Pasa? Why don't we have more Mexican restaurants in this town!" OK, I lied. Didn't we just have three or so new Mexican eateries just swing open their doors? According to my quick count, taco trucks and fast food included, there are approximately 43 places in the Cd'A-PF-Hayden area to choose from when your brain and tummy gang up on you and say "We need tacos right now". Yes, brains and tummies can speak in bold print. It does seem a bit like overkill at times, but here's what I say: the more, the más feliz.

Driving up Lincoln Way yesterday en route to a routine colonoscopy, I noticed the sudden un-expected appearance of El Paisa Mexican Restaurant in the strip mall space that Donut House used to occupy (1801 N Lincoln Way). I was like, "say what?!" How did they manage to sneak into town under the Get Out radar and just suddenly open for biz with no warning whatsoever?

So I ran in there today super quick just to grab a couple of take out menus and they told me they'd just opened yesterday. There weren't any customer in the place yet, but the owner and two counter girls greeted me with eager beaver smiles and a warm "hola amigo", so I am anxious to return when I have time to sit down and have a meal. Below is a copy of their menu for you to inspect (click to enlarge). Why there is a goat-in-repose lurking in the bottom right corner, I have no idea, but I do think it's a nice touch.

Golden Dragon (Sandpoint)

2011-06-26T08:00:00.000-07:00

Golden Dragon
100 Tibbetts Drive, Ponderay
(208) 265-5425

Take a nice, long gander at this kaleidoscopically colorful, mouthwatering picture posted to the left. I didn't use any fancy cameras or do any photoshop doo-hickery on it, I just captured the image with my plain old un-smart phone. But look! It glows like an abstract impressionist painting, the geometric shapes, the sense of balance, the serene blue ovals that surround the platters.

It's like some kind of psychedelic alien porn from planet MSG. The hazy, lysergic gleam of the neon celery situation, the basically obscene pinkness of the BBQ pork, the trifecta of perfect sprinkles - pink pork upon the rice, fried nut crumbles on the almond chicken, and julienned chicken confetti atop the chow mein. It's totally a winning nomination for the Chinese Food Porn Hall of Fame, and it really does a number on my appetite every time I see it.

It could be a mirror image, but these are actually two slightly different dinner combos that landed on the table in front of Brett and I on a rainy and spontaneous Sunday road trip to the northernmost parts of Sandpoint. We'd been up carrying on out on the town until the wee bitching hours the night before, and sometimes the dank intensity of a a Chinese lunch is the only cure for a case of the day-after hazies.

I had a vision of it in my head, I couldn't remember the name of the little red boxy Chinese place that had caught my peripheral vision a few times over the years as I'd gone speeding through Ponderay, ID on my way to nowhere in particular. It was a frustratingly gloomy Father's Day, the last leg of an entire frustratingly gloomy Car d'Alene weekend, and it seemed like a mini-vacation was a good way to shake the blehs away, so off we went.

It worked. Once 95 emerges from the hell pit of Athol, the drive starts to become absolutely gorgeous, even on a drizzly overcast day, when clouds hang low over juicy green valleys and there's nothing but flora and fauna and a series of Steinbeck-y farms, each decorated with approximately six broke-down Subarus.

We were ravenous by the time we finally made our way into the red building, and we weren't particularly knocked out by the name Golden Dragon - so generic, we thought. There must be a Golden Dragon in every burg across this hungry nation, in fact there's one right here in Post Falls. Brett asked our hostess if her place was related, and she said "Yes yes, we're all same family", which made us ponder the possibility that everyone at every Golden Dragon everywhere are all somehow related to each other. It's evidently quite a large family - a Google search for "Golden Dragon Restaurant" yields 2,570,000 results.

The interior of Ponderay's Golden Dragon was nothing to call HGTV about, what with the obligatory assortment of red paper lanterns, lurid Great Wall landscapes, and an ominous glass case full of Chinese trifles and whatnots. But overall it was a perfectly tidy and agreeable atmosphere, with the reassuring Mandarin (?) chatter of the two waitresses and cook (sisters and dad?) and some tinkly Asian elevator music providing an appetizingly authentic audio environment.

So was the food as good on the taste buds as it is on the eyeballs in the above photo? Generally speaking, yes it was. Golden Dragon is, in many ways, a few notches above pretty much any Chinese food on offer anywhere in the Coeur d'Alene-Post Falls-Hayden triangle, but I still can't say it lives up to the best of the best Asian-American meals I've sat down to (locally, Spokane Valley's Peking Palace still holds that personal award).

But still, I'm finding it near impossible to find anything to really gripe and groan about. The Almond Chicken was definitely the highlight of the whole interlude, with a noticeable delicacy to the crispy breading, and a depth to the flavor of the gravy that places it a zither string or two above what normally comes toward me down the Great Almond Chicken Pipeline (don't we wish such a thing actually existed?).

The BBQ Pork slices were a bit on the overly tender side, but not totally undercooked and there was a freshness that came out in the taste of actual pork, leading me to believe they whip it up in-house rather than order it in pre-made. The veggies in the chow mein were youthful and crisp, also bringing the meal a touch above some places which serve chow mein that seems suspiciously like it's been sitting in a pot under a warming lamp since 10 am. The only thing that seemed a little weird was the fried rice, which was a mysterious brown color and contained rice and rice only with no veggies, fried egg bits or sprouts, and was a little on the bland side but not 100% un-tasty.

Brett ordered almost the same combo as me, but instead of the BBQ pork, his came with Egg Foo Young, which was formed into a perfect square, and according to him, was the best he had ever pushed down his quivering maw. I was able to clear most of my platter, he ended up asking for a to-go box only a few bites in.

Not that he didn't enjoy his food, in fact he was going off about it like it was the best Chinese meal east of Chinatown. He had actually already managed to fulfill his always-small appetite with the first and second courses - a cup of super yummy Hot-n-Sour Soup and a plate of habit-forming Crab Rangoon with a sweet, gelatinous plum sauce that by itself would have been worth the gas money spent on the entire adventure.

Am I too picky when it comes to Chinese restaurants? Perhaps I am, and Golden Dragon was as peachy keen as can be expected, especially for a nondescript little red roadhouse plopped next to a highway in rural North Idaho. But one of these years, I'm still hoping that I'll stumble across a classic Chinese eatery that will give me something to tell my great-grandchildren about. Well, tell my great-grandcats about anyway.