Sprag Pole Inn & Museum

Sprag Pole Inn & Museum
Murray, ID

For me, it’s record albums. My fascination with them started as soon as I was old enough to figure out how to put them on the gigantic wooden console stereo we had in our living room. My childhood record collection started with the Beatles and the Supremes and lasted through disco, new wave, and early alt-rock before the shiny CD eventually took over as my format of choice. However, to this day I cannot pass a thrift store or yard sale without stopping to file through any dusty stacks of vinyl that might be lurking within.

Almost everybody is a collector of something, but few ever took the idea to the extreme level of the late great Walt Almquist, whose jaw-dropping collections of nearly everything you can think of are displayed in the dusty glass cases that make up the Sprag Pole Museum in Murray, Idaho. For Mr. Almquist, it all started in the 1930’s after a pal gave him a decorative whiskey bottle to adorn behind the bar of his newly established Sprag Pole Inn, which was housed in an already historic building where legendary local madam Molly B’Dam once performed her, ahem, business. With the help of his brother Harry and many friends, Walt spent the rest of his long life adding miscellany to his self-proclaimed Museum, eventually expanding to fill three buildings.

Curiosity recently led Q. and I to make the venture east to Murray one cloudy afternoon to check out this legendary tourist trap . In Wallace, I took the wrong road north and we ended up travelling through the narrow Gem-Burke valley filled with mining ruins and mobile homes occupied by folks who look like they don’t especially take kindly to strangers in them there parts. We backtracked and found the proper road to Murray, which was approximately wide enough to fit 1 and ¼ automobiles and snaked over the mountain like a cheap rollercoaster. I gleefully zoomed around the curves, causing Q. to go into a full-on anxiety attack as he pictured us flying off the ledge to our death in the remote wilderness.

Fortunately we made it in one piece, and pulling into Murray it became clear why it’s listed as a living ghost town. At the height of the mining boom, it was a city of several thousand folks, complete with a thriving red light district. Today, around six original buildings remain standing, including a tiny post office, a fire station which looks more like a fire trap, and two bars, including the bright yellow Sprag Pole Inn building itself.

I actually didn’t realize they served food and drinks until I walked in. I was famished but Q. was still a little queasy from our mountain adventure. The room was empty but the noise of several televisions and the staggering amount of wall clutter made it seem lively. We were greeted by current Sprag Pole owner Lloyd, who told us to grab a seat anywhere.

Looking around the place two things became immediately clear: Lloyd really, really likes both the Seahawks and Mariners, so much so that he has continued old Walt’s collecting obsession, except he chose to focus solely on memorabilia of the two Seattle teams. Secondly, I never knew that antlers could be used to make such a wide array of lighting fixtures.

The Sprag Pole dining room takes the notion of “down home charm” to the extreme, with it’s mismatched variety of plastic church chairs and tables of random height, size and shape. Crudely handwritten signs hang everywhere, touting everything from the wine list and the daily specials to snarky company policies “No credit – don’t even ask!” Looking at the menu, we were a bit surprised at the fanciness and cost of some of the offerings. For example, the going special was a full pound of Dungeness crab, a half pound of steamed clams, five jumbo prawns, a potato and soup or salad for $25.99. Racks of Lloyd’s “famous” BBQ ribs, Porterhouse steak, Prime rib dinner, Pan-seared oysters and Alaskan cod, all floating near or above the $20 mark. We realized perhaps this wasn’t the backwoods dive we thought it was, and that they must have quite a cult following to be able to serve such relatively haute cuisine.

Fortunately for us poor folks, they also serve a variety of burgers, sandwiches, and fried items. Basically, if you can fry it they serve it, including zucchini, cheese sticks, gizzards and that rare and so wonderful artery-clogging delicacy known as Chester Fried Chicken. Tempting, but I chose to opt for the relative safety of a Bacon Cheeseburger and Q. decided his tummy had settled enough to tackle a bowl of chili and a pint of Moose Drool. Yes, not even wee Murray is safe from the microbrew craze.

Our food came hot and fast. My burger and onion rings looked like they’d arrived via a time machine from 1955, an old-fashioned monster meat patty on a behemoth bun, served with a pile of lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and pickles . It was fully luscious, exploding with the rich flavor of the crisp bacon and sharp cheddar. The beer-battered onion rings were laughably huge, light and crispy and not at all overly greasy. Q. tasted his chili and declared that it “didn’t need a thing”, an impressive compliment coming from someone who usually massively abuses his food with condiments and salt. He proudly pointed out the huge chunks of jalapeno swimming within, and when the waitress came to clear the table, he told her it was the best chili he’d ever had in his life. From the quiver in his voice, I knew he meant it.

Full, we sat stunned for a few moments, absorbing the unexpected shock of such incredible food. We paid the bill, a bargain at under fifteen dollars for both of us, and turned our attention to the ugly metal door in the far back corner that serves as the humble entry to Walt Almquist’s Museum.

The first fluorescently lit room houses Walt’s original collection of dust covered bric-a-brac and curios, displayed in huge glass cases. One case is nothing but hundreds of small wooden animals, carved by Walt himself. A half-dozen cases are filled with a half-decades worth of collectable booze bottles representing all forty-eight states in the union. Another is filled with nothing but cigarette packages. Rock and mineral buffs will want to visit just to check out the thousands of colorful specimen the Almquists somehow amassed from around the globe. Other displays are more random, showcasing long outmoded household devices, brass vases, old money, war and mining memorabilia and even old Avon cologne bottles. One of the more humorously morbid items we noticed was a small ceramic urn with the red dymo-tape label “Grandma Shroyer”. In addition to the items, each display case is filled with tags describing the items written in old-man handwriting.

Cleary, the time and effort that our dear Walt must have invested in this collection is staggering, and he did all this while cooking food and serving drinks at the Inn. After running out room for all his stuff, he built on an expansion and set up some scenario-oriented historic displays, including an old one-room classroom, a mining scene, and a replication of Molly B’Dam’s den of iniquity. Even some antiques of more recent vintage make appearances here, like pinball machines and primitive video games, clunky old telephone answering devices, BetaMax video machines and other quaint obsolete electronics.

Eventually, it all became too much for the aging collector to maintain, and in 1982 the operation of the museum was handed over to a private, non-profit company who carry the Almquist torch proudly by continuing to collect items and expand the displays. They regularly receive large donations from private collectors, so it’s worth returning here every few years or so to see what’s new. Q. and I weren’t really sure what to expect when we arrived, but we left as devoted members of the Sprag Pole cult and plan on returning as soon as we can afford that incredible $25.99 seafood special.

Bread Crumbs: Random Bits

I want to send a gentle "boo hiss" to all the lounges, wine bars, coffee shops and other venues who go through the bother of putting fairly nice websites up on the Internet and then never bother to update the calendar section (I won't name names but you know who you are.) Some haven't updated for maybe a few weeks or months, and one not since March. When I put together the little music calendar you see on the left (and printed in the newspaper on Saturdays), I gather most of my info from the web, and it's frustrating to run into outdated info all the time. I can't be the only person looking at your site, wondering who's playing at your joint. Also, if I call to get info, I talk to employees who have no idea who's playing next week and act like they have no way of finding out. I leave messages for management that are never returned. C'mon folks, it's free! Don't y'all want people to know what wonderful talent you have lined up at your venue?

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I take back my earlier comments re: the slowness of Thai Bamboo construction on 4th street. Suddenly, the place is coming together in fast fashion with a big swoopy, Thai style roof capping things off. Judging by the interiors of their Spokane locations (which can be viewed at their website ), the place should be fully over-the-top with Thailand kitsch. I simply cannot wait, and I plan on being there opening night in October if I can possibly swing it. On a related note, I coulda swore I heard last spring that a second Thai place would be opening for business in Cd'A, but I haven't heard a peep since. Anyone?

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Every time a new pizza joint opens in this town I think "does this town really need another pizza joint?" Apparently so, because they seem to pop up all the time. I've yet to try some of the more recent local entries into the scene like Sahara Pizza on Gov't Way (their menu is odd and impressive - apple slices and mango on pizza?) or Pizza Schmizza in Riverstone, which gets cleverness points for the name but I've heard their food isn't that great. Opening next week near Costco is Nick and Willy's Pizza, whose shtick seems to be the uniqueness of their homemade quality dough and fresh organic ingredients (they claim not to even have a freezer in the kitchen). You can do take-and-bake or have them cook it there, but I couldn't figure out from their website if they'll have an in-house dining area or not. I will be checking these places out soon for a pizza-themed Get Out column.

Meanwhile, I gotta give a shout out to the underdog: Bob's Pizza Plus. Everyone forgets about this place until I remind them it's the pizza place located in the Silver Lake Mall. Their huge slices and stuffed calzones are simple but fantastic. Few places in town sell pizza by the slice, and for a single person like me who doesn't want a whole huge pizza, it's a nice option to have.

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Ever since the ill-fated "Battle of the Bands" at The Rock Joint parking lot a few weeks ago, the neighbors that abut the back of the lot have been nothing less than unhinged and ridiculous. During the daytime weekend concert, they repeatedly called police complaining about the noise. Police arrived only to find that the Rock Joint had full permits, signed by Mayor Ron himself, and there was nothing they could do. Hayden noise ordinances don't kick in until 9 p.m., and the 2 day event was scheduled from 12-5 p.m. I was there and granted, some of the bands made an awful noise (even to these fairly experimental ears), but there were only a handful of folks even in attendance and nobody was getting wild or doing anything at all to warrant ill will from local residents.

Since then, I hear that three or four separate neighbors behind the RJ lot have been doing everything in their power to get the place shut down for good. They sit in the evening with doors and windows wide open, and anytime anyone on the back patio of the RJ makes so much as a peep, they call the police repeatedly and complain. Even after shutting down the patio, neighbors called police to complain that the music INSIDE the bar was too loud. Police admitted to RJ owners that the neighbors were being quite silly and overly torturous on purpose, but issued them a ticket anyway for disturbing the peace. Not for the noise, but for the mere fact that they were being called out to the place by the neighbors so many times a night, and it was keeping them from attending to more important matters. Not cool.

A big "boo hiss" to these busybody folks! When you bought your property you knew it was a stones throw from commercially zoned Hayden Avenue. The owners of the bar were nice enough to let you know over a year ago exactly what kind of happenings would soon occur there and you were super nice about everything then. They've even gone out of their way to close the outside patio to keep noise levels down for you, but still you persist on calling police and trying to get the place shuttered, all over a little afternoon noise one weekend. Generally, the staff and clientèle of this great establishment have been respectful and well-behaved, and you all seem to want to ruin a good thing for everyone just for the sake of revenge. Really, loosen up and get a life folks!

Lincoln’s 10,000 Silver $ Bar

Lincoln’s 10,000 Silver $ Bar
I-90 Exit 16
Haugan, Montana
406-678-4242
more info & directions

Woah, what a trip. This place has literally not changed one iota since at least some time in the mid 1970’s if not earlier. When Q. and I entered the building one recent lazy Sunday afternoon, it was a bit of an overload as memories began flooding back to me. My parents used to get bored and drag me along for day trips here and there, and for some reason we would often end up here at the ultimate tourist trap - Lincoln’s 10,000 Silver $ Bar in tiny Haugan, Montana, just across the Idaho border. Maybe it was the glitzy name, or maybe it was just the era, but a trip here seemed like a visit to a magical place when I was a wee tot, huge and all bright blinking lights and fun fun fun. Even my parents would get excited, looming greedily over the salad bar with lit cigarettes and sipping hi-balls.

I recall it as seeming fairly classy at the time. Now, visiting here is like flashing back to another era that you can never (and don’t really want to) relive. The magic is gone, and the years have not been kind. The grungy off-pink walls give away the fact that smoking was not only allowed here for many years, but heavily promoted. The scent still lingers on the yellowed wagon wheels and cattle skulls that “decorate” the place. The well-worn brown naugahyde booths clash perfectly, leaving one to wonder if even in the deepest, darkest dregs of the seventies it was somehow acceptable to mix pink and brown.

“Please Seat Yourself” read the sign at the café entry. The gift shop, casino, and bar were abuzz with activity but the cafe was empty but for one random table full of gothic looking teenagers who looked like they’d been sitting there for three weeks. Naturally, we picked a booth near them so we could spy on their antics (we were them once, many years ago.) Our very pleasant waitress poured our water and gave us our menus. Wow – the water here is incredibly good. I always brag about how good Coeur d’Alene water is, but this tasted like it just melted right off a glacier and into my cup.

The menu was full of standard cafeteria fare – sandwiches, burgers, steak and salad, chicken strips, and the prices were clearly oriented toward the tourist. I picked a Mushroom Swiss Burger and Fries for $8.95, and Q. settled on a Western Burger for the same price. Good thing we decided quickly because our waitress returned after giving us only about 45 seconds. “More water, please” – I wanted to bottle it and take it home. Meanwhile, our gothic teen neighbors were making fun of the busload of Japanese tourists that had just poured into the gift shop.

One thing that can pretty much always ruin a dining experience is pesky, bombarding flies. Lincoln’s has some damn hard-core specimen buzzing around. We waved our hands around wildly trying to shoo them away, but it was pretty much useless. One landed for a moment on the rim of Q.’s just-refilled water glass, leaving him almost in tears: “Rats! Now I can’t drink it.” I thought “Oh, good, more for me, as I wiped off the tainted edge and took a glug.” I’m not a fan of flies, believe me, but Q. is picky and germ-phobic when it comes to that kind of thing. In fact, if I weren’t buying lunch and if he weren’t so hungry, we would have been gone at the sight of the first fly. The busboy, an elderly gentleman, noticed our wild gesticulations and approached the table gingerly. “I know…sorry about them darn flies. We had a guy in here gettin’ rid of ‘em last night, but as soon as that door opens, they just come right back in…but hey, it’s just like home, I guess …” he said with a grim chuckle. Q. and I looked at each other with the same thought: “Maybe your home, dude, but not mine…”

Inside the tiny open kitchen, we could see about six young cooks racing around, preparing our food and acting excited that they actually had something to do. I’m guessing the café must get busy at some point if they have this many chefs on hand. As soon as our food was done, they began roaming the place, desperately looking for ways to keep busy, wiping and re-wiping counters. Our burgers arrived in plastic baskets lined with classic red and white checkered paper. Mine was huge, and as I went to take my first bite, I dripped a viscous combo of grease and mayonnaise exactly all over the front of my shirt. Argh. Why does this always happen to me, and on my first bite, no less. Q. laughed, having seen it happen a dozen times before – “Hope you brought an extra shirt, cuz I don’t even wanna be seen with you in that dirty thing your wearing.” What a pal.

The burger was pretty good, but became even messier after the bun began to dissolve in my hands. I had grease and condiments all over my shirt, arms, and face. Q. daintily ate his, managing to not spill one drop of BBQ sauce or lose one crumb of the giant onion ring that lurked within. The home style fries were fresh-cut and delicious. We ate as quickly as possible, as to not give the evil flies even a chance to land on our food. Our waitress came by for a final check: “Dessert?” “No, thanks – more water please!” The food was tasty and quite satisfying, but nothing out of the ordinary, and certainly not worth nine dollars each. Any local Wendy’s offers similar fare at a better price, let’s put it that way.

Full, we paid up and waddled into the gift shop where I continued flashing back to childhood: The huge bins of shiny, multicolored rocks; the cheesy cowboy and Indian art; the faux-fur Daniel Boone hats; the shiny purple foil of Huckleberry chocolates; the decoupage placards of Elvis and Jesus; the million little dust-gathering knick knacks covering every flat surface. At a table in the bar lifelessly sat two carved wood figures, and I remembered them sitting there so many years ago. Q. pointed at my ungodly stained shirt and true to his word waved “bye-bye” as he headed out to the car. Looking around, I found a nice black T-shirt with a shiny, glittery silver dollar logo and the glorious words “Lincoln’s 10,000 Silver $ Bar, Montana” and brought it up to the counter where a couple of clerk ladies were laughing uncontrollably.

I was sure they were making fun of me so I joked “Oh, yes, the food was so good here I decided I had to wear it.” One of clerks said “Oh no, it’s not you…” and the other one leaned in and whispered to me “Oh, we’re just boy-watching, and she’s just awful, just awful.” The first clerk fanned herself with her hand: “Let me tell you there are some hawt guys around here – woo hoo!” I looked around the gift shop and realized the only men present were a couple of scrawny, smelly cowboy types with lips full of chew under huge mustaches and terrible mullet hair cuts – in other words totally not hawt. I gave a bewildered courtesy laugh and handed over the cash for my shirt. “Wow, welcome to Montana” I thought to myself as I snuck into the men’s room to change.

Get Out Mailbag September 15

Dear Get Out!

This email is to both to compliment you on your Fort Grounds story in this morning's paper, and to see if you have any "charmingly grungy" places to recommend. They are definitely on the endangered species list. Much to my sadness. For my sensibilities, the Fort Grounds has been ruined. I've had the same chirpy servers that ignored me just like you did.

My neighbor Fred McMurray (a solid member of the old IHM crowd) and I used to go to breakfast at the Fort Grounds about every month or two. We were holding meetings of the "Fred and George Literary Society." A very exclusive club. Only two members. We both read all the time, so we would discuss our latest books. As you know, the Gray family owned the Grounds forever. Mary would always come out of the kitchen and shoot the shit with us for a while. All the Grays were solid IHMites. I went to the public schools, but half my friends were from IHM. I was sort of an auxiliary member. Mary always had some first rate gossip. Usually the misdeeds of some local bigwig or other.

We're still carrying on our breakfast get togethers. But we're yearning for the old Fort Grounds experience. The Iron Horse is sort of OK, but you can get some real shitty service, and the hash browns are sometimes cold. The last time we were there Fred complained to the waitress, and as we were leaving, the cook came out and commented to us, "That's how they always are." How's that for public relations. I guess Tom Robb is making so much dough getting the young crowd boozed up he doesn't care about the finer points of what's going on in the Iron Horse.

So, if you have any suggestions for a replacement for the Fort Grounds experience of old, please pass them my way.

George Goetzman

Dear Get Out!

I have a follow up comment that I should make. You might remember my email I sent you about a week ago commenting that there aren't hardly any charmingly grungy places left. And I said that the Iron Horse restaurant almost fit the bill but had lacking in service, and they didn't seem to care that the hash browns were cold. Well, last Sunday we were trying to go the breakfast at Michael D's and the line looked too long so we got brave and decided to take our chances at the Iron Horse, and it couldn't have been better. Waited on right away, great breakfast, good price. So I have to amend my snooty remarks about the Iron Horse. At least at 9:30 AM on Sunday. I don't know about what to expect when there are big crowds.

Here's a reason to keep on living. The Magic Lantern is about to reopen. Hooray!

George Goetzman

Hi George,

Really? The olde "Iron Lung" puts on a good breakfast these days eh? I'll have to check it out. I ate there last about four years ago and vowed never to return (at least to the restaurant part.) We went for lunch and I ordered a mushroom burger with fries. The burger had two sad shriveled mushroom slices and I was told the fries would be along in ten minutes or so. When I asked why they didn't just wait and serve them together, and if I could get some more mushrooms on my burger, I was given a death glare by the waitress and told "Hon, that's just how we do it here, if you don't like it go somewhere else." So we did, without paying. We noticed other rumpled customers exiting as well. It's good to know they're getting back to form because it is a local classic.

Of course, for charmingly grungy there's always the Rockin' Robin on Government Way, which is located conveniently close to the Jail, since all the cooks and waitresses seem to be on work release. Be sure to pick up a fake Elvis driver's license while you're there. I used to like Down the Street a lot too, but a recent and drastic price increase on the menu leaves me a bit cold.

Wow - the Magic Lantern is back? Excellent news...I spent a million teenage weekends there doing the Rocky Horror Picture Show thing. I wonder if they'll bring that back too?

Anyways, thanks for writing and keep in touch with any food tips or good/bad dining experiences...

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Dear Get Out!

I just wanted to let you know I thoroughly enjoy reading your column each week in the Spokesman. I read the paper for a business stand-point and to look at business advertising and activity in the area-but make a point to actually read your piece in its entirety each week. Love your sense of humor! Just wanted to let you know that in case you don’t hear from readers-that your work is appreciated.

Nicole Skinner

Hi Nicole,

Hey, thanks a bunch, I do appreciate hearing from readers, and it's encouraging when the message is as positive as yours.

I checked out the link to your gardening site and that's quite impressive - my mom started gardening for the first time ever this year and it can be a heck of a lot of work. She's so excited about her cherry tomatoes, she takes a few with her everywhere she goes (including the bar) to show them off. Too funny...

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Dear Get Out!

I have to admit that I usually read, then ignore, your column because of your sometimes lavish endorsements of (big deal) hamburger or equivalent cheap joints. I read your July 21st review of Wah Hing and your comments about there being no real chinese restaurants hereabouts (or in Washington, Montana, etc). Certainly, there are no Cantonese restaurants that serve other than brown sauce, etc. Being an expatriate from Brooklyn and Los Angeles, where I was often exposed to real, quality, Chinese Cantonese food, you got my attention. Besides, what in the world would a great Chinese restaurant be doing in a town with more new cars in its lots than people.

Three of us went there last Thursday. arriving at about 5pm and noticed that the restaurant was already about half full. We each ordered different selections from the "number" page to get as big a cross section of foods as possible. The soup ( egg drop ) was the best I've ever tried. The food (tears in my eyes here) was wonderful. Delicate sauces, tempura coating egg rolls, unbelievable egg foo yung, pork ribs, wonderful shrimp, etc and again, several different sauces, all fantastic. The chopped "salad" with bok choy, tasted like it was just plucked from the earth, washed, and served. AMAZING.

We left the restaurant after 6:30pm after complementing the owner and leaving a 75% tip for the terrific waitress. The restaurant was full at that time with people waiting for our table.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. We'll be going back on Wednesday.

Marty Krupitsky

Hi Marty.

Great, thanks! I always like to hear when people enjoy the places I recommend. Pretty amazing that wonderful Chinese place in such an obscure locale. Definitely worth the small drive east for some incredible food and service.

I do have to say I'm a little confused when you say you "read, then ignore, your column because of your sometimes lavish endorsements of (big deal) hamburger or equivalent cheap joints.” Out of the topics I've covered only a handful fall into that category. The fast food places I covered certainly didn't receive endorsements, in fact I actually kind of put them down, at least service wise. I'd like to think I cover a broad range of topics and am always looking for ideas and tips on new places or events so let me know if you hear of any!

Dear Get Out!

OK I apologize re the burgers. How about a review of Syringa on 4th (best Japanese in town) and Anthony"s right behind it (wonderful Tapas bar and yum lamb chops) I think both are great.

Hi again, Marty.

They're both on my list, for sure, but I'll have to wait until I find gainful employment and scrape my way out of poverty before I can do those places. I've been to Syringa and it's really really fine indeed. I noticed the other day that Antony's was up for salr so hopefully I'll make it before they do a disappearing trick or something.

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Dear Get Out!

I was at The Porch last nite with my girlfriend and two other couples
laughing about the horrible experiences we'd recently had at the Beachouse,
when your column came up. We were all surprised that everyone made a point
of looking for your column in the Saturday SR every week, and had some fine
laughs about some of your reviews- Paul Bunyan, for example.

We all appreciate your willingness to tell-it-like-it-is, both the good and
the bad. We're sure the local eatery people also read the column and make
adjustments/improvements based on the column.

Keep up the great work- I was pleased to find out last nite that your column
is one of the reasons our friends choose to read the SR.

Please pass this on to your editor as just one testimonial to the popularity
of your work (not for publication).

Thanks and regards,
Scott Forssell

Dear Get Out!

We thoroughly enjoy your restaurant reviews. We just spoke of Cafe Chulo last night - great fish tacos....

I was wondering if you have been out to The Beach House Restaurant lately? I took my mom there for lunch yesterday and we were very disappointed. For years my folks used to store their boat at the nearby marina and would have lunch there on a regular basis. Since my dad became ill and recently passed away, it had been a few years since Mom had been there. Their menu now is mostly fried foods and their salad choices are awful. We had the prime rib sandwich and it was more like old beef from a crock. It took us 45 minutes to get our sandwiches and another 15 minutes for them to process our credit card. Maybe we hit them on an off day but Fridays are usually a busy lunch day. What is your take? Thanks for taking the time to read this...

Nancy

Hi Scott and Nancy,

Was it just a mere coincidence that I got your emails on the same day? Were you hanging out together at The Porch? Anyway, why the gang-up on The Beach House? I'm not surprised to find out it sucks (it is a Hagadone joint after all), but I was a big fan of their seafood fettuccine a few years ago. Also, I was at a catered event recently and the Beach House brought some kind of rare crab legs from the East Coast and they were totally super delicious. However, I'll have to try and sneak in there before they close for the season to see if it's as bad as y'all say it is lately. I've been avoiding reviewing the Hagadone restaurants because I'm afraid I might not be too nice, but I suppose I can try and keep an open mind about it. Lord knows, I'd hate to end up on the Duane's blacklist yet again...

Canton Restaurant

Canton Restaurant
113 N 4th St, Coeur d’Alene
665-5758

Living in Seattle, my friend Brian is totally spoiled when it comes to Asian food. The Emerald City offers some of the most fantastic Cantonese, Japanese, Korean, and Vietnamese and Thai cuisine on the planet, and he’s had the pleasure of enjoying it on a regular basis since relocating from here three years ago. So when Brian was back in town a few weeks ago, I decided to have him meet me at Canton Restaurant on 4^th St in downtown Coeur d’Alene, not for the impressive quality of the dining experience, but just for old time’s sake. Back in the good ol’ days, we put in many hours there, making sure our tummies were filled to the limit with greasy food before hitting the town for Martinis and debauchery.

It's been there as long as I can possibly remember, surviving lean times under various ownerships, some good, some bad, and some ugly. My favorite Canton story goes like this: It was the next to most recent ownership five or so years ago and the usual waitress was named Kim. She was endearingly eccentric and extremely chatty, but her grasp of the English language was still in its infancy stage, to say the least. Brian and I were sat in a sunny booth by the window, our usual spot. I recall it was an unmercifully hot day and we were both nursing ungodly hangovers. When Kim returned with our water, we all gasped as we spotted an earwig writhing about on the table. "The beeeez, the beeeeeeez!" shrieked Kim wildly as she wrestled the poor critter to death with a paper napkin, smearing its guts keenly across our table. We immediately turned green as Kim, unfazed, pulled out her order pad: “OK, what you like?”

I knew that the days of Kim and Co. were numbered when I wandered in one afternoon to order take out and was told they were out of chicken. Out of chicken? "Never Mind", I said as I reluctantly headed up the way to another Chinese restaurant. Days later, the place was vacant and plastered with "For Rent" signs amid rumors of serving customers the types of animals that don't appear on any menu. I don't actually believe that, the food wasn't that bad, but it still made for a heavy, dark cloud over the place that would seemingly make for a real challenge to potential new owners.

Since taking over in 2005, the ever-smiling Alex Kim and his family have risen to that challenge and have generally succeeded. I’ve said there aren’t any truly great Chinese places in town, but Canton probably comes the closest. When the food is great, it’s really great: fresh and light, tasty, good sized portions. The problem lies in the unfortunate fact that they just aren’t very consistent. I’ve never been served anything truly horrid here, but sometimes it’s just bland, or slightly off-tasting, or maybe it’s been simmering in the pot too long. You never what you’ll get from day to day and this can make the place seem a little iffy.

Humorously, the one thing that has been consistent each time I’ve visited Canton over the last few years is the music. It seems they own exactly one CD of AsianPop and it plays daily on repeat, as if the darned CD was somehow stuck in the player for eternity. The music is pleasant enough – a female vocalist sings plaintively atop mellow synth-pop tunes, including a Chinese language cover of an old Cranberries hit. But why does Canton always play this album over and over? Don’t they get sick of it? In this magic internet age it couldn’t be that hard to find some more Asian Pop CD’s.

I was pondering this odd music crisis as I sat listening and waiting for Brian and his cousin to meet me. My cell phone rang. It was Brian letting me know his cousin was running behind schedule and they’d be about forty minutes late. Meanwhile, I poured cup after cup of sweet, delicious tea and calmed my resultant jitters by paging through a giant Korean language fashion magazine they had sitting out. Just in case you were wondering, the “business punk” look is hot in Korea at the moment, and Paris Hilton, Nicole Richie, Lindsay Lohan, and Gwen Stefani receive just as much ink over there as they do here.

As the clock continued to tick and still no Brian and cousin, I turned my attention to the Canton Menu. I’d never really given it a close examination, since I usually just quickly order one of the numbered combo dinners. Trying to kill time, I combed through the menu line by line. There were a few amusing typos (“Hot Spicy Topu”, “Cram Chop Suey”, “Gried Egg Sandwich”) and a couple of culinary mysteries (“Mushroom Delight”, “Yang Chow Wor Mein”, “Beef Under Snow”).

Brian and his lovely cousin Hosanna finally arrived just as my tummy began to roar. Brian ordered the ambiguously named Hot & Spicy Chicken and Hosanna announced she was going to play it safe and get the Almond Chicken. I decided to live on the egde and try something I'd never tasted before, so I ordered the Korean Bul Go Gi. The waitress had described it as “um…some, like, chicken…and some…uh, y’know…vegetables and stuff”. “Why not?” I thought. After she left, Brian told me that in the seedier parts of Korea the dish was infamously made with dog. However, here in the United States the dish was served with beef. I got the distinct impression that the young waitress had no clue what it actually was, she just hoped I wouldn’t care or notice the difference.

When it arrived in front of me, sure enough it was beef. No worries, I was famished and it looked quite wonderful to my hungry eyes, thin slices of meat, onions, and garlic cloves all steamy and doused in a thin red sauce. On the menu, there was a little star next to the words “Bul Go Gi” indicating that it was meant to be spicy. Disappointingly, mine really wasn’t. It was quite tasty in its own way, but I’d really only classify it as “tangy” instead of the promised “spicy”. Brian had similar feelings about his “Hot & Spicy” chicken, which was neither. I understand that many folks don’t dig sinus burnout perhaps as much as we do, but I’d recommend offering customers different levels of spicy hotness so that everyone’s happy. I have a hunch Brian was also correct when he called out the side of white rice as being “Uncle Ben’s instant or something tragic like that.” Normally the rice here is just fine, which again proves my point about Canton’s inconsistency issue.

Hosanna agreed, the food was fine and adequate, but nothing to return to Seattle and rave about. It’s frustrating because I have had some really great meals here. One night last winter stands out in my memory, when I had a nasty cold and came in for a big bowl of Won Ton Soup and it was so fresh, delicious and nourishing that I swear I walked out of there totally cured. Other visits have been less-than memorable, even disappointing. To their credit, I’m always pleased with the warm, friendly and fast service the waitresses offer. If Canton could step up their game a few notches and strive for consistent excellence in both food and service, they could very well be the ones to fill the Chinese food gap in this town and come out the champion. If they do it, I’ll buy them a new Asian Pop CD to listen to.

Flyer: A Frayed Knot @ the Rock Joint

Flyer: John Oszajca @ Brix

Fort Ground Grill

Fort Ground Grill
705 W. River Ave., Cd’A.
664-6186.

General William Tecumseh Sherman wasn’t just throwing darts at the map when he deemed our happy little patch of Earth to be the perfect spot for a military fort. Although it would be many years before the first massive condo would rise from the shores of Lake Coeur d’Alene and the Spokane River, the spot of land where the two met still clearly had some potential. After the Mullan Trail was forged and the first choo-choo train came roaring through the area, Camp Coeur d’Alene turned into Fort Coeur d’Alene and a pioneer village began taking shape.

General Sherman may have had some questionable military tactics (like how he mercilessly decimated the buffalo herds in an attempt to dwindle the Indian population), but he was known to be good to his military men, always making sure they were served big fluffy omelets, crisp hash browns and buttery toast for breakfast. After the fort was abandoned by the Army during the Spanish-American War, it was renamed Fort Sherman and the Fort Ground Breakfast Shack and Sarsaparilla Bar was established in 1877 on River Avenue in honor of the good General’s keen enthusiasm for the first meal of the day. Although the place would see many identity and ownership changes over the next 130 years, the tradition lives on today with The Fort Ground Grill, who pay tribute to the breakfast pioneer and hero by featuring his stern countenance and biographical details on their menu.

Okay, maybe that isn’t exactly how history unfolded, but what’s for sure is that the place has at least been in existence in one form or another since the glory days when River Ave. was one of the town’s main drags, when the street was hopping with traffic heading over the bridge that once existed across the Spokane River there, where the dyke road now turns south. Family members recall that the place was once a small grocery store and soda fountain. Since childhood, I knew it best as the charmingly grungy Fort Ground Tavern, a rather rough place where you could watch old men drink pitchers of beer at 8 AM and eat a giant artery-clogging cheap breakfast through a thick haze of cigarette smoke. Certain nights, the place was known to get rowdy with overenthusiastic sports fans and college kids pounding Pabst and duking it out.

I have two fond memories of the old Fort Ground Tavern that will probably stick with me forever. The first was an unsuccessful attempt to eat a “breakfast burger” consisting of three beef patties, four cheese slices, a dozen bacon strips, a thick slice of ham, a fried egg, and grilled onions. I think that monster only cost around three bucks and came with a big pile of home fries. Oy! The second memory is going down for Karaoke nights when the Summer Theater cast and crew were in town and had established the place as their stomping grounds. These kids were professional singers and dancers, and some of their Karaoke performances were devastatingly fantastic. Once the beer really started flowing, it wouldn’t be unusual to find a group of them literally on top of the bar, dancing like Rockettes and singing show tunes. When the longtime owners finally decided to shut her down last year, many faithful customers felt a real loss.

When word got out that local chef and restaurateur Michael D. Pasquale had bought the place and was giving it a much needed facelift, the town collectively sighed with relief. With the Fort Ground Grill, he has managed to give a modern update to an old local favorite without losing the sense of history or the fine traditional food. However, gone are the drunken old coots peering out from dark scary corners. Gone are the nicotine stained beer signs from bygone eras, and the hideous yellow carpeting turned grey with time and beer and ash. Gone are the slightly tilted pool tables and the gruff kitchen ladies, cigarettes dangling from their lips. Most notably, gone are the scariest bathrooms in town, gutted and replaced by clean state-of-the-art facilities.

The basic layout remains the same but now it’s bright and immaculate, with a colorful new paint job inside and out, gorgeous oak fixtures and chairs, and locally historic photos hung around the walls. The atmosphere is as relaxed as it ever was, but so much nicer, and you don’t have to worry about ciggie ashes in your eggs or an encounter with a Hamms-pickled old-timer. They do still serve beer and wine (and have acquired a full liquor license as well), however local micros and fine imports have replaced cheap cans of watery swill.

I’ve visited the new Fort Ground Grill twice so far, the first time for dinner and more recently for breakfast. On my first visit several months ago, I was with a friend from Seattle who was not remarkably impressed with the fact that Ellen Travolta was having a bite to eat with some theater pals at the table behind us, although I watched enough “Happy Days” and “Charles in Charge” that I still get pretty excited when I see her out and about.

We noted that the menu consisted primarily of comfort foods, a culinary trend which includes traditional American staples like meatloaf and chicken fried steak, pasta dishes, and entrees served with mashed potatoes and steamed veggies. She opted for a salmon dish, which she described as “pretty good, but missing some pizzazz” and I tried the Garlic Chicken Breast with Garlic Mashed Potatoes, which was really quite delicious, but afterward I felt sort of bad for being a Garlic Breath Monster as we chatted and did some catching up. I’ve forgotten our servers name from that evening, but she had an amazing bubbly personality and provided top-notch service. We left impressed.

I visited again the other day for a much-needed breakfast fix after a late night out left me feeling a little woozy that morning. Q. and I were sat in the exact same table I’d sat in last time. Maybe my pre-caffeine senses were over-stimulated, but I couldn’t help but note the smell of history lingering in the air. Not a bad smell, just a proud kind of mustiness that no amount of paint and re-carpeting could ever kill. However, in place of boozy seniors were hip young moms, well-dressed professionals, beefy construction guys and gossipy society gals. Our hostess brought coffee over immediately, as if she knew how badly it was truly needed. Sometimes it’s the little things that impress, and I was so excited that they had French Vanilla coffee creamer on the table instead of plain. Nice touch.

No big surprises on this breakfast menu, although if you decide to build-your-own-omelet, you can choose from such odd fare as zucchini, havarti, shrimp and squash. Otherwise, all the usual suspects are in place: French toast, Denver omelet, eggs Benedict. It wasn’t listed as an option on the menu, but the waitress was cool enough to let me substitute a pancake for toast with my Ham Scram at no additional cost. She didn’t even bat an eye when Q. hissed that he wanted his eggs “fried really hard.”

As we waited, we zoned out to the sound of gabbing customers layered atop the classic rock radio that played comfortingly in the background. We began to get a little antsy as the Steve Miller Band turned into Pink Floyd turned into the Stones and still no food. Q had to be at work soon, and the clock was ticking as our coffee cups ran dry and still no sign of our waitress. It wasn’t even really that busy. Just as we were about to get fussy, she came zooming in with steaming platefuls of delightful breakfast. My pancake was bigger than the platter it came on, my ham scram was wonderfully thick with melty clumps of cheddar and luscious eggs, and my hash browns were crispy and flavorful, which is remarkable since I don’t normally get into the hash brown scene that much. Q’s eggs were fried sufficiently hard and his bacon made me wonder how they got it to turn out so crisp and flat, instead of the soggy, shriveled specimen I always manage to cook up at home. Again, sometimes the winning is in the details like the all-American sprig of parsley and twisted orange slice that decorated our plates, or the squeezy ketchup that liberated us from the stubbornness of the glass bottle. By the time I (almost) finished my meal, my morning-after wooziness was gone, replaced by the strong urge for a mid-morning nap in front of the TV.

Our waitress was incredibly sweet, but her lack of attention to our needs began to hurt our feelings. The food took quite a while to appear, our coffees and waters repeatedly sat empty, and then Q. began to panic because she wasn’t bringing our check to the table and he had 15 minutes to get to work. We finally gave up waiting and went straight for the register. The cashier had to hunt our waitress down so she could get our ticket and ring us up, and when she was finally found she seemed a little put out by our “impatience” and offered no apology for her slackness. Fortunately, the lingering joy of such a gratifying meal and the resulting food coma had rendered us lethargic enough to forgive her for her lack of timeliness as we waddled out the door. I’m absolutely certain that even General Sherman himself would be well-pleased by the high standard of quality breakfast fare served at the Fort Ground Grill.

Bread Crumbs: Random Bits

Seems like whoever is building the new Thai Bamboo on 4th in Cd'A has two speeds: slow and stop. Every time I drive by it looks like there's only 1-2 guys actually building the place. Meahwhile, the new drive-thru beverage barn two doors up the street came together in about a month and a half and is already open for business. Thai Bamboo has been under construction since last Spring and still doesn't even have a roof! The opening date is slated for October, but I can't imagine it. In this day and age, buildings seem to go up so fast, and it's nerve wracking to watch them do this one like it's 1936, especially when I want some Curry Beef and Swimming Rama right now!

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No word yet on the fate of Paddy's and Paddy's Too after the twin bars' owner was arrested for burning down his competitor Capone's building in Post Falls. I can't imagine business carrying on as normal, I mean who would want to support someone who would do something so despicable. The Capones are swell folks who would never sink to such a low act in a million years. Seattle's popular Dave Matthews wannabe act Dan Purser was scheduled to perform at Paddy's Too this weekend, and if Capone's can swing it, they should invite the band to play at their Coeur d'Alene joint instead. Good idea, no?

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My latest addiction is the Matcha Green Tea Smoothie with a Green Tea Caffeine Boost from Jamba Juice. In contrast to the sour citric quality of many of the fruit smoothies they offer, this one is light and delicately sweet with an earthy edge, in fact it's just like the wonderful Green tea ice cream I've enjoyed at various Japanese places, including Takara. Order one of these babies, make it power size, and look out world! It's such a nice, clean caffeine rush, free of the cheap coffee jitters or the mental rise and harsh fall of an energy drink. It's tasty, but something tells me it's not so lo-cal.

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After my IGA Deli (now Petersons Family Foods) article ran earlier this year, one of the comments I heard most frequently was that I should have given a shout out to the baked goods. I'm still not 100% sure they're made on premises or if they're outsourced from some other heavenly bakery, but they are definitely worth mentioning. It's one of the rare places that still sells French Crullers (if you know what they are, you rock), and the maple bars are enormo. My favorites are the Apple Fritters and the brown sugar goo filled pastries with white frosting and sprinkled with almond slices. Add a side of red Jello chunks in pink sugar foam and voila! A totally unhealthful breakfast affair! Petersons rocks so hard, I don't even miss IGA anymore.

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A little more refined, but no less decadent are the thick scones and hearty breads on offer at The Bakery by the Lake on 3rd Street (or La Boulangerie par le Lac if you prefer Francais). Here's a steal of a deal: you can get scones, breakfast cookies, pastries, or a mix of things bagged together in quantities of 3 in the day-old bin for three slim dollar bills. You can't even tell they were made yesterday and this places goodies are so huge and so dense that I nibbled out of my bag the entire day, reducing the situation to a half-inch of crumbs at the bottom. Make sure you get a pumpkin scone and sample one of their many innovative specialty breads while you're there. This is the closet thing our town has to a real-deal provincial French bakery and it's totally swish.

Mini Review: Dairy Queen

Dairy Queen
305 E. Appleway,
Coeur d'Alene
208-664-3253


I had a hardcore craving for some chicken strip action, and Dairy Queen happened to catch my eye. It's not a place that usually crosses my mental food radar yet I've been there so many times over the years. Not to date myself, but when I was growing up, DQ was significantly more campy, with psychedelic orange tables, waxy multicolored dilly bars, workers in brown polyester uniforms, and hours of Donkey Kong.

According to rumors, the place had become a little cracked out in recent years and I heard more than one alleged story of folks enjoying the convenience of picking up some meth along with their kid's meals. I didn't really care as long as they didn't get any in my Cotton Candy Blizzard. They've since remodeled and the place seems clean and free of riff-raff these days.

DQ must have hired a jazzy marketing team in the last few years, and now they've gone a bit high gloss and mainstream, with a modern image update, and a series of clever TV ads portraying customers in random office scenarios eating Flamethrower Sandwiches and nearly burning the place down with their firebreath. I liked the old hokey Dairy Queen better, but the thankfully the actual food doesn't seemed to have changed much.

I ordered the "Hot Dips" Chicken strip basket with Spicy Buffalo Sauce and a Diet Pepsi, of course, and the cashier was odd to me because he looked like a totally normal and boring nondescript kid, except he had elaborate, colorful tattoos up and down both arms, and it made me realize how prevalent tattoos are getting, even in untrendy North Idaho.

My Hot Dips basket was actually served in a thin paper box, which was dripping red stuff when I pulled it out of the bag. The lid had come off the Spicy Buffalo Sauce and when I opened the box, every french fry and every blessed chicken strip was coated in a nice even layer of the stuff. Also making an appearance in my box, for no explainable reason, were three warm and soggy celery strips and a side of blue cheese dressing. Was this some kind of lame attempt to hop on the health craze bandwagon, like Subway and their lame-o apple slices?

Regardless, it was a beautiful and delicious mess. It looked like hurricane Spicy Buffalo had hit my Hot Dips box. I can't imagine eating this any other way from now on. It did start to get messy and required a fork to eat those soggy fries swimming in the actually-quite-spicy-and-delicious sauce and then finally killing them off by drowning them in the cool blue cheese dressing. Even the celery turned out great that way. The large chicken pieces remained totally crisp on the outside despite the dousing and was moist and mighty inside. My recommendation: Order this meal, open your basket box, dump the sauce cup all over everything, close your basket box, shake well, enjoy. Amazing for only $3.99.

Weenis Inc. Presents the Battle of the Bands at the Rock Joint

"Battle of the Bands" to rock sleepy Hayden awake.

It seems everyone these days is competing for the spotlight. From the surreal hit show America’s Got Talent to the karaoke contest down at the local pub, more and more folks seem willing to take to the stage and put themselves through the rigors of public scrutiny. In our wonderfully strange culture, anyone from legitimate hit-makers like Kelly Clarkson to loveable oddballs like Talent’s “Boy Shakira” can rise from obscurity to star-status almost instantaneously. Winners may not always go on to extreme fame and fortune, but they do get to gloat in the congratulatory afterglow that comes with winning first place. Next Friday and Saturday, September 7 and 8, ten local rock acts will be duking it out for the grand prize as Weenis Inc. and Rock 94.5 present “Battle of the Bands” at the Rock Joint in Hayden.

Colleen Smith, proprietress of Coeur d’Alene’s premier body piercing studio Weenis Inc., came up with the “Battle of the Bands” idea as a way to let people know that a lively scene for original hard rock music is thriving here in North Idaho, a fact which may surprise those used to seeing only classic rock cover bands and acoustic singer-songwriters. Smith is a veteran of the local underground music scene, having put together annual Christmas for All punk-rock benefit shows for many years, as well as hosting the occasional mayhem-filled blowout in the basement of her business on 4^th Street, which she shares with tattoo studio Inkworld. “I feel like I stood back and watched a lot of these bands grow up” says Smith. “It seems like the rock and metal scene was way quiet for a while in this town, I wanted to bring everyone together and wake it up again.”

Each of the ten participating bands will play 40-minute sets on Friday from 12 to 9 p.m. , with the judging at 9:30. The top five winning acts will return on Saturday at noon for the big “rock off”, followed by final judging at 7 p.m. The band chosen as the best of the best will play again as the headline act at around 9 o’clock. The winning band will receive a dazzling assortment of cool prizes, be immortalized on the “Rock Joint Wall of Fame”, earn some precious airtime on Rock 94.5, and get a whole heck of a lot of high-fives. If they’re really lucky, some big music industry honchos will be sitting in the audience, smoking giant cigars and clutching lucrative record company contracts. You never know.

If you cherish your eardrums and like to sit close to the stage, you may want to bring hearing protection. Pretty much all the bands participating play a very loud form of hard rock. Bands will be judged in three categories: originality, stage presence and overall sound. Here’s the line up for round one:

· Lithium.ID - This Hayden trio have been grinding out melodic and fuzzy punk rock since 2004. Singer Zac and co. built a sizeable local fan base with thunderous but catchy original songs that come off a bit like Nirvana on a Diet Coke buzz.

· LOC – Formerly known as Soul Hammer, this Coeur d’Alene based three-piece’s name is an acronym for “lack of change”, an early song title. Their self-titled 2006 album proved that these metalheads can write some memorable tunes, but it doesn’t really do justice to the skull-rattling noise they’ve been known to whip up live.

· Forthrite – Representing Post Falls is multi-instrumentalist Gary Pool, who with “power screamer” Austin Karn and the three others who make up this progressive metal quintet. “Real music is coming back to the northwest,” says Pool. “We are tired of the noise that people call music.”

· Exit Zero – These guys have been gigging around their hometown of Coeur d’Alene for five years now, and have become one of the area’s most popular hard rock bands. Says drummer Noah White, “"From the dive bars to the Big Easy, we have fun. PERIOD. This is what we live and love to do and I don't see us quitting anytime soon."

· Benign – Born in Coeur d’Alene, but currently based in Spokane, this metal quartet positively pummels the listener with mega-intense high-speed guitar thrash, pounding drums, and guttural voices. Not recommended for fans of Celine Dion or the Carpenters.

· State of Grace – In only a year and half of existence, this Spokane metal 4-piece has opened shows for big name, big hair acts like Firehouse, Warrant, and LA Guns. However, ‘80’s glam is nowhere to be found in the menacingly heavy darkness of State of Grace’s horror rock.

· Dirt Nap – “Martha Stewart, Skeletor, Luke Skywalker, William Hung, and your mom” is the random assortment of folks this Coeur d’Alene heavy metal band claims as influences. If I listen close, I’m pretty sure can hear the Martha-ness, but my mom is too much of a mellow jazz lady to come up with something this hard.

· Bent Penny – Injecting some much needed femininity into the mainly testosterone-fueled weekend is Coeur d’Alene’s only all-girl cowpunk quartet. Their sound is tight and unique, colored with sweetly harmonic vocal lines and a layer of wild violin atop a classically aggressive punk sound.

· Keres – This Coeur d’Alene five-piece rose from the ashes of death metal act Morbid Bliss after that band had bled its last drop of crimson blood, so to speak. Their listed musical influences include bands with names like Dying Fetus, Pig Destroyer, and Decapitated, so that should give you a pretty good idea of what to expect from these guys.

· 2 Stones Thrown – Apparently this band is so fresh and new, the only thing known is that they call Coeur d’Alene home. Other details are a mystery, so you’ll just have to come to the show if you want to know more.

In addition to the music itself, the Battle of the Bands promises to bring a festival atmosphere to the asphalt lot behind the Rock Joint. With all the vendors and activities Smith and friends have lined up for the weekend, it’s going to pretty much impossible for attendees to become bored. Pyramid Printing and Skate Lab will set up half-pipes and ramps and perform some impressively death-defying skateboard stunts. The Hive Tattoo Shop will be trekking in from Moses Lake with a booth full of rock-n-roll merchandise like temporary tattoos, t-shirts, shoes, leather accessories, and hair dye in every color of the rainbow. Palm reading will be done by Celtic Moon, who will also be vending an assortment of gifts, candles, and incense. Opal’s Original’s will be on hand with an assortment of unique, handmade beaded jewelry, and there will be a ton of raffles and giveaways by Rock 94.5 and local beer and liquor distributors.

Weenis Inc. will be doing body piercing on Friday only from 1-7, so if you’ve been itching for a bellybutton ring or something even more exotic, here’s your opportunity to have it done by the only fully licensed piercing studio in North Idaho. Most intriguingly, on Saturday from 2-7, Smith will be set up for doing full body suspensions and assorted sideshow acts. (If you’re squeamish, now is the time to put down your toast.) In a full body suspension, the participant receives four to six large hooks through the flesh of their back and then they’re complete suspended off the ground with some hopefully very strong ropes. Smith describes the resultant adrenaline rush as inducing “an altered state of consciousness, enlightenment, a sort-of druggy state of mind.” Well it is cheaper than illegal drugs, and likely not as addictive, but certainly this is an activity only for those brave few with the steeliest of intestinal fortitudes.

Sideshow acts will include the implementation of cheek spears, which is exactly what it sounds like, as well as body corseting, a fetish act wherein someone is squeezed into a tiny garment and its laces are pulled as tight as humanly possible for the supposed enjoyment of the participant. Clearly, this strictly 21 and over “Battle of the Bands” weekend isn’t your ordinary quaint country festival but it promises to be a blast for supporters of local hard rock music, and those with open minds. The Rock Joint is located at 910 W. Hayden Ave. Call 762-2272 for more information.