New Years Eve : No Reason to Stay Home and Watch Dick's Ball Drop Again

Scotland contributed the original New Years Eve chestnut “Auld Lang Syne” to modern culture, and in that country the night of December 31^st is known as Hogmanay and it’s celebrated in the streets until sunrise with wild, unhinged abandon. In the Philippines, where the circle traditionally symbolizes the New Year, they wear polka dots, consume round fruits, and run around the house loudly shaking coins around in a pie tin for good luck. In France, they call it “la Saint-Sylvestre”, a celebration which involves eating, drinking, and then more eating and drinking until the holiday ends nearly a week later on January 6 for the Epiphany, which I’m guessing goes something like “Oh wow, I’m so full and drunk.” Down in Ecuador, they spend weeks making elaborate paper mache effigies that represent the people and events of the past year, then torch them up and blow them to smithereens with firecrackers.

Here in the United States, some choose to avoid the riff-raff and stay home to watch the eerily ageless, re-animated Dick Clark count down the seconds to midnight as the big ball drops in Times Square. However, the most popular way for us Americans to ring in the New Year is to get completely blotto, and when the clock strikes twelve, start making out with everyone we see. Here in North Idaho, there’s no shortage of places where revelers can do what Prince once so brilliantly suggested and party like its 1999, except without the paranoid Y2K trip. If you’ve got the itch to party like its 2007 one last time, I’ve got the low-down on some of the more interesting happenings around town. Get dressed to the teeth, rattle noisemakers and drink champagne until your head throbs, but make sure you drag along an “old acquaintance” to be your designated driver or you may “be forgot” in jail.

The young ones want to party too, so have the babysitter take them to Skate Plaza. The big bash starts early in the evening at 6, which gives you some time to put on your face and relax with a few pre-show hi-balls without the little rascals terrorizing you. Skate Plaza is kind of like a dry run for kids, giving them a g-rated chance to preview the atmosphere of a night club, but with Italian Sodas instead of Bull Blasters. The $13 cover includes admission, skate rental, and party hats and horns. Sounds like you’ll have to sport the extra cash for nachos and games of Frogger. They’ll be giving away “$100’s in prizes” and a balloon drop at midnight promises to be nerve-shattering fun – imagine dozens of kids stomping around on roller skates and trying to pop balloons underfoot. Good times.

If the babysitter’s already too drunk to watch the kids, you’ll have to take them with you. Consider attending the family friendly events at the Coeur d’Alene Resort, where for a mere $70, you can enjoy a worry-free evening after sending your children off to “New Years Eve Kids Kamp”. According to the Resort, “This Kamp includes supervision, lots of fun activities and dinner“; however they offer no explanation as to why it was necessary to spell it with a “K”. Meanwhile, the top-40 cover act Nobody Famous will be providing entertainment for the grown-ups in the bays of the Resort Convention Center. The evening starts innocently enough with a prim and proper social at 7 o’clock, then loosens up a bit with dinner and drinks at 8, and finally throws its hair loose and goes buck wild at 9 with music and dancing. Hopefully, the evening will make it until midnight without tipsily joining the band onstage and attempting to sing like James Brown or getting sick in the poinsettias like it did last year. Clearly, the evening needs to remember to pace itself a bit.

New Year’s Eve parties galore are going off throughout downtown Coeur d’Alene including the delightful rockabilly music of Julie Anne & the Jukebox Junkies at the Eagles Lounge, dancing to good-time blues with Laffin’ Bones at the Wine Cellar, and the driving acoustic indie rock of Seattle’s TJ Sherrill down at the Moon Time. Mik-n-Mac’s Lounge are putting on their always-memorable annual New Years Eve gala, which has a “That 70’s” twist on the theme this year. “From psychedelic to formal, anything goes,” is how owner Rita Mikalatos puts it, and when she says anything goes at her bar, she means it. The night will also mark the debut of some recent improvements to the place, including a new VIP lounge area with comfy leather couches and the introduction of over fifty new martinis with silly names like “Flirtini”, “Woo Woo”, and “Royal Nut Job”. DJ Jason will be spinning all your favorite original disco gems, so break out the bedazzler and make sure your outfit is boogie-oogie-licious. A $10 ticket includes fun party favors and champagne, plus lots and lots of good eye candy on the dance floor.

Over in Post Falls, the hot thing for New Years Eve is putting on your best Carharts, drinking shots of some strong whiskey and dancing to good old Country music. Big Cat Daddy from KDRK Cat Country radio will be hosting the party at the Slab Inn ,which includes the boot-stomping tunes of “the outlaw” Steve Starkey and Chris Casserino, along with party favors and midnight champagne. The cover charge is $8. It’s a similar vibe down the street a few miles at Big Al’s, where local Country hero Jim Hunstman and his band will be rocking the rafters while drunken city girls make spectacles of themselves by attempting to ride the mechanical bucking bull. This bar is offering an $80 package, which includes cover charge, dinner, and a night in a luxurious suite at the Riverbend Inn. Admission only is $10 in advance or $15 at the door.

Further out of town at the Coeur d’Alene Casino, you can lose all your Christmas money in one of the many blinking, beeping slot machines when you attend their “New Years Eve Crazy 2000 & Eight”party. I have no idea what “Hot Seats” are, but I’m guessing that gamblers will be excited about the $6000 worth of them from 8-12:30 that night. Music is provided by Smash Hit Carnival and takes off at 9, along with a dizzyingly intense $65,000 all-day Bingo Session. In addition, they’re having hourly drawings for giant LCD televisions and a special $22.99 New Years Eve dinner buffet. If my luck wasn’t so rotten I’d show up since it sounds like almost everyone is bound to win at least a little something.

Finally, if your New Years Eve is just another day off to go skiing or snowboarding, several local mountains have planned their events with you in mind. What could be better than hitting the slopes all day, then warming up by the lodge fireplace and ringing in the New Year with a nice cup of cocoa or hot buttered rum? At Schweitzer Mountain Resort, jazz-rock act Sol Jibe will see in 2008 with an intimate performance at Taps Lounge beginning at 8:30. Free shuttle service between the parking lot at the bottom of the mountain and Schweitzer Village is available.

Kellogg’s Silver Mountain Resort is also pulling out all the stops, culminating in a torchlight parade which can be seen from up at the Mountain Haus followed by a dazzling fireworks display at midnight. Local cowboy Sammy Eubanks will be keeping the crowd at Noah's Canteen in high spirits. The $10 admission includes party favors, all-you-can-wrap-in-napkins-and-sneak-into-your-purse hors d’oevres, and a champagne toast at midnight. Hopefully, when the clock strikes twelve, you’ll be standing near some very kissable strangers.

Get Out! Best of North Idaho 2007

It seems like 2007 disappeared faster than a fresh tray of Kung Pao Chicken at the Top of China Buffet. It’s already that time of year again when we all look back and reflect a bit on the last twelve months: the good and the hard times, the gourmet meals and the rotten corn dogs, the nights out and the days spent recovering from them. It’s a good time to take note of some of the highlights of the past year in the local food, music and arts scene. So without further ado, I present to you my completely arbitrary, random list of things that made it tolerable to live in North Idaho during 2007.

Most Creative Local Rock Band: Coeur d’Alene’s Kite have been amazing Inland Northwest audiences for over ten years with a sound that is distinctly soaring and melodic with an intriguingly artsy air. I caught them earlier this year at a benefit gig and was awed by the urgency and intense display of creative energy these guys seem to effortlessly conjure up. The band is currently in the studio working on the follow-up to 2006’s brilliant Sleeping in Thunder album, which will see release early in 2008.

Naughtiest Onion Rings: There are some pretty decadent deep fried goodies out there in the culinary scene, but none will send you to the cardiologist faster than the clumpy, crumbly onion rings at the Paul Bunyan Drive In on Northwest Blvd. They have to double bag these babies so the hot grease doesn’t soak through and ruin your car interiors. Must be consumed with surreal amounts of dip.

Most Smartest Torch Lounge Dancer of the Year: Violet truly knows how to wriggle and writhe her way around a silver pole wearing nothing but a tiny thong bikini and six-inch platform heels, yet she also holds a degree in Child Development from North Idaho College. Naturally, she's a Gemini, her double nature reflected not only in her bipolar career paths, but also in her bisexuality and her ability to do long division whilst dramatically reinterpreting the music of Marilyn Manson and simultaneously thrusting her ladybusiness into the faces of drooling, horny men. Quel génie!

Coolest Concept That Could Use A Little Work: I really liked what the organizers of the first Coeur d’Alene film festival were trying to do, screening indie films that would have otherwise never been seen by local moviegoers. Problem was, many people were reluctant to spend the $125 for all access tickets (or the $9 for individual tickets) – to me, not a realistic price for low-budget amateur films. Also, the films were scattered all over town with not enough time to make it from one venue to the next between films and causing much confusion for the out-of-towners. If they can keep things more centrally located and make the entry fees more affordable they might be on to something special.

Tastiest Local Microbrew: I had the pleasure of touring the Laughing Dog Brewery up in Ponderay last summer and was schooled by owner Fred Colby on the intricacies of crushing the grain, sparging the mash, and boiling the wort. I’d never really thought about the process, and it was amazing to learn that beer doesn’t just magically appear on the shelf in the grocery store cooler. Even more amazing was their wonderful Huckleberry Cream Ale, a light and sweet but hearty brew they let me repeatedly sample on site. Good stuff.

Best Lunch On A Very Tight Budget: It’s lunchtime but you’re totally broke. Dig in your couch cushions and you’ll likely come up with enough funds for the totally satisfying 3 for $1.19 hot dog special at Gittel’s Grocery at Gov’t Way and Harrison. These dogs are perfectly plumped in an old-fashioned wiener-rotating machine and the buns are steamed. What more do you need?

Wildest Karaoke Night: Marj Hopkins is the Karaoke Queen of the Corner Bar on 4^th Street in Cd’A. Four nights a week, she’s the calm in the center of the hurricane of tipsy warblers that pack the fusty former Fran’s Regina. Everyone from frat boys to chain-smoking old broads sign up to sing here, and you’re likely to witness mind-warping performances of everything from “Amazing Grace” to “Sweet Transvestite.” The more people that sing, the more people need a drink to deal with it. The more people drink, the more likely they are to sing. It’s a depraved spiral into the karaoke abyss.

Freakiest Breakfast Waitresses: Not to be too unkind, but a few of the juicier descriptive terms that pop into mind when pondering the gals who sling plates up at CdA's northside breakfast mecca the Rockin' Robin include fried, grizzled, sizzled, smoked out, coked out and choked out. The food is always incredibly dank, stick-to-your-ribs good and you have to love a place that refers to the pancakes as Pips (as in Gladys Night) and features an omelet called "The Supremes". The waitresses are equally as retro, apparently suspended in a world where it's okay to wear Christmas balls as earrings and eye makeup that would make even the late, great Tammy Faye blanch. Plus, their you'll-get-your-maple-syrup-when-I-damn-well-feel-like-it attitude and sassy coffee-buzz wit will either leave you in stitches or leave them needing stitches after you lose your cool and attack them with your fork. You'll love them anyway and they'll keep you coming back.

Most Interesting Popular Dance Craze: Robin Campbell spends Tuesday evenings upstairs at the old VFW Hall on 4^th Street in Coeur d’Alene teaching Argentine tango dancing to people presumably far more energetic and coordinated than myself. It’s an hour of lessons, then another hour of hardcore tangoing. When you get really good at it, you might want to mambo down to the Shore Lounge in the Cd’A Resort on Wednesdays and check out their Salsa night with DJ Brentano. Olé!

Most Beloved C-Store Clerk: Old Joe has been sitting behind the register at the Zips Stop on 7th and Sherman peering out from behind those glasses that make his eyes all googly and big since before anyone can remember. He knows pretty much everything about everyone who've come into the store more than twice and will chat for hours in that gritty, gravelly voice of his. He's seen it all before and is completely unflappable, not even flinching when you come in to purchase eight 40's of Old E, a box of condoms and a fresh can of WD-40. Trust me, I know.


Most Addictive Jamba Juice Flavor: Alright, it isn’t exclusively a local thing, but I couldn’t imagine life without a power size Matcha Green Tea Smoothie with a Green Caffeine Blast at least three mornings a week. It tastes exactly like my favorite sweet green tea ice cream they serve at Japanese Restaurants and provides a clean caffeine wallop smoother and stronger than coffee or soda. Problem is, my desk sits empty half the day – green tea is a natural and very strong diuretic.

Best Kept Local Radio Secret: Have you ever been driving in downtown Coeur d’Alene, scanning the radio and you’re surprised to suddenly hear some left-of-center music like Pixies or the Meat Puppets? Try to find the station again later and it’s gone or maybe moved somewhere else on the dial. If you’ve experienced this phenomenon, you’ve stumbled upon Coeur d’Alene’s ultra cool pirate radio station. It’s an utter mystery who runs it, but word is if you leave CDs on a certain spot atop a certain c-store sign, they’ll fetch them and play them on the air no matter what the content. By the way, if you work for the FCC, you never saw this.

Bravest Theater Production: Stodgier season ticket holders and manly men worried about exactly how far Cd’A Summer Theatre would take their production of “The Full Monty”, which is famous for it’s depiction of average working men getting naked and dancing for money. Our own Dave Oliveria nervously wondered on Huckleberries Online “Is ‘The Full Monty’ too edgy for Cd’A?” The quick answer was no, it was a huge hit and a rollicking good time, complete with Ellen Travolta’s unforgettably grand performance as jaded showbiz vet Jeanette.

Coolest Vinyl-Only Record Store: OK, the ONLY vinyl-only record store in town actually. Unified Groove Merchants' Cd'A store magically appeared this year across the way from the fairgrounds after the owner ran out of space in the original Spokane location. Looking for a rare Velvet Underground bootleg or a pristine copy of the Beatles' Revolver album? Bingo! Plus thousands of other LP collector's goodies from all eras of music. I lost six hours here one day digging through box after endless box of random, unorganized 45's and still never saw them all. Come with lots of cash and prepare to leave exhausted.

Most Delicious Donuts and Pastries: Somehow when I did my infamous write-up of the deli at Peterson’s Family Foods (formerly Sherman IGA), I forgot to mention their luscious baked goods. The maple bars, apple fritter and French crullers are made fresh daily in small, exclusive batches and are worth getting up early for, because if you don’t they’ll be all gone.

Best Suggestion For A Get Out Column: I enjoy the emails I occasionally receive from local photographer extraordinaire George Goetzman. I was looking for something to inspire this week’s column and I found it in my inbox much thanks to George who wrote “I think you should have a ‘best of’ column sometime. It could include best bloody Mary, best porter on tap, etc. In other words, the best of your eating and drinking pleasures.” Good idea, eh? George goes on to offer his ideas for winners in a few sandwich categories, and they’re insightful enough to include here. He writes: “Best tuna melt: Java on Sherman. Have it on whole wheat. Although my stepdaughter thinks the best tuna melt is at Bella Rose. It has lemony hints in it. Best French dip: Moon Time. Hands down. With caramelized onions, and creamy horseradish sauce. It's over the top. Best patty melt: Rustler's Roost. A patty melt, like a Reuben, has to be kind of greasy with a lot of dripping sauce. Woody does 'em good. I think they come on Rye. You need to add mustard. Best grilled cheese: Java on Sherman. Have it on sourdough. It's not called a grilled cheese on the menu, it's called Bill's Favorite.”

Christmas For All Concert @ The Grail with Bent Penny and Cameron Bameron

Rockers and mockers were packed elbow to elbow for last night's Christmas for All benefit concert at The Grail. Colleen "Weenis" Smith has been organizing these events for 12 years and this year's gig was in memory of her late mother, the fabulously large-hearted Dolly Smith, who co-ran the charity until her death several years ago. M. and I decided to conquer our fear of The Grail and show up to support the cause and catch the debut of the new Bent Penny line-up.

We realized that we hadn't even darkened the doors of The Grail since before it burned to the ground and was rebuilt, which was at least 5 years ago, if not longer. Something about all the gang-related stabbings, swarming police cars and the 18 and over entry policy made me want to avoid the place entirely. However, they're strictly 21 and over now and have cleared out much of the riff-raff by switching away from rap music to a hard rock format. Inside, it wasn't as trashy as I'd thought it was going to be, and I can see myself checking out some bands out there a little more often. The infamous Larry Sumner was behind the bar and he will pour you a Pabst Blue Ribbon and yak your ear off for hours and hours if you're not careful.

For some reason, all the tables were crammed in together so the crowd had to practically sit on each other's laps. Colleen gave us each one of her snazzy new monogrammed Weenis Exotic Body Piercing 2008 appointment books, which was so exciting we had to have a few shots to celebrate. Local ukulele-wielding loon and Judge Judy winner Cameron Bameron took the stage for a very short set of his bad-taste ditties including a new one called "Fairy Craig" about our favorite not-gay Idaho senator and returned for an encore of "Juicy Lemon" which rhymes the word "meringue" with a certain slang word for a woman's (ahem) ladybusiness. Juvenile and vulgar? Yes, but hilarious live.

Next, the fetchingly festive ladies of Bent Penny took the stage wearing naughty Santa girl outfits and fishnets. With the new addition of Post Falls drummer The Ghoul, they're sounding tighter and better than ever. I was at their debut concert at D'Mouse Trap three years ago, and they were pretty shaky back then. Now, they own the stage and the whole venue and everyone in it, tearing through classic three-chord power punk tunes smeared with the personality of cigarette-voiced songwriter Stephanie Ward and the propulsive bass lines of the lovely Lisa Justus.

This was their first live appearance since the departure of the violin player, who was subsequently replaced by Miss Amelia on flute. Flute? The fiddle lent the band a decidedly cow-punk bent, but the flute treads dangerously close to Jethro Tull territory. It took a song or two to adjust, but ultimately I decided I did quite like the perky wind-instrument in action, adding some nice counter-melodies which weaved in an out of Ward's guitar fuzz. M. did not agree, and after a few more shots she loudly announced her utter disdain for the whole flute thing. Regardless, the girls firmly rocked the walk and the talk and made it happen with a gorgeous pop-punk noise. After Bent Penny left the stage, we decided to bid our adieus and head to the safety of our usual haunt rather than stick around for sets by Inspired and Lack of Change. They're fine at what they do, but hard rock/metal-funk just never really baked my cookies.

Here's some video action - the Bent Penny clip was filmed by me and I'm not sure who is responsible for the Cameron Bameron "Fairy Craig" video, but WARNING if you're easily offended or likely to get in trouble at work you might not want to click play...

Michael D's Eatery

Michael D’s Eatery
203 CDA Lake Drive, CDA
(208) 676-9049

On Sunday mornings, some people choose to rise early, get all spruced up and head off to church. They wear their finest accoutrements and show up in full feather, dressed to impress fellow disciples and worship their deity of choice. Then there are those who like to sleep in as late as possible on Sundays, at least until hunger pangs force them to blearily seek sustenance at one of the local breakfast joints. For many of these folks, the only dressing up involves picking out a clean pair of comfy sweatpants and the only religious act involves praying that the hash browns help the hangover fade away faster. As you may have guessed, I fall into the latter group and my breakfast basilica of choice is the divine Michael D’s Eatery at the east end of town on Coeur d’Alene Lake Drive.

Sunday morning breakfasts have become a routine recently for me and Miss M. We alternate weeks springing for the tab, and whoever’s not paying that day gets to choose the restaurant. On the days I get to name the place, I always pick Michael D’s. Thing is, M. is notoriously impatient when it comes to waiting for a table. She’s hungry NOW, and there’s no darn way she’s going to sit for 15 minutes and starve when we could be on our way to somewhere not quite so busy. Each time I’ve tried to take her to Michael D’s this has happened, and against my vain protestations, we gave up and headed off to eat somewhere nowhere near as fabulous. I always tell her that there’s a good reason Michael D’s is so busy, and it would be quite worth waiting to find out exactly why.

This week was my week, and once again I decided to give Michael D’s another attempt. I decided it’d be a good idea to call ahead and ask to be put on a waiting list but was told they don’t take reservations. “Is it pretty packed down there today?” I asked, hoping to hear how unusually quiet the place was for a Sunday so we could sneak right in. “Honey, there’s always a wait but it’s not too bad right now, just get down here quick and y’all will be fine,” drawled the waitress before hanging up impatiently: click!

Miraculously, when we pulled in there were a few open parking spots, which was a promising sign. Of course when we walked in there was a small crowd hovering around and waiting in the tiny lobby. M. nodded her head toward the door, but I decided to stand my ground, telling her to sit tight and just wait it out. “OK, fine” she sighed as we grabbed a spot on the lobby bench. We checked out a fascinating wall photo of the place as it was 50 or so years ago when it was called the Boat and noticed how similar the interior was then and now, with its retro dining counter and light oak paneling. We also noticed that they’d put a few coffee pots out on a small table in the waiting area, which would’ve have been fantastic but frustratingly there were no cups to be found, and it felt too busy to ask. A dozen more people poured in right after us, bringing the twenty degree weather into the lobby right behind them. Just as we were starting to feel like frozen sardines packed knee to knee with other chilly, pre-caffeine breakfasters, the hostess called our names for a spot.

The biography of mustachioed owner/head chef Michael DePasquale appears on the back of the menu and is truly a fun read. To sum it up, he grew up playing with Easy Bake ovens instead of GI Joes, had an early fascination with chickens, and started his culinary career as a dishwasher in Rhode Island. After graduating from the Culinary Institute of America in New York, he relocated to North Idaho where he spent 15 years treading in and out of Hagadone purgatory, serving time (and winning awards) as Executive Chef at Dockside as well as Crickets, and he even had a brief gig selling Toyotas. After a stint as General Manager of Dockside began “killing him”, he decided it was finally time to make the dream of owning his own diner come true. In 1998, he transformed the abandoned former Chuck Wagon into a sunny, welcoming breakfast and lunch spot, and infused the menu and atmosphere with strong doses of his own unique personality. It was an immediate hit, and quickly became the default place recommended by store and hotel clerks to tourists asking where to get a good breakfast with some local color.

Flash forward ten years and Michael D’s is as popular as ever. Every day, almost every available table is filled with a mish-mash of people all pulled in by the lure of friendly service and satisfying meals. Breakfast is heavenly, but lunch is served here as well, ending strictly at 2PM daily. I love the habanero hot sauce Burger with melted blue cheese crumbles, and the Teriyaki Tuna sandwich, wherein the soy sauce and ginger dressing brightly contrasts the sweetness of the mandarin oranges. The lunch salads are huge, including the Lake City Salad, with grilled chicken, candied walnuts, fresh pear, and feta served atop spring greens and tossed in maple vinaigrette. Delish! They also serve a mean Idaho Rainbow Trout, pan-seared in lemon and garlic butter and served on a pile of spinach fettuccine.

Along with humongous waffles and pancakes served with a variety of fruit toppings, the big deal for breakfast here is the omelets. Each is named after an abstract emotion or state of being. “Seclusion” is simply your choice of American, Swiss, Cheddar or Jack Cheese wrapped in a fluffy blanket of eggs so fresh you’d swear they were running an actual hen house out back behind the kitchen. “Courageous” is one of my regular favorites, wickedly spicy with fresh sliced jalapeños, which work brilliantly with the creamy whipped cream cheese to make an intriguing hot vs. cold dining experience. Scrumptious, but only for the brave. If you’re a vegetarian, you might want to check out the “Cautious” omelet, which mixes steamed veggies and jack cheese with fresh made salsa. I’m not sure if the mood sets the omelet or the omelet sets the mood, but choices like “Bashful”, “Creative”, “Aspiring”, and “Shameless” blur the line between menu and personality test.

I was actually feeling fairly neutral and wanted to order something I’d never tried so I went for the “Honnell Special”. Of course, I had to ask the waitress about exactly who or what Honnell was, but she hadn’t a clue and seemed unwilling to research it. When my food arrived, I immediately quit caring, instead losing complete touch with reality in a steaming huge pile of scrambled eggs served over a toasted, buttery English muffin and slathered with rich hollandaise and melted cheddar. The accompanying hearty potatoes were golden and crispy, served home-style in big skin-on chunks.

I looked over to see M.’s face glowing with a similar sense of blissful abandonment with her Saratoga Scramble, which is scrambled eggs blended with whipped cream cheese and chives. I was proud of M. for finally deciding to conquer her fear of eggs, something brought on years ago by a food poisoning incident. She was raving, so I had to try a bite and I’ve never had eggs done so creatively, tangy and rich with the oniony bite of the chives. Stuffed, we sat in a food coma daze and talked about how after a huge Sunday breakfast, especially when under gray skies, all the coffee in town couldn’t create enough buzz to cancel out the urge to go home and crawl back in bed and laze away the rest of the day.

Bread Crumbs: Random Bits

Feeling left out because your employer is too cheap to spring for a lavish company Christmas party? No worries, tis the season for convention crashing. Just wear your finest get-up, slap on a "Hello! My Name Is..." name badge and sneak into one of the many holiday functions happening on a nightly basis down at the CDA Resort! It's easier if you go down there earlier in the day and read the list of functions for that night. The bigger party the better, and preferably one thrown by a Spokane company. Maybe you might Google the company so you won't be totally lost at sea if someone tries to strike up a conversation about work. Dress as corporate as possible, and bring a partner in crime - you'll be less conspicuous if you're visiting with someone else rather than sitting alone. Security is usually lax, so you should have no problem gliding right in the front door of the convention center and into the bays. If you need to sneak in via the back hallway, no problem - convention center staff are way too young and busy to notice or care. If anyone asks, just tell them you work for "Ron in Corporate" - no one will question it. You'll get a free delicious meal, maybe a free "fantasy" boat cruise and if you're lucky, some bonus swag courtesy of your "new boss"or Uncle Duane. Get totally sloshed and make an ass out of yourself. Who cares? You'll never see those people again. Good luck and good free eats!

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New greasy food shack alert: Opening soon on Northwest Boulevard across from the Spokesman Review building in Coeur d'Alene is the Chicken Basket. The signs read "Fish and Chicken" and"Broasted Foods" but otherwise, it's a bit of a mystery. I can't imagine that Paul Bunyan, also located directly across the street is too thrilled about this development since they also sell chicken and fish, although "broasted" certainly doesn't describe their brand of deep-fryer abuse. Hopefully they'll come up with something unique and wonderful - I fear that building is cursed, having been home to the ill-fated Pasty Depot several years back along with several failed skate shops. Expect some form of a review here as soon as they open for biz.

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From the Get Out! mailbag:

Dear Get Out!

First off I do enjoy your column in the Community News section of Handle Extra. I sometimes go or revisit a place depending on your reviews. I must take you to task about the recent Zips restaurant article/review. I was anything but happy after my return visit there last week. I have been to the one on Sherman Ave in CdA in the past, and each time I say "no more" but then I go again to give it a try several months later. After trying the fish dinner (two piece) I dont think I'll ever be going back again. The fish was very small and thin (but tasty) and the fries were partially over done, and the rest under done (although a heap of them in the meal) Total waste after I ate the fish and a few fries. Must be the home town nostalgia that keeps you going back for more. Oh well. Keep up the good work,as I do enjoy your columns. Just thought I'd vent a little about the quality of the meal I got at Zips.

B. Ritchie

Cd'A, Idaho

Well, far be it from me to discrimate against thin fish, although I do sympathize with your situation. I've noticed that the dimensions of Zips fish have shrunk over the last few years. They used to be one of the best places to order fish and chips, and had large, flaky halibut pieces, but you are correct - the last time I ordered a 3-piece, I was shocked to find that said filets had indeed been suffering from anorexia and were overcooked to the point of chewiness. However, I was able to smother on enough of that famous tartar sauce to glom it down anyway. Thanks for the nice words btw.

Dear Get Out!

Re: Rock Concert at Farragut State Park. Just an idea. In the sixties, can’t recall what year or a great deal about it, to drug’d up. But it was great they even had a nude beach, which in those days was really hot of North Idaho . North Idaho could be a dangerous place in those days if you had long hair. Also, the old Stateline in the 60’s, with fake ID, the El Patio and the Hillbilly bars, Kon Tiki etc.

Wes Albert

It's good to know that Stateline hasn't changed a bit after all these years. I've heard of that legendary rock concert at Farragut before, in fact I think I vaguely recall hearing that my uncle Dan English was there - perhaps I'll have to grill him for details. Seems like it might have been sort of North Idaho's own little Woodstock. I can't imagine it being too wild, but I'd love to know if there were any LSD-fueled love-ins, nude mudbaths, incidents of police brutality etc. Any famous or semi-famous musicians show up? Details, people! If I get any good stories, I might include them in my next retro-themed column in January...

Dear Get Out!

I've been a regular reader of your column in the since I moved to CDA 2 years ago. In fact I think it was your review of that TacoWorks trailer over on Best Avenue that helped me find the best street tacos since I left Southern California. I would have never pulled over and tried that location if it wasn't for your positive review. I even had Omar cater my Dad's wake here back in May. It was a hit.

I read a little blurb in the Huckleberries column a week ago about your reticence to review Hudson's. Risking a social backlash from the Hudson's cult that exists here in little ole Coeur d' Alene could be a pain for sure with a highly visible profile like yours. Now, I've never been to Hudson's. Sure, I've heard all the hype. But when I also hear about the draconian restrictions they have about the type of burgers, drinks and sides (none), the limited seating and long lines, I haven't exactly yelled "Let's go to Hudson's" when I need a burger fix. I'll go Carl's Jr for a Famous Star at 11:00 in the morning (it has to be hot and fresh) or if I really want to bust my cholesterol reading (and budget) go to Red Robin for a Royal Red Robin Burger. C'mon, bacon and a fried egg on a thick juicy burger with all the fixin's!

Anyway, if the idea of a "secret shopper" appeals to you, let me know. The review, good, bad or lukewarm, could be used in your column without any of the cult throwing you stink-eye around town and we'll get to the truth.

David

Thanks for the hype yo, but I'm afraid I've only had the column for nine months, and it wasn't me who reviewed that taco truck. Sounds good though, I'll have to check it out. I've heard from a bunch of folks that the owner of Hudson's wants me to "come in and visit sometime" which is a little on the scary side for me, after publicly declaring the 100-year old lunch counter to be nothing more than hype. I just picture him behind that counter chopping meat with that giant knife. Chop chop CHOP! Gulp. So, I might actually take you up on that offer. Seems like a nice, neutral way to get an untainted impression of the legendary burger stop to see if it indeed lives up to the hype. I'm afraid one glimpse of that meat knife and I'd have no choice but to give the place a unfairly glowing write-up.

Mexican Food Factory

Mexican Food Factory
1032 N. 4^th St Cd’A
(208) 664-0079

 

The first thing I noticed when I made my snowy entrance into the warm, welcoming atmosphere of the Mexican Food Factory in midtown Coeur d’Alene the other evening was a dense, hungry-making aroma that I can only describe as deep-fried enchantment. It’s a dank hot oil fragrance that some restaurants might do everything to try and mask. Here, it hangs heavy in the air in proud memoriam of every golden-brown delicacy that ever emerged vaingloriously from the sizzling vat.

It’s the kind of smell that gets your tongue juices flowing and your tummy quaking and lets you know you’re in for the good stuff. Like the classic cartoon image of the wispy aroma cloud making the come-hither motion with its finger and pulling someone by the nose into the kitchen, you’ll find yourself adrift with sudden fits of appetite.

Asking around recently, I was totally amazed to learn that quite a few people were completely unaware of the existence of the Mexican Food Factory. Even some people who’ve lived here since the Ray Stone Administration gave me a blank look when I brought up the name. I guess I just took it for granted that everyone in town was blindly devoted to the charms of this tiny family-owned place by now, having had nearly three decades to come in and check it out.

On the other hand, the ones that did know about the restaurant couldn’t preach enough about the wonderful food. Some even confessed to repeatedly committing the sin of gluttony there and testified beatifically about the zesty enchilada sauce. The religious references here seem apropos since it seems the MFF is a cult thing, and I’m proud to include myself as one of the faithful disciples who worship at the feet of the droopy-eyed senor statue on the front step.

It can be a busy place at times - I’ve seen it totally loco with people, all six tables filling up fast during the lunch or dinner rush. No lingering allowed, just eat and go so the next party can have a place to sit and enjoy their chicken taquitos. It’s intimate but cramped, and there’s no cushy waiting area, just a wobbly bench which occupies the small space between the front door and the order counter.

The modest dining room is unfancy but festive with chili-pepper table cloths and colorful, folksy wall treatments. I normally come in and get my order to go, a process which is always fast and can be expedited even further by calling ahead and cruising through the drive in window to pick up your pungent, steaming brown bag of savory goodness.

When I came around the other night for a fix, owner Dan Franks was leaning out the drive-in window chatting with a curious customer, perhaps a new inductee into the cult. “Well, we’re going on 28 years here, pretty much a local institution.” I can find no evidence to argue their claim that they were actually Coeur d’Alene’s very first Mexican restaurant. I do have vague memories of the place being run for a long time by an actual Mexican family, and even as recent as a few years ago remember seeing the old Madre working her magic with kitchen implements that appeared to be relics from the late Teotihuacan era.

To his credit, the only changes Franks has made since taking over the place have been slight and seamless improvements. The menu and cooking methods remain virtually unchanged, but the place has been given some badly needed deep cleaning and cosmetic renovations.

It’s seems like most of the staff have been working here for quite a while, and they come off as a tight-knit, chummy bunch. It’s kind of like visiting someone’s cool older brother and his friends at their crash pad and they’re just chilling, cracking jokes and watching the game, inviting you in for a cold beer and some good grub. It’s a relaxed, casual ambience, but nobody is at all lackadaisical and service is always fast.

It’s nice that they seem to actually enjoy what they do, an attitude all too rare in the world of food service these days. A bulletin board behind the counter with dozens of slips labeled “credit” shows how regular customers (junkies?) are treated like trusted old friends, allowing them to eat now and pay later.

Although the convivial vibe and fanatical cult of regulars are certainly a major factor in the eatery’s longevity, it’s the superb quality of the food that makes the Mexican Food Factory such a notable establishment. The menu is basic and simple, and it’s impressive the variety of dishes they concoct using a fairly minimal selection of fresh ingredients. You can’t order any Ceviche or Camarones en Mole here; it’s all about the basics. There’s honestly no other local Mexican diner that does it exactly the way they do it here.

It’s hard to put a finger on it, but I’m always reminded of some of the wonderfully authentic hole-in-the-wall Mexican joints I visited on trips to San Jose, California several decades ago. I gathered similar comments from another MFF cultist who claims the Food Factory “serves the best Mexican food outside of Cali, and much better than most Mexican food I’ve had in Cali.”

Tacos include your choice of spicy ground beef, chicken or the craveworthy shredded beef, with the meat itself going for a dip in the deep fryer whilst tucked inside a gently crisped corn tortilla, then topped with finely shredded cheddar, icy cold thin strips of lettuce and topped with tomato chunks. The enchiladas and tamales are unimpeachable, smothered in twangy Colorado sauce and a hot lava flow of melted cheese.

Burritos are a specialty here, with fifteen available options including nearly every combination of beans, meat, cheese, and rice possible. Personally, I have a fetish for the Shredded Beef and Cheese Burrito, which is the only burrito on the menu to hit the hot oil before being served, an act which creates a cosmic fusion between the meat and cheese, causing glazed eyeballs and burrito nirvana to overcome this particular diner.

The Chili Rellanos are listed on the menu as a seasonal item, but I don’t recall ever having a problem ordering the exquisite red-sauce covered, pan-fried, omelettey egg and spicy green pepper treats. Combination platters are served with fluffy seasoned rice and homemade refried beans, which are sinfully lardy and fresh daily.

Along with the whole MFF cult, I’ve found evidence of a sub-group known as “the Guacamole sect”, people who might order three or four $1.50 sides of the green stuff per meal. It’s no wonder, since they make simply the best, brightest avocado and spice mash-up around. It’s so fantastic; I think certain crazy people order it just to eat by the spoonful, all by itself, like a dessert. Unique also is the texturally thin but super flavorful house salsa, available for you to abuse in big squirt bottles on each table.

There’s really nothing not to like about the Mexican Food Factory, and as long as they continue offering their singular style of Mexican delights to the drooling devoted, they’ll remain one of this town’s worst kept secrets.

The Get Out Time Machine: 1947

Coeur d’Alene has had a vivacious downtown scene since before the turn of the 20^th century when folks would flock toward the lake to check out the military drills and parades at Fort Sherman, ride the steamboats, and have a sarsaparilla at one of the local saloons. Many favorite restaurants and night spots have come and gone over the years, their existence locked away in the dimmest compartments of our collective memory. In a series over the next several months, I’ll be investigating what it might have been like to “Get Out” locally during bygone eras of yore, specifically sixty, forty, and twenty years ago. Step into the mighty Get Out time machine as I set the dial to a time when post-war moods were bright, bebop and pop crooners were all the rage, and entire families were fed for less than a buck down at the corner luncheonette.

The 1947 Polk’s City Directory lists the population of Coeur d’Alene that year as 10,005 and describes it as “an industrial city”. The town’s economy seems to have been fairly buoyant at the time, driven by the working-class values of its citizens. A large majority of the men in town were employed at one of the many logging operations and sawmills, and judging from the large number of local restaurants and drinking establishments, most of the women worked as waitresses and barmaids. For a town its size, there were a ton of places for people to dine and dance, that is when they weren’t at home getting busy, helping to create the Baby Boom. The Polk Directory lists nearly forty places to eat and nearly as many pubs within Coeur d’Alene city limits alone, not to mention those located in such far-off, distant locales like Gibbs, Huetter, and Dalton Gardens.

A fabulous legal breakthrough happened in 1947, allowing the Athletic Round Table downtown to become the first public establishment in the state of Idaho to serve liquor by the drink since prohibition put an end to the idea thirty years earlier. This explains the prevalence of “beer parlors” around town, since cold lager was the only alcoholic beverage anyone had been able to peddle or purchase. I have a feeling that beer did the trick just fine, and places like the Blue Jacket, the Rosebud, and the Victory Inn likely provided North 4^th street with plenty of action.

Sherman Avenue itself also had enough beer parlors to get even the burliest lumberjack crocked, including Tubby’s, the Rainbow Tavern, the Shamrock, the Sea Gull, and the Surf. A relative of mine fondly remembers Fritz’s Corner at 3^rd and Sherman, whose motto was “where good friends meet” as being “a smoky little hole with a bunch of drunk old men.” A local resident I spoke with recalls the wild “honky tonk” atmosphere of the Boots & Saddle Club at the east end of Sherman Ave. Interestingly, several beer joints from the era remain today, albeit with some slight changes. The Regina Stand is now known as the Corner Bar, but the name is pretty much the only noticeable difference, and of course the Fort Ground Tavern, recently renovated and rechristened as the Fort Ground Grill, occupies the same patch of earth as it did back then.

One of the hottest spots around at the time seems to have been the Boulevard Club, which was another spot legally licensed to get patrons liquored up on hi-balls. It was located in the newly annexed Robins District area, near where old Highway 10 used to cross Northwest Boulevard. Advertisements touted the place as the “most beautiful theater-café in the Northwest.” Although I was unable to track down a photo, I’d like to imagine the interior as plush and gorgeous, with elegant chrome and glass fixtures, velvety fabrics and art deco touches. Totally swank. Owner Dave Sobol must have had some powerful connections in the music biz and was able to bring in some pretty big names like the Ink Spots, the Delta Rhythm Boys, and Billy Eckstine. Most notoriously, the Boulevard Club stage was frequented by the legendary Billy Tipton, a popular Spokane jazz pianist who, after his death in 1989, was revealed to have actually been a woman secretly living as a man for the last 50 years of her life. Slot machines were in use here and at quite a few other night spots, much to the chagrin of local police who seemed to barely tolerate such activity, raiding a different place every month for gambling-related crimes. Clearly, the place was oozing with forties glamour and martini-infused hi-jinx.

The food served at the Boulevard Club was classic-style American cuisine that we might now refer to as “Comfort Food”. Diners would sit down to a multi-level lazy Susan known as a “Boulevard Tray”, which was loaded with fantastic nibbly bits like baby corncobs, sweet gherkins and pickled herring. Next, a tangy shrimp or crab cocktail was followed by a green salad, a big top sirloin steak and a basket of toasted garlic bread. Throw in some strawberry shortcake for desert and you’d be completely full for around $2.50. Another well-liked eatery and lounge was “Coeur d’Alene’s favorite spot” the Sourdough, which was a mining-themed restaurant near Fernan whose entryway was a long man-made underground tunnel. Their advertisements announced that “Louie wants to see you!”, and I’m guessing Louie was the man responsible for their famous Sunday Ham Dinner, which came with Macaroni and Cheese, Green Salad, Cherry Cobbler and Black Coffee, all for one dollar.

My relative vaguely remembers going out to Fowler’s Café downtown on 4^th street as a young girl, and while she can’t quite recall the food, she describes the décor as “very fancy, with white tablecloths and mirrored walls everywhere. It was kind of a big deal for a kid.” Also downtown was The Sugar Bowl, which featured both the formal dining experience of the Sacajawea Room as well as a casual soda fountain. Hudson’s Hamburgers was then still known as The Missouri Lunch and was located across the street from its current home, near Central Motors and facing the Club Cigar Store. The only restaurant in town that served anything other than American food was the Noodle Inn on Locust, which provided locals with a selection of very vaguely Chinese dishes like Egg Foo Young and Noodle Soup.

Other places to grab a bite included the Sky Line, the Tower Inn, and the Silver Grill Cafe. There’s really not enough room here to mention them all. Templin’s Grill sat on the west end of Sherman near the lake across from the majestic Desert Hotel, which held a popular coffee shop and diner, as well as the Athletic Round Table Club, which was at the center of Coeur d’Alene’s social scene for many years. Along with fine dining and drinks, they hosted dances every weekend with live music provided by acts like the Five Jives or Jack Milan & His Farragut Collegian Eight Piece Band. In fact much of the nightlife scene back then revolved around regular events held at private clubs with bestial names like the Eagles, the Elks, and the Moose.

There was plenty of action for local teenagers in 1947 as well, with frequent dances under the stars at the City Park Pavillion, where hep cats and kittens could get togged to the bricks and drag a hoof to the smooth tunes of Frankie Laine, Perry Como, Jo Stafford and Sinatra. Admission was fifty cents. Playland Pier was a small but well-loved amusement park which opened in 1941 and sat on the spot that’s now Independence Point and stretched out into the lake on a boardwalk, complete with a carousel, a ferris wheel and carnival booths. Along with goldfish swallowing and yo-yos, hanging out in ice cream shops was also very in vogue for young people, and there were quite a few to choose from, including the Frosty Cup near the Desert Hotel and the D’Alene Dairy at 4^th and Sherman. Hmm, a scoop of maple or banana, it’s so hard to choose.