The High Nooner

The High Nooner
3510 N. Government Way
Coeur d’Alene, ID
(208)664-2223
www.highnooner.com

Ah, the glorious sandwich. It’s a simple concept, yet it can be so difficult to master. Everyone has a different viewpoint on the subject, from the mundane (Mayonnaise vs. Miracle Whip) to the controversial and bizarre (my mother’s love for Peanut Butter and Pickles with Mayo on Rye.) A good sandwich is more than just a few slices of mystery meat between two gluey slices of white bread, although I hear that is considered a gourmet treat in the Kootenai County Jail cafeteria. A good sandwich is a memorable, well-crafted experience, a blend of flavors coming together as a full, convenient meal.

There’s a fine art to getting the sweet tang of the tuna salad just right, or knowing how to pile on enough ham to counterbalance the bite of the sliced onions. Certain types of breads work better with certain fillings. Condiments should be generous and varied – there’s nothing harder to choke down than a bone dry sandwich. I can’t think of a reason to be shy when lubricating your food – mayonnaise and yellow mustard, sweet pickle relish and spicy horseradish – spread it on thick and treat yourself.

In the lunch industry, the sandwich is obviously a behemoth and those who master the many facets of their creation and construction are highly respected artists. Even at your local neighborhood Subway, it’s clear some of those seventeen-year-olds have a gift and will have a long future in sandwich engineering. Between cigarette breaks, they pour their heart and soul into each squirt of dijonnaise. In all seriousness, Subway has created a consistently satisfying and affordable product and has set the standard for take-out sandwich freshness in the public consciousness.

The High Nooner offers a local alternative to national chain sandwich places, having just added a Coeur d’Alene location to its four existing Spokane stores earlier this month. I visited the new lunch spot with my co-conspirator Q. this week, not really knowing what to expect. We went a little early, hoping to beat the lunch rush. It was mid-morning and cars already filled the lot, the air abuzz with the anticipation of trying a new restaurant.

The first thing that struck me as we walked in was the multitude of Jo Jonas’ Indian Chief drawings hanging on the walls. I was delighted to see these rare works – Jonas is a legendary local artist and the man who made all those huge bronze sculptures down on the North Idaho College campus. I was lucky enough to have him as an instructor there as well many years ago. Kudos to the High Nooner for creating a virtual Jo Jonas museum on their walls, although I could live without the ugly ‘80’s Santa Fe tapestries and Wild West furniture his drawings are displayed with.

We approached the counter and were handed a couple of paper menus to look over. The vibe here at the High Nooner was not at all relaxed, but busy go-go-go. I looked into the semi-open kitchen in amazement at the literally dozens of young kitchen workers running around in street clothes in a crazy panic to the tune of blaring hip-hop music. What were they all doing back there – are they already getting that much business? Between the intricate dance of the sandwich makers and the loud thump of the bass, it genuinely seemed like there was a full-blown nightclub happening back there at 11 in the morning. It was like they were getting ready to audition for a touring company of the musical “Rent” or something. Wild.

Meanwhile, I felt a little angst from the counter girl for me to instantly decide on my order, pronto. People were behind us in line, but there was only one register and I was looking at a menu I’d never seen. Feeling pressured to order, I picked the “Sundowner,” which had caught my eye with the word ‘cranberries” in the description, reminding me of my favorite sandwich in town: the Hobbit at Sunshine Trader. I asked if I could get a half-sandwich and a cup of soup and was told they had no such combo. No soup and sandwich combo at a lunch deli? Just out of principle, I couldn’t bring myself to order them separately so I opted for a side of Asian Noodle salad. Q. ordered a Veggie Nooner and before we even had a chance to pick a table a woman came round the corner waving two brown paper bags and calling my name. I grabbed the lunch sacks, realizing that the place was obviously set up more for fast to-go orders rather than a sit-and-relax dining experience. The High Nooner also does catering and delivery, and that seems to be a large focus of the business.

We pulled our sandwiches out of their brown bags and unwrapped them. My Sundowner was nearly $6.50, so I had pictured something with a bit of elevation, plentiful toppings piled high between soft slices of bread. What I got was some scant, thin bits of dry turkey and lettuce, a teaspoon of Stove-Top stuffing, spread thin as paper, two cranberries with the remotest smear of accompanying cranberry sauce, and half-a-trace of mayo between the halves of an enormous white hoagie roll. It was tear-jerkingly dry and I couldn’t really taste any of the ingredients in all that bread. Needless to say, I was not overly enthused as I picked out and ate what small bits of meat I could excavate, returning the half-eaten hoagie roll to the bag. The side dish fared no better – it seemed like they just marinated some cooked noodles in plain soy sauce and sprinkled on a few sesame seeds. This “salad” was overly salty and would have benefited greatly from the simple addition of an actual veggie or two. Q. was also less-than ecstatic about his veggie sandwich, calling it “bland and uninspired” before rewrapping the other half to take to his granny, who normally loves foods fitting that description, but who reportedly was also unable to find any joy in the thing. The addition of free chocolate chip cookies was a nice touch, but they tasted store-bought and stale.

Color me unimpressed. However, I’m not willing to totally cross the High Nooner off my list yet. I’d like to hope they’re still working out the bugs and I’ve heard that the Spokane locations are known for having great food. Further examination of the menu leads to some promising notions, like the “High Nooner” with egg salad, cream cheese, bacon, and tomato; the “Afternooner” with juicy ham and turkey and melted cheese on a hot parmesan French roll; The “Buff Chick” with grilled chicken, blue cheese, and spicy buffalo sauce on foccacia bread. Hopefully they don’t skimp on the ingredients with these items. The dessert counter looked fantastic, huge slices of carrot cake, rum cake, brownies, and one thing I know they couldn’t possibly mess up: giant Rice Krispies treats. Service was fast and friendly, and they seemed sincere as they waved us bye-bye and asked us to come back soon. Q. said never again, but I’m a firm believer in second chances.

Peterson Family Foods Deli

Petersons Family Foods Deli
(formerly Sherman IGA)
1211 E. Sherman Ave.
Coeur d’Alene
208-664-9992

A trip to the deli area at Sherman IGA in Coeur d’Alene is a trip back in time. It’s one of those rare local spots that is pleasingly untouched by the grip of modernization. In fact, I’d bet most of the owners of the upscale boutiques and exclusive galleries that seem to be crawling their way up Sherman avenue consider Sherman IGA to be outdated urban blight, and they’d love to see it burn to make way for maybe a nice little high-rise of condos and offices.

Other, more corporate grocery delis in town have bigger selections, trendier items, cleaner, more updated looks and little personality. None offer the historic, "hometown proud" experience that good old IGA serves up. Of course, technically it's not a restaurant, you've got to eat your takings at home, but the food here is certainly worth discussion.

I grew up in the increasingly rough neighborhood where the old IGA is located and I’ll admit that shopping there can be risking your life at times. When I was about 12 or so my mother and I hid shivering behind a mayonnaise display as the store was being robbed. It takes a certain type of person to shop there, adventurous, unafraid of society’s fringe, or the body odor of the homeless junkie. It’s the kind of place you really want to hit in the mid-morning when it feels safest, and the friendly long-time staff and management will make you feel like you just got home to old friends. You might run into an old teacher from high-school, the friendly postman, your dear Aunt Betty. However, be warned - when the sun goes down the place carries a whole different vibe – it turns into an edgy hotspot for meth moms in recovery, drunk college boys, and munchie-afflicted emo kids. On hot summer nights, the parking lot swelters with intensity, heavy metal music blaress out of high-revving Corvettes.

Like the rest of Sherman IGA, the deli area has seen little cosmetic change in at least 25 years. The mainstay here is the world-famous “Chester Fried” chicken. I was curious to know exactly what made a chicken “Chester Fried” versus just plain old fried, and a Google search turned up some interesting tidbits. The company website lists only a few dozen places nationwide where you can get this delicacy, but oddly there’s no mention of Sherman IGA. How did they manage to drop off the official Chester radar, I wonder? Is the big 70’s-ish sign they display just a ruse, a leftover from better days? Are they actually peddling some kind of bootleg knock-off of Chester Fried Chicken? Is it just another of IGA’s many dark secrets? Where does that leave the jo-jo’s? All besmeared with blood-like ketchup?

Well, I think they’re getting it down pretty close at least, since the trick behind Chester’s is in the unique moisturization process that renders that sinful, highly caloric chicken breast so juicy and irresistibly tender inside that greasy, thick crunchy shell so flavorful and artery-clogging. These chickens must have been huge beasts when they roamed the earth – these giant fried chicken parts make KFC pieces look Barbie doll size. It’s likely not a healthful idea to indulge in the Chester action more than every once in a while, but when the craving hits, there’s only once place in town that has it and god bless them for it.

Also heavenly are the BBQ spareribs, delicious and always cooked to falling-off-the-bone perfection, although they are on the spendy side (for this place at least). I have tried the roasted chicken, and it wasn’t bad, just average, and not as much fun as killing yourself with the fattier fried version. IGA also offers huge jo-jos, chicken strips and old-school beef and bean burritos – the kind you usually can only find at middle-of-nowhere gas stations. Cheap, filling, and always an interesting gastrointestinal experience.

Move on over to the deli cooler for more retro action. I love the raspberry jell-o chunks mixed with sugary pink froth. Or the “Ambrosia salad” (secret recipe: canned mixed fruit and cool whip). Then there’s the mean green mystery substance simply labeled “pistachio crème” which shares nothing at all in common with its namesake nut other than its unexplainable addictiveness. Not everything here is my favorite. There’s the joyless “five bean salad” swimming in some kind of bland, oily dressing; a plethora of potato and macaroni salads, all including those damn little red pepper chunks I always have to pick out. Is it a pimento, maybe? I won’t eat them. I think the “Mustard Potato Salad” is free of the evil buggers, but could use another squirt of the yellow stuff to liven it up a tad.

There are gourmet desserts like tapioca, glompy chocolate pudding, and some type of layered raspberry/cool whip/angel cake parfait concoction that looks like it came right out of the pages of the Betty Crocker 1974 Edition cookbook. There’s the usual deli assortment of prepackaged sliced cheeses and meats, and maybe it’s just the bad lighting to blame, but there’s something a bit off about the pallor of the roast beef. Is there such a color as “electric brown”? It looks quite a bit more appetizing when coupled with some cheddar in one of the perfectly fine pre-made sandwiches, but if you’re like me you’ll want to grab an extra mayonnaise packet – they’re a bit on the dry side.
I’d recommend sticking with the main attraction, but do try to arrive early for your Chester Fried fix. There have been a few times when I’ve stood in line behind ladies that buy enough of the stuff to feed the whole church and by the time I make it to the counter, nothing remains but Chester Fried crumbs at the bottom of the deli case. After a certain time of day, they will refuse to make more, even if you threaten a hold-up. They’re not that easily fazed around here.

Note: Since publication, the place has been renamed Petersons Family Foods and is basically the same, save for the tiniest bit of rearranging. As one of the cashiers there told me "the crackheads still come out at night..."

O'Shay's Irish Pub

O’Shay’s Irish Pub
313 E. Coeur d’Alene Lake Dr.
Coeur d’Alene,
(208)765-7723

http://www.oshaysirishpub.com

For my entire life, I’ve been cursed with fake Irishness. I know, all the major giveaways are there: I have red hair, my name is Patrick, my favorite color is green. But alas, as far as I can trace, there’s only maybe the slightest hint of Irish blood running through my veins. The majority of my ancestors apparently floated over from merry England, and the rest escaped the fjords of Norway for the cornfields of the Midwest, eventually migrating here. Still, people always ask me if I’m Irish, and I’m usually quick to say “No!” with a look that says “How dare you?” Nothing against being Irish, but I’m not and I’m so over people assuming I am for the reasons stated above. However, every year when St. Patrick’s Day rolls around, I say proudly “Yes! I AM Irish!” Over the years I’ve learned that on this holiday, it’s just easier to smile and embrace my fake-Irishness and enjoy the free green beer and Bushmills that everyone suddenly wants to buy for me.

This week I had the pleasure of being fake Irish a little early when I popped into Open Mike Night (Thursdays) at O’Shay’s Irish Pub in Coeur d’Alene. O’Shay’s is tucked away in an old converted house amidst the vintage motels on Coeur d’Alene Lake Drive. I immediately felt a sense of warmth and coziness when I walked into the place. A small crowd was gathered and they were applauding the first act of the evening, Americana artist Harvey Stanley, who also serves as host of the weekly event.

There was a small but lively group of folks gathered around the bar so I pulled up a stool and ordered a pint of that chocolaty old Irish staple Guinness. I was half-expecting it to arrive in authentic Irish style: room-temperature. Thankfully, this is still America and the bar maid, Michelle, handed me a perfectly cold and frothy one. Call me a sissy yank, but I’m not big on warm beer. Looking around, I noticed the amazing collection of Irish ephemera, an eye catching collision of framed prints, metal signs, postcards and tchotchkes. Plus, place was decorated to-the-nines for St. Paddy’s day with endless green foil shamrocks strung across every wall. There was a little pile of green plastic leprechaun hats for customers to put on if they were feeling especially festive, and this evening several were.

Like any pub, O’Shay’s has its faithful regulars, and it seemed that this evening some of them had been warming their stools for quite awhile. Michelle was quite an affable hostess, and the laid back vibe of the place made me want to stick around. I had to chuckle when someone was leaving and couldn’t quite manage to push the door open and Michelle told them to “give the door a good Irish kick!” They did and it worked. She kept the conversation rolling up at the bar, from bad high-school photos to the rules of horseshoes, and she rescued our drinks each time they almost fell over on the warbly copper counter. I chatted with Harvey Stanley and told him I wish I’d have made it in time to see him perform. He was cool enough to crack open a copy of his debut CD “Go Harvey Go’ for me and autograph it. It’s an enjoyable album of witty, original Americana songs and no doubt I will be returning to O’Shay’s on a Thursday in the near future to see him out in person. (Visit Harvey’s MySpace to check out his music for yourself.)

The mellow ambience was heightened by the music of Coeur d’Alene acoustic duo Standing Still, (Josh Erk & Marques Pozzani) who played unplugged versions of post-grunge classics. Still, I wondered a bit where the “Irish Folk” music was that I’d seen advertised somewhere. The regular sitting next to must have read my mind - “You know, I hung out here for about 9 months before I heard any actual Irish Folk.” Ah well, the music was great anyway, although some of the open mike regulars were unable to make it. I was told that I absolutely needed to return to hear John Sylte and Robbie French, both acoustic folk guitarists who regularly play on the weekends. Notably, O’Shay’s also serves lunch and dinner daily, and I hear the food is excellent. I was kind of hoping to try an appetizer but the kitchen was already closed for the night. I do plan on returning for lunch sometime soon, and will have the full rundown for you right here.

I asked the kitchen guy what kind of plans they had lined up for the big day – March 17 – and I could practically see the anxiety well up in his throat: “It’s gonna be crazy…” I grilled Michelle for more details, and turns out he wasn’t kidding – I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a more full-on St. Patrick’s Day party than what they’ve got planned. O’Shay’s opens at 11AM and will be serving traditional corned beef and cabbage as well as fish and chips. Drink specials will include Irish Car Bombs, Guinness, green beer, and green jello shots so clearly no-one will be going thirsty. There will be a full bar set up out back next to their outdoor amphitheatre and beer garden, as well as a huge bonfire to enjoy while the sun sets and the chill of the spring evening creeps in. There will be lots of Irish music, and best of all, they are expecting a full-on Irish band of drums and bagpipes to march through the building and around the amphitheater. It’s bound to be the biggest party in town that day, and I will likely be there in all my fake Irishness. Wear green or get pinched.

Jamba Juice

Jamba Juice
202 W. Ironwood Dr. Suite E
Coeur d'Alene
(208) 664-3206

www.jambajuice.com


It's one of those mornings when as soon as you crack a crusty eye and become vaguely aware you're awake you just want to die. Every noise is like thunder, every ray of daylight is like a shocking flash of lightning. Your mouth tastes like the floor in the break room at the cigarette factory. Memories are fuzzy, but you vaguely recall kissing that prince (or was it a frog?) before you downed the last of your martini and caught a cab home before somehow stumbling into bed.

You say to yourself "Oh good grief, I need to get on a health kick or something before I drop dead." You need to get some serious rejuvenation rolling. A visit to the day spa is too spendy and feels like cheating, anyway. You simply don't have the energy for the gym or to even get off the couch, for that matter. I've got the perfect solution for your predicament: you need a big, cold Jamba Juice smoothie to replenish the essential vitamins that you ran your body dry of in the course of your shameless overindulgence.

According to one of the handy info pamphlets they leave out for customers, each Jamba contains 3-6 servings of fruit in one go. Each is available with a variety of different "boosts", which are vitamins and minerals formulated to add a punch of protien, energy, or immunity. Many of the drinks served here are "functional", like the tangy, Vitamin-C and Zinc packed "Coldbuster." More exotic is the "Acai Supercharger", which along with a whammy of good 'ol caffiene (via guarana), contains the strong antioxidant "Acai juice." The way the menu describes some of these unusual ingredients leaves you with the impression that someone at the Jamba Juice company spent years crawling through the bushes of South America looking for undiscovered miracle produce, just for us. "Matcha" is another one, a type of organic green tea that you can try in smoothie form or as a gnarly little green shot with soymilk, kind of like an espresso from Venus. Also, for those who crave the taste of fresh-mowed lawn, wheatgrass shots are available.

Although generally good for you, and always refreshing, many of the smoothies are not neccessarily low on calories. The "Jamba Classics" like "Carribean Passion" or "Razzamatazz" are made with huge scoops of sherbert and yogurt - a large cup packs 600-700 calories, or about the same as a good slice of turtle cheesecake. Chocolate is no stranger to these parts, either, with the "Chocolate Moo'd" smoothie that gives the illusion of being nutritious while tasting like an old fashioned milkshake. Along with it's evil twin, the "Peanut Butter Moo'd", these are the most decadent items available here, weighing in at over 900 calories each, for a large.

However, they've recently introduced the "all fruit" smoothie menu and the "Jamba Light" menu, which contain Splenda and whey protein and taste just as good, especially the addictive "Mango Mantra." A few years ago, I went to the best Chinese place in Chinatown, San Francisco, and they served a mango dessert that tasted almost exactly like the "Mango Mantra"- rich, creamy and delicious. These smoothies come in at between 200-300 calories, so they are basically guilt-free. My main Jamba favorite is the "Orange Dream Machine" which is a great breakfast substitute with 18 grams of protein, a days worth of vitamin C, and a yummy creamsicle vibe. Throw in an energy boost, and I'm set until dinnertime.

Fruit smoothies here are the main gig, but they do have a small selection of baked goods at the counter, and the ones I've tried were very good. The blueberry-bran mini loaves pack enough raw fiber to keep things moving very smooth, if you know what I mean. There's a shelf with a random variety of items for sale: juice books, logo t-shirts, on-the-go sippy cups, an actual juicer. I enjoy the atmosphere inside Jamba Juice. The decor is lite-90's modern with a happy clash of avocado green, pale orange, and bright purple walls mixed with clean, natural wood floors and fixtures. It's a small place with minimal seating, but most people get their smoothies to go.

From my experience, the service is always good here. I'm normally in a rush when I pop in, with only a few moments to spare on my way to work. Lines and delays are rare, and I'm usually in and out within 5 minutes. The staff are always perky and polite and even though I only visit every few weeks, the cashier remembers my first name when I order. One thing that annoys me about some places like this is the bored looking teens that stand around and talk trash instead of doing their jobs. Not here - these kids are quiet, clean, fast, and efficient, doing whatever magic thing it is they do back there with all those blenders and other machines. If they make too much smoothie to fit it all in your cup, they'll pour the extra in a small cup and give it to you as well. They always only remove the bottom part of the straw wrapper when they stick in your cup, leaving the top part wrapped and sanitary - a nice touch!

Takara Japanese Cuisine & Sushi

Takara Japanese Cuisine & Sushi
309 E Lakeside, Coeur d'Alene
208-765-8014

Takara Website

From my experience, sushi makes for one of the best pre-night-out-on-the-town meals possible. It’s not really a hot idea to eat anything too heavy duty before indulging in a night of hi-balls and disco dancing. No one enjoys feeling painfully bloated while attempting the Electric Hustle. Sushi is light in substance, yet filling, and all that sticky white rice will help soak up some that booze you’ll be enjoying later in the evening. Plus, eating sushi with some close friends can be a ritualistic, bonding affair, a relaxing way to wind down and let the week’s chaos dissolve like wasabi into soy sauce. Takara Japanese Restaurant, located on Lakeside Avenue, is the perfect way to dine before venturing out to explore the downtown Coeur d’Alene nightlife.

I remember when Takara first opened its doors many moons ago – 1992 to be exact. Sushi in Idaho? What a shock! I’d imagine that at the time, a very miniscule percentage of locals had ever even tried sushi. My family certainly never did. Raw fish? I don’t think so. We were meat and potatoes kind of people, none of that frou-frou California stuff. In fact, it wasn’t until I was in college that I was invited to tag along with a few new friends for lunch at Takara. I really wanted to be cool and make a good impression on these folks and didn’t let on that my tummy was making flippy-floppy at the mere thought. I knew I was just going to have to go for it.

So I watched the others do the ritual: pour a little soy sauce in the cute little dish, take some of the green stuff and stir it in with your chopstick. Gingerly pick up the piece with your sticks and dip it carefully in the sauce and pop it in your mouth! I held the big, pink slab of raw salmon meat and seasoned rice under my nose for moment: Wait! No fishy smell at all! And in my mouth it went. The first thing that hit me was the intense flavor of the wasabi. The fish itself didn’t seem to have a strong taste at all, certainly tasting nothing like the deep-briny fish taste I was expecting. No, it was very mild and the texture was buttery and delightful. I did it! I tried a piece of the spider roll and was surprised that I even liked the flavor of the nori (seaweed), another food I would have never thought would ever make it past my gullet.

Since then, Takara has been a regular haunt of mine. I love the authnticity and ambience of the small curtained-off private dining booths (wear clean socks – shoes have got to come off to sit in there). The waitresses are always prompt, friendly, brunette and gorgeous. In all the years, I’ve dined there, I don’t believe I’ve ever had a snarly server. The only occasional flub has been when the entrees are served long before the sushi makes it to the table, but I’ve come to learn this is a fairly normal thing for a sushi place. Sushi is a fine art that takes time, and the knife masters at Takara have never disappointed this hungry customer.

Normally a small Nigiri assortment is enough to satisfy me – this platter usually includes the classics: unagi (eel), hamachi (yellowtail), sake (salmon), ebi (shrimp), maguro (tuna), and tamago (scrambled egg), along with a spicy tuna roll. If the mere thought of actual sushi turns you the color of a ripe avocado, there are certainly other options on the menu. Their Teriyaki Chicken is legendary, so tender and juicy and dripping with thick, tangy sauce. Also craveworthy is the Tonkatsu, which is a fried, breaded pork loin served with ketchupy katsu sauce. Friends from Seattle and elsewhere have told me the best Tempura shrimp and vegetables they’ve ever had was from here. Meals come with the extra benefit of miso soup, a green salad with gingery dressing, and plenty of white rice. If you still possibly have room, they offer several specialty desserts inluding the magical green tea ice cream.

You will leave full, but you will walk some of it off on the way to your first night spot of the evening – by the time you get there you’ll be ready to have a cocktail and watusi the night away.

Other Reviews:

"More Than Just Raw Fish" - Spokane 7

Taste Everything Once

Steve's Gastronomic Page

Trip Advisor