Calypso's Coffee

Calypso’s Coffee
116 E. Lakeside, Coeur d’Alene
www.myspace.com/calypsoscoffeecompany

“I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.” - T.S. Eliot

Even with the recent shuttering of Café Doma, there’s certainly no-one in downtown Coeur d’Alene suffering from a lack of their morning double-tall-peppermint-patty-mocha with light soymilk, or whatever it is that forces their eyelids open and gives them enough energy to fake their way through the busy day. Drive up the main drag on any crisp early morn, and chances are you’ll smell an air punctuated with the comfort scent of fresh black brew that wafts from the doors of the many fine coffee establishments. Despite the fact that downtown is seemingly flooded ankle-deep in Arabica beans, there’s always room for one more charming little café. People can’t get enough of the stuff, and since opening last November, Calypso’s Coffee on Lakeside Avenue has risen to the top of the froth in the coffeehouse scene.

Entering Calypso’s recently, the part of my brain that was buzzing with to-do lists and scheduling tasks switched off and I decided it’d be nice to just settle in for a while, maybe grab something to fill my cranky morning tummy. I’d arrived slightly after the 11 a.m. cut off point for breakfast but I asked anyway. “No problem, we’re pretty loose about that rule,” winked the barista, “What are you hungry for?” The breakfast menu was sufficient but not huge, featuring oatmeal and fruit and a create-your-own breakfast sandwich. I opted for the latter, choosing a croissant as the medium and bacon as the message. Beverage-wise, I decided to try something new; a double Mexican mocha. “Whipped cream?” he suggested in such a way that I felt I might hurt his feelings if I said no.

I landed at a small table where someone had randomized the morning papers into a giant pile and sunk back into one of the giant comfy chairs to await my goodies. Calypso’s is set up like a welcoming extension of your hippie Aunt’s living room with pillowy couches and funky antique shelves and tables. In the glass-walled conference room, a man gesticulated wildly to a rapt audience, causing me to ponder for a moment what he might have been carrying on about so passionately. An old album by The Cure emanated gently from somewhere behind the counter, creating a cozy audio backdrop.

A warning to those of you who might turn your nose up in disdain over noisy wee ones running around willy-nilly; Calypso’s is very “family friendly” and young children are part of the mix. In fact, the kids seemed to be having so much loud fun with all the cool toys in the play area, I almost wished I was five again so I could freak out and stomp around and yell and scream without getting hauled away by men in white coats. It wasn’t exactly the most relaxing atmosphere but combined with the sound of business types gabbing on their cell phones, gossipy moms and hooky-playing high school kids, it was an enlivening, caffeinated din. A strong majority of folks had their faces buried deep inside their laptop computers, too caught up in their affairs to even notice the chaos.

When the server brought out my drink, she tripped slightly and joked “I almost threw it at you!” No matter, not a drop was spilled. When Carly Simon dreamed there were clouds in her coffee, this is exactly what she meant. Real whipped cream was blended with Calypso’s superb roasted-in-house espresso and flavored densely with spicy-sweet Mexican chocolate. Pure bliss. The breakfast sandwich came out next and it was fine but it really could have used a personality boost, maybe an herbed mayonnaise. The accompanying banana slices were an enjoyably odd touch. The weekend breakfast special of create-your-own benedict sounds like it could be a jazzier option and the plethora of fresh baked muffins, bagels, and brownies are beyond tempting. For lunch, Calypso’s serves a classic roster of sandwiches, wraps and salads and I’ve heard the soup du jour in a breadbowl is a majorly good idea. If coffee-based concoctions don’t thrill you, there’s also a full selection of teas, Italian sodas, and fruit smoothies.

Calypso’s deserves applause for their support of local music and arts talent. Every wall is covered in art and photography by young creative-types, presenting an opportunity to own some very cool original pieces for not a lot of cash, and a nice selection of local music CDs are available as well. It can be tricky in North Idaho to get people out to participate in a healthy open mike night, but I hear Calypso’s gets packed for theirs every Tuesday at 7 p.m. Additionally, there’s live music each weekend by some of the region’s most hype-worthy musicians. Among the acts gracing the Calypso’s stage in May are Spokane’s lounge-folk goddesses Karli Fairbanks and Kaylee Cole (separate shows) as well as Portland’s Polly Panic, a girl who knows how to seriously rock the cello. Drop in for a Mexican Mocha and stay for the music. Calypso’s is open seven days a week from 6 a.m. to 10 p.m. and until 12 a.m. on weekends.

Booze of the Week: Red Beer

I'm stretching a guess here, but I'm thinking that the idea of mixing a nice cold beer with a few ounces of tomato juice originated after the Great Depression as the "poor man's Bloody Mary." So it's rather appropriate that this delicious classic drink has made somewhat of a trendy comeback lately with the current crumbling national economy forcing folks to pinch pennies and forgo the Petrone in favor of Pabst. The introduction of another liquid, usually provided free of charge, into your favorite cheap American brew stretches a pitcher of by at least a pint or two. Down at the local watering hole, we've become so used to ordering a frosty Kokanee with a side of salty Clamato that plain beer now seems shockingly naked without it.

Some prefer red beer with just regular tomato juice but that's a terribly boring idea to me, all watered down with not enough twang. Some do V8, but V8 is way too thick and makes your beer seem frighteningly close to some nightmare organic bisque. I know some people who are Clamato-squeamish for some silly reason, but to me its celery-salt infused tanginess is the perfect beer mixer. Are they afraid of clams? I'm not even convinced that actual clams were ever involved with making Clamato; the ingredients list "reconstituted dried clam broth" which sounds like clam water dust to me. The mix of mass-market beer and Clamato is know as a "Red Eye" in Canada and parts of the US., including my bathroom mirror the morning after.

Apparently I'm not the only fan of this concoction. The brilliant minds at the Anheuser-Busch laboratories have recently sent into production a line of 24 oz. cans of Budweiser and Bud Light mixed factory-style with Clamato "and a hint of lime and salt." These "Cheladas" cost about a buck more than a normal can of beer that size might cost, which makes them spendy compared to their bar-bound counterpart, but they actually taste surprisingly terrific and are worth it. It can be just so darn difficult to mix beer and clamato on your own sometimes (well, after three or-so pitchers), so it's terribly convenient to have them pre-mixed and ready to go. Why not take the idea a step further? Pre-made Bloody Marys in big bottles with all the pickled asparagus and green olives etc, sold in mild or hot varieties. Just pour over ice and serve!

Red beer is good in the afternoon. I seem to have vague 70's memories of my parents thinking Red beer was good in the morning too. Every bar serves red beer, and it's a recipe that's impossible to for the bartender to mess up, although some places are notoriously stingy on the red (that means you, Iron Horse). I've also heard that the citric quality of the tomato juice helps neutralize and slow absorption of alcohol, resulting in a lighter effect. That's a very good thing if you'll be driving home later, and if you're walking that's okay too, you'll just have to drink twice as much. Prost!

Thai Bamboo

Thai Bamboo
2010 N. 4^th St
Coeur d’Alene

Salesman: You like Thai?
Homer: Yeah, ya like shirt?

It’s a birthday memory I’m sure to look back on with fondness and joy: my mother’s fingernails, long and coral orange like those of a picky Thai princess, plucking translucent onions from deep inside her steaming bowl of Prawn Tom Kha. As is her usual style, she’d managed to “order the wrong thing”, despite the clear-as-a-gong descriptions on the menu. “I swear”, she sighed, flicking another thin white slice onto the pile, “I always get this at that Thai place in Wyoming and it’s totally different than this. I know it wasn’t all soupy-like and I sure don’t remember any slimy cooked onions!” We suggested she just give it up and have the waitress take it back for something else, but that would have been admitting defeat. “Oh no, It’s just fine…” she sighed, still forgoing the concept of silverware as she dove in again, this time pulling out a plump pink prawn between her fingers and chomping it down.

I had chosen the new Thai Bamboo on 4^th Street in Coeur d’Alene for my birthday dinner this year partly to get in on the big opening buzz before it died down, and also because I knew from visits to their Spokane locations that it would be an awesome and impressive dining experience for my family. Both my Male Parental Unit and my Female Parental Unit were present for the occasion, which happens once in a great blue moon, along with dear Auntie B. It’s nice to think that they gathered together just to celebrate my arrival on the planet, but I wonder if it was all just a ruse to get in on the opportunity to enjoy some of the most top notch Thai cuisine the Inland Northwest has to offer.

If you’ve had the pleasure of visiting one of the three Spokane locations, you’ll know that owners Matavee and Tom Burgess are not exactly subtle when it comes to décor, and the new place is no exception. Even the exterior is over-the-top, its stylized giant red swooping eaves make for an instant local landmark. The lobby is lush and kitschy enough to trick your mind into thinking you’ve just fallen out of the sky and landed right in the middle of the Bangkok Holiday Inn. Digital photo frames display beautiful images of old Thailand, intricately bedazzled elephant tapestries shimmer in gold and burgundy velvet against raffia and bamboo walls, and tall plants shoot out from behind plush dark oak furnishings. Huge, monolithic stone carvings and gold statuettes hover around like South Asian castle props from a lost episode of “Scooby Doo” guest starring Indiana Jones.
The Burgesses have spared no expense toward impressing guests, and nowhere is this more evident that in the cavernous main dining room with its amazing psychedelic trip of a ceiling. Thousands of LED stars twinkle across a breathtaking sky of puffy clouds that change from pink to white against a sky that subtly changes between deep shades of blue. Auntie B. and I probably looked like we were suffering acid flashbacks as we stared trance-like up into the artificial expanse, agog.

I’d actually snuck into the new Cd’A Thai Bamboo during their opening week for some takeout Swimming Rama, but the lobby was too crowded at the time with hungry looky-loos to get much of a feel for the vibe of the place. When I ordered, the counter girl had given me the spiciness option of one to five stars, with five the hottest. I usually like lots of hot curry spice, so I chose four stars. Half-hour later, I was on my couch eating and watching the hilarious comedy “Superbad” while sobbing, tears pouring uncontrollably from my eyes. Not tears of sadness or tears of joy, but tears of pure spice. Swimming Rama is a favorite of mine, with tender white chicken pieces sautéed in a thick and spicy peanut sauce and poured over fresh spinach leaves and rice, but I’d never experienced the dish so spicy before. It was really good but a bit much even for me, and for the next few days, the leftovers came in very handy as a nasal decongestant.

For my birthday visit, I was careful to specify only 2 ½ stars for my order of a #44, which I ordered as “number forty-four” rather than attempting and regrettably mangling its proper name “Gai Phad Phong Ka Ree”. Was it normal to order between stars? I don’t know, but the waitress didn’t flinch and when my meal arrived, I could actually perceive the dish’s hotness on the star scale to be exactly where it belonged. 3 stars, too much! 2 stars, not enough! Pineapples and thin strips of carrot, onion, zucchini, and bell pepper are stir fried in Indian curry powder with some tender chicken and an egg. The subtle flavors unfolded and revealed themselves in different ways with each bite. Amazing.

“That’s Chinese, silly” laughed my mother when Auntie B. asked about Almond Chicken, so she went for the similarly nutty Cashew Chicken. Normally she picks at her food bird-like, but she actually made a visible dent in her meal before it hit the to-go box, a sign she really enjoyed it. My dad attacked his Thai Pepper Steak with a savage fervor, finishing it off before my evil roving fork could even validate it. We all decided to chase our chow down with bottles of skunky Singha Thai Beer and lightweight Auntie B. got tipsy enough after one bottle to inexplicably scoop dry hot chili flakes into her mouth then dramatically feign horror before spitting them out.

Everyone seemed full and content by the time our waitress brought over a plate of Fried Bananas topped with coconut ice cream “for the birthday boy.” No one in our party had set this up, so we were suitably charmed by the gesture. Overall, despite an abnormally long initial wait to order, we were generally impressed with the level of service. Also troublesome was how the noise level in the dining room grew and grew in intensity as the dinner rush grew larger and the wide open echoey atmosphere caused folks to talk louder and louder over each other until the din was like that of a train station. There must be some kind of acoustic cure to this minor ambience issue.

Here’s another rub: at dinnertime dishes aren’t automatically served with jasmine rice, which is definitely a required thing to have. It’s a dollar extra, which isn’t going to break anyone’s wallet, but it seems like something they really ought to throw in. No big deal, the rice is so perfect we’ll pay. Anyway, if you are on a budget you’ll want to visit during noontime and choose one of the very reasonable lunch combos, which do include rice along with a serving of Phad Thai and a chance to dabble in dishes like Red Curry Tofu, Phad Pahk with Chicken, and the famous Thai Super Bowl. The Thai Bamboo menu is expansive and exotic, the food possibilities enticing and endless. It’s going to take a lot of birthdays and even more un-birthdays to sample every dish on the menu, but so far I’m off to a good start.

Local Music Radar: This Kid's Not Supposed to Be in the Family Portrait

Coeur d'Alene's This Kid's Not Supposed to Be in the Family Portrait wins the longest local band name award. They also win the Get Out Local Music Radar award for cool band of the week. For your convenience and delight, I copied and pasted their MySpace details below for you to peruse whilst you enjoy some of their indie-folk-from-space by clicking the magic music thingies at the bottom of this post.

Band Members:
Dan the Incurable Disease, Emily Lou Superpants, Rachel & Michael Sassenfrass

Influences:
danielson. architechture in helsinki. the magnetic fields. all the regular ones. clap your hands say yeah. kings of convenience. sufjan stevens. little wings. m. ward. the clash. weezer. half handed cloud. wolf parade. neutral milk hotel. animal collective. the arcade fire. yo la tengo. the microphones. the flaming lips. beirut. philip glass. menomena. violent femmes. tilly and the wall. devotchka. bob dylan. the velvet underground. t monk. frog eyes. not drugs.

Sounds Like:
The sun had just bursted over the rolling hills and you're riding your bike, a puppy in your basket and the gentle southwestern wind blowing through your hair.

About Us:
This Kid's Not Supposed to Be in the Family Portrait is comparable to a gem. A multi-faceted gem as a matter of fact (or opinion, depending on perspective). Like a gem ,with its individual cuts gleaming in the arid blaze of an African day awaiting its discovery and eminent presentation to the public, we lie in waiting. Each member bringing awesomely eudeamonic attributes to our band.

Coming to a point, which we plan on doing, our music , although confusing and candid, is recomended for every person's (persons meaning your) palate, young or old,dissadant or velleitant, words mix together like pudding,and so do we? But if on the occasion that we don't...possibly you.

Dogwalk Musings: War of the Wordsmiths

Full Post Here//Dogwalk Musings

"This past week a fellow blogger who writes Get Out North Idaho , a local travel and restaurant review column for the Spokesman Review visited the town apparently for the first time and reported his findings. Hub and I laughed heartily as we read the column. "He's going to get letters," Hub chuckled. And indeed he did.

He also go a tongue lashing from a fellow reporter who writes a compilation of Rathdrum news for the same paper.

Come on Rathdrum. Be honest. You have tons of potential and you've come a long way since I first discovered you seven years ago. But you have a long way to go. Vic Holmes is the first pro active forward looking mayor you've had since Tawnda Bromley left office under duress two mayors ago.

You've got some great people trying to pull you into the current century but many of the old timers are still resisting everything that looks like progress. True, Main Street has come a long way. When I first saw it the only two buildings that had any semblance of what the town could be was the Chamber Building and City Hall. Now new facades are being added and the buildings are being occupied by viable businesses. You've got the Rathdrum Star in one and the Salsa Factory in another. You've got the skate board park and an insurance office, hair salon and what else?. The new book store/ coffee stand. Let's face it, really, One Eye's, the biker bar, while a downtown fixture, is not a place most would choose to pop into for a quick refreshment. And the Westwood is hardly known for fine dining.

This does not a destination make."

Weenis Inc Presents the Spring Sting Extravanza

Come celebrate the arrival of spring this Saturday, April 19 at The Grail on Seltice Way, by having the divine Miss Weenis pierce your back flesh with giant hooks and suspend you off the ground for half-hour or so, while you trance out in a mad adrenaline rush to the sounds of screaming Metal and Hard Rock. Or just get a cute stud in your belly button. Or come for the $4 pitchers of Pabst and some of that magic Grail-ness you just can't help lovin'.

NIC Sentinal's coverage of this event.

LOC MySpace

Slowly Growing Deaf MySpace

Hot Club of Spokane @ Bistro on Spruce Fri 4/18

Coeur d'Alene is lucky to be charmed with the presence of the buzz-worthy jazz/swing ensemble Hot Club of Spokane this Friday at the Bistro on Spruce at 8 p.m. I'm thinking this might be the North Idaho debut of the must-see Hot Club who tear up stages and peel velvet wallpaper regularly at ZOLA and the Davenport's Peacock Room in their namesake town. This late booking looks to be their only Lake City gig for quite awhile so plan your weekend around it and go.

The band's MySpace Bio:

Hot Club of Spokane began in June of 2007 as Spokane’s first band in recent memory to resurrect, preserve, and perform the compositions and stylings of Django Reinhardt and the Quintette of the Hot Club of France. Not strictly a “gypsy jazz string ensemble,” Hot Club of Spokane enjoys the musical diversity of not only strings, provided by Constance Eller (violin), Kim Plewniak (bass), and Garrin Hertel (rhythm guitar), but also brass, performed by Michael Lenke (trumpet, flugelhorn), reeds, performed by Robert Folie (alto and baritone sax), as well as vocals, sung by Daini Hertel. The band also welcomes an exciting array of guest musicians such as Steve Bauer and John Bole on lead guitar, Jeremy Hamilton on reeds, Bruce Pennell on bass, Andrew Wilson on violin and guitar, and Patricia Bartell on accordion. Such diversity allows the band to infuse as much hot New Orleans Jazz into their arrangements and performances as they do the swingin’ sounds of World War II-era Paris. This departure fits squarely into the history of French jazz, as Django himself occasioned many recordings with more traditionally appointed combos after the break-up of his original quintette, which featured three guitars, violin, and bass.

As such, Hot Club of Spokane commits to delivering exciting, encouraging, toe-tapping performances of hot jazz, all the while being versatile enough to play every kind of engagement imaginable, including private parties, receptions, weddings, concerts, dance halls, and especially night clubs where the balance between dance and conversation, performance and ambiance, must be kept intact, just as the original Quintette of the Hot Club of France intended. The band achieves this balance by remaining as acoustic as possible (adjusting to the needs of each venue), and by omitting drums entirely, in keeping with the general Hot Club tradition.

Hot Club of Spokane also joins forces with other local, regional, and national jazz and swing musicians, including their friends in music, perennial local favorite, 6’ Swing, to promote and perform in the annual Think SWING! Jazz and Blues Festival, founded and organized by Hot Club of Spokane bandleader Garrin Hertel.

For more information about Hot Club of Spokane, please visit the website:
www.hotclubofspokane.com

Ciao Mambo Press Release

Ciao Mambo is coming to Hayden, Idaho!

On Monday, April 21^st, at 4:00 pm Ciao Mambo will open its doors and welcome guests to experience utterly unique, delicious, and exciting Italian dining—with an equally impressive atmosphere and eager staff.

The original concept that would become Ciao Mambo has been in operation since 2001 in Whitefish, Montana. More importantly, Ciao Mambo has developed as a unique reflection of an ideal lifestyle—casual and fun all while being tasteful, appealing and unlike anything else. The flair at Mambo's just works. It’s one of those spots where you can go a couple times a week, or spend a real special moment too.

It's hard to believe that Italian cuisine like this can be found in the great Rocky Mountain West. It's Italian Nachos, Minestrone, Lasagne, Tiramisu, Chianti, Frank Sinatra, Great Fun, Wonderful Service and a whole lot more. If the atmosphere and friendly attitudes don't seduce you, the pasta will.

We serve hearty soups, appetizers, and salads; pasta dishes with rich, savory sauces and fresh ingredients; and thin-crust pizzas hand-tossed and baked to perfection. Our exciting, distinctive recipes feature only the highest-quality ingredients—such as fresh mozzarella, prosciutto di parma, sliced Reggiano, top-grade meats and crisp produce.

We are delighted to become part of the Hayden Community and fully enthused to make new friends. We invite you to join us for great times with wonderful people. We look forward to meeting you and feeding you!

We are located in the Hayden Creek Plaza 8166 North Government Way. For more information give us a call at 208-772-9555 or visit our website at www.ciaomambo.com .

Get Out Guide To Rathdrum/Burger Heaven

Quest for Rathdrum Inspiration Ends with Discovery of Burger Shangri-La

Burger Heaven
13735 Highway 53
Rathdrum
208-687-5882

Rathdrum, Idaho is the sort of town perhaps best enjoyed under rainy grey skies. There’s a pleasingly complimentary sort of doom and gloom that hangs in the air there that vanishes like a vampire in direct sun. Founded in 1881 and named after a village in Ireland, Rathdrum never did fully recover from several giant fires that leveled nearly the entire town many decades ago. From having its status as the booming seat of Kootenai County snatched away by Coeur d’Alene in 1908, to the persistent and bizarre Rathdrum Satanic Death Cult rumors, this town seems to suffer from a touch of low self esteem.

Cosmetic changes and modern improvements are slow or non-existent here and a large lot of the homes and businesses are in various states of decay. Porches lean precariously over front yards scattered with rusting automobiles and dysfunctional appliances. Oddly, many of old Rathdrum’s shantytown driveways and trailer park lanes are decorated with shiny new late-model vehicles, creating a dramatic and slightly bewildering incongruity, like catching Paris Hilton shopping for shoes at a Kmart clearance sale.

The local chamber of commerce doesn’t seem to worry itself much with the idea of promoting tourism; there’s not even a single hotel in town so unless you manage to finagle a room in some granny’s double-wide, you’re out of luck when it comes to accommodations. Let’s face it, Rathdrum isn’t really the kind of charming hamlet that anybody might visit just for the thrill of it; you’ve either got to know a resident or have some other practical explanation for going. I was raised in Coeur d’Alene, but I’d never actually had a reason to make that northern trek until I was well into my twenties and discovered an affordable animal clinic there. A friend of mine only ever makes it up for the services of a specialty car mechanic. These are the kinds of mundane things that draw outsiders into the town, and people get in and get out as fast as possible.

I decided to attempt to uncover one or two neat and notable things about Rathdrum that might justify occasionally rolling into town on an afternoon drive. So I did just that recently, heading north on US95 on a drizzly spring day with an open mind and a hungry tummy. I pulled into a spot in the tiny downtown district to snap a few pictures and jot down some notes. Looking up, I noticed four mustachioed faces suspiciously glaring back at me from inside the window of One Eye’s Tavern. I realized that maybe this not-so-welcoming committee had me pegged as an undercover agent of some type, the type Rathdrum folks might not really be so keen on. Cheese Rock cover band Nova was to be the featured act that night, and I thought about sneaking in to request “Smoke on the Water,” but I’d already blown any chance to blend in unnoticed.

Moving on, I slowly drove past mostly empty old buildings with a scant few shops including a thrift store, which might have been a reason to actually get out of the car, but sadly it was closed. One large historic building had been given a noticeable renovation, reborn as an architect’s office, its exterior heights cleverly topped with bronco-riding cowboy statuettes in lieu of gargoyles. Massive Dodge trucks clogged all available parking spots in front of the Wildwood Saloon, a rowdy beer hall that survived the great fires of 1890 and 1924, as well as the great Mullet Wars of 1988 and 2006. Conveniently, both downtown bars are located across the street from junk-cluttered daycare centers, in case you have that urge to ditch the wee ones and pop in for some Jack Daniels shots.

Hunger was beginning to harsh my mini-tour of Rathdrum so I decided to check out “the other side of the tracks” and seek sustenance on Highway 53. I was first drawn in by the prospect of Mexican food at El Molino, which with its dusty orange and green exterior, looked like it popped directly out of 1975. I chickened out after spying not a single car in the lot, just a skeletal old cowboy doddering dolefully around by the door. Up the road, Granny’s Pantry looked like a decent prospect, but the little log cabin was too hopping with action. Surely not a bad thing for them, and either they must serve good food or they serve free beer, but I needed instant gratification with minimal fuss.

A cow-shaped mailbox caught my peripheral vision and an unseen magical force made me veer suddenly left and into the parking lot of Burger Heaven. Never before was an establishment so meaningfully, perfectly named. Burger Heaven is the big crossing over, the Burger nirvana, the divine ecstasy of the Holy Burger Mother. Burger lovers spend their lives praying to the Burger Gods trying to attain this final reward when they shuffle off this mortal bun. The point is, it’s a damn good burger. I’d even put out there the possibility of it being the best burger in North Idaho. And by the miracle graces of thousands of blessed bovine angels, its here on Earth in a non-descript building up in dowdy old Rathdrum.

The drive-in style menu lists dozens of burger varieties in single, double or triple patty formats, chicken and shrimp baskets, sandwiches, shakes and malts, even some monumental breakfast burritos. I was delighted to discover my all-time favorite burger featured as “Mark’s Special” and I ordered it complete with the obligatory fries-and-a-Dr.-Pepper upgrade. It’s a thick patty topped with bacon, bleu cheese crumbles, and grilled onions, and the way Burger Heaven does it works a new kind of magic on this delectable combo. Burger Heaven’s bacon is thick cut and super crisp, not the dreaded limp and chewy stuff. The rich onions and the sharp twang of the bleu cheese detonated the flavor of the juicy ground beef in an overload of umami bliss. The fries were golden perfect fantasies and even my Dr. Pepper seemed somehow enlightened by all the glorious burger beatitude.

Burger Heaven was clean and welcoming, an Eden teeming with lush green, oxygen-producing plants, retro booths in lurid shades of orange and blue, oldies on the radio dial, and a huge mess of old-school video games bleeping in from in the arcade. You don’t necessarily expect flawless service in fast food places like this, but my rocker-girl server was hospitable and right on top of things, her black attire and endearingly mopey demeanor a perfect compliment to the comfortably somber skies. Burger Heaven is the choice fulfillment of my quest to name a reason to visit Rathdrum voluntarily, and for those seeking a transcendently tasty burger experience, it’s a pilgrimage worth making repeatedly.

Nine Silly Questions: Kim Blaylock

Watch this spot on Mondays for a new Get Out "Man on the Street" series in which I accost random innocent people and finagle them into answering nine silly questions about their dining and drinking habits.

Kicking things off is local Service Advisor Kim Blaylock, a tiny, fierce woman who knows how to live it up and suffer next-day repercussions with a smile.

1. Favorite Mexican Restaurant in North Idaho and why you think it’s so cool?
I love Toro Viejo in Post Falls on Pleasant View Road. The manager, Rafael, has been there many years and is always happy to see me. It’s just a fun and good experience.

2. Favorite Asian Restaurant in North Idaho and why you think it’s so cool?
For Chinese, I like the one next to Rob’s Seafood in Post Falls (Golden Dragon). Overall though, it’s Takara, even if I’m not in the mood for sushi. The New York Dinner is sublime too!

3. North Idaho food place you’d suggest avoiding if possible?
Jackpot truck stop. You’d think the food would be fresh – it’s not. Also, it’s pretty dirty.

4. Best local place to relax with a cocktail?
El Patio Bar & Grill – I love this bar. Very friendly, relaxing, and good people.

5. Favorite Grocery or C-Store deli?
Gittels Grocery on Government Way. Clean, convenient and 3 hot dogs for $1.19!

6. Most Beloved Breakfast Joint? What do you usually order?
Old European in the Spokane Valley (note: I think there’s also a location in Post Falls.) I love the Eggs Benedict and fresh Orange Juice.

7. Favorite Fast Food haunt? Micky D’s. Great grease to sop up last night’s cocktails…

8. Someone offers to buy you a drink. What do you order?
Bull Blaster (Red Bull & Jagermeister.) Blast me baby!

9. Most frequented Coffee Stop/Espresso Stand?
Castle Coffee. It’s close to work, it's run by a nice gal, and is a bit more economical.

Down The Street

Down the Street
1613 E. Sherman,
Coeur d’Alene.

The Many Personalities Of Down The Street

TV’s Food Network airs an entertainingly watchable program called “Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives” in which porcupine-haired host Guy Fieri hams his way around the country checking out those down-home eating establishments that over the years have become wildly popular and even legendary in their respective localities. Fieri visits greasy hot kitchen after greasy hot kitchen, stuffing his face full of their decadently caloric output and getting in the way of busy kitchen staff. He surprise-attacks diners, joining their table and even digging right into their food, feigning interest when they say things like “I been comin’ here purt near every Saturday for 27 years for the best darned pigs-in-a-blanket on the East Coast!”

The restaurants featured on the show always seem to have some sort of shtick going on, like being located inside an old cable car or in a building shaped like a giant bagel with lox, or maybe serving a trademark novelty item like deep-fried macaroni and cheese (yes doctor, there really is such a thing). Some of them have simply been open 24-hours a day and flipping flapjacks since the early Taft administration. However, some diners and dives deserve recognition even though they’re completely novelty-free and void of visible eccentricities. Places that might come across a little too unpretentious and plain to make good television, but hold something intangible that might not come across well onscreen. I call it “the passion”. It’s that passion for serving up consistently tummy-pleasing food and for friendly, attentive service that keeps happy regulars coming back again and again to a classic eatery like Down the Street Restaurant on East Sherman Avenue in Coeur d’Alene.

Miss M and I were desperate for a heavy dose of some good old Down the Street passion on a recent Sunday morning. M was at home feeling the cruel aftereffects of a night full of disco and Tuaca shots and I was across town struggling to think of a legitimate reason to bother getting out of my warm bed on a frozen March morning when we had an odd moment of serendipity. Half-asleep, I reached for my phone to call her up and suggest breakfast when it suddenly began ringing in my hand, startling me awake. It was M: “Are you hungry? I need some Down the Street now before I start eating my couch. The cushions are starting to look really tasty.” “I’ll pick you up in 20 minutes” I replied, my tummy rumbling in agreement, too famished to care about the uncanny psychic moment.

We have a few regular breakfast haunts, but Down the Street always feels a little like coming home. It’s the kind of place where I always meet friends in from out-of-town because it’s just tradition. It’s the kind of place I can meander into any day of the week and run into at least a few familiar faces. From the time the sun crawls up over the purple hills in the morn until the last fry is frenched at 2 p.m. sharp, tables and booths percolate with a wildly diverse lot of regulars, each drawn back in for some more of the passion. On our recent visit alone, we ran into random folks including a local R&B singer and her bandmates, a friend who specializes in exotic body piercings, an old teacher from NIC, even the neighborhood Avon lady. Emo rockers were seated in booths next to Mennonites. Yoga ladies in unitards shared the Sunday paper with grizzled and grouchy veterans. We even took in a Tammy Faye lookalike, loudly chatting on the phone in her southern drawl over the din of the breakfast rush.

Down the Street seems to have a simple philosophy; treat the customer well with fast, memorable service and have no inconsistencies food wise. Décor and ambience are spare and somewhat grandma-esque, including a series of what M calls “ratty Shopko blankets” depicting puppy dogs, deer and pheasants hung on white walls like rare expensive tapestries. The vinyl tablecloth’s dark, murky floral pattern caused M’s hangover to flare and a vase filled with fake orange and hot pink daisies was suffering from years of abuse and neglect, but our booth was spacious and comfortable like an old Cadillac.

Anyway, we come here to experience the passion, not to pick up interior design tips. The Down the Street passion is in the chop-chop pace of the wait staff, whose sky blue uniforms make them seem like nurses in a breakfast emergency room, speeding around and giving tender loving care to victims of severe morning hunger and caffeine withdrawal. I watched in astonishment as a waitress made a tall chocolate milk the old-fashioned way, squirting in heaps of Hershey’s syrup then stirring a hundred times to perfection. I delighted in how my cup of Pike Street tea never fell below the halfway mark before it was given a freshen-up. I amazed at the fast reaction of our waitress when after overhearing M mention the possible discovery of a mystery hair in her side of gravy, she instantly swooped in with a hot fresh cup of the stuff and an apology.

The passion is an important ingredient every bit of hash they sling, lending the food an assuring predictability. I know that when I order the Chicken Fried Steak, it’s going to be golden-brown perfect, the beef tender enough to cut with a fork and the cracker-crumb coating crisp and satisfying. I know I’ll have to let the seasoned breakfast potatoes cool down a few minutes or the hot molten chunks will burn my mouth, even with ketchup. I know the eggs will be scrambled how I like them, not overly fluffy but with a bit of weight to them, some heartiness. The pancake will be so steamy and griddle-fresh that I can watch the poor scoop of butter ooze away, its life brought to a final, merciful end by a splash of warm maple syrup.

Between breakfast and lunch fare, the Down the Street menu offers whatever you’ve got in mind and a few surprises. An egg and potato scramble with smoked salmon, cream cheese and chives seems right for those particularly experimental mornings. Corned beef hash is always a tempting idea, and it’s hard to beat a spicy, overstuffed breakfast burrito as a cure for wild-night-itis. If that doesn’t do the trick, the DTS Green Chili Spuds will make you feel human again, pronto. Lunch highlights include my perennial favorite, the Blue Cheese Burger, along with a dozen more burger varieties. There’s a Parmesan Crusted Chicken, some incredible Fish and Chips, a full assortment of sandwiches and salads, and if you time it right, you could score a slice of homemade pie. Lastly, they offer a selection of beer and wine, so if you’re one of those folks who enjoys a nice glass of morning burgundy with their strawberries-and-whipped-cream topped Belgian waffles, you’re in luck. A few of those and you’ll really be feeling the Down the Street passion.