KC’s Breakfast Club

KC’s Breakfast Club
115 Seltice Way,
Post Falls, 773-3764.

Claire Standish: "Can I eat?"
John Bender: "I don't know. Give it a try."

I’m truly a neo-maxi-zoom-dweebie when it comes to anything ‘80’s, so when I heard the name “KC’s Breakfast Club”, the first thing that popped into my head was Molly Ringwald skillfully applying her lipstick from a tube stuck deep in her cleavage, then pouting and rolling her eyes at sleazebag Judd Nelson’s “hot beef injection.” John Hughes’ 1985 coming-of-age flick “The Breakfast Club” was an essential component of my generation’s teen years.

Trapped for eight hours in a high school library for Saturday detention, five teenagers from opposing “cliques” learn to put aside their differences and take on “the Man”, in this case, school principal Richard “Dick” Vernon, portrayed with egotistical, loudmouth perfection by the late Paul Gleason. The film taught me important life lessons like never to put a lot of stock in false supremacy, how important it is to see beyond stereotypes, and how to make a delicious Wonder Bread, butter, Cap’n Crunch and Pixy Stix sandwich.

Actually, that might just be about the only thing that’s not on the menu at KC’s Breakfast Club. Q. and I had to send the waitress away twice while we attempted to absorb the plethora of items causing a quiver in our breakfast-bones and come to a final decision. We were enjoyably distracted, eavesdropping on a nearby table full of catty hairdressers. Apparently Satan’s House of Beauty is somewhere in Post Falls, because that’s how totally vicious they were, ranting about an absent co-worker for whom they clearly had no love. “She looks like a dog,” drawled one woman. Another girl cackled, “Yeah, her face matches her stinky poodle perm. She’s just low-class 80’s trash.”

Q and I had to chuckle at that last quip, considering that these girls themselves were not exactly Paris runway material themselves; in fact they looked quite like they could have appeared as extras in some other random totally tubular Ringwald flick from way back. Their conversation faded into the general chaos of the room as our waitress re-filled our coffee mugs and asked again “Did you have a chance to decide?” Um, just one more minute please!

I sugared my coffee generously, telling Q. how I always give a restaurant bonus points if they serve sugar in an old-fashioned glass silver-top sugar dispenser rather than the annoying tear-open packets. Those packets are such a pet peeve of mine, favored by cheapskate restaurateurs unwilling to pay for their customer’s sugar freedom. If you tear open more than two at a time, you feel guilty, gluttonous. The dispenser, on the other hand, says “Go ahead, have as much sugar as you like. Knock yourself out, kiddo.”

Okay, focus! The waitress pointed an eyeball in our direction again, so we were finally forced to decide on what we wanted to eat. I was really waffling so a waffle it was. I opted for the “Belgian Waffle Breakfast” and Q. found the solution to his indecisiveness in the form of a “Make Your Own Scramble” type of affair. The all-inclusive KC’s menu comes on like a copy of the popular travel guide “Europe Through the Back Door”, with about as many pages and boasting so many uncommon breakfast dishes that selecting only one is as arduous as choosing whether to spend May on the beaches of southern France or in the serene mountains of Switzerland.

All hungry tummies aboard the Trans-Europe Express! Swedish Pancakes, flat and fruitful as the mighty valleys of Lapland. German Pancakes, oven baked and light as custard, served with tart lemon wedges. French Toast, golden like a rich Nice sunset and sprinkled with powdered sugar clouds. Belgian Waffles creating fruit-topping possibilities and whipped cream smiles. An Italian Scramble uniting diced Italian sausage and Swiss cheese together in a romantic cabin somewhere in the Alps.Wait, that’s just one portion of the globe; KC’s also offers a spicy Mexican Omelet as well as good old Country-style American classics such as Chicken Fried Steak, Biscuits and Gravy, and “Eggs Benny”, all served with home-fries, hash browns, or a fruit cup.

Certainly the most attention-grabbing dish is the mighty Apple Pancake, described as “made in the tradition of a soufflé, baked in our oven ‘til golden brown, and covered with a pure brown sugar, cinnamon glaze, served with our homemade apple syrup.” I’m kicking myself now for not trying it, although I can’t complain one bit about what did soon land in front of me.

Despite warnings on the menu that everything was made fresh from scratch and so be extra patient, our food appeared impressively quick. I’d opted for a berry overload on my waffle with fresh sliced strawberries doused in warm homemade blueberry syrup. Utter perfection. My scrambled eggs were ace, and the bacon was surreal, flat and rectangular like cartoon bacon, fully crisp and scrumptious. I tasted Q.’s scramble and as usual, burned my lips off from his beloved combination of jalapeños and Tabasco.

KC’s owner’s Ken and Carolyn Jackson were working the room, stopping by our table separately to crack a few jokes and make sure we weren’t turning green or anything. I always enjoy having a couple of friendly human faces to associate with a restaurant; it lends a lot of personality to the overall experience. Their good cheer and enthusiasm was infectious, and in only one month they’ve already built up enough clientele to be packed with hungry faces even on a sleepy grey weekday mid-morning.

In that area near the corner of Spokane Street and Seltice Way, breakfast competition is quite fierce, but judging by the number of dreamy, satisfied eyes I spied around the crowded dining room, KC’s is poised to become THE morning hotspot of Idaho’s booming River City. If they’d just put that Cap’n Crunch sandwich on the menu, they’d be entirely flawless.

KC’s also serves a full and equally creative lunch menu, and is open from 6 a.m.-2 p.m. all week except Sundays, which are 7a.m.-3 p.m.