Dollars To Donuts

The Trippy Food Doughnut Extravaganza

The Big Two: Dunkin' Donuts and Krispy Kreme

The Big Two: Dunkin' Donuts and Krispy Kreme

The ubiquitous doughnut is the staple of office meetings across the country, Homer Simpson’s superfood, and makes all the cops in the doughnut shops go, “Way-o, way-o”; it seems as though the lowly ring of fried batter has been around as far back as anyone can remember, although its lineage can only be loosely traced about a century and a half. For the sake of keeping this tome down to about the length of War and Peace, let’s disregard Mr. Donut’s cousins the beignet, zeppole, bagel, fried dough, and yes, even the elusive cruller, and focus on the fried wheel of joy instantly recognizable by billions across America and around the globe. In its formative years, the doughnut got its name from literally being a ball (nut) of fried dough. It wasn’t until the mid-nineteenth century that the inner tube-shaped snack got its current shape; legend has it that teenage ship hand Hanson Gregory punched holes in the dough to allow them to cook all the way through (at that time, to prevent food-borne illness harbored by the uncooked center of the dough ball). By the turn of the last century, the doughnut was a comfort food with widespread appeal; in an effort to afford American soldiers in World War I the comfort of home, Salvation Army volunteers Ensign Margaret Sheldon and Adjutant Helen Purviance devised a plan to make and serve doughnuts to the troops in Europe. In 1938, The Salvation Army instituted National Doughnut Day as a fundraising event to commemorate those who risked life and limb to provide sinkers to the doughboys; the day is still recognized, now held on the first Friday of June.

Donuts. Is there anything they can't do? (at the Burbank Kwik-E Mart)

Donuts. Is there anything they can't do? (at the Burbank Kwik-E Mart)

It’s hard to throw a stale French twist and not hit a doughnut shop from mom-and-pop one-offs through the big dog franchises; of the latter, there appear to be two heavyweights remaining as last men standing: Krispy Kreme and Dunkin’ Donuts. It could be argued that Canada’s Tim Horton’s weighs in as a major player; even though they have cornered the Canadian fast-food market, it’s impossible to find their dough pucks and signature coffee very far south of the border. Krispy Kreme is the senior citizen of the donut realm, having been founded by businessman Vernon Rudolph in Winston-Salem, North Carolina way back in 1937. Legend has it that Krispy Kreme was one of the few products Elvis Presley endorsed by name, proving that the South (and the yeast) would rise again. Krispy Kreme only expanded nationally near the end of the 20th century with a great deal of their popularity based on their “Hot Now” concept. While driving by a Krispy Kreme, if the neon “Hot Now” light is on, that means that doughnuts are coming hot off a conveyor system that would make Henry Ford proud; visitors can watch as their signature raised doughnuts canoe en masse down a river of hot oil, through a shimmering waterfall of liquid sugar glaze, and around the bend on steel rollers where they’re snatched up by employees and served hot to customer. Back when Americans enjoyed a healthy economy workers would offer single hot doughnuts to customers free, but that practice appears to have waned.

The conveyor of hot doughnuts at Krispy Kreme

The conveyor of hot doughnuts at Krispy Kreme

Krispy Kreme appeared poised to proliferate the Northeast with their doughnut show, but they did not anticipate the fierce brand loyalty of customers of Quincy, Massachusetts-based Dunkin’ Donuts. Now a household name, Dunkin’ Donuts began its life as a single store called Open Kettle in 1948, expanding with the Dunkin’ Donuts name by founder William Rosenburg in 1950. Although they can now be found worldwide, their stronghold is still the Northeast (specifically the Boston area). There’s a regional anecdote about a person giving directions that include turning right at Dunkin’ Donuts, with the response being, “What Dunkin’ Donuts? There’s one on every corner!” The original Open Kettle site still stands today, and although it has been modernized inside as a fully functional Dunkin’ Donuts, they are the only store to boast a sign on the roof that closely mimics the original logo. When Krispy Kreme had the cojones to open a store in The Pru (Boston’s Prudential Center) in 2004, Bostonians sent them and their lackluster coffee packing; they no longer have a presence in New England. Dunkies (or DD’s as it is also affectionately called) has a similar problem in the west; an attempt to establish several stores in Sacramento, California met with limited interest. Dunkin’ Donuts recently announced that they would soon be opening franchises in California, and most Massachusetts expatriates (me included) are watching the trade papers with bated breath to greet the international franchise. Dunkin’ Donuts stores can be found in more than 30 countries worldwide, and each country puts their local own spin on the flavors of donuts and the way the coffee that is synonymous with the name is served (in Boston, asking for a “regular” gets you a coffee with milk and two sugars).

Kane's red velvet doughnut

Kane's red velvet doughnut

Tucked deep into Dunkin’ Donuts territory, Kane’s Donuts has been churning out sinkers from a converted house is Saugus, Massachusetts since 1955. For decades, Kane’s was a quiet little secret; to date, they still make fresh donuts during limited hours from their single location but after garnering notice from the Travel Channel they have become a doughnut pilgrimage destination. Although Kane’s doughnuts roll out in a variety of often unusual flavors (think red velvet and Boston cream pie), their claim to fame is actually their coffee roll, a 2-pound behemoth that could feed a small city. The light and airy roll is a BFD (baked fresh daily) confection that has the bread-like texture of panettone; dusted with cinnamon sugar this colossus is best shared with others, but eat it sparingly so that you can save room for their superior doughnuts.

World-famous Randy's Donuts in Inglewood CA

World-famous Randy's Donuts in Inglewood CA

While Kane’s doughnuts are your regulation sized sinkers, you’ll have to travel to the West Coast to find the King Kong of donuts, although sinking your teeth into these would be a bad idea. The Los Angeles area can safely be given the title of Land of The Giants as there are multiple shops that feature a ginormous doughnut as part of their architecture. In the 1950s, a chain of doughnut shops were built under the collective name of Big Donut; each featured a gunite and steel doughnut on the roof that measured a respectable 23 foot diameter. Of the 10 stores under the Big Donut umbrella, only four stores remain – the original store (Kindle’s Donuts in Los Angeles); Bellflower Bagels in Bellflower; Dale’s Donuts in Compton; and, the star of stage and screen opened in 1953, Randy’s Donuts in Inglewood. Randy’s has become the most familiar and iconic of the Big Donut stores, in part due to its location on the crest of a hill overlooking Interstate 405 and being in the direct flight path of airplanes landing at LAX. The location is featured in scores of movies and videos with the giant doughnut serving as a seat for Robert Downey, Jr.’s Tony Stark to polish off a box of doughnuts in Iron Man II and as a landmark in Randy Newman’s “I Love L.A.” music video. Due to its cinematic celebrity, there’s usually a line at Randy’s and it’s not uncommon to find owners and brothers Ron and Larry Weintraub greeting customers and asking where they’re from. An oversized doughnut on the roof alone isn’t enough to get repeat customers, but donuts are handmade throughout the day (they are open 24 hours) and are every bit as good as you would expect from a half-century old doughnut shop.

Possibly the only drive-through doughnut

Possibly the only drive-through doughnut

If you expect to get up-close and personal with your giant doughnut, I recommend a drive out to La Puente, California, home of The Donut Hole. The second in a chain of 5 stores, the La Puente location opened in 1968 as the only store featuring doughnuts in its architecture – each end of the shop is capped off by a partially buried doughnut where you literally drive through the hole. The Donut Hole is the only store remaining of the original 5, and they keep unusual hours (they close for several hours while they replenish their supply). There’s not a wide variety of flavors and the doughnuts trend towards the diminutive, but where else can you go where a doughnut goes through you after you go through a doughnut?

The bar is set - Voodoo Doughnut's maple bacon bar

The bar is set - Voodoo Doughnut's maple bacon bar

For the ultimate doughnut experience, a visit to Portland, Oregon is in order; the city that vows to “Keep Portland Weird” does exactly that at Voodoo Doughnuts. The name has become synonymous with Portland and visits from the Travel Channel’s Donut Paradise and Anthony Bourdain have only helped catapult Voodoo Doughnuts into the annals of doughnut stardom and legend, no small feat for a quirky little doughnut-only shop that’s been around only since 2003. They have recently remodeled and expanded their original flagstaff store and have opened two other shops, another in Portland and one in Eugene, Oregon. Founders Kenneth “Cat Daddy” Pogson and Tres Shannon traveled to southern California to study the art of doughnut making and turned it on its ear with a shrine to the doughnut that is as irreverent and bizarre as their offerings; take, for example, their mottos (“The magic is in the hole”, and “Where Good Things Come in Pink Boxes”) as well as merchandise that can be purchased online or in-store including pink Voodoo Doughnut underwear. Their doughnuts are every bit as quirky as the decor, from the Voodoo Doll (a voodoo doll-shaped donut filled with raspberry jam and pierced in the heart with a pretzel needle that allows the doughnut to “bleed”) to Captain my Captain (a raised doughnut topped with Captain Crunch; visualize the Cock-N-Balls, a cream-filled chocolate frosted doughnut shaped exactly like you think it is. In addition to the standard fare of raised and cake doughnuts toppings include bubble gum dust; Tang; lemonade and ice tea powder (on the Arnold Palmer); Froot Loops; grape dust; and M & Ms (on the Marshall Matters – yeah, we get it). Although Voodoo Doughnuts did not invent the maple bacon doughnut, they have raised it to new heights with the colossal Maple Bacon Bar. This raised doughnut rectangular monster is topped with a thick, sugary maple glaze and topped with three crunchy strips of bacon. The doughnut is painfully sweet, but after munching on it for a while it takes on the flavor of a pancake breakfast (sans eggs); trust me when I tell you that it will be the only thing you eat for the rest of the afternoon.

Passionfruit poppy seed doughnut from Portland's Blue Star Donuts

Passionfruit poppy seed doughnut from Portland's Blue Star Donuts

Young upstart Blue Star Donuts has opened shop about half a mile from Voodoo Doughnut; they don’t exactly compete with Voodoo’s cheerful insanity, but they do offer brioche-style sinkers made with local, natural and sustainable flour, butter, eggs, milk and cooked in rice oil. The space is completely open, so don’t be so hard on yourself if you accidentally walk behind the counter where the bakers make the doughnuts from scratch; it has the appearance of an old bakery or butcher shop, save for the impossibly high ceilings and solid glass outside walls. Owners Micah and Katie Camden (who also own Portland’s Little Big Burger chain) originally enticed Portlanders with savory menu items with flavors such as fried chicken (which figures prominently in propaganda on the wall high above the back), but to date the staff admits that they’re not quite ready for that yet. Doors open at 7 AM with the doughnut production well under way, and they close when they run out – this was initially around 2 PM, but you still might get some of the dregs past 5 PM. The doughnuts are delicious and boast strong flavors like passion fruit poppy seed, blueberry bourbon and basil, and white truffle chocolate, and while at around two and a half bucks each they ain’t cheap, they’re leagues better that what you’d get at your neighborhood doughnut shop.

A selection of freshly made doughnuts at Nickel Diner

A selection of freshly made doughnuts at Nickel Diner

A strong contender in the battle for maple bacon doughnut superiority can be found at Los Angeles’ Nickel Diner. The small restaurant has a throwback style to it; not like the sleek, gleaming art deco diners from the 1950s, but more of the feel of a place where a commuter would stop in for a sinker and a cuppa joe or a greasy breakfast – the difference here being Chef Monica May’s exceptional take on basic diner fare. Although they are a full service kitchen, they are best known for their fresh, homemade doughnuts, in particular their red velvet and the aforementioned maple bacon doughnuts. As opposed to Voodoo’s gargantuan Maple Bacon Bar, Nickel Diner’s entry is your regulation-sized raised doughnut with a sticky, almost pure maple syrup glaze that glues the fresh crumbles of bacon to the doughnut like porcine jewels in a dough crown. The flavor of the bacon and maple transform the doughnut itself into a simple media used to hold the bounty from the Great White North, and is nothing short of delicious; the smaller size is a blessing in disguise as you won’t find yourself scampering across the ceiling in a sugar high gone wrong afterwards.

The colossal maple bacon donut at Texas Donut

The colossal maple bacon donut at Texas Donut

One example of the maple bacon concept gone horribly awry is available at many of the western county fairs in the form of Texas Donuts’ maple bacon doughnut. While still a raised ring, this hefty confection is about the size of a scooter tire, not a doughnut to try to tackle yourself unless you have a death wish or are challenging Adam Richman. If the latter is the case, why not double your pleasure / double your hospital bill with the eponymous Texas Donut, a plain glazed raised doughnut that is undoubtedly off the charts in calories. As long as you’re at the county fair, have someone wheel you over to the ubiquitous Chicken Charlie’s where you can get yourself a variation of the infamous Luther Burger – a cheeseburger sandwiched between two Krispy Kreme doughnuts. At Chicken Charlie’s, the cheeseburger has been replaced with a fried chicken filet and the Krispy Kreme jelly-filled doughnut is halved to serve as a bun. To be fair, the sandwich doesn’t suck; somehow the jelly works with the chicken and the glaze isn’t enough to overpower it, but rest assured you’ll hear your arteries harden with every bite.

The doughnut that made Boise famous (really Salt Lake City)

The doughnut that made Boise famous (really Salt Lake City)

At the start of this article I promised not to visit the doughnut’s foreign relatives; however, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention its American cousins, which, while still technically doughnuts have adapted variations in the preparation or ingredients. One of the strangest hybrids is the historic Spudnut. After enjoying potato-based doughnuts in Germany, brothers Al and Bob Pelton spent hours of laborious experimentation with powders and flakes before settling on a milled potato flour that gave them the texture and taste they were looking for. Their first store opened in 1940 and soon they were licensing franchises across the country, providing sacks of their patented potato flour. The corporation was sold several times before the parent company folded in the early 1980s. To date, there are 35 Spudnut stores remaining open, and although they have diversified and provide breakfast and sandwiches, the draw is still their potato-based raised donuts (be forewarned – the stores also hawk cake donuts, but they don’t contain potato flour). On first bite, the donuts are unremarkable (they have the taste and consistency of a decent raised doughnut), but there’s a faint hint of potato that stays on your tongue similar to eating potato flakes right out of the box.

(fōnuts)' blueberry Earl Grey doughnut - astoundingly delicious

(fōnuts)' blueberry Earl Grey doughnut - astoundingly delicious

Two single-store Los Angeles area doughnut shops deservedly earn the title of doughnut bakery: (fōnuts) and Beach City Baked Donuts. (fōnuts) was opened in the summer of 2011 by Nancy Truman and helmed by pastry chef Waylynn Lucas. The concept is simple – the doughnuts are never fried; they are either baked (as most of the cake donuts are) or in the case of the raised doughnuts, baked and steamed. Every one of their doughnuts use natural ingredients, and Lucas has created many to be gluten-free or vegan. While it could be argued that they’re lower in calories since they’re not immersed in fat, you could get sidetracked in to thinking this is dietary health food – keep in mind that their maple bacon doughnut is made with real pig and maple syrup. The doughnuts are made with the highest quality ingredients, and they aren’t just good – they’re astounding. (fōnuts) was hyped-up after opening, and I anticipated the disappointment I’d encountered many times before at restaurants armed with local celebrity chefs until I tried their blueberry Earl Grey doughnut. This moist, crumbly ring of cake was sweet without being overpowering; the thin, hardened glaze was naturally purple from the inclusion of blueberries and each bite was chock full of still-fresh crushed blueberries that put the finest blueberry muffin to shame. It was without a doubt the best doughnut (OK, fauxnut) I’d ever eaten, hands-down. At close to four bucks a doughnut, you won’t be bringing a box of these to your church meeting but one of these and a good cup of coffee (which is also available) have the makings of an exemplary laid-back morning.

The menu as art at Beach City Baked Donuts

The menu as art at Beach City Baked Donuts

If doughnuts with foreign intrigue are your bag than the baked doughnuts at Beach City Baked Donuts in Redondo Beach is a healthy alternative with Asian flair. The staff is quick to point out that their oil-free confections are dripping with Japanese flair; display case has a series of square plates geometrically arranged on a bottom-lit Lucite panel with each containing a single labeled doughnut. The doughnuts with fruit mixed in have razor-fine sections cut out to reveal their interiors, their flavors labeled and displayed like art in a museum – rum raisin, choco chip, cinnamon, golden soy, “coco”, coconut, honey drip, and uji-kin. I chose the honey drip (their version of the plain cake doughnut) and the uji-kin (filled with mung bean and dusted with green tea powder); the doughnuts are individually sealed in clear plastic bags to go. The woman at the counter asked if I would be eating the uni-kin there or taking it to go, and when I asked for it to travel she suggested waiting until I was ready to eat it, heating the doughnut for 5 to 10 seconds in the microwave and then applying packet of green powder. I felt like I had just scored some exotic smack and with my legendary dexterity, I managed to get the powder all over my desk. The doughnuts were a little on the dry side, but they were sweet and had a nice, fluffy cake consistency. On a side note, I was able to snag a box of Pocky to satisfy my desire to try the chocolate-covered, matchstick-thin breadsticks for the first time.

The Donut Man's fresh, delicous strawberry doughnut

The Donut Man's fresh, delicous strawberry doughnut

One purveyor has built a reputation not so much for the doughnuts themselves but for what he stuffs inside them. Jim Nakano, The Donut Man of Glendora, California has been packing his potato flour raised-and-glazed with a generous fistful of strawberries since 1974. Since only fresh strawberries are used, these treats are only available when strawberries are in season; in order to provide fruit-filled doughnuts for a longer period of time, The Donut Man also makes a peach doughnut when that fruit is available. The filling is so fresh that the berries are still firm with some teeth to them; the occasional slight bitterness of one straggler that isn’t quite ripe is enough of an indication that they haven’t been allowed to sit. Their green heads are lopped off, after which they are coated with a thick, red, sugary glaze – these are force-fed to the doughnut which has been sliced lengthwise about three-quarters of the way across. I discovered the hard way that these obese confections defy being eaten by hand; the supplied plastic fork is a necessity, and if you decide to indulge, it might help to ask for a plastic knife as well. The doughnut itself isn’t overly sweet and the thick, spongy flesh wraps lovingly around the berries to make each bite reminiscent of strawberry shortcake.

I realize I’ve neglected the legendary yellow raised puffs from Texas’ Round Rock Donuts, the now-defunct Swirls Bakery in Omaha, Nebraska (regarded as the originator of the maple bacon doughnut) and many more quirky or outstanding doughnut venues, but there simply isn’t enough bandwidth to cover all the sweet, sticky dough wheels worthy of mention, and all this doughnut talk is giving me a craving for a Bismarck – ich möchte ein Berliner!

Dunkin’ Donuts
543 Southern Artery
Quincy, MA 02169
GPS Coordinates: 42°15’10.45″N 70°59’34.29″W

Kane’s Donuts
120 Lincoln Avenue
Saugus, MA 01906
GPS Coordinates:  42°27’11.06″N 70°59’29.42″W

The Donut Hole
15300 Amar Road
La Puente, CA 91744
GPS Coordinates: 34° 2’13.37″N 117°57’5.89″W

Randy’s Donuts
805 West Manchester Boulevard
Inglewood, CA 90301
GPS Coordinates: 33°57’42.27″N 118°22’13.40″W

Nickel Diner
524 South Main Street
Los Angeles, CA 90013
GPS Coordinates: 34° 2’45.54″N 118°14’56.25″W

(fōnuts)
8104 West 3rd Street
Los Angeles, CA 90048
GPS Coordinates: 34° 4’19.18″N 118°21’58.15″W

Beach City Baked Donuts
501 N Pacific Coast Highway
Redondo Beach, CA 90277
GPS Coordinates:  33°50’58.03″N 118°23’19.69″W

Voodoo Doughnuts
22 Southwest 3rd Avenue
Portland, OR 97204
GPS Coordinates: 45°31’21.23″N 122°40’23.31″W

Blue Star Donuts
1237 SW Washington St
Portland, OR 97205
GPS Coordinates: 45°31’19.83″N 122°41’3.40″W

The Donut Man
915 E. Route 66
Glendora, CA 91740
GPS Coordinates: 34° 7’44.05″N 117°50’59.13″W

See images of various doughnut shrines Val has visited and their fried, baked and steamed products

Video: Val’s visit to a renovated and expanded Voodoo Doughnut in Portland, Oregon:

Posted in USA | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Soba Damn Good

Common Grains Soba Pop-Up
Soba-Ya, Torrance CA

Fresh, uncooked, handmade soba

Fresh, uncooked, handmade soba

Growing up in an Italian household indoctrinated me into the diverse world of pasta from anellini to ziti; however, my experience with Asian pasta has been largely limited to lo mein and Korean glass noodles (I hardly think American chop suey counts). I recently had an opportunity to use my noodle and learn about Japanese soba at Common Grains’ soba pop-up hosted by Torrance, California’s newly-opened Soba-Ya restaurant. While the restaurant’s menu featured an ample offering of Japanese noodle and rice dishes, I wanted to order from the limited menu of handmade soba noodles prepared on behalf of Common Grains, a Japanese cultural program founded as a joint venture between Shinmei (a Japanese miller and rice distributor based in Kobe, Japan) and local soba artisan, Sonoko Sakai. The soba (Japanese buckwheat noodles) are made from stone-ground grain, handmade and lovingly prepared in Shinmei-owned Soba-Ya’s kitchen by Chef Mutsuko Soma.

Chilling the soba prior to serving

Chilling the soba prior to serving

Common Grains is sponsored by the Japanese Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry’s “Cool Japan” program, which introduces industries to a wider audience with a focus on promoting Japanese culture worldwide. In addition to preparing several soba dishes, Common Grains also brings their traveling exhibition to Soba-Ya featuring a variety of Japanese foods and ingredients, as well as utensils and cookware with a focus on sustainability and education. At Soba-Ya (as with their other area pop-ups), Sakai conducted several dashi workshops where guests experience and participate in the creation of various preparations of dashi (a soup and cooking stock used in a variety of dishes including miso soup and noodle broths); similar workshops will be held at other hosted locations in the near future.

Soba with mushroom and white truffle tsuyu

Soba with mushroom and white truffle tsuyu

I had the pleasure of watching Chef Soma prepare the soba in the kitchen – the process is fascinating, with each step serving a particular purpose. Soba noodles have several seasonal preparations; in the winter they are typically served hot in soup, while they are prepared cold as a popular, almost refreshing dish in the heat of the Japanese summer. Naturally in the frigid, Arctic air of the Southern California winter Soma prepared the cold variety, an almost ritualistic endeavor requiring precise timing; each order is made individually. The fresh noodles look almost like old, worn shoelaces – slightly gray and with a grainy, almost fuzzy appearance; a single portion of the flat noodles are placed in a steel basket and then immersed in a roiling bath of foamy water. At the sound of the bell, the noodles come out fighting (literally – the cooking time is regulated to the second by a timer); they’re placed in a basket in the sink under cool running water while they are massaged by the chef. In addition to cooling them down and halting the cooking process, the brisk scrub also removes the excess starch from the noodles to improve the taste. After the cool-down, the soba is then placed in another steel basket and plunged into a frigid bath of ice water briefly after which the excess water is vigorously shaken out by hand. The chilled noodles are transferred to a zaru (a flat, plate-like woven basket) for delivery to the table and any tsuyu sauce for dipping is prepared to accompany the dish.

Adding the sobayu to the remainder of the tsuyu

Adding the sobayu to the remainder of the tsuyu

We tried both of the featured sobas – one with a hot tsuyu made with a variety of mushrooms cooked in dashi with a touch of white truffle oil, the other with a cold walnut sauce. The noodles had the perfect texture – not soggy, not too chewy – and had a sweet, almost nutty flavor. There’s no delicate way to eat noodles, and asking for a fork and tablespoon would most likely result in being ushered out of the restaurant; if your sensibilities cause you to recoil in disgust to hear noodles slapping against lips, the breathy sound of inhaling the noodles, or the sight of the pasta dangling from diners’ faces, you ought to rethink your culinary adventure. The combination of the soba and the sauce with firm bits of mushroom created delicious dance in my face with each raise of the chopsticks. Our server brought a tea pot to the table, which I at first mistook for a hot accompanying beverage, but she informed us that the hot, milky fluid was in fact sobayu, the thickened water the soba was cooked in. We were instructed to pour this into the bowls of tsuyu and drink the result, creating a veritable liquid soba.

The Common Grains traveling exhibition

The Common Grains traveling exhibition

The pop-up only runs through February 21, and since the restaurant is relatively small, reservations are recommended. After that date, you’ll still be able to enjoy soba and other Japanese specialties at Soba-Ya, although you’ll have to hunt down the next pop-up and dashi workshop from Common Grains’ website. If you haven’t tried soba, this is the perfect introduction to the Japanese dish in a social situation, and a nice way to pasta time.

Soba-Ya
1757 West Carson Street
Torrance, CA 90501
GPS Coordinates:  33°49’55.52″N 118°18’41.43″W

GALLERY: See images from Val’s visit to the Common Grains soba pop-up at Soba-Ya in Torrance, CA

Posted in Japan, Southern California | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments Off on Soba Damn Good

Some Assembly Required

Scandinavian food at IKEA

Best kept secret - Scandinavian food at IKEA

Best kept secret - Scandinavian food at IKEA

If the first thing you think of at the mention of the name “IKEA” is throwing a half-assembled particle-board desk down a flight of stairs with bruised knuckles and cut fingers, you’re not alone; for decades the name has been synonymous with low-cost, DIY furniture. For Americans, IKEA as a food destination appears to be a well-kept secret, but the Swedish furniture giant has been serving up basic Scandinavian fare since the opening of their first store restaurant in Älmhult, Sweden way back in 1960. Most of the IKEA stores have three food features: the IKEA Restaurant, Bistro IKEA and the Swedish Food Market.

The IKEA Restaurant is a gleaming, cafeteria-style chow line where diners queue up with plastic trays to order from a minimalist menu. Although the items change out seasonally, there’s usually a chicken offering and a salmon dish, but their always-available specialty is the Swedish meatballs. The meaty orbs are typically fashioned from a 50/50 blend of beef and pork, although some locations offer a pure beef halal variety. According to IKEA’s Real Swedish Food Book, the meatballs are fried and contain potato and rusk flour in addition to the meat. The gravy is advertised as “cream gravy”, but the IKEA Restaurants in Southern California appear to be topping their balls with brown meat gravy. Although there seems to be a random haphazardness in scooping the meatballs onto the plate, the menu dictates a ration of precisely 15 (confirmed by using my rudimentary math skills at the table). The obligatory side dish is mashed potatoes, and the meal is accompanied by a generous glop of lingonberry jam (a red berry that appears to be the national fruit of Sweden). As anyone who has accessorized their lamb with mint jelly will tell you, the sweetness gives a nice contrast in texture and taste to the meat, and when you gather up a forkful of meatball, potatoes, gravy and jam and shovel it into your yap, your taste buds will frolic like they’re on a Swedish playground. While I’m certain you can find Swedish meatballs elsewhere that elicit the image of Wagyu cattle in antic play on the snow-dusted grass along the sides of the Iddefjord, you’d be hard pressed to find them of equal quality and taste at a mere four bucks. Naturally, you’ll be self-seated on the most stylish and functional cafeteria furniture you can put together with a screwdriver and conveniently included crescent wrench. IKEA hosts seasonal festival dinners in the Restaurant, which closes early for the occasion. Attendance at these all-you-can eat food fests are by ticket only, and these regularly sell out quickly, in part due to their ridiculously low price (around $10 per person). These include their annual Crawfish festival in August, an Easter smörgåsbord and a Christmastime julbord.

Meatballs, knäckebröd, tårta chokladkrokant and lingonberry drink

Meatballs, knäckebröd, tårta chokladkrokant and lingonberry drink

Bistro IKEA is more suited to the parents who just purchased little Timmy’s race car bed with the rug rats in tow. While those wishing to immerse themselves in Scandinavian culture may scoff at the Americanized menu, Timmy’s dad will appreciate that he can feed their little family of four for under $10. There’s no worry about how the picky little brats will decide what to devour – the only entrees on the menu are hot dogs and slices of pizza (each weighing in at a respectable buck a piece). Follow that up with a cinnamon bun or soft-serve non-fat frozen yogurt (also, you guessed it – a buck apiece) and drinks for a dollar or less (except for the ultra-expensive bottled water, around $1.25). The hot dogs don’t suck as bad as the tube steak that’s been rubberized on the heat rollers at the 7-11 for a day and a half, and at less than half the price of the red hots at Costco, it’s one of the best bargains in town. Since the theme of this article is Scandinavian food, you can safely ignore the Bistro IKEA, only acknowledging it as you pass through to get to the grocery area.

The dining area at IKEA

The dining area at IKEA

The Swedish Food Market is your one stop shopping destination for all your Scandinavian needs. Here, knäckebröd (crisp bread) is stacked to the ceiling like the Great Wall of Stockholm in more varieties than you ever knew existed (if, in fact, you even knew knäckebröd existed). Think of knäckebröd as a rye flatbread, the Swedish version of matzo, with each package plainly labeled in Swedish to let you know what flours and grains have been added. There are freezer cases packed with crawfish (the Swedes typically eat these cold), salmon, sausage, IKEA’s signature meatballs and a variety of frozen foods that will help you prepare your own Scandinavian feast at home faster than you can say, “Smörgåsbord, smörgåsbord, børk, børk, børk!”. You can stock up for school lunches with juice boxes filled with lingonberry or elder flower juice (and who doesn’t love that?) or bottles of the syrup to make gallons of Scandinavian Kool-Aid. Mom can also pick up a bottle of glögg to nip from after that aromatic morning cup of UTZ Certified coffee, also conveniently available in the Market. There’s a wide variety of snacks including chocolate, ginger snaps, Danish cookies and even Swedish pancake mix, and the refrigerated section with some unusual and somewhat scary items such as fish and crab in what looks like toothpaste tubes and a variety of canned and jarred herring and sardines. Late in 2011, IKEA introduced their own line of food available in the Market to augment known and familiar Scandinavian brands.

A basket of Scandinavian treats from IKEA

A basket of Scandinavian treats from IKEA

The Market is a relatively inexpensive source of experimental cuisine for a bizarrenivore such as me. On the advice of a Finish co-worker, I made a shopping sortie to the Swedish Food Market and returned home victorious with the spoils of my foray: a cow’s milk Prästost cheese, knäckebröd, a can of Abba Matjes pickled herring, a couple of tubes of Kalles spreadable fish roe (“kaviar”), elderflower juice boxes and a rather ominous looking bag of Nordic Sweets salted licorice Swedish fish. Since all of the items were ready to eat, I had a ready-to-eat feast prepared in a tidy little five minutes. As I sampled each item, I noted how the Scandinavians appear to love the co-mingling of sweet and salty together, a combination that somehow combines in my mouth to form sour. The saltiness of the cheese was a mild surprise, but I was totally unprepared for the saline onslaught that the school of licorice fish presented. Likewise, the fish egg toothpaste tasted like it was made with roe harvested from the Dead Sea, and even the cheese was useless in cutting the salinity.

Outside of Europe, cuisine representative of Scandinavia is scarce, so it’s comforting that a short trip to your friendly neighborhood IKEA is all that’s required to either dine in or grocery shop for a little bit of culture from the original Great White North. Now if they only had reindeer meat…

GALLERY: See images of Scandinavian food at IKEA

VIDEO: Watch Val assemble a Scandinavian snack with food from IKEA

Posted in Scandinavia | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments Off on Some Assembly Required

Stranger In A Strange Land

Disneyland
Anaheim, California

The iconic and familiar Sleeping Beauty Castle

The iconic and familiar Sleeping Beauty Castle

The Grand Canyon; Niagara Falls; The Space Needle; The Statue of Liberty – iconic symbols of what makes America a vast land of breathtaking wonder, and yet many Americans only dream about visiting these sites. I have had the privilege and pleasure to have experienced most of this country’s defining landmarks, an adventure that few can boast – so how is it that virtually every man, woman and child in these United States have been to the place commercially referred to as “The Happiest Place on Earth” while my closest encounter was driving past the kingdom of Der Maus on Interstate 5? Well, my friends, all that changed recently as old Walt popped this middle-aged man’s Disneyland cherry, offering me the unique opportunity to partake in this animatronic slice of Americana with a view from the eyes of an outsider.

Main Street, Disneyland by day

Main Street, Disneyland by day

I had always considered the prospect of relinquishing my cash to an empire built on a harem of animated teenage girls in need of rescue in a gross abuse of revisionist history just plain Goofy. I found the crass commercialism offensive and couldn’t see how adults could walk away from there laden with arms full of Mickey Mouse sweatshirts and the infamous and ridiculous skull cap with plastic mouse ears. On the other side of the coin, I’d visited Amarillo’s Cadillac Ranch and the world’s largest ball of twine in Cawker City, Kansas and I couldn’t fairly, and with any semblance of objectivity, call myself a road tripper without biting the corn dog bullet and taking in the Magic Kingdom. My first foray into mousedom was back in the mid-1990s when I visited Epcot Center in Florida. The giant clothed and upright animals were at a minimum and I found it to be a somewhat cultural experience at the international pavilions (save for the overpriced and substandard quality food), but I knew the day would come when I’d have to put my prejudices aside and visit Disneyland. I never would have dreamed that the journey would last half a century.

Dining in Tomorrowland, devoid of astronaut ice cream

Dining in Tomorrowland, devoid of astronaut ice cream

I wisely visited on a weekday during the spring when school was in session and instead of letting Jiminy Cricket be my guide, I let my child-at-heart wife Claudia lead the tour. After entering by foot from Disneyland Drive, I remarked how many megastores brimming with merchandise peppered the park before I realized we hadn’t yet entered the Magic Kingdom. Once past the low-tech sign harkening back to the late 50s and under the bridge at Main Street Station, we had entered the realm of the whitewashed mouse. Main Street has been engineered as a smaller-scale row of Hollywood façades made to look like someone’s idea of a Victorian small town U.S.A; if you managed to get past the megastores without purchasing souvenirs, Main Street has you covered. The teeming masses yearning to breathe milled up the pavement dodging mini-fire trucks gaily festooned in their finest Disney casualwear, stopping for the occasional ice cream cone or cotton candy.

Abraham Lincoln - statesman, President and robot

Abraham Lincoln - statesman, President and robot

The first thing that caught my eye was a tiny theater with the words “Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln” on the marquee. Having the rest of the day to kill, we opted to sit in the plush theater seats for the presentation. When a narrated, hand-painted slide presentation began depicting Abraham Lincoln’s life, I recall thinking that surely the success of The Lion King put enough coin in Walt’s pocket to afford moving animation; after the “film” the curtains opened to reveal a seated wax figure of Honest Abe, equally as unimpressive – that is, until that robo-Republican bastard rose to his feet. The autonomatronic Lincoln was astounding; no jerky motions, and a smoother movement of the mouth to match the voice-over than Madonna’s Super Bowl performance. After the witnessing the brilliant display of technology used to bring Lincoln to life, I would have been content to go home at that point, especially after spotting the six-foot rodent of honor in tails emerging from City Hall. Unbelievably and thankfully, the only other time I saw Der Maus in the park was during the light and water show at the end of the night.

Tomorrowland was steampunk before they had a word for it

Tomorrowland was steampunk before they had a word for it

The iconic and familiar Sleeping Beauty Castle resides smack dab in the hub of the park, with Main Street as its largest spoke radiating outward. Here the old adage rings true – it looks bigger on television; it seems to be the go-to attraction where pre-adolescent girls can meet their princess role models and learn that if you’re pretty enough, a man will come along and take care of you for the rest of your life. To the right is the realization of the 1950s version of futuristic – Tomorrowland. Looking like a cross between the set of The Jetsons and a Jules Verne illustration, Tomorrowland was steampunk before there was a name for it. Rising up like a great flying saucer is the attraction that for decades has been the one to go on if you only go on one – Space Mountain. The exterior is simple, almost art deco, but as you queue up for the ride you realize that the graphics haven’t changed much since it opened in 1977 (the same year Star Wars hit the theaters). The interior looks like Discovery One from 2001: A Space Odyssey, and I have to hand it to the ride’s designers, there’s a myriad of flashing, blinking and whirring objects to keep your mind off the fact that you’re in an hour long line. It was hard to be optimistic about the ride; after all I’d heard ad infinitum how Space Mountain is a roller coaster that runs in the dark – ooooh, so scary, a little pee just came out. That was before the ride started. The cars rocketed through the darkness at a breakneck pace and even though in the near non-existent light you could make out black beams and panels (some with astronomical projections) outfitted with millions of tiny lights, there was still the effect of warping through a worm hole or pushing the hammer down in the Millennium Falcon. In a nutshell, Space Mountain was one bad-ass mofo ride.

Don't eat the brown acid - it's bad.

Don't eat the brown acid - it's bad.

Since I have the great fortune of not suffering from motion sickness or vertigo, Space Mountain was an exhilarating ride, but I have to admit that I almost blew my groceries at the next attraction: Captain EO. I have to wonder what Francis Ford Coppola was thinking, making what looks like a bad mash up of Far Out Space Nuts and Flashdance, but understand Disney’s choice of bringing back the 3-D film post Michael Jackson’s demise. If you haven’t experienced this horrific testament to bad 80s hair and space Muppets it might be worth a peek for its nostalgic value, but personally it made me pray to God to protect Dennis De Young lest we be treated to “Kilroy Was Here” in 3-D.  The Innoventions hall was a disappointment; I’m sure in the 1960s the technology on display was cutting edge but I was getting the feeling that I had put the Delorean in reverse. While a tricked out tree house is probably someone’s idea of a kickin’ man cave of the future, I’m guessing putting houses in old dead trees will be the only real estate left undeveloped in the next hundred years.

Inside the Matterhorn

Inside the Matterhorn

I suppose if I had small children I would have suited up and dove onto the Finding Nemo Submarine Voyage; as a bystander, it looks something that could be a lot of fun to enjoy with the wee tykes. I have to admit, I cracked a smile while passing the gulls on the buoy that would frequently break into their chorus of, “Mine! Mine!” Around the bend, the Matterhorn rises is all its fiberglass glory above the park, churning out waterfalls and looking like a mini-National Park. The hollow mountain is one of the few landmarks in the park visible from the Interstate, but it ironically invokes the image of the Paramount Pictures logo rather than Walt Disney or Buena Vista. The Matterhorn is Disneyland’s other self-contained roller coaster, offering more scenery than any other similar ride (save for Six Flags Fiesta Texas’ Rattler, a wooden roller coaster that runs through a quarry cave). The faux alpine scenery enhances the experience, making the rider feel like they’re anywhere but Anaheim, California (although I could have done without the fiberglass ice caves inhabited by Yeti mannequins).

Strollers of the Apocalypse

Strollers of the Apocalypse

I was able to withstand the temptation of visiting Toontown by telling myself that this is the lair of The Mouse, The Duck and The Dog, and I was doing myself a favor and maximizing my adult enjoyment of the park; however, all that went to hell in a hand basket as I fell victim to the most insidious form of torture known to modern civilization – It’s a Small World. Dick Cheney in the deepest, darkest recesses of his black decrepit heart couldn’t come up with a more inhumane method of reducing a human brain to a quivering mass of jelly – it makes waterboarding seem like a dip in the hot tub after a massage. If any of you have not yet experienced this House of Pain, imagine a granny-slow cruise in a rowboat with no oarsman that traverses the river Styx, replete with saccharine-sweet dolls that make single, jerking motions while dressed (or painted) in ethnic attire. During the entire cruise (which by my estimate took about seven or eight hours) that song, that mind-numbing anthem, repeated endlessly in a barrage of cherubic children’s voices over and over again, only changing in language as the boat wound its way through the international version of Dante’s 9 Circles of Hell. I am perplexed as to how any human adults can come off that ride and say they loved it – and yet they do. I imagine they love It’s a Small World the way Winston Smith loved Big Brother after emerging from Room 101.

BBQ, Disney-style

BBQ, Disney-style

By the time we were released from Disney’s version of Abu Ghraib, I had worked up an appetite and Claudia suggested we mosey on down to Frontierland and rustle us up some grub. This involved cutting across Fantasyland, which had the highest population of human Disney characters in the park, as well as what seasoned theme park adventurers call “the kiddie rides”: flying Dumbos, Mad Hatter tea cups – you get the picture. This is probably the least frenetic part of the park for the kids, and although Disney’s legendary corn dog can be found here, I found it best not to linger since I didn’t have grandchildren in tow. Frontierland boasts more artificial landscaping, this time with a rugged western California theme with the primary attraction being the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, a rickety jaunt on a mining rail car. Big Thunder Ranch features a dining area with all-you-can eat BBQ at plastic tableclothed picnic tables; I wouldn’t put their ribs up against any from Kansas City or Texas, but since the bucket (literally) was bottomless it served our needs. A trio sang western songs like “Home on the Range” and “Deep in the Heart of Texas” while keeping light banter in going in a drawl; I imagine this is someone’s vision of what life with the tumbling tumbleweeds might be like if that person has never been east of San Bernardino.

All aboard the Mark Twain Riverboat

All aboard the Mark Twain Riverboat

Big Thunder Trail empties out into a waterfront area where passengers can embark on a voyage aboard the Sailing Ship Columbia or the Mark Twain Riverboat, both impressive rides with the extra benefit of not having the cartoon factor. Unlike Epcot Center, the main goal at the Magic Kingdom is to entertain rather than educate, and both of these vessels achieve that admirably. Equally as admirable is the attention paid to New Orleans Square, which overlooks the water; this series of French Quarter façades almost captures the look and feel of old-time New Orleans. In addition to shops and cafes, New Orleans Square is home to one of the most popular rides at Disneyland, thanks in part to the successful movie franchise of Pirates of the Caribbean. The ride is similar to It’s a Small World in that a self-propelled rowboat takes you on your journey, but in this case you are transported through bayou country and into the world of fun-loving, murderous pirates. Naturally, Captain Jack Sparrow makes random appearances, popping his head up from inside wine barrels and peeking out from behind walls in a buccaneer version of “Where’s Waldo”. The repetitive motions of the animatronic figures get tedious but there’s enough dialog and gunfire to hold your interest. Once off the ride we chose to get coffee and dessert; unfortunately there was not a cup of Cafe du Monde to be found and the beignets I ordered arrived at the table in a confectioner’s sugar rendition of Mickey Nutria. I suppose they tasted fine, and it was just my psyche trying to choke down the powdery chunks of mouse shaped fried dough.

The not-so-scary Haunted Mansion

The not-so-scary Haunted Mansion

The two other attractions worth mentioning at the Magic Kingdom are around the corner from New Orleans Square, the first of which is the old school Haunted Mansion. The house portion is unremarkable and looks like any southern mansion with pictures of ghouls and goblins on the wall; it isn’t until the cramped hallway descends into a cavernous lower level that the fun begins. Tilt-a-Whirl cars spin around a flat track past graveyards and dark, damp alleys where projected ghosts fly about in bigger numbers than migrating geese; at one point the car spins around to face a mirror, showing you a ghost sitting alongside you to enjoy the ride. One of the more recent attractions is the Indiana Jones Adventure: Temple of the Forbidden Eye; as with Space Mountain, the wait in the long line is alleviated with screens broadcasting fake newsreels about the site (with narration by John Rhys-Davies who portrayed Salah in the Indiana Jones films); there are also actual props used in the films strewn about to keep your mind off standing in queue. Guests ride in massive, driverless jeeps (unmanned vehicles are apparently a recurring theme throughout the park – they don’t even have someone pretending to drive) and they seem to careen out of control, narrowly missing collisions and being crushed by the now infamous rolling papier-mâché boulder. I’ve intentionally omitted the highly-hyped River Cruise, which features Disney animatronics at their worst. I took advantage of the ride to rest my feet for a bit and relax before heading back down to the water for the nightly fireworks and light show, since most of the animals’ single repeated motions easily gave them away as fakes.

The bad-ass dragon is taken down by a mouse

The bad-ass dragon is taken down by a mouse

The firework show over Sleeping Beauty Castle is a nightly feature, and Disneyland seemed to spare no expense in executing the spectacular. In the midst of all the incendiaries, an acrobat in a harness dressed as Tinkerbelle is flown on a wire around the area between the Matterhorn and the castle and if she isn’t the highest paid performer in the park she should be. At the waterfront, a water and light extravaganza employs neon-lit barges as well as both ships; live action takes place on a stage at Tom Sawyer Island including an epic battle between Mickey Mouse (as the Sorcerer’s Apprentice) and a 30-foot tall fire breathing dragon – unfortunately, the mouse wins. In the water, jets spray up to form walls that film segments and lights are projected on; the whole spectacular makes the water show at the Bellagio look like two kids fooling around with Super Soakers.

While our passes would have given us access to California Adventure as well as The Magic Kingdom, I wasn’t compelled to check out the other park. I set out to finally visit what has come to be known as the quintessential theme park, a historic fixture of American culture that had been off my radar for most of my life. I can now cross Disneyland off my travel bucket list, and although I have to admit enjoying my visit I don’t see myself as one of those people that have to maintain a yearly season pass, or even anticipate a second visit. There’s so much left to see and do, but keep in mind that it’s a small world, after all.

Disneyland
1313 S. Disneyland Drive
Anaheim, CA 92802
GPS Coordinates: 33°48’44.50″N 117°55’8.67″W

See images from Val’s adventure at the happiest place on earth

Posted in Southern California | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Basque In The Sun

Epi’s: A Basque Restaurant, Meridian ID

Epi's: A Basque Restaurant in Meridian, Idaho

Epi's: A Basque Restaurant in Meridian, Idaho

The northern area of the rugged Pyrenees range between Spain and France is the cradle of antiquity for the people known as Basque. This region includes Pamplona (world renowned for the annual Running of the Bulls) and Guernica (eponymous subject of the massive canvas by Spanish artist Pablo Picasso), and is predominately mountainous, although it meets the Mediterranean at the Bay of Biscay. The Basque people seemed to have existed in that region before recorded time, although they have emigrated in large numbers in the late 19th and 20th centuries to pocket populations in South America; Canada; California’s San Joaquin Valley; northern Nevada; and, Boise, Idaho. These colonies all bear resemblance to the clime of their European homeland in Basque Country, where they continued to practice farming, ranching and fishing, and they have carried with them the simple and hearty cuisine synonymous with their name.

The descriptively titled “Epi’s: A Basque Restaurant” is nestled among a string of converted bungalows on a stretch of Main Street in Meridian, Idaho, just west of Boise. Christina Ansautagui opened the restaurant in 1999, naming it after her grandmother (Epifania “Epi” Inchausti) who served Basque cuisine to guests at the family’s boarding house in the valley town of Hailey. Most of the dishes served at Epi’s are inspired by Inchausti’s recipes and expanded upon by expatriate chef Alberto Beresiartua – the menu lists the food in English accompanied by their names in the Basque language.

Basque cuisine in what was probably someone's dining room

Basque cuisine in what was probably someone's dining room

Reservations are required, and so I left a message on the restaurant’s answering machine requesting a table; I was personally called back by owner Chris, who gave me the option of several available seating times for dinner. At first I thought that level of attention was a bit odd until we arrived at the restaurant; we were greeted by Chris at the door who referred to me by name and personally seated us beneath a remarkable piece of art – Picasso’s “Guernica” painstakingly carved in wood by Chef Beresiartua’s father (who hails from the town of Aspeitia in Basque Country). Service at Epi’s is exemplary; the fact that the restaurant was brought to life in an old house only accentuated the feeling of dining in someone’s home – our waiter and Chris regularly visited the tables, creating such a family environment that we were asked to join the diners at an adjacent table for pictures.

Epi’s menu is a tribute to the cuisine of the old country, yet playfully adaptive to changes in culinary styles of the transplanted Basque people in their adopted homeland. Although rich and hearty dishes with names rich in consonants harken back to the Pyrenees, residents of that region would undoubtedly not find the food authentic reproductions of the native fare. Meat figures prominently, with lamb taking a front seat; naturally I gravitated to the more unusual items and although the mingaina (tongue in tomato sauce) looked intriguing, I settled on the tximinoiak (baby squid cooked in their own ink). Claudia had some difficulty deciding and our waiter brought her a chunk of lamb bathed in savory gravy to taste, touting it as their specialty. Although not a fan of sheep flesh, she admitted that the morsel was pretty damned tasty before ordering the gambak (shrimp sautéed in garlic, butter, parsley and lemon). On advice from our waiter, we shared a dish of whole roasted chiles that provided a welcome kick to the meal.

Rich, murky ink fish (baby squid)

Rich, murky ink fish (baby squid)

The ink fish arrived in a casserole dish swimming in a thick and murky puddle of sepia; although a steak knife was provided, the squid was almost tender enough to be cut with a fork. Absent was the rubbery texture that can sometimes ruin a good squid dish and the ink added a remarkable flavor that made the dish memorable. Both our dishes were accessorized with a rice side dish that resembled paella, punctuated with firm bits of vegetables as well as Basque favorite and Epi’s signature chorizo.

After the meal, Chris joined us for conversation and gave us a heartwarming send-off with a hug, a practice I imagine she engages in frequently. It is rare to encounter a restaurateur that rolls out the welcome mat the way Ansautagui does, making patrons literally feel at home at Epi’s. While hospitality alone doesn’t define a great restaurant, Epi’s provides hearty well-prepared Basque-inspired cuisine in a warm and comfortable setting that will make you forget having considered asking where the Idaho potatoes were on the menu.

Epi’s: A Basque Restaurant
1115 N Main Street
Meridian, Idaho 83642
GPS Coordinates:  43°36’50.71″N 116°23’30.29″W

GALLERY: See images from Val’s dinner at Epi’s in Meridian, Idaho

Posted in Boise, Idaho, France, Spain | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments Off on Basque In The Sun