Today is the first half of my Culinary Tour through the Idaho Panhandle. As previously mentioned, the Food Bible speaks highly of this part of the country. First stop: the Hoot Owl Cafe, a small, homey building off the highway. I accidentally parked in a spot with a sign reading “Reserved for Papa Kohal”; I hurriedly backed into another space and walked in.
The cafe was pleasantly crowded, with some space at the bar. I sat down and ordered one of the specials, the Redneck Benedict, and was presented with two biscuits, fried eggs, sausage patties, and a gargantuan portion of sausage gravy. Deliciously dense. The waitress at the counter chatted with the regulars. The topic of the day was the disrespect that visitors show to the land. As I was wearing my Red Sox sweatshirt, I had to defend the New Englander’s honor and asserted that we did not, in fact, litter and ride our dirt bikes at all hours of the night. Everyone agreed that it must be those Montanan yahoos. I liked the Hoot Owl Cafe.
I felt fairly soggy from such a large breakfast, so I decided to walk it off at the nearby lakeshore park. Nominally, it’s for humans, but the real owners of this place are the ducks, the gulls, and especially the geese that flap about menacingly. In a country filled with grizzlies, rattlesnakes, and Buffalo Bills fans, I fear the goose the most. They terrorized Comm Ave when I was at BU.
I tried my luck again at the Pie Hut, in the heart of Sandpoint’s charming downtown. The booths are all different colors, and are tended by the world’s most chipper waitress. One of the many lunch specials was a half sandwich, a cup of soup, and a slice of pie for ten dollars. All the portions were generous and excellent. I decided on strawberry rhubarb pie as it was the healthiest (both fruit and vegetables in it). The Panhandle has top-tier cooks coming out of the woodwork.
Finally, at my parents’ recommendation, I sat down for an almost-private matinee screening of See How They Run, starring Sam Rockwell, Saoirse Ronan, and the Agatha Christie play The Mousetrap. It’s a fairly well-crafted piece, although I would say that Knives Out is superior in most regards. I was disappointed in the third act’s content, and while I appreciated the movie’s self-referential nature, I thought they could have done even more to embrace The Mousetrap’s DNA. When I write the remake in forty years, I’ll use the ending I whipped up in my head.
I have not yet eaten enough of Idaho’s cuisine. Tomorrow, I pilgrimage to Couer d’Alene and see how many restaurants I can hit in a day.
Sure beats having breakfast at McDonald’s, doesn’t it?!?!
BTW, the plural of “goose” is “geese.” Know how you feel about those avian critters — a Canada goose once missed my windshield on my way to work by no more than 6 inches. Boy, was I spooked!
Way back in the 60s and 70s, Molson used a picture of Canada geese in flight for the labels of their ale. In Ken Kesey’s second novel “Sometimes a Great Notion,” the main character, Hank Stamper, finds himself ruminating: “I always thought that Canada geese looked better on beer labels than they do in real life.”
That Hoot Owl breakfast looks like a nightmare to me. Even pulled apart into it’s individual components, the only thing I would enjoy is the biscuits. I am not surprised you felt a bit soggy after downing it. I was thinking, maybe after you are home again you could write some short reviews of the places you have dined at, for The Food Bible or for TripAdvisor. Even write your own story of your cross country adventure compiled from this blog , including your Diet Coke log. Just a thought. Love, Grandma