Roadfood_ Revised Edition - Jane Stern [183]
Your garnish selection is called out to grillman Todd Hudson, Harley’s great-grandson, who slices the raw onion to order, using his knife blade to hoist the thin, crisp disk from the cutting board to the bun bottom; then, deft as a Benihana chef, he cuts eight small circles from a pickle and arrays them in two neat rows atop the onion. When not wielding his knife, Todd hand-forms each burger, as it is ordered, from a heap of lean ground beef piled in a gleaming metal pan adjacent to his griddle. All this happens at warp speed as customers enjoy the mesmerizing show from the sixteen seats at Hudson’s long counter and from the small waiting area at the front of the restaurant, where new arrivals watch for stool vacancies.
Each patty is cooked until it develops a light crust from the griddle but retains a high amount of juiciness inside. One in a bun makes a balanced sandwich. Two verge on overwhelming beefiness. Chef Hudson sprinkles on a dash of salt, and when the hamburger is presented, you have one more choice to make: which condiment? Three squeeze bottles are deployed adjacent to each napkin dispenser along the counter. One is hot mustard, the other is normal ketchup, the third is Hudson’s very spicy ketchup, a thin orange potion for which the recipe is a guarded secret. “All I can tell you is that there is no horseradish in it,” the counterman reveals to an inquisitive customer.
There are no side dishes at all: no French fries, no chips, no slaw, not a leaf of lettuce in the house. And other than the fact that a glass case holds slices of pie for dessert, there is nothing more to say about Hudson’s. In nine decades, it has been honed to a simple perfection.
Java on Sherman
324 Sherman Ave.
208–667–0010
Coeur d’Alene, ID
BL | $
Several years ago during a week in Coeur d’Alene, we started every day at Java on Sherman, and fell in love with it. We sampled breakfast at other cafés and diners around town, but none were as compelling as this stylish storefront coffeehouse (one of a handful of Idaho Javas) where Seattle-level caffeine connoisseurship combines with muffin mastery. All the usual drip-brewed and espresso-based beverages are expertly made, supplemented by house specialties that range from the devastating “Keith Richards,” made from four shots of espresso and Mexican chocolate, to the sublime “bowl of soul,” which is a balance of coffee and espresso with a tantalizing sprinkle of chocolate and cinnamon served in a big ceramic bowl.
Java offers a repertoire of hot breakfasts, including bulgur wheat with apples and raisins, non-instant oatmeal, and eggs scrambled then steamed at the nozzle of the espresso machine, but it’s the baked goods that have won Idahoans’ hearts: handsome scones, sweet breads, and sour-cream muffins, plus a trademarked thing known as a “lumpy muffin”—big chunks of tart apple with walnuts and raisins all suspended in sweet cinnamon cake. Considerably more top than base, this muffin breaks easily into sections that are not quite dunkable (they’d fall apart), but are coffee’s consummate companion.
Westside Drive-In
1939 W. State St.
208–342–2957
Boise, ID
LD | $
A drive-in owned by “Chef Lou” Aaron, who has a regular cooking segment on Boise television and is creator of a dessert called the Idaho Ice Cream Potato, Westside is a place people come to eat (off their dashboards or on the patio’s picnic tables) and to take home such Chef Lou specialties as prime rib, pastas, and salads. The drive-in fare includes crisp-fried shrimp and fish ’n’ chips and a roster of extraordinary made-to-order hamburgers that are thick and crusty and juicy inside, nothing like franchised fast-food junkburgers. There are doubles, deluxes, Cajun burgers, guacamole burgers, and Maui burgers. We like a good ol’ cheeseburger, preferably with lettuce and tomato. It comes wrapped in wax paper for easy eating.
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