Renee Davies / Idaho Statesman Borshch, a Russian beet soup, is a favorite at the Russian Bear Cafe. The soup consists of cabbage, potatoes, carrots, onion, beets, and spices. Although the soup is served hot, restaurant owner Oleg Mironov said this does not affect its popularity in the summer. "When it's really hot outside, there are still people that want it," Mironov said.

Among borshch aficionados, the origins and essential ingredients of this Central and Eastern European beet soup are as varied and hotly contested as chili at a chili contest. There’s Russian borshch, Polish borshch, Jewish borscht, hot borshch, cold borshch, thick borshch, thin borshch, meaty borshch, meatless borshch and borshch without beets. There’s also little to no consensus on the spelling of the actual word: borscht, bortsch, borstch, borsh, barszcz, borsch or borshch.

In deference to Oleg and Svetlana Mironov of Russian Bear Cafe in Eagle, I’ll go with borshch. It’s the way they spell it – and with beet soup as good as theirs, I’ll trust the Mironov’s culinary literacy.

Lighter than many versions, their vegetable based borshch is clear, seemingly uncomplicated, even a little insipid at first slurp. But flavors blossom with each bite like shapes rising out of Eurasian shadows. By spoonful number three, I could sense the dill, the bay, the rising heat of black pepper and the sweet earthiness of beet, cabbage and onion. An occasional nip from a dollop of sour cream floating autonomously in that ruby-red broth gave this meatless soup a little zing and welcomed substance. By the bottom of the bowl, I was hooked.

Accompanying that borshch as a lunch combination ($10.76) was a simple, savory blini or crepe. With a deli ham and cheese filling, it was only a degree or two more exotic than a sandwich shop ham and cheese, but the blini itself was thick, chewy and, like that borshch, grew more interesting with each bite.

The equally simple sweet blini, a tight, jam-filled cylinder dusted with confectioner sugar and a drizzle of chocolate sauce, was a pleasant end to a modest but decidedly different meal.

Russian Bear Cafe is as unpretentious as that lunch. Hidden in a leafy little mall off Eagle Road, this small, too-often-empty restaurant houses photos of onion-domed skylines, recorded Russian music and tablecloths draped in clear plastic. The kitchen is small and the microwave isn’t unused, but the Mironovs cook from scratch and much of what they bring to table is unseen in the rest of the Treasure Valley.

On another visit, I can’t say I was enamored of an oily Black Sea Salad ($5.25), the pale perogies ($11.25) and a rather bland stroganoff ($17.35). But I loved the bacon-wrapped, fried cheese and dried apricot appetizer ($6.25); pickled, spicy carrot strips ($4.50) and a side of roasted grains.

Renee Davies / Idaho Statesman Oleg Mironov and his wife Svetlana Mironov are the owners of the Russian Bear Cafe.

A stuffed cabbage entree ($15.95) had the same slowly building flavors I’d experienced at lunch. Two cabbage rolls filled with a light, meatloafy mixture of turkey, beef and rice came squiggled with sour cream and surrounded with a shallow pond of light tomato broth. It was, like the lunch soup, all about harmony, a mellow, mild first bite building to a surprisingly satisfying finish.

Oleg Mironov says the Russian north is known for homey, understated fare. The south, he says, gets a bit more bold.

The sorrel soup special ($4.95), no matter its actual provenance, was zippier than anything I’d had on previous visits. That leafy green with its surprisingly tart flavor, gave this clear broth a refreshing, eye-popping tang. Mironov says it’s a traditional summer soup often served lukewarm or cold. With bits of parsley, chunks of potato, chopped hard-boiled egg and another ubiquitous dollop of sour cream, it was a delectable green counterpoint to the mellower beet borshch.

The Russian-style smoked pork ribs special ($11.94) also had extroverted flavors. Three large, fatty ribs rich with smoke arrived with what Mironov called his grandmother’s secret sauce. Red, spicy, but lacking the cloying sweetness of many American barbecue sauces, it gave a sharp, garlicky bite to those deliciously greasy ribs.

You may have to prowl around the menu to find dishes that suit your palate and let those often subtle flavors build. But if you do, Russian Bear Cafe will prove worth the effort.

Read more: http://www.idahostatesman.com/2010/07/16/1268989/try-the-borshch-at-russian-bear.html#ixzz0tql8q6tR

Katherine Jones/Idaho Statesman Chandler's Steakhouse is a place for special occasions, and Lindsey and Shane Riffle chose Chandler's to celebrate their 11th wedding anniversary. "This is my favorite place," says Lindsey Riffle. She was debating about whether to get the filet mignon. "And then there's the lovely chocolate dessert to look forward to, too," she said.

I suspect that more pin stripes and jewels drift through Chandlers Steakhouse on an average evening than any other restaurant in the Valley. Beyond the bar’s backlit glassware, the bird-of-paradise spiked bouquets, the white linen and honey-colored light, there’s a bank of private rooms where more than a few deals are surely made over pricey cabernet and center-cut filets. It’s the kind of place where a waiter announces a surf and turf special for $75 and nary an eye bats.

But Idaho being the egalitarian oasis it is, Chandlers also welcomes a smattering of T-shirts, Hawaiian prints and white-socked sandals. Its menu, too, tries to accommodate that wide spectrum of sensibilities – without dropping downmarket.

The bar menu, after all, has a fairly long list of reasonably priced dishes, including truffled pommes frites ($5), mac & cheese ($7.50), sliders ($12) and a deliciously simple roasted artichoke ($9). A step upscale is Chandlers’ signature appetizer, the Tower of Tuna ($14.50). That vertical cylinder is stacked with rainbow-colored layers of diced raw ahi, white hamachi, tomato and avocado. I’ve popped in more than once just for that light yet richly unctuous appetizer, chasing it (when I’m feeling flush) with one of mixologist Pat Carden’s locally famous if not thrifty Ten-Minute Martinis ($8).

Also on the lighter side of the regular menu, I’ve enjoyed a rocket salad ($7) with some of the most delicate, tender arugula I’ve ever tasted. Those baby arugula leaves are dressed with pine nuts, pancetta, shaved asiago, translucent slivers of pear and a light vinaigrette. It’s a dish that deftly shows that Chandlers’ kitchen can let the clean flavors of simple ingredients shine through.

That kitchen can also be a little heavy handed. I found the beef carpaccio’s ($14) subtle, raw beef flavor overpowered by an aggressive mix of watercress, mustard and horseradish. A drizzle of young olive oil and a squeeze of lemon would have better suited my palate.

Katherine Jones/Idaho Statesman Mixologist Pat Carden presents his locally famous Ten-Minute Martinis - "Vesper Reconsidered," the 2009 Martini Mixoff winner.

What did suit was the salmon. Though Chandlers Steakhouse has never struck me as a bastion of seasonality, the Alaskan King salmon entree ($27) I ordered in late June was by design or happy accident the most memorable expression of spring I’ve tasted this year. An elegantly plated salmon filet came centered over mashed potatoes accompanied by fresh morels, peeled asparagus and sauteed spinach. Married with a delicate sauce and a silky Benton Lane ’07 pinot noir ($10) from Chandlers’ extensive, by-the-glass wine list, the meal was stunning.

Artfully plated, but slightly less ethereal was the Sunday prix fixe item called Duck Two Ways ($27). (The Sunday menu offers seven fixed-price entrees; each includes soup or salad and dessert.) Although the confit of duck leg was a perfect balance of crisp skin and soft, succulent meat, the sliced breast was overwhelmed, not unlike that carpaccio, by a too assertive sour cherry and port wine reduction.

But where, you may ask, is the beef? After all, Chandlers is a steakhouse. Well, there’s plenty, from prime rib ($26) to Kobe flat iron ($36) to porterhouse for two ($56). And each is accompanied by three sauces: peppercorn, barnaise and red-wine roquefort. I tried the Cowboy steak ($38). A 22-ounce bone-in rib eye, it arrived crusty from an intense 1,800-degree searing, yet still juicy. Nearly as memorable was a side of roasted vegetables ($7) made of rough-cut chunks of carrot, parsnip, fennel and string beans.

For dessert, the fresh fruit cobbler ($7) was sweet but only whispered fruit flavor. However, the Tri-Fecta ($8) – three flourless chocolate tortes finished with cream and raspberry sauce – was a solid winner.

Chandlers isn’t perfect, but its polished service, award-winning cocktails, wide-ranging wine list, nightly live jazz and urbane atmosphere make it one of the most elegant watering holes and eateries in this egalitarian oasis.
Read more: http://www.idahostatesman.com/2010/07/09/1260951/chandlers-is-a-boise-classic.html#ixzz0tBjBMEV3

Darin Oswald/Idaho Statesman Chef Roland serves customers himself.

I can live with, even appreciate, the old desk and piles of paperwork you pass by when walking into Chef Roland’s dining room. The cordless drill left on the floor near a table. And Roland Joseph himself shuffling across the room to a zydeco beat that’s moving twice as fast as he is.

All of which would give pause if it didn’t fit so well the languid, slightly-tattered, gumbo-gothic motif that makes New Orleans and bayou country itself so darkly intriguing. A tidy and polished Bourbon Street, after all, would not a Mardi Gras make.

But fueling that soulful imperfection, whether here or there, is the food – Louisiana food. And that food had better be good.

That’s why on a June lunch visit I was encouraged when Chef Roland dropped a live crawfish on our table. He flies the squirming mudbugs up from Louisiana; the crawfish fishery is one of the few in the Gulf that hasn’t yet been impacted by the BP oil spill. After so graphically proving their freshness, he brought out a heaping, flame-red pile of boiled-in-the-shell crawfish tumbled with corn on the cob, red potato and hot link sausage ($18.95).

The spices clinging to those Louisiana Reds, as the variety is called, were hot enough to cure a head cold. And the bits of crawfish a friend and I sucked out of the tails and tiny claws were sweet, with none of the muddy notes common to freshwater crustacea. The whole tasty platter wasn’t far off the flavor of crawfish boils I’ve eaten in actual Cajun country.

Chef Roland himself was born in Lake Charles, La., and although his family moved to California, he went back to New Orleans for culinary school. Eight years ago he moved to Boise as food service director for the Boise Rescue Mission. He ran a food trailer after that, then opened Chef Roland’s 2Ý years ago. He says the restaurant life on this lonely stretch of Boise Avenue hasn’t been easy. Chef Roland, who has had to cut back on staff, is also the restaurant’s only waiter. But business is getting better: “One day” he says, “the Lord told me, if I keep showing up, he’ll keep the doors open.”

Darin Oswald/Idaho Statesman Crawfish platter filled with boiled Louisiana Red crawfish with corn on the cob, red potatoes, hot link sausage and hush puppies.

As if fulfilling prophecy on another afternoon, Chef Roland was busy serving tables icy Abita beer ($3.75) and bowls of gumbo and jambalaya ($5.99 each at lunch; $6.99 at dinner). He seemed a bit overwhelmed, though, and the crawfish etouffee ($14.95/lunch) I’d ordered tasted of it. The dish had a slightly swampy flavor that, along with an accompanying plate of under-seasoned beans and rice, suggested Chef Roland is sometimes spread too thin.

In contrast, the Cajun BBQ pork ribs ($13.99), swimming in a sweet red sauce, were falling-off-the-bone delicious. So were the nearly baseball-sized cornmeal hush puppies that accompany virtually everything at Roland’s. The pork Po Boy sandwich ($7.99) was also quite good. But overstuffed with pork and a moist remoulade sauce, it self-destructed between a friend’s fingers after a few bites. Still, some might argue that’s proper Po Boy behavior.

Stuffed with breadcrumbs and smothered in jambalaya, a Friday-night pork loin special ($17.95) was also messy good. The less complicated blackened prime rib ($18.95) was tender and tasty. And the key lime pie and bread pudding ($4.50 each) – well, I wish I’d saved room for more.

Maybe I’m going a little easy on Chef Roland’s restaurant. After all, he ain’t the fastest waiter in the world, and his restaurant is far from polished. But Chef Roland and the region he came from still have heart after suffering more than their share of tribulations. That matters.

As he says: “I spend 14 to 16 hours a day here six days a week. And that’s all right. I’m all right with that. The kitchen is just like my own little heaven.”

Read more: http://www.idahostatesman.com/2010/06/25/1244113/cajun-cuisine-and-bbq-has-lots.html#ixzz0rrYIAV2i

Shawn Raecke/sraecke@idahostates Kana Girl's Hawaiian BBQ in Meridian offers authentic family-style Hawaiian food.

When Kana Girl’s Hawai’ian BBQ owner Keoni Tyler wanted to tinker with one of his family recipes, he had to ask his mom in Hawaii for permission.

“I’m 53 years old,” Tyler says, “and if my mom walked in here and saw that the food wasn’t prepared appropriately or the portions weren’t of family size, I would be in trouble. And I’m afraid of my mom.”

Tyler was chosen by his maternal Hawaiian grandparents – as his mom was chosen by hers – to be the cook and keeper of family recipes. It’s an honor, Tyler says, passed down to one family member in each generation.

“So I called my mom and she said, ‘Well, send me the ingredients and the changes that you want to make, and I’ll get back to you in a couple of days.’”

After cooking the recipe herself, Mrs. Tyler (maiden name Ka’anapu) gave Keoni permission. That’s why, when you order a plate lunch at this tiny restaurant in a nondescript mini-mall near Meridian, you’re not getting some tourist-adjusted, island-hybrid; you’re getting an authentic Ka’anapu family recipe.

For those unfamiliar with family-style Hawaiian food, a bit of culinary back story might be in order. In times past, the classic plate lunch side of sticky rice and macaroni salad was a carb-on-carb combo that made perfect sense to hungry plantation workers. To modern mainlanders, though, it may look like too literal of a translation of the phrase “white on rice” (especially when served in the white styrofoam container that everything here comes in). It’s a pale, starchy pairing that accompanies many Kana Girl’s entrees and something Tyler frequently feels a need to explain.

“I’ve actually gone out into the dining area and I’ll say, ‘So here’s kind of how I grew up doing this. Take a little bit of Kalua pig and cabbage (for example), put a little bit of rice on the fork and then a little bit of macaroni salad and then eat that all in one bite.’”

Shawn Raecke/sraecke@idahostates

Tyler’s advice works. The Kalua pig and cabbage ($6.95), all mushed together with rice and mayonnaise-laden mac salad, is strangely delicious. It helps that he and wife, Kana Tyler, slow-roast pork shoulder in a smoker out back for a solid 14 hours. The pork comes out all lu’au soft, smoky and succulent – with or without those sides.

Another typical, if similarly counterintuitive, dish that works is the Spam Musubi ($3.95). Essentially two super-sized-nigiri-sushi-like-blocks (1/4-inch slabs of fried Spam tied to rectangles of rice by black bands of nori seaweed), they’re comfort food for the processed pork set. (Polynesians embraced Spam when soldiers brought it over during World War II; now Hawaii is the second-largest consumer of Spam in the world.)

Less canned but equally good is the Huli Huli chicken ($6.95). A whole leg and thigh slow-smoked in a sweet and savory island-style barbecue sauce tops cabbage slaw and rice. Lau Lau ($9.95) is pork wrapped in ti leaves, an island plant that gives the meat an intriguing, tea-infused flavor. Also tasty are the taro fries, noodle soups, pork-stuffed buns and an addictive Portuguese fried dough dessert called malassadas. And that’s not to mention the separate vegetarian and gluten-free menus.

Kana Girl’s is also stuffed with island doodads and maps densely flagged with the places customers once lived on the islands. The Tylers, too, are well-tagged by their Hawaiian past: Among other tattoos, Keoni has a rather handsome can of Spam inked to his right leg.

If you’re looking for polished Polynesian on real plates, I’d recommend Ono’s Hawaiian Grille in Boise. But if you’re in the mood for the soulful fare you’d find in tourist-free neighborhoods of Honolulu or Hilo, check out Kana Girl’s Hawai’ian BBQ. You’ll likely hear Keoni singing an island song while he cooks – and surely that’s something his mom would approve.

Photo by Chris Butler/cbutler@idahostatesman.com / Guitarist Ben Burdick and bassist Bill Liles entertain a Friday-night crowd at the new Twig's Cellar in Downtown Boise.

A glass of wine, an appetizer, a little live jazz and I’m thinking life in springtime Boise is pretty good.

A windowless basement may not sound like the perfect place for such sunny contentments, but this cubbyhole on the lower level of the Garro Building on Bannock Street (between 8th and 9th) has delivered before. The MilkyWay’s much-loved first incarnation was housed here. Then Andrae’s settled in to become one of Boise’s most refined dining spots.

Now Twig’s Cellar inhabits this same subterranean warren of rooms. And, again, it works.

Like the soft jazz that’s nearly always floating from speakers or playing live, a kind of urban suavity drifts through the place. For those who remember Andrae’s, the walls are still warm, buttery brown; the curtains and booths, muted red; the main room and den-like side room still glowing in pools of lamplight. There are changes, like a cozy new bar, but Twig’s remains a testament to how good design and thoughtful planning can transform what otherwise could have been a subterranean afterthought.

The food, too, rises above grade: The numerous appetizers, the salads, the pizzas, the desserts aspire to more than mere bar food. When paired with Twig’s intriguing list of wines by the glass, they frequently succeed.

The aforementioned pairing of gorgonzola-stuffed dates wrapped in prosciutto ($8) with a good Columbia Valley gewurztraminer ($8) was my first salty, sweet taste of Twig’s. I went back for the braised satay appetizer ($12), a trio of lamb, chicken and pork skewers. Again, a pleasure, especially when those Asian flavors mingled with a Willamette Valley Vineyards riesling ($6). The artichoke and spinach dip ($7) was also good, the fresh spinach still toothsome, even as a puree. It and the scattered chunks of artichoke were a nice foil for the accompanying parsley-flecked baguette slices and a Spice Route sauvignon blanc ($6.25).

Before opening her namesake wine bar in December, first-time restaurateur Twig Munro says she tested out recipes all summer in her own kitchen. With help from her son Rob Fiero – who is the bar’s sommelier – and her kitchen manager, Munro pored over magazines and books, trying to find dishes that would fit her wine list, be healthy and fun to eat.

The four pizzas on Twig’s menu meet those goals. They’re small, handmade, thin-crusted and elegant. My favorite, the Weiss ($9) – a white-sauce pizza with caramelized onions, sweetly roasted garlic and a drizzle of truffle oil – was rich, earthy. The BBQ chicken pizza ($10), a style of pizza often coated in candy-sweet flavors, was instead subtle and smoky.

Photo by Chris Butler/cbutler@idahostatesman.com / Bassist Bill Liles, and guitarist Ben Burdick (not pictured) entertain a Friday-night crowd at the new Twig's Cellar in Downtown Boise.

Twig’s Cellar does not try to match the culinary ambitions of former residents MilkyWay or Andrae’s. Twig’s is much more about ambiance than fine dining and excels at dishes that don’t dominate but quietly complement good wine and conversation.

Less successful are those dishes that ask ingredients to speak for themselves. On another visit, the crab filling the crab cakes ($12) lacked flavor, as did the beef in the American Kobe medallion ($14) (though the chipotle aioli and the blueberry catsup that accompanied those dishes, respectively, were very good). A Caprese salad ($8) – at its best a seasonal showcase for perfectly ripe tomatoes, meltingly fresh mozzarella and whole basil leaves – arrived in a stunning starburst pattern. But with mozzarella of the drier, aged variety and tomatoes – well, in early May any restaurant should seriously reconsider its rationale for fresh tomatoes.

Still, I’ve found many more moments of contentment than consternation at Twig’s Cellar – and that’s a respectable record for a first-time restaurateur with a fledgling business. On my last visit, all it took to slip back to the sunny side was a thick, deliciously moist slice of house-made chocolate cake ($6) and a generous pour of Graham’s 20-year-old Tawny port ($11).

Read more: http://www.idahostatesman.com/2010/05/28/1208678/twigs-cellar-pleases-the-senses.html#ixzz0pVTC13cS

Tacos at Basilio's

By taco truck number seven, even Jonathan Sadler’s dog Diego was tired of tacos.  Sadler loves taco truck tacos, has a taco truck blog and agreed, perhaps rashly, to guide me through the Treasure Valley’s mobile taco world.  Thing is, there are tons of trucks out there.  Diego, a tiny chijuajua who couldn’t cast a shadow over a bowl of salsa, started losing interest at about taco truck number five.

Now that’s not to say those tacos aren’t good.  Our marathon tour of curbside tacos taught me that a truck’s advanced age and vacant-lot ambiance didn’t preclude a tasty taco.  Sadler frequently declared them delicious.  I’d say nearly all were better than the gringo-fied facsimiles you find in many brick and mortar Mexican restaurants.

Jonathan Sadler, taco truck blogger

Of course, it depends on the style of taco you like.  These are taqueria tacos, minimalist tacos, the kind of tacos you’d buy on the streets of Tijuana or East L.A., tacos made with small, pliable corn tortillas, a variety of chopped meats and not much else.  OK, maybe some diced onion, a dash of cilantro and a side of radish and lime, but that’s it.  These are tacos unadulterated by excess.  And they’re only about a buck.

“I like tongue” Sadler said in a confessional tone way back at taco truck number one.  “The trucks all tend to have lengua [tongue] and lengua is the one I find to be the most consistent.”

Biting into his tongue taco, Sadler continued: “It took me a while to get used to the idea of eating tongue, but it’s really delicious.”  Diego, in apparent agreement, munched on the bits that hit the pavement.

Tacos at Tacos La Piedad

That was one more lesson Jonathan and Diego taught me about taco trucks:  They offer choices that Taco Bell, for instance, would not.  Along with lengua, most trucks offer cabeza (head), birria (goat) and tripita (tripe).  Some have ceviche.  And if you’re a conventional carne asada, carnitas or pollo person, there’s plenty of that too.

After several days of truck tacos, I grew especially fond of adobada and al pastor.  Both tacos are made with pork marinated in adobo seasoning (usually a slightly sweet, but earthy ancho chili based mixture).  They tend to range from brick red to bright orange and have a tangy, mildly spicy taste.  The al pastor often has bits of pineapple on top (which, for no logical reason, I find fitting for tacos and just wrong on pizza).

But which taco truck was best?  That’s a tough one.  Twelve trucks and thirty-two tacos later, differences melded together like spices in a Oaxacan mole.  From Boise to Caldwell, every truck used the same type of smallish tortillas, always two per taco, stuffed with surprisingly similar fillings and nearly identical garnishments.  I’d searched for the holy grail of taco trucks, but didn’t find it.

What I did find were subtle variations in amenities and menu.

Tacos Mobile Primo on a rainy May day

Some trucks had tables, chairs and tents and some reached beyond the core taco choices to burritos, combination plates, tostadas, tortas and great little Mexican treats like sopes (thick tortilla-like mini pie shells turned up at the edges and stuffed with beans, meat, cheese and lettuce).

If you held a tongue taco to my head, though, I’d choose Tacos Mobile Primo at Curtis and Franklin in Boise.  It has two tables, a varied menu and tacos ($1.20/each) that are just a little bigger and a bit more vibrant than the rest.

Thankfully, our over-indulgent taco tour didn’t lead to health problems or seem to slacken Jonathan Sadler’s enthusiasm for taco trucks.  As if struck by a tortilla-wrapped epiphany at truck number nine, he turned heroically toward the horizon and whispered “I need to get out there.  There’s taco trucks in Emmett; there’s taco trucks in Weiser; and just the other day someone told me about one at a business park in Boise . . .”

About then, Diego waddled under a table and fell asleep.

The dog Diego

Taco Truck Details

Tacos Mobile Primo: Curtis Rd. & Franklin Rd., Boise (on Southwest corner)

Open: Mon.-Thurs. 11a.m. to 11p.m.; Fri.-Sat. 11a.m. to 1a.m.  Call: 284-8640

Tacos La Reyna: 6700 block of State St., Boise (across from Merritt’s Country Cafe)

Tacos at Tacos Aquililla

Basilio’s: 5300 block of State St., Boise (across from the Idaho Athletic Club)

Open: Mon.-Sat. 11a.m. to 4p.m.  Call: 830-3772

Taco Veloz: 6700 block of Fairview, Boise (near Jerry’s State Court Cafe)

Tacos El Rey #2: Chinden & 42nd Street, Garden City (on North side of street)

Open: Tues.-Sun. 11a.m. to 10p.m.

El Torito: Chinden & 46th Street, Garden City (Behind El Torito Market)

Call: 283-7703

El Taconazo: 21st & Arthur St., Caldwell

Call: 280-2221 / 697-1116

Tacos La Piedad: 34th & Cleveland, Caldwell (next to Meineke Car Care Center)

Open: 10:30a.m. to 7:30p.m.  Call: 919-9485

Tacos Colima: Middleton Road & Nampa-Caldwell Blvd., Nampa

Taqueria Mexicochiquito: 452 Caldwell Blvd., Nampa (next to Whiskey River)

Tacos Aguililla: 324 11th Ave at 1st St., Nampa

Call: 283-6915

Los Portales Taqueria: 4008 Garrity Blvd., Nampa (across from Jalopy Jungle)

Call: 461-2223

My Favorite Truck Tacos

• The adobada and el pastor tacos ($1.20 each) at Tacos Mobile Primo: Bright and flavorful with nice chunks of pineapple on the el pastor.  Generous portion size too.

Tacos and sope at Tacos La Reyna

• The barbacoa ($1.00) at Tacos La Piedad

• The sope carnitas ($2.50) at Tacos Colima.  Not a taco, but a tasty little tostada like treat with a thick, handmade tortilla base with beans, pork, lettuce, tomato, avocado and a dusting of hard Mexican cheese.

• The adobada ($1.25) at Taqueria Mexicochiquito.  Tangy, spicy and a little smokey.

• The pollo taco ($1.00) at Taco Aquililla.  Very juicy, grilled, white meat chicken, like rotisserie chicken.

• The adobada ($1.00) at Tacos La Reyna

• The el pastor ($1.00) at Basilio’s

Although all the trucks I tried serve traditional tacos, there’s a gourmet taco truck trend that’s sweeping the country.  It hasn’t hit Idaho yet, but you can begin to prepare yourself with this article, “Not Your Father’s Taco Truck.”

Joe Jaszewski / Idaho Statesman Solid's chicken and waffle plate.

At 2 o’clock in the morning, there’s a compelling, if slightly twisted logic to fried chicken and waffles. Especially after a night at Liquid or one of the other spots within teetering distance of Solid, a new, BoDo-based restaurant.

At that hour, food becomes less a meal than an antidote. Dishes that might simply be wrong at a more civil hour suddenly sound not only delicious but healing.

In a late-night-deep-fried-alcohol-soaked kind of way, the chicken and waffles ($8.75) are all that.

Crispy-crusted white meat chicken and a couple of syrup-drenched waffles are, according to our chipper waitress, a southern tradition. No matter the murky antebellum history or culinary logic, a few bites in, I feel better.

The “angry chicken” omelette ($7.99) that my friend is tackling helps, too. It’s like a restorative slap in the face full of sliced jalapenos, cayenne-sprinkled chicken, onions, bell peppers, pepper-jack cheese, and just in case it wasn’t angry enough, salsa.

“You should try the chocolate chip pancakes ($6),” interjects a surprisingly bright-eyed diner at the next table. “It’s crisp along the outside and all chocolate-chip gooey on the inside.”

Joe Jaszewski / Idaho Statesman Solid's chocolate chip ice cream pancakes.

My lizard brain instinctively aims a fork at his plate, but my less reptilian self (remembering that thing called manners) chooses to take his word for it. The others at his table add that they’re also happy with the Denver omelette ($7.49) and eggs Benedict ($6.95). Mostly, the group says, they’re just grateful Solid is open into the deep, dark hours of the weekend.

That may be this 2-month-old restaurant’s most distinctive feature: From midnight to 4 a.m. on Friday and Saturday nights (Saturday and Sunday morning, actually), Solid serves an after-hours menu that also includes chocolate cake, breakfast burritos, burgers and blueberry bread pudding. It’s a crazy-quilt collection the menu says is there “when you’re too happy to head home.”

During the day, Solid (which occupies the space left by a string of former restaurants including Texas Boogies, 8th Street Wine Co. and Milford’s Fish House) resurrects itself as a bright, decidedly conventional eatery.

Light from a long row of windows spills against pale flooring, wood furnishings and handsome brick walls. There’s a long bar too, but it seems somehow less magnetic, more wholesome at noon than it does after midnight.

I wish, though, the combined lunch and dinner menu was as creatively disheveled as its late-night, mildly evil twin.

Instead, it’s a tucked-in, neatly-pressed selection of casual pub classics: salads, burgers, sandwiches and dinnertime meat/fish/chicken entrees. Still, the service is good and the food, well, solid.

I do like the street tacos ($7.75). Three soft corn tortillas – filled with pork or fish, sliced cabbage, red onion and fresh salsa – tastes as bright as the light through those windows. The tacos, which are listed as a starter, combined with a satisfying cup of tortilla soup ($3.50), make a nice meal.

I’m also impressed with the “Fifty-Fifty Plate,” ($8.95) a starter with a selection of cured meats, cheeses and vegetables. Ours comes with slices of Manchego, Jarlsberg and goat cheeses; genoa, prosciutti, and coppa salamis and pepperoncinis, artichoke hearts and grapes. With a generous stack of crusty bread, it’s more than three of us can finish.

Good, too, are the ahi salad ($11.95), pulled pork sandwich ($7.50), fish and chips ($8.50) and portabella sandwich ($7.75). They’re just not unique. You can, after all, find doppelganger dishes all over the Valley.

This might be that 2 a.m. logic talking, but I wouldn’t mind seeing some of Solid’s after-hours weirdness spill onto that regular menu. Chicken and waffles may not survive the light of day, but a healthy shot of “too happy to head home” attitude could make the pre-midnight Solid a bit looser and therefore more memorable.

Read more: http://www.idahostatesman.com/2010/04/16/1154835/imaginative-late-night-menu-makes.html#ixzz0lGl9hTNh

Darin Oswald/Idaho Statesman Restaurant Eighteen One offers diners tastes of progressive fine dining with appetizers like Blue Crab Tator Tots.

Let’s face it: We Treasure Valley eaters are generally a conservative lot.

We drool over mac ‘n’ cheese, crunchy fries and juicy slabs of sirloin. We tend to turn up our noses at prissy presentations, things with tentacles and dishes we can’t pronounce. That, of course, should come as no surprise to residents of this reddest of red states, especially in light of recent studies suggesting that political beliefs spill onto dinner plates: Where liberals supposedly seek the trendy and unusual in food and eateries, studies say conservatives embrace tradition, shun the unfamiliar and, well, don’t much like arugula.

Now, this black and white picture of eating habits is clearly complicated by class, education and economics, but our local restaurant scene (with inevitable and notable exceptions) reflects a decidedly conservative taste in food.

This may have nothing to do with the fact that Restaurant Eighteen One was nearly empty on my recent visits; chef Aaron Horsewood says it’s just the slow season. But why else would food as inventive as his lack a full-time following?

It’s at least partly because the place is hidden in a leafy residential Eagle neighborhood on the Eagle Hills Golf Course. The restaurant also has no sign. And even after you find it (to the left of the club house and up the stairs), Eighteen One looks more lounge than eatery. Over half the room is bar (that’s where I’ve found most of the action as golfers talked scores over after-course drinks), but to the right of the lounge is a cozy collection of leather booths and tables sporting a menu that is surprisingly adventurous.

Check out chef Horsewood’s Blue Crab Tater Tots appetizer ($12). It may riff off an Idaho icon, but these tots ain’t Ore-Ida. Lined up like crispy columns on a narrow rectangular platter, five upright crab croquettes stand anchored in individual pools of tarragon-dill mayonnaise. They’re crunchy, creamy, crabby and might make a non-golfer consider spending more time at this public course. Another appetizer, sliced beets topped with a soft poached egg ($9.50), is also carefully composed, delicate in flavor and a pleasure to eat.

An Idaho native, chef Horsewood has garnered a little fame outside his home state. In 1999, when he was working in Scottsdale, Ariz., Gourmet magazine called Horsewood a “Hot New Chef of the Year.” He’s been on “Iron Chef America” as a sous chef. And Horsewood says he’s done personal chef gigs for Bill Cosby and Stevie Nicks. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t think his menu pokes culinary envelopes.

Still, here at Eagle Hills, an entree called the Tiki Ahi Firecracker ($24) sounds pretty progressive. Nori-wrapped, lightly tempura-battered ahi and a Horsewood take on California rolls are artfully set over a tissue-thin mosaic of ginger and soy-drizzled cucumber slices. It’s not as precise an execution as you’d find at another innovative and often lonely eatery, Shige Matsuzawa’s Red Carpet, but it’s ambitious, unconventional and enjoyable.

More traditional perhaps, but just as creative is the rack of Idaho lamb ($27). Two double ribs crusted in a rosemary and mint chimichurri are set against a whole, cinnamon-dusted, baked apple, which is stuffed with and surrounded by diced, roasted sweet potato. It’s earthy-sweet, umami-rich and just right for a blustery spring evening that still carries the slight sting of winter.

At lunch, I notice a more obvious compromise between innovation and tradition. The Spanish Caeser ($9.50) – with its graphic presentation of thin, ancho-sprinkled croutons crossed like sabers between discrete mounds of romaine leaves – falls clearly in the progressive camp. The less artful Irish Cowboy Steak Sandwich ($9.75) – with piles of sliced prime rib, cheddar and horseradish accompanied by a mountain of onion rings – leans decidedly toward the conventional. Both, however, are full of flavor. And that’s a reminder that in politics and food, categories often matter less than results.

Read more: http://www.idahostatesman.com/2010/04/09/1146171/eagle-eatery-blends-tradition.html#ixzz0kbS5dF6e

Katherine Jones / Idaho Statesma The Reef's over-size coconut-crusted shrimp features drizzled mango puree with sweet chili dipping sauce.

I’m a skeptical fan of themed restaurants. The theme – whether saddlebag Western, fishnet nautical or palm-frond Polynesian – is often nothing more than a decorative distraction from forgettable food. It turns out that the Tiki hut motif that decorates Reef in Downtown Boise is the mother of all those restaurant themes.

Don the Beachcombers in Hollywood and Trader Vic’s in Oakland started the themed restaurant craze back in the 1930s. By the early 1960s – with Hawaii receiving statehood, Gilligan’s Island lighting up the tube and “canned pineapple infiltrating everything from cheese sandwiches to meatballs” (according to the New York Times) – Tiki culture had thoroughly invaded the American restaurant scene.

Most of the hundreds of spinoffs that followed served fantasy food: dishes like “Pork Ding Dong,” with pedigrees no more Polynesian than pineapple pizza. But the movement also produced the mai tai, which, in a kind of reverse osmosis, sneaked backward into the bars of Oahu, Fiji and Bora Bora like an American expat gone native. (Reef’s $8 mai tai comes in a tall, Tiki god mug.)

So c’est la vie: Made-up food can wiggle its way into the world as thoroughly as food with actual history. Ultimately, it’s about taste. Or it should be. And Reef’s coconut crusted shrimp ($9.75 for six) tastes pretty good. I mean, how could a deep-fried, coconut-frizzled, butterflied shrimp the size of an iPhone not be good? It’s crunchy, slightly shrimpy, and comes with mango puree and sweet chili sauce.

Those shrimp also are part of the Mondo Pupu Platter ($17), a sizable Lazy Susan of assorted appetizers surrounding a flaming miniature Hibachi. Sadly, that flashy platter confirmed my themed restaurant fears: the spectacle at Reef often outshines its fare.

Reef’s pupu platter was little more than middling bar food spiffed up with pseudo South Pacific names. The “kon tiki” chicken spears topping that Hibachi were dry, their sauce cloyingly sweet; the “crab rangoons,” fried wontons filled with what appeared to be cream cheese, were not the least bit crabby; the “sweet and sour chicken” was as exotic as chicken nuggets; and the “hoisin honey citrus wings” were yet another variation on chicken in a syrupy sauce.

To temper my admitted themed restaurant trepidations, I invited three sets of guests of varying gastronomic sensibilities to accompany me on three separate visits to Reef. They only echoed my lukewarm response to the food.

On a lunch visit, three of us shared a Caesar wrap ($7.75) – chicken breast, bacon, tomatoes and Caesar dressing wrapped in a tortilla; a “Drunken Turkey Buccaneer” ($8.75) – turkey breast, gruyere, greens and vinaigrette on grilled sourdough; and “Tiki Tacos” ($8.75) -grilled fish, cabbage, pico de gallo and a lime mayonnaise. We found them all to have forgettable flavors. Only an accompanying side of spice-encrusted “voodoo” fries were notably distinctive.

A dinner visit with different companions yielded another ho-hum consensus. Apart from a respectable sirloin steak ($14.75) accompanied by little potato pancakes, one friend said the meal had the consistently underwhelming tastes of a chain.

Katherine Jones / Idaho Statesma Brandon Bickley, right, takes his parents, Jim and Denise Bickley, to the Reef's rooftop patio.

Thankfully, a final lunch visit on a March afternoon was brighter. Instead of seating another friend and me in the tropically dressed but dark restaurant interior, our waiter asked if we’d like to try the rooftop patio. It must have been one of the first patio days of the season, because our young, curly-haired server was all but drunk with an infectious, spring-fevered glee.

He sat us at a table bathed in sunlight and reggae and a stunning view of the still snow-covered Foothills. We ordered a respectable ahi poke salad special ($8.95), crunchy fish and chips ($9.95) and turned our pale, late-winter faces to the sun. It may have taken a spring day to do it, but on that gorgeous afternoon Reef’s Polynesian fantasy was a lot easier to believe in.

Read more: http://www.idahostatesman.com/2010/03/19/1122201/reefs-flair-trumps-flavor.html#ixzz0id24stj0

Shawn Raecke/Idaho Statesman Kate Seward, of Nampa, enjoys a glass of wine and appetizers with friends at La Belle Vie, a new French-influenced restaurant in downtown Nampa

La Belle Vie is a charming new restaurant housed in a nearly century-old, former downtown Nampa home. The fact that it sits across the street from a sprawling brick warehouse only heightens the charm. After all, that contrast of urban nicety and industrial funk gives Nampa and much of Canyon County a kind of built-in culinary character that has real, if not often realized, potential.

Step from La Belle Vie’s porch through its front door and you’ll find hardwood floors, framed prints, solid wood furnishings and a cozy color palette that drifts from light mocha to dark espresso. It’s serene and elegant.

The menu is also elegant, in the sense that it’s thoughtfully restrained. The breakfast and lunch selections are relatively small. In the morning there’s oatmeal, granola, quiches, breakfast sandwiches and pastries. For lunch there’s soup, salad, quiches, sandwiches, a burger and a mac ‘n’ cheese grandly titled “Gratin de Macaronis Americain.”

Most of the fare isn’t more rigorously French than that mac ‘n’ cheese (instead, I’d call it contemporary American in the Silver Palate mode, which of course has French influences) – but that Gratin de Macaronis Americain ($9/lunch) by any other name would taste as starchy-cheesy good. In fact, the combination of colby, cheddar and elbow macaroni capped with a crunchy breadcrumb crust had me wishing it was offered for breakfast with, say, a poached egg on top.

La Belle Vie also is adept at soups and salads. The sausage, potato and leek soup that came with my mac ‘n’ cheese had the clear, clean flavor of a truly handmade broth; a coconut and carrot puree ($4.50/cup la carte) was subtle and nuanced (though my lunch-mate thought it needed a drop or two of lemon). The chevre salad ($4.50/lunch or dinner) arrived with three tasty rounds of pecan-crusted goat cheese over fresh greens mixed with dried cranberries and a tangy vinaigrette.

This 3-month-old cafe is the dream of avid cooks, caterers and first-time restaurateurs Julie Free and Cathy O’Connell. Thanks to a little serendipity, the two were brought together by a mutual friend who then designed the cafe’s interior. O’Connell says she and Free chose a limited menu because “we wanted to make sure that what we did make was really, really good, and if we made too many things we couldn’t make them all really good.”

In keeping with that tight focus, the dinner menu is also limited to around four entrees that change every month and, at least in the cool season, focuses on braised, baked and roasted dishes. During my late February visit, the choices were pot roast ($18), chicken with 40 cloves of garlic ($16), salmon in pappiotte ($20) and, again, the mac ‘n’ cheese ($12).

Shawn Raecke/Idaho Statesman Chicken Marbella. Quarter of a chicken with prunes, green olives and capers braised in white wine. Served with a twice-baked potato and asparagus. $17

The fork-tender pot roast – surrounded with sweet pearl onions, roughly mashed potatoes, roasted carrot spears and a thyme-spiked pan juice – was very good in a straightforward, down-home way. The chicken – with a nice nest of roasted haricot verts, cherry tomatoes and caramelized garlic – was, again, good, if a little overcooked. The Hollandaise-napped salmon – in its festive, parchment wrapping – was perfectly fine, too, but not stunning. And the mac ‘n’ cheese was, well, you already know.

Now this tepid critique of dinner was, at least in part, the work of a little negative serendipity: a server failed to show on that busy Friday night, and O’Connell was left to pick up the slack on the floor. Service was slow, there were mix-ups in the kitchen and, likely, it wasn’t the restaurant’s best night to shine.

Thankfully, a lemon tart dessert ($5) was excellent, as were previous lunchtime sweets from scratch including a buttery pecan bar and a moist and dangerously rich espresso cake ($4/each).

In light of my evening visit, I’d say there’s room for improvement at La Belle Vie. But the concept is solid, the room is inviting and there’s ample potential for this to become one of the Valley’s most appealing restaurants.

For more on this story go to the Idaho Statesman at: http://bit.ly/9q90iC