On location in far away Idaho

These rolling hills put whatever you were imagining to shame

Today I'm reaching out to you from the violently rolling hills of Lewiston, Idaho. Twin city to Clarkston, Washington and bustling cosmopolis of strip malls, Lewiston is cornered by the Snake and Clearwater Rivers to the northwest. Cross the bridge into Washington and follow its curving, downward slopes for a breathtaking, tireless view of the bulbous formations left by the ancient and wonderful glacial Lake Missoula floods. While here, (on business), I'm putting in several hours of driving through this flaxen wonderland, gaping slack-jawed through the window,hypnotized by the endless golden carpet of carefully combed and trimmed wheat fields. A patchwork of texture and hues, I'm reminded of blondie and brownie batter swirled but segregated by long stretches of barbed wire. Like the photo here, but with the hideous danger of clotheslining yourself and bleeding to death during your spastic Julie Andrews spinning through the wheat. And more winding and curving, like from a tractor, and bigger, with a highway snaking through it. So, not like the picture at all. But I'm told this is a food blog with corresponding pictures.

                                                                                           

During my stay here at the Holiday Inn Express, I have a busy work schedule. Rise around 6, shuffle into the lobby and start mindlessly spooning food matter from sprawling, bottomless vats of "breakfast favorites" (unquestionably from concentrate), then wrestling with what to do while waiting for my Minute Pancakes to drop onto my plate. I don't know if this a popular contraption, but I hope to raise it to worldwide fame. It's genius. Simply press start and in 60 seconds it works its magic right onto a conveyor belt that flips out two floppy-but-crisp flapjacks onto your styrofoam eating vessel.

Go ahead and tell your mom you found a better way.

We typically work through the afternoon overlooking vistas of this variety:

Viburnum opulus

When the weather is agreeable we work. When the fog rolls in and the the wind and rain get aggressive, we continue to work. Sometimes we even get our truck stuck in the mud. We have eight different work sites, all with some natural delicacy to try. Yesterday it was what I think may have been Japanese plums and the highly coveted berries of the Snowball tree. These berries, which I learned today are mildly toxic but edible in small quantities, are highly acidic and smell like wet dog food. Today there were plentiful spiders of all kinds, zooming along strands of silk on the wind en route to make their webs, landing unnervingly on my face and arms.

It's actually a lot worse than this.

When the work is done, we hit the hotel to shed our mud suits and go out in search of the finest Lewiston has to offer. First we tried Zany Graze, a family dining extravaganza with a bold and overwhelming mix of everything a family needs in one sitting: burgers, hotdogs, sushi, Tex-Mex, salads, BBQ and every inch of wall space covered in kitch from yesteryear. There appeared to be a kind of game corresponding with numbered headshots from old Hollywood, but our waitress didn't give any hints. She didn't give much, really. I ordered a shake, which arrived with whip but no cherry, flavored with vanilla syrup and, to my chagrin, soft serve from a dismal machine that needed a thorough cleaning. What followed was no surprise, a passable cup of chicken tortilla soup, chicken "teriyaki" (oh no they didn't...) and a no-frills, disengaged muttering from our sterile server. Should I blame her? She works in a hoarder's dining fantasy that insists she wear a tie while schlepping a cluttered array of subpar menu items, ready at any moment to perform a birthday/clapping number that she can never hope to forget as long as she lives. Her service suffered, but I guess mine might too.

The other restaurants we tried had a bit more to offer. M J Barleyhopper's, a micro brewery serving American fare with zero flare, offered a reasonable list of brew options. I ordered the Apricot Ale, which was bright and flavorful but low on the CO2, and would've tried the advertised Oktoberfest but it wasn't available for another week. Our waitress had the sense of humor of a stale cracker, crumbling listlessly as I asked questions about the beers. My $8 burger and fries were boring, but I'll probably be back to try some more of their handsomely priced brews.

Thai Taste, heralded by townsfolk as the best of the best, had solid patronage but little service to speak of. My co-diner was on the phone as we sat down, and when our young server came by he paused to order an iced tea. I looked up from the menu to order a drink but he'd vanished. I don't know if you're familiar with working in the service industry, but there are rules. 

O, to be seated next to these two

When I first started in restaurants, training was imposed on me that I though was ludicrous, unrealistic, and gratuitous. Occasionally I find myself keeping count of demerits when I go out to eat, assuming I'll be able to give detailed feedback at the end of the exercise. Still dining out in the twilight of my twenties, some glaring oversights in service etiquette continue to surprise me. As a server, you have 30 seconds to arrive at a new table and greet your guests, deliver your opening spiel including specials, anything not available on the menu that day and nab the drink order. If you're swamped, you beg someone else to do this for you in passing, or make your table wait a minute and apologize when you arrive with a little dab at your glistening brow and a gleam in your eye. Why the gleam? Sure, you'll bring the food, but they're expecting that. You want them to feel like you've been waiting for them all day. A gleam is just a good start, a means to a very generous tip. For the full seminar on charming and serving your table, please take a brochure on your way out. (Bonus tips on being a well-behaved diner included.)

Profoundly underwhelming Chili Basil Noodles at Thai Taste

After the prospect of ordering a drink had slipped through my fingers, our waiter remained absent. Folded menus ostentatiously presented on the edge of the table, we waited several minutes until he returned. We ordered food, and when it arrived, mine was wrong. He graciously corrected it, and found a moment to chat with us toward the end, but it was too late. Thai Taste failed the taste test and garnered no service awards.

Terrifying, you know?

The stand out performance so far, was the Lewiston RoundUp Corn Maze. They served me my second Elephant Ear, a clever creation of warm, soft, deep-fried dough dusted with cinnamon sugar that can't get handed to you fast enough.

The Elephant Ear, my new favorite appendage.

A staple of the fall season in the northwest, selling carnival fare and jazzy glow jewelry, this was something foreign to me until now, and though it wasn't a haunted maze, it was pretty thrilling. For just $5, you get to wander the 2+ miles of cut out paths under towering stalks of corn, voluntarily recalling scenes from M. Night....'s Signs (or imagining David Lynch's version) and purposefully turning in circles until you're truly lost. They sell maps, but what more do you need but the screams and sobs of children to tell you you're going the right way? Delightfully challenged with the sugar-kissed high of fried dough and the urgent need to plow down a dark row of dangerous possibilities, a corn maze was just what we needed to kick off our weekend.