Open Season In the Spokane Valley

Ay Caramba! What is going on with all the activity here in the Spokane Valley hospitality scene? I don’t believe I have seen the scene in such a seismic state of shift. I know of five eminent openings and one business moving out of an oft-failed building making way for a personal favorite to move in. With eyes and ears as open as my mouth at a barbecue buffet, I have gathered some interesting tidbits. Some of it rock solid, having talked firsthand with the owners and some of it a bit like dust in the wind having merely caught a whisper here or there.
Before I talk about what is yet to come, I should mention Porky G’s barbeque which opened a month or so ago. I have spent so much time researching their product that I have yet to find time to write a blog post. It is out there next to Fred Meyers where A & W was for several years. This place is not one that I can take the family to help me out. Barbeque is far too serious of a culinary genre and I insist that my data be gathered firsthand with messy fingers. I can only say for now that Porky’s is the sort of place I cannot afford to think of my belly or my family, but rather selflessly sample as many dishes as possible on my own in order bring Scoop readers the most accurate report.

1) The Blue Kat next to Halpins

I wrote about Jesse Martinez and The Blue Kat in my last blog post. They are still hoping to open in a few weeks.Read the blog here.

2) The Handle Bar in Greenacres

This one is a whisper in the wind, though I have heard a lot of whispering. For example, I talked to the food distributor rep who told me they would be serving California Sandwiches which she explained but I never really understood except that they are kind of souped up deli sandwiches.
I also ran into their bar manager at Kinko’s as I was printing off the floor plans I had drafted for the Blue Kat. She was waiting to use the printer to make copies of their layout that the liquor board requires. This chance meeting gave me the opportunity to get a peek at just how the business would be configured. As I had been hearing, it is going to be three businesses in one location. The concept and focus are not bad since it is aimed at servicing the baby boomer bikers which is an ever burgeoning segment of the population as the boomers thunder into their advanced years looking for ways to spend their leisure time and spare money.
There will be an apparel shop and mechanic shop to go along with the bar. It is located out in Greenacres where The Hat Trick used to be which is where Huppins used to be which is where who knows what used to be.

3) Little Euro on Pines

My dirt on this place I got firsthand from one of the owners named Dave Sevier, who was sweeping in his parking lot the other day as I happened to be conveniently walking by. Since I did not reveal my secret Scoop identity, he did not realize we were both collecting dirt at the same time.
I had been watching the renovation progress since it began and had already guessed it was the Old European gang by the name on the reader sign and the familiar colors they were painting on the building. I was just making sure that the Valley would once again be able to indulge in their heavenly Ableskeevers and devilishly delicious stuffed French Toast. The place is only 1600 square feet compared to their 6,000 square foot Northside location. Living just around the corner with fond memories of the old place at Sprague and Bowdish, I told Dave we would be glad to take what we could get.

4) Two Columns at the old T Pranos/Pinochios on Sprague

This is some more owner-direct dirt I picked up the other day when I strolled over from the convenience store parking lot next door. Here my clandestine snooping was thwarted by my poor hearing and the owner’s thick Greek accent. I know his first name is Masada but I gave up trying to understand his last name after several attempts. What I did understand him to say, I think, is that he plans to serve Greek and Italian. He is an interesting retired gentleman. He told me he used to have a Greek restaurant at the old Riverpark Square and a creamery next to Godfather’s Pizza by Hastings on Sullivan.
As we talked while he painted the ceiling tiles with a roller, I thought he was a bit daft at least as far as this venture was concerned. But I could tell he knew kitchens and service and recipes by the things he was saying. I stopped second guessing him when he told me he had been a teacher for 18 years before he moved to the Spokane Valley back in the 70′s. When I asked what he taught I was expecting something like history at a junior high somewhere in Greece. When he said he taught business at a school in Seattle called the U of W, I figured I would wait to pass judgement on his prospects.

5) Something or Other at the old Luxury Box/ Percy’s

Ok, I admit this one is pure Dustin “the wind” Hoffman. But I bet I am right. I have been smelling the smoke for a while and where there is smoke there is fire, some times. My secondhand smoke signals inform me that the original owners of Casey’s sandwich shop at Sprague and Evergreen have signed a lease and plan to open in August. That is all the Scoop can divulge at this point in time and probably more than good journalism would allow.

Lastly, on a sad note Winger Brothers has joined the growing list of ventures to come and go at that spot at the Valley Mall. But my beloved Hong Kong Buffet has boldly decided to go there where no man has profitably gone before. I am betting on them since the same could be said of the spot in the mall near the movie theaters that they successfully conquered. To see why I think they will be winners at the old Wingers, go to this recent blog post.

The Blue Kat steps up to Bat in the Spokane Valley

The last time I wrote a blogpost about a couple of new places I took a little unexpected heat. The owner of Holly Rock, one of my subjects, weighed in with a comment within 30 minutes and Fred Lopez who owns The Ref commented first thing the next morning. Neither were appreciative of my musings about their establishments. I guess that blog taught me that owners not only know how to read, but also that they find my blog interesting, though perhaps not entertaining, when they are the subject.
What I found interesting was that I ended up writing a long article on Fred for my Scoop newsletter and then another blogpost reviewing the newly opened Ref and we became pretty good friends in spite of all my writing and critiquing. I am sure he was more surprised than me because I already knew that I was a decent chap, while he had to get to know me beyond my caustic comments concerning his career choice. Once he did that, everything was fine. While I pretty much follow the Thumper Rule and only say nice things about an establishment, I have been known to get on my soapbox and preach about the road to hell by way of opening a new bar or niteclub. This does not make entertaining reading for the brave few who have already committed to that sort of venture.
So I kept all this in mind one day when I got a phone call out of the blue, well actually it was out of the Blue Kat where Jesse Martinez was standing as he talked to me on his cell phone. He had found my ad in Craig’s List about my drafting services and he asked if I could draw plans for the nite club he was working on in the vacant space where Habitat For Humanity had been next to Halpin’s in the Valley. Little did he know that he was talking to Spokane Valley’s self-appointed busybody blogger. I told him I was on my way.
Upon arriving I found a small crew busy at work and quite a ways into the process of converting the space into a niteclub. It was actually way bigger than I remembered it and my experience goes back to the days when it was a fitness center back in the early 90′s when we were members. As I went through measuring rooms and hallways for an as-built set of drawings, I was swept by a wave of deja-vu when I came upon the old hot tub I had soaked in back in the days when my biceps were bigger and my belly was smaller which meant it was quite a distant memory. The tub is tucked away in a section of the building that won’t be a part of the niteclub which a blessing considering The Blue Kat is aiming for the 35-plus crowd which is often populated by folks wearing plus-size clothes and do not look good with them off their plus-sized bodies.
Once the drawings were completed and Jesse and I had gotten to know each other a bit, I finally told him about my secret identity and how he had been unknowingly revealing all of his plans and dreams to the snoop behind Scoop. I actually knew he would not mind since I had learned from my short experience with him that he, like myself, was a decent chap. I also knew that he was enthusiastic about the Blue Kat and so I predicted with great accuracy that he would be quite eager to help me in my effort to cast whatever spotlight of publicity my humble blog could shine in his direction. I told him he would not need to shield his eyes or don sunglasses to protect himself from the glare of attention the Scoop would shine in his direction. I told him to think of a pin flashlight with a failing battery.
Jesse, who moved to America at age 12 from Paraguay, plans on running a nite club like the Valley has yet to see. For starters he plans on opening only four nights a week, Wednesday through Saturday and opening at 6 on those nights. After measuring the entire space it dawned on me that there was another unique feature about the Blue Kat. “Where’s the kitchen?” I asked him when it finally dawned on me there wasn’t one. He said they planned on using caterers each night. His idea would be to charge a cover at the door that would allow access to the buffet line.
For now he is planning to have a DJ playing Blues and Jazz in the early evening with a live band starting at 9. The live music would not be limited to blues and jazz as it would include classic rock as well. The Blue Kat also features an awesome VIP room complete with plush white leather furniture and private bar, another novelty among the various Valley venues.
Another interesting idea of Jesse’s is to have theme nights where the staff dresses up. For example Jesse said that they have a projected opening target of June 1st or 2nd and they are planning on a Roaring Twenty’s theme for that.
So will all these new ideas add up to a home run? I think Jesse is taking a big swing and he’s got the stuff behind it to clear the fences but it remains to be seen if the ball goes foul or fair. I am not the ump calling the game but rather a fan in the stands who roots on everyone who steps up to the plate whether I think they should have entered the game or not.

Omelet you in on a little secret at the Spokane Valley’s Black Pearl

I believe most hospitality establishments are like people in that nearly all have something incredible to offer the world if only the world can find that often hidden, in fact often buried treasure even the crustiest curmudgeon has to offer. The Black Pearl in the Spokane Valley is certainly no curmudgeon and it has a lot of great food and drinks to offer in plain sight on the menu, but one has to get up at least kind of early in the morning to find what I found because it is only on the breakfast menu.
Their seafood omelet is the rare, sought-after black pearl among the ivory pearls their worthy kitchen offers. Every time I eat breakfast at a new place, I always peruse the menu with gaurded optimism as I seek my favorite type of omelet. Seldom is my seafood search successful and so when on occasion my dispirited, almost desperate quest is rewarded with a genuine seafood omelet on the menu it is my selection without fail. Normally I get so excited when I find it that I begin waving frantically to the waitress to quickly return and take my ecstatic order so that no time is wasted in getting that thing in front of me.
What finally showed up after perhaps 10 minutes that seemed like ten hours was pure pleasure on a plate. I nearly never see food like that and I did not see this precious pearl of an omelet for long as it quickly disappeared beneath my nose as one forkful forcefully followed another down my throat with such speed that that little hot-dog-eating Oriental dude would not have dared challenge me that morning to a seafood omelet eating contest. At least not if it was the Black Pearl’s omelet.

This photograph is a show of sheer unimaginable willpower as every atom in my body screamed out to have the atoms in that omelet join them. While I had to pause for a pic, I said to hell with a prayer. Almost faster than the light from my Droid’s flash could subside, this beautiful masterpiece and I were one.

Like a ravenous lion ripping the hot, bloody meat from the quivering, still-twiching body of a barely-dead Zebra with hungry hienas hovering nearby, I could hear my animal subconscious growl menacingly at my nerdy, blogger side that had to interrupt my feeding frenzy to take this picture. But I had to take it. Who would ever believe the chef’s generosity with the fresh and very real crabmeat. And I knew a thousand words gushing on and on from my pen could not capture the rapture of this gift from God like one quick picture. After I had devoured the entire omelet and a spotless plate stared back at my eyes so bulging I could barely blink, I forced them to shut as I took a moment to offer up a slightly belated but all the more heartfelt prayer of thanks for the bounty that had been set before me.

Jayden Bennett Benefit, highest and best use of a bar

I have been asked a thousand times if I enjoyed owning a bar and I always answer something to the effect that it was the ultimate love/hate relationship. When I use those two opposing words I am meaning them in their strongest forms. For example, I hated passionately having to work 84 hours a week.
During the week I arrived at 9:30 to do the janitorial, count the money and make up the tills for the day. Next I opened the kitchen for lunch and then worked as one of the cooks for that meal. Then I was off to Costco or URM or Cash & Carry to do my own shopping.(It took a lot of time but I saved 10% by not having a company like Sysco deliver). Beyond restaurant food and supplies, I also picked up the alcohol and pull tabs.
After shopping, it was about time for dinner during which I worked in the kitchen. On slow days I would zip home for maybe an hour just to remind the kids that they still had a father figuratively speaking. Five nights of the week I was back by 8 to get ready to run the karaoke until 1 or 2 in the morning. On Friday and Saturday we were normally packed with a cover band and I was the babysitter doing everything from bar-backing to bouncing.
It was not that I hated the work. I found it light duty and fairly engaging. In fact, if I did not have four young kids at home, I would still be there. It was the time that it took that I hated. It was just wrong not being there for my family, especially when Elaine had to work 54 hours a week at the place. I hated it so badly that when it came time to renew the lease and pay $1,000 more a month, I refused the increase. The landlord eventually gave me an ultimatum and so after four years we walked away. I really hated that part.
But from our opening night Halloween party that was over the top to the Potluck dinner that touched our hearts so deeply on our last day, we had dozens and dozens of the best party nights and days with literally thousands of people. That part I loved and it gave each long hour a purpose.
The Rock Inn was a big place with room for every kind of gathering. While the Gideon’s ate and prayed together in our banquet room, revellers would be drinking and dancing as they celebrated a 21st or 40th or 50th or 60th birthday. Actually, while those milestones attracted the big parties, it seemed there was always someone getting too many rounds bought for them as they celebrated one of the more mundane birthdays that fell in between the decades.
We had a front row seat to every occasion people deemed worthy of a banquet, party or just a toast. Anniversaries, Christmas parties, Super Bowls, bowling banquets, reunions… you name it.
Among the many wakes we saw pass by was one for a guy that I clearly remember meeting for the first time in 6th grade as we waited in line to go inside after recess on my first day at the new school. He grabbed my arm and flipped me over his shoulder and as I looked up bewildered from the ground, he said “Hi my name is Steve Chamberlain.” And I said “Dan Daley back at South Pines warned me about you and now I know why”. We remained friends from then through us opening the Rock Inn when he came in one night and playfully but obnoxiously grabbed me by the hair from across the bar as I barbacked one busy night. He was being a drunk customer, trying to reestablish the pecking order between us. I did not mind because I knew he was proud of me and he knew that he and I went back to the days when he ruled University Elementary.
I saw the retirement parties for cement truck drivers whose first days on the job I could remember, having been only eleven years old when Dad started me on his foundation crew. One guy named Jay Carpenter actually worked on Dad’s crew for a few years before he went to work as a cement truck driver. I had to ask him to put out his cigar at his retirement party since the no smoking law had just gone into effect. He really did not like the idea that I could boss him around.
These kinds of times were rich, like Bill Gates rich, like Mega lottery winner rich, and I loved them. But of all the hundreds of great gatherings, one stands out as by far the best to have been a part of for Elaine and I. It was a benefit for a little girl named Hailey who had been terribly abused by her daycare worker.
Compared to that day when they were able to raise $10,000 for her, nothing made us feel so grateful to be owners of a place as then. I would argue there is no greater purpose for a bar than to host a benefit for anyone in crises, let alone a young child in need. For that matter, I would go one step further and argue that no structure be it a church or school gymnasium or opera house has any loftier use of its space than to bring caring people together to raise money for the purpose of helping lessen the financial burden of a family enduring the immeasurable trial of carrying and comforting a child through suffering.
This Saturday the Bayou Tavern out at Trent and Barker has the God-given opportunity to rise far, far above its calling as it takes on the honorable role of hosting a fundraiser for one of God’s precious young children named Jayden Bennett, who at age 10 has been waging his fight against cancer for 3 years.
Just as the Bayou will be at its highest and best calling this Saturday, so will each and every person who attends. I can say that knowingly, having attended the most important night of many peoples’ lives. Nothing compares to doing what little you can to just slightly relieve the unfathomable burden of a family with a child going through what Jayden Bennett is going through.

I could write all day long and never begin to say the words that this picture says so poignantly and profoundly. I can only add that this function begins at 4. Lasagna dinner is $10. There will be a live and silent auction. The Bayou is at the corner of Trent and Barker. There will be entertainment and if you can come up with a better place to be, don't ever tell me because we'll just get into a big argument.

The Ref in the Spokane Valley is in the game

So after months of waiting, the Valley has the opportunity to go in and enjoy a relaxing repast at The Ref, which is exactly what Elaine and I and two of our kids did on opening night. When it comes to putting out an opinion on food for public perusal, I trust all three of them more than I do myself. At 53, I’m getting to be more and more like Elaine’s beloved and long-departed grandfather Alvin Clark.

Apparently, everything set before him tasted great and even better when he mixed together seemingly unrelated foods on his plate like green salad with Blue Cheese dressing together with the mashed potatoes and brown gravy topped with ketchup. While his never-ending food mismatching caused all the younger generations, including myself , to shutter at the sight of a few strands of green beans disappearing into his mouth forked just ahead of a chunk of turkey topped with ketchup, he always cleaned his plate, had  dessert and lived a robust life until the age of 94.

Jacque, our 17-year- old, and Eli, the college student, are far from their great-grandfather in regards to taste buds, while I seem to be following in his elderly foot steps. But that may not be all bad. As with bad hearing that allows me to miss unkind words and a bad memory that allows me to forget the ones I do hear, perhaps tired taste buds are another blessing of old age, allowing no foods to offend me. At the Ref, however, I would have preferred youth on my tongue as the reading glasses on my nose made clear to my aging eyes that the pizza Elaine had picked out looked very tasty indeed.

I was a bit worried that a large pizza would not be suffice for the four of us and so I slipped in a small order of wings with sweet chili sauce. Silly me. The pizza turned out to be a 4-person-butt-kicker. Being the one who gets the check put in front of them ( before I slide it over to Elaine), I liked that aspect of the pizza.  It basically meant we could have dined to everyone’s capacity on very good pizza for about $7.25 a person. Considering the fun, lively atmosphere and friendly service, that was a bargain. (And when there is a big game on when the fam has to be fed out for some reason, The Ref, with its host of flat screens insuring there is not a bad seat in the house, will be every Fathers on-demand choice).

It was pretty much a given that I would find the pizza tasty since I love Thai and they did a great job. As the family scavenger, I had an additional bonus because  when I picked  the perfectly good left-over crusts off my family’s plates and dipped it in the ranch dressing I found it made delicious bread sticks for me. Alvie would have been proud even if I didn’t add ketchup.

But as I said, I am not the consumer the chef  at the Ref is worried about. That would be Elaine and the two kids. The next afternoon as Jacque munched on one of the three pieces of pizza we brought home, she asked when we were going to go back. She loved the pizza and thought the wings were perfect. The menu, she said, looked so good she could not wait for another round at The Ref.

Here is the awesome menu that, combined with the delicious pizza and wings, made us all look forward to another round at the Ref.

This is a pretty darn good-looking appetizer menu. I got my eye on the loaded chips and the Slam Dunk Buffalo Dip.

They have the salads covered.

Hopefully, Jacque won't read this because I already went back for lunch on Friday with my mom. She had been gone a month and had a birthday while she was away so I feel quite justified indulging myself. She had the Chicken Ceasar wrap that was big enough for her to take half home to Dad. I tried a few of her fries and they were quite dandaroony with great seasoning. I had the Pulled Pork sandwich that is their Friday lunch special ( the real reason for eating there on a Friday). I love BBQ and so I can vouch that this is a good one , especially with the appleslaw mixed in there. Unlike a lot of the inventive food pairings Alvie used to come up with, the slaw with the pulled pork was obviously the conncoction of a culinanary talent in the kitchen that is sure to be a crowd pleaser, I know it was a Craig-pleaser.

This is where things start to get a little serious. There is a lot of pizza to be had in the Valley, but not a lot of premium pizza. The Ref saw the situation and has seized this opportunity, making their place the place to go for really good pizza in the Valley. The Thai Pie that we tied into came with their house appleslaw on the side. Elaine, taking after her Grandpa Alvie, slathered it all over the top and thought she was up there in heaven with him.

Really can’t vouch for their burgers since I seldom touch the buggers.

Their wings are their knockout punch. You can tell by their sauce selection that The Ref is not coming in on a wing and a prayer in matters concerning this part of the beleaguered chicken's anatomy. ( What a bummer for cows and chickens to be so tasty to the American palate. Much better to be a dog or cat. Though India would have been a great place to be born a cow and China for cats is not where you'd want to be.) At any rate, I can tell you they have willy wonderful wings. The first night with the family we had boneless with chilli sauce. While I loved the sauce, boneless is not what behooves a man, but both my kids prefer them and they loved The Ref's rendition. Friday night Elaine and I had a late night snack of a 1/2 pound of the traditional wings with the Thai sauce. The wings to us were succulent and delicious, there's just something that the old bone does for the meat that works for Elaine and I.

Unlike Alvie, I never have room for dessert, but these look like destination desserts, worthy of their own visit.

This menu is smart because the Valley is a special place in more ways than one.The Happy Hours apply to the weekends which I think is very smart. A lot of places do not remember to keep the Happy Hour sacred on Saturday let alone the Sabbeth.

The bottom line on this new place is that the originality and inventiveness of the menu is backed up by genuinely good food and good service. If you have been keeping track, (and I hope Jacque’s not) I have eaten there three times with four different people. The service was always good and every dish was dead on in presentation, portions and preparation. I am proud of the owners, Fred and Melanie Lopez, for creating a new place from scratch that obviously puts a heavy emphasis on good food.

   I love that their menu was put together and dialed in by people who live right here andnot by East Coast chefs working  in a million dollar culinary laboratory back East somewhere like they do for Applebee’s. This Pulled Pork sandwich with the appleslaw mixed in there a la Alvie was really good  and that is coming from a guy who has been carrying on a decades-long love affair with the old pulled porkarooskie. The sweet potato fries were pretty darn good as well.

They obviously paid attention to a lot of little things. For example the celery that came with these wings were crisp and fresh while the Blue Cheese dressing that we dipped them in was about as good as it gets. And those wings are as mouth-wateringly good as they look. They are able to bake them at the Ref and not just deep fry them and so they come out with an outsanding succulence. These are what Elaine and I would call the Right Wing while the kids, who grew up during the height of the McNugget Era, seem to be fonder of the boneless wing.

      While the visual focal point  of the interior of The Ref is the huge oval bar with its eye-catching  and very original scoreboard/ flat screen display hovering above, the real focus of The Ref’s owners and staff is on putting out a great tasting product with friendly and professional  service. Which is exactly the way it should be.

Update: since writing this post I have become something of a regular at the Ref and have now tried quite a few different things there and talked to a lot of people about their meals. I still stand firmly behind their pizza, and can now add atleast the BBQ burger to my list of recommendations, having tried and loved one. Two friends told me they loved their burgers as well. We always order their great sweet potato fries that come with a great dipping sauce.
But I have to pull my tip of the hat to their pulled pork sandwich and warn that their kitchen apparently has some consistency issues. The sandwich we had Saturday was a far cry from the one I had a few weeks before. It was flat out bad in that the bread was soggy and had the rubbery texture that nuking does to bread. It was tiny and had very little of the appleslaw that earned my ravenous ravings the first time around . In truth, Elaine, who split the sandwich with me, and I both felt that the sandwich reminded us of one of those that you get at a convenience store wrapped in paper that you cook yourself in the microwave.
All that being said, I still have no problem standing behind my glowing review and after having the opportunity to get to know the owner and some of his staff, I know they will eventually get everything up to the excellence and consistency they have been delivering from day one on nearly all of their menu.

To read a feature story on Fred Lopez click here.

Elaine finds little wrong with the Hong Kong Buffet, and that’s saying a mouthful

Buffet restaurants are like vacations for me, some may be better than others but I love them all. Elaine on the other hand is like many other finicky, uppity eaters who refuse to look down their nose through the sneeze glass to scoop and tong and ladle the dishes they desire at the portions they prefer.

This to me is the ultimate egalitarian dining experience where  hungry citizens eat whatever they please whenever they please for as long as they please. It is never as long as I’d hoped going into the meal and far too long afterwards as the sidewalls of my stomach stretch painfully, suffering from the free-for-all my mind and eyes and mouth and hands had at its expense.

It is obvious that many of my fellow buffeters do not suffer the same limited storage problem that I do and perhaps that is why places such as the Old County Buffet and virtually every other buffet restaurant I have grown to love has been forced out of business. It might just be that as their popularity amongst the heavy hitters grows, their profits diminish in direct proportion to the expansion of their clientelles’ midsection.

At any rate, Elaine’s tummy seldom suffers at a buffet because she does not suffer buffets, partly because of  the earthy, well-fed crowds they often attract that she finds unattractive. Being fair-minded to a fault, I have never seen her point. But she is a sensitive thing and I would argue, a bit of a fool in that she continually has tossed out the baby  with dishwater, buffetly speaking.

One of her favorite stories goes back probably 27 years when it was just her and I and the Valley had two long-gone Chuck Wagon Buffets (one where the Grocery Outlet is at Havana and Sprague, and one where the Plasma Center is at Sprague and Farr). I remember we got in a bit of an argument about where to have a late lunch one Saturday. It centered around the unfairness I felt about living in the Valley with two buffets beckoning to me like sirens as I drove by at least one nearly everyday and yet I could not enjoy their bounty because this crazy lady I married refused to enter their doors.

But I almost got my way that day as she begrudgingly gave in and agreed to dine at the Chuck Wagon on Havana. There we were just a few feet from the cashier when the couple in front of us turned around to make small talk in a friendly sort of way. The trouble was the man’s generous belly peeked out grossly from below his dirty tight shirt and the woman had more teeth missing than she had present.

It was more than Elaine could endure and she wheeled around in disgust, leaving me alone in line with my new buddies as she crossed the street to eat at McDonald’s, which  was normally beneath her sensibilities as well. There was no way I was about to follow my snooty little bride with the smell of all those tasty dishes prancing around my nostrils.

As usual, I committed the sin of gluttony and suffered accordingly. Unfortunately for me, but to Elaine’s seemingly eternal amusement, something amongst the vast array of dishes I consumed for lunch came back to haunt and torment me through the night. How I suffered as I repeatedly leapt from my bed in agony to spew forth into the toilet. Each time as I weakly slipped back to bed, Elaine would chuckle as she rolled over and say with supreme satisfaction, “I guess that ought to teach you.”

I think she wanted my agony that night to teach me that she was right about buffets and hence pretty much right about everything. The years have unfolded to teach her that I learned neither lesson on that painful night. In fact, though I was a bit suspicious I never thought it fair to be certain it was food poison. Maybe it was a brief and violent flu bug. At any rate, I was willing to be generous and forgiving, never allowing my Chuck Wagon upchucking to dampen my enthusiasm for buffet dining.

After the kids, who all rejected their mother’s snobbery position and embraced my slobbery one, came along, I no longer had to buffet it alone.  The Old Country Buffet where we dined Motherless and they ate like little heathens and drank chocolate milk like rock stars, will forever be cherished memories for them as I still cherish the Sunday  buffets of my childhood including Tony’s on Couer D Alene Lake and U City’s Golden Hour (where I had the tastiest job during high school slicing the barren of beef each Sunday at the end of that historic buffet line.) Later in my teen years the Red Lion put forth a Sunday breakfast brunch that still makes my stomach growl and eyes moist every time I walk through the large passage way going into The Max at Mirabeau where they set up their incredible repast each Sunday.

Flash forward 35 years to the Hong Kong Buffet at the Valley Mall where a lifetime of making a pig of myself at buffet lines meets two of my most favorite foods : oriental and seafood. It is so good that Elaine looks forward to our second annual Mother’s Day meal there. Keep in mind it is Mother’s Day and so it is her call. To be able to say that is one of my life’s richest rewards.

I hold the Hong Kong high as my personal bastion of buffets based upon a lifetime of enthusiastic connoiseurism. I have snorted and stuffed my way through worthy buffet lines offered up by the Couer D’ Alene Resort at a few Thanksgivings and several Sundays, I ate myself silly at Suzy’s seafood smorgasboard on several Friday nights back in the day on Trent before that icon went down in a blaze of glory. I have feasted like a fool along the Vegas strip for breakfast, lunch, dinner and midnight snack. When the Longhorn and Kentucky Fried Chicken went buffet, I went nuts. If buffet eating were a destructive habit, I would not have made it out of my 20′s.

And so when I say the Hong Kong Buffet is good, don’t trust me. I have  never met a buffet that I did not like. But when I tell you that Elaine likes the Hong Kong Buffet, you must listen. I mean she is still a snooty little thing and does not like some things about the place like the occasional Buddha belly and the rather tacky but typical Oriental decor. (And I myself wish the staff had better rule over the English language so they understood what “football” meant when I ask them to change the channel). But she has finally come to see there is a buffet line here in the Valley with a vast array of delicious dishes that rises above the scenery and meets her incredible standards.

And so it falls on me to use whatever gifts of prose God gave me, to use all that I have learned about internet Search Engine Optimization to draw people into this deserving Valley jewel so that the kids and I can eat like heathens with Mom on every Mother’s Day for as long as we both shall live.

I mean if you love seafood like I do this place will make you wish you had a whale of a belly so you could eat like a horse.

Then there is their sushi bar complete with a sushi chef making the stuff up as fast as the diners can put it away.

This is round one and I have to be very careful because I can only go two rounds. Each morsel on this plate has earned the right to be there. The peanut chicken in the left foreground is fantastic but narrowly made the plate as it is almost crowded out by the heavenly coconut shrimp. And look up, there next to the glimmering mussel on the right is a frog's leg which I have to have one of every time I go because where else in this town can a guy get an honest-to-goodness frog leg?

This is round two and each item would have been first string at any other buffet. If you notice there are no repeats and also that this plate is slightly less crowded. Both are because of tummy restraints. If it were up to my mind's eye and tongue's tastebuds, this plate would be piled high with more to follow. Those little stuffed crabshells in front are so tasty I save them for last because they are like dessert.

And this is Jacque, the youngest of my four little heathens, so full of amazing Oriental food that she begins to look like a giesha girl. Notice how she gloats in her father's face because she is able to still eat dessert while he can only burp and groan, no longer having so much as a spoonful of stomach space left.

Pryor’s of Otis Orchard still hits nothing but net with its seafood classic

Considering that we are located along the same longitude as the seafaring, seafood-loving Scandinavian countries and hence the blood of those countries flows through the veins of so many Valley natives , it has always struck me as odd that the Spokane Valley is bereft of seafood restaurants. There is not one in the Valley and I have to go back to the beginning of our marriage, 28 years ago, to recall a time when things were different. Looking back, it brings to mind Richard Harris speaking forlornly :  ”Don’t let it be forgot / That once there was a spot / For one brief shining moment / That was known as Camelot!” That is exactly how I feel about the old Sea Galley where Elaine worked as a waitress not long after we were married.

She had actually begun her waitressing career at another long-ago-and-far-away-but-not-to-be-forgot downtown sandwich and dessert shop called The Early Dawn Ice Creamery on the street level of the Parkade. From there she moved to the Valley and worked briefly at another golden memory called the Golden Hour at University City in 1984 just prior to Pat and Greg Kreotch taking over, closing for remodel, and then renaming it Percy’s Eating and Drinking Establishment. That was a lifetime ago, (at least for the Valley’s beloved Percy’s) but I have carried a torch in my heart for The Sea Galley where Elaine went after we realized the remodelling was going to last longer than our savings.

It is interesting looking back because those are what I would rank as the two best restaurants the Valley has ever seen, in my years at least. The Golden Hour and The Sea Galley were culinary versions of King Arthur and Sir Lancalot. For a brief time, they were the brightest stars in the hospitality heavens in Spokane Valley. There were a few other great though slightly less noble spots nearby that also have fond memories still rumbling in my tumbly. How could a kid not love the old IHOP with its careening blue roof sheltering the most sinfully scrummy pancakes and waffes and crepes. In the now-distant time before the Happy Meal, IHOP was every kids vote for dinner. It was like going to the candy store for supper.

Then there was the old Holland House attached to Newberry’s east side at University City. That was back when they called buffets smorgasboards. They should have called them gorgeasboards because that is what diners did, gorge themselves. To top it all off there was the Karmel Korn Shop just across the mall from Newberry”s, where the tastiest form of carmel popcorn the world has ever seen was stirred up with a large wooden paddle in a shiny copper kettle the size of a wine barrel. Those were the days when a place like the Sea Galley and the Golden Hour were able to swoon the Valley through their doors just by laying out steaming good food that drew healthy crowds by the dent of their scent and words from their appreciative customers’ mouths.

How far that is from then to today as the Valley’s mall sprawls far from its center on the other side of  I-90, with its corporate franchise restaurants resting on their parking lot pads, using national, million-dollar marketing campaigns to draw customers like mouths to a flame. Not one of them could hold a candle to the Holland House, let alone the Golden Hour or my beloved Sea Galley. Time, of course, adds seasoning to all the dishes I fondly remember from those beloved old places.

It was way back at the Sea Galley, where I dined every Friday night and my young bride served me, that I always ordered my favorite version of  a dish served by many restaurants called “The Captain’s Plate”. It typically comes with deep-fried clams, shrimp and fish filet accompanied by a potato and salad, preferably coleslaw. The Sea Galley outclassed every place I have ordered the Captain’s Plate by giving me a merry go around their circular salad bar that my belly’s eye still weeps for as it lovingly dreams of their baked beans and jello and a vast selection of savory salads .

I have tried the Captain’s Plate at dozens of places through the years and not only has no one ever offered anything remotely close to the Sea Galley’s round salad bar of delight, nor has anyone in modern times  come close to the quality of the fish, the texture and taste of the clams and the succulence of the shrimp. I have eaten the C Plate once at the Northside’s Red Lobster and once at the Valley’s Black Angus and will never return if mine is the deciding vote because I put them both up to bat at the old C Plate and they struck out like the mighty Casey.

I know that of which I speak concerning this matter of the Captain’s Plate, the dish that I have ordered a hundred different times at a hundred different places. I had actually given up on it because no one seems to be able to deliver the goods any more except one place that I had all but forgotten about until this Summer. That would be a lowly but lovely little diner out on Wellesly in Otis Orchards called Pryor’s. I used to build homes out there in the early 90′s and had their Captain’s Plate for lunch at least once a week.

This summer I was at a wedding up at Riplet’s Mansion and a lady came up to me and said “Captain’s Plate with fries,chowder and coleslaw, right?” I had no idea who she was or what she was talking about . Come to find out she was one of the owners of Pryor’s and had served me my lunches in those few years I had worked out in Otis Orchards  15 or so years before. That reminded me that there still existed a place that served a Captain’s Plate that made me heart swell like a puffer fish, not to mention me tummy.

So it wasn’t long before I found an excuse to be in Pryor’s vicinity around the vicinity of lunchtime. I was curious to see if they were still able to put out what others have failed to do. I was very nervous as I waited for my meal to arrive. Fifteen years, after all, is a long time to maintain a standard of excellence. But then my coleslaw arrived and it was just as creamy and full of flavor as I remembered it. Then came my clam chowder and I began to quiver with excitement as I tasted the same rich chowder that I remembered.

My stomach did flips like a Sea World dolphin as it  looked forward to the prawns and filets and clams it had not seen in 15 years. On top of all this, Pryor’s does something that no one, not even the mighty Galley of lore did: they pack the plate with two more delicacies, two of my favorites: the oyster and scallop.I have found no one but Pryor’s, in all my vast experience of ordering the Captain’s Plate across America and up into Canada, has ever included both of these worthy mollusks on the C Plate where they so richly deserve to be bedded amongst the other little fishies.

And so after every last piece of Pryor’s prizeworthy C Plate had plummeted down into my paunch and I  ached in ecstasy, I slowly stood and waddled my way out. I could barely make it through the door because I was beside myself knowing that even though the Galley of my youth had long ago sailed away with the other worthy vessels like the Holland House, IHOP and the Golden Hour that had so nobly served the Valley from their U City district moorings, Pryor’s still served a worthy Captain’s Plate. The thought of it warmed my Scandinavian blood as it rushed to my swollen belly to help digest all that sumptuous seafood.

Ecstasy in a basket. Not shown in this picture are the highly worthy supporting characters: Coleslaw, fries and chowder.

If you love shellfish, I highly recommend a Pryor engagement.