The Crabs get most of the local press, but the summer sun shines on Bomber Field, too. The Humboldt B-52s haven't got a live band yet but the snack shack platoon is performing this season (Redwood Acres, Eureka). Pay for your entry stamp at the folding table and hook right once inside and find yourself immersed in the sounds of the season: the crack of the bat, applause from the crowd and the surf-like shhhh of the deep fryer.
On a recent evening the concessions counter was staffed by a pair of towering players, who shrugged and grinned as they relayed orders to the pros in the back, a couple of women pivoting in the narrow galley between tubs of shredded lettuce and patties on the hissing grill. As a customer went into a mild panic upon receiving her satellite dish of a quesadilla, we ordered the Bomber Burger with grilled onions ($8).
Your debate over whether the hamburger is a sandwich is rendered irrelevant by this cheese-topped beef patty with lettuce, tomatoes and onions (grilled or raw), all of which is held together by a pair of grilled cheese sandwiches instead of a bun. It's a gimmick that works. The flattened sandwiches are both sturdier and tastier than a standard white bun — also weirdly not as painfully filling as one would imagine eating a cheeseburger and two grilled cheese sandwiches to be. And as you listen to the chosen walk-up music of the next batter, Will Smith's "Wild Wild West," it's a reminder that anything goes in the summer. Well, almost.
Back row: Strawberry, chocolate orange, Mexican coffee, pineapple orange. Front row: Coco rose, salted pistachio, green tea, chocolate banana.
Unfortunate fact of physics: A standard ice cream cone can only hold two flavors before things get sloppy and end in tears. If you’re not already married to a flavor, the wait at Living the Dream Ice Cream (1 F St., Eureka) culminates with a scramble to pick from more than a dozen rotating flavors. And even if you get two scoops, does mango habanero go with Dirty Monkey? Sure, you can get a sample but there are limits, both of decorum and the patience of the toddler behind you who wants a scoop of vanilla cake batter now.
Enter the ice cream flight: eight 1-ounce scoops nestled in a custom wooden tray that someone should get going on marketing ($8.25). And unlike oenophiles and beer aficionados, you needn’t follow any particular order. Order a couple of flavors outside your comfort zone and expand your palate. Nibble the salted pistachio and chase it with chocolate orange. A bite of chocolate banana ice cream paired with the light and milky strawberry is an instant banana split. Spend a little time on the complex green tea (fresh, earthy-smoky), then go back to chocolate orange by way of the aromatic Mexican chocolate. Cleanse your palate with the floral and dairy-free Coco Rose. And digging into two rows of scoops does not make you a glutton; you’re a connoisseur.
It's Tuesday so it must be Southern fried chicken.
Tuesdays are press days at the Journal, a cruel constant that has thus far kept us from following a lead on the Tuesday night Southern fried chicken special ($20) at Six Rivers Brewery (1300 Central Ave., McKinleyville). But this week, we put the issue to bed and called ahead to secure one of four remaining orders. By the time we hopped a stool, our neighbors at the bar were already loosened up and the Warriors were taking a beating on the flatscreens.
Jennifer Fumiko Cahill
Juicy inside, crunchy outside and gravy everywhere.
Those same neighbors nodded knowingly when the huge square plate arrived covered in cream gravy, with a biscuit teetering on its edge. Instead of a hands-on leg and breast, this is a flattened, boneless full breast —resembling a deep-fried Pangaea — with a peppery, audibly crunchy crust that holds up under an avalanche of gravy. The coating is, as Elvis' cook used to say, "seasoned pretty high" and the marinated meat inside is juicy enough to make you forget about dark meat for a moment. Asked about the ingredients (is that cornmeal?) the cook replied, "just flour and egg wash." Lies. But we're not even mad. You will need your fork and the oversized knife — to cut, to share or to warn off the envious latecomers who didn't snap up those other three orders. Keep looking under that snowdrift spotted with cracked pepper and you'll find mashed potatoes (jackets on) and green beans slicked with butter. The homemade biscuit, though dwarfed by the tectonic plate of chicken, comes with a very southern foil-wrapped pat of butter and packet of honey so it doesn't forget where it came from.
Even if you don't, carnitas and pastor tacos deserve homemade tortillas.
We are not so much spoiled for choices as crushed by the never-ending waves of them. It never occurred to me as a child, for example, that I would one day find myself behind on watching TV. It is with the same Netflix-esque overwhelm that you sometimes open a Mexican menu, fold after fold, until the accordion of choices sends you seeking the refuge of your usual burrito.
So the one-page, laminated menu at Taqueria Rosales (312 W. Washington St., Eureka), which has lately opened up behind Liu's, is a relief. There are still choices to be made about fillings for the half dozen regular items and the specials. The carnitas taco is little but mighty, with a homemade corn tortilla — oh, the softness — cilantro and onion ($2). Sure, you could go with a packaged tortilla for $.50 less, but is that who you are? Is that how you'd treat a friend, much less the salty, pan-crisped shreds of pork your server's mother made for this taco? Who hurt you?
Jennifer Fumiko Cahill
Tangy, spicy short rib chile verde.
Even plusher corn tortillas came wrapped in foil alongside the day's one and only special, short ribs stewed in a bright, tangy chile verde with a side of beans and rice ($10). Yes, short ribs — another little upgrade to treat yourself. The meat needs only a little coaxing to leave the bone and the seedy tomatillo and green chili sauce has just enough heat to give you some color.
There are two factions of polenta lovers: those who want to dip their spoons into a bowl of golden creaminess and those who want to angle a fork through the browned, cheesy edges. Isn't our nation divided enough?
The polenta lasagna ($17) at Brick and Fire (1630 F St.) is a unifying force. True, it's not an actual lasagna — two seared rectangles of Parmesan-rich polenta sandwich roasted peppers, eggplant and mushrooms — and the roasted tomato compote is more intense than a traditional sauce, but go with it. Because the polenta, topped with shavings of still more Parmesan and a smattering of balsamic, is so very soft, enough to win over the spoon lobby without alienating the crust constituency.
Jennifer Fumiko Cahill
You're going to need another reason not to share.
The kitchen staff is also uniting us on the chocolate cake vs. cheesecake front. The chocolate marscarpone cheesecake is a narrow wedge of the rich stuff ($7). It's milder than the straight cream cheese variety, with less of the distracting tang and all of the fluffiness. The balsamic glaze on the menu turns out to be but a streak, so if it puts you off, relax; if you want more, ask. There, a nation united, if only at lunch.
Entering the vermillion and yellow interior of Ethiopian International Café (210 Fourth St., Eureka) is like being wrapped in a flag at a soccer match. On a recent rainy afternoon, following a tip about the restaurant's outpost at the Arcata Farmers Market, we grabbed a random-couch-adjacent window table at the brick and mortar location and scanned the menu while Björk keened in the background.
The parking lot of Siam Orchid (427 V St., Eureka) is packed enough to simultaneously irritate and inspire hope, given the number of businesses that have moved in and out of the spot. Don't fret; there's more room in the bright dining room, where a photo of King Bhumibol and Queen Sirikit preside over twinkling tchotchkes.
Besieged as we are by the limitless platoons of lingerie model "angels" deployed on runways and in ad campaigns of late, the Angel Wings ($8) — chicken wings de-boned but for the very tips and stuffed with something like pork dumpling filling and glass noodles, then battered, rolled in panko and fried crisp — are a welcome irony. These are no two-bite bar wings. In fact, the pair that arrive with standard sweet chili sauce are thickly crusted and substantial enough to pass for lunch. They're also mild and crunchy, so dip away and be grateful your vocation allows you to eat wings rather than wear them.
Jennifer Fumiko Cahill
Thai surf and turf: snapper and ground pork.
You do not have to choose between sweating your way through a Thai meal or surrendering to the usual pad thai. Instead, you could order the Pla Tod-Na-Moo ($13). The filet of snapper is fried without batter, yielding a brown exterior and firm bite. Poured over top is ground pork stir-fried with sweet white onion, scallions, matchsticks of fresh ginger and a mix of white and stewed shiitake mushrooms. The sweetness of the shiitake suits the ginger and the aromatic sauce is brothy rather than greasy. Surf and turf at lunch — another life-choice win.
Finger food and toe tapping during Taste of Main Street in Eureka.
We hate to eat and run ... wait, that's not true. We love walking around Old Town grabbing a bite here and there. But last night we were on a mission to eat our way through all 26 stops in the Taste of Main Street pass book. We were focused and we were swift, working our way backward from the new chowder at Jack's Seafood to the popcorn tofu at the Co-op. Alas, despite short lines, we were waylayed by a little jazz band here, a little socializing there. By the time we hit Fifth Street at 7:57 p.m., the chairs were up on the tables at Surfside Burger Shack, Bless My Soul Cafe was down to a couple of canapés and the Co-op was a mirage in the distance. If you missed a ticket or two, here are the spots we hit and the things we ate.
There are some items on a menu that you move right past because damn, you could just throw that together at home. Where's the sous vide? The duck fat fryer? In what world are you going to pay someone to make you a bowl of black beans with avocado slices? That would be the world of Beachcomber (1602 Old Arcata Road, Bayside), where plastic animal toys signify your table's order and artfully tattooed couples nibble organic scones over the pass-along Chronicle. A reader emailed about the Beloved Bean Bowl ($9.75, $6.95 half order), with its black beans, avocado, poached egg, Jack cheese and salsa, all of it organic, cage-free, etc. The egg yolk is perfectly creamy and the beans are firm and smoky against the bright red onion, tart green chilies and scattering of mango. In short, it bears little resemblance to the cry for help that is your end-of-the-month canned bean bowl at home.
Jennifer Fumiko Cahill
Your mom does not make you tuna sandwiches this nice. Sorry.
So, too, the smoked tuna sandwich, recommended by the same reader who is clearly not bound by willful self-sufficiency. There is, after all, pleasure in having someone make a sandwich for you — take a moment to reminisce, then make a phone call and reconnect with your parents or that old guy from your favorite deli because that is love. Sure, some may look at an $11 tuna sandwich (no fries, no sides beyond a pinch of dressed greens) like one of those $400 Pentagon hammers. For one, the city block of a sandwich isn't the canned tuna and mayo you're smashing with a fork at home. It's salted and smoked tuna, rich and oily with black pepper. Mixed in are chopped pimento olives, walnuts and a little mustard on fresh, soft Rosemary focaccia. The kitchen was out of tomatoes when we ordered ours, so shredded carrots were subbed in to fine effect. If you're willing to take that kind of time and effort to spoil yourself at home, congratulations: You and Oprah are living your best lives. The rest of us should probably just order the smoked tuna salad sandwich.
Got the goods on good eats in Humboldt? Send the Hum Plate investigative team a tip at Jennifer@northcoastjournal.com.
I am told by a reliable Greek co-worker that everything is Greek. Everything. And yet when I swung into the office with a paper bag from Humboldt Soup Company (1019 Myrtle Ave., Eureka), there was some panic — from the Greek Panikos, incidentally — as to whether its gyro ($8.29) would be Greek enough.
The meat is key here. There are those of us who look at gyro meat or shawarma — the glistening, rotating column of the Mediterranean/Middle-East's answer to sausage — and recoil. Others among us dream of having a similar set-up beside the couch and shearing off strips of greasy goodness as John Stamos flickers on TV. This gyro is stuffed with beef and lamb shawarma that's soft and spicy, somewhere between sausage and meatball, but not overly salty. It's not exactly the same as the stuff they're slicing off the turning spit in the old country (or in Queens, for that matter) but it's savory and makes the cut.
The pita is legit — warm, soft and grilled — and unlike the usual foil-wrapped, dripping behemoth, the whole thing is pretty. Well, not anger-Hera-and-turn-you-into-the-snake-headed-Medusa pretty, but fancy enough to justify the price. The circles of pink pickled onion are tart and bright against the earthy meat and the tzatziki sauce is lightly garlicky and creamy with cubes of cucumber and tomato. Some fancy lettuce and a dark and nutty tahini spread that adds sweet smokiness are enough to make you forget about all that Greek austerity. Just don't get carried away and throw your plate. It's cardboard and that's not festive, it's littering.