Colombos by Meadow Zelenitz-McCracken

Earlier that day in English class, we had an assignment to go to a restaurant of your choice, and write a review on that place, and I chose Colombos. In Bozeman there are lots of pizza restaurants that are Italian. 

I walked into Colombos excited for pizza. I found a table right away because it was seat-your-self. After filling my cup with root beer, I walked to our table and sat down. The first thing I noticed was how the booths weren't very comfortable—in the other room they were much more comfortable.

It smelled like fresh paint as they had just painted the walls a creamy carmel beige—Yuck! There was a wide range of music playing from American to Pop to Latin. There was not very much talking, but an occasional chit-chat; it was a Tuesday night, so it wasn't very busy. The tables were very sturdy, and the lighting was very bright, but not florescent, so you could see what you were eating. It was decorated in the style of most family restaurants.  

After waiting fifteen minutes (It didn't feel that long after the salad bar), we got our pizzas. I ordered a small cheese pizza. While waiting, I got hungrier and hungrier watching other people get served, and the smell of all of the food. It was presented like a meal at home that wasn't very important. It smelled like bread baked with an aroma of warm sauce and cheese. It was perfectly sized at 10” for me. Soon after it arrived, I took my knife and cut my pizza it was very easy to cut because they already cut it for me. I then grabbed a piece of pizza and took my first bite Ouch! It was very very hot. I think I might have burned the roof of my mouth. I took a sip of my root beer while I let my pizza cool down. Finally, it was cool enough to eat. I took a bite and crunch! (I first tasted a mixture of very little grease, so barely any, but still some grease, and mozzarella cheese, then a marinara sauce with hot bread, and when taking a big bite I could taste a complete pizza.) 

After finishing my meal, I walked on the wood floor to the counter to ask for a box. Roger gave it to me happily. Afterwords, I asked to go on a tour “behind the scenes”, and Roger kindly led me to a different person named Justin, who took me on a tour. 

On the tour, I noticed how the floors looked very old, and how they needed to be refinished. I also noticed that the walls had some mistakes in the paint. In the coat room, it was very messy, with coats on the ground like it was a house. In the kitchen it was much cleaner, except for the windows. The windows had dirt on them, and were stained with flour. Despite all this, it seemed like the employees had been around for a while, and had everything in order so it could be easy for them to make pizza. Basically it was like home to them. 

It was a perfect temperature to feel homelike in. When I was walking out, I noticed that the entry way was not that tidy. Now, thinking back, I liked how the food got there quickly, and I felt welcome there. I would suggest to the owner to have fresher bread in the salad bar and have a door to close up the dishwashing room, but thats not there fault. Most old restaurants are dirty because they are old, for example, an old house is generally dirtier due to the materials they were made with. Overall, I would suggest Colombos to people. 

Colombos 3.5 Stars

The Food Essay by Teagan Salter

When I first entered the cozy structure I was greeted by a big yellow lab. When I asked the server about the loud panting beast, she responded,  “it’s the owner’s dog.” It helped make the establishment feel more comfortable. This was surprising, he added a twist to the to the uniqueness that a lot of restaurants need. But just how would a restaurant inspector approve? I must say, it was very cool to have a dog wandering around my chair.

When my family sat down, I instantly noticed that there was some music playing. This was no ordinary music, this was EDM (electro dance music) it made this place feel a bit more energized. It was at a point where it was loud enough to enjoy and still engage in a conversation with other people at the table. The server appeared. I ordered the winter minestrone soup, along with a slice of homemade lemon cake. When the server left, I stared examining the decor around the restaurant. It was actually a very warm and welcoming.  

After ordering, minutes turned into more minutes, more minutes, turned into even more minutes. Ugh. My stomach is feeling the clock tick by too. Time just kept passing by until a hour struck. A few minutes later, I was greeted by a slice of lemon cake with chocolate icing, it was called Boston creme pie. I asked the server, “what’s this?” She responded,  “oh, we serve dessert before you eat the main meal.” I was shocked. I’ve never been to a restaurant that serves dessert before the main course. This was definitely unique for a place that serves food. I wasn't going to sit there as if the cure to cancer has been found because they serve dessert first; I mowed down my slice of cake. It was like a real lemon was thrown in the cake to make the tart really pop out. The chocolate icing was just there to sweeten your pucker. 

About ten minutes later, I met my main dish, the winter minestrone. It wasn’t large, but I wasn't extremely hungry after enjoying my cake. The soup didn’t look very appealing with some disproportionate cuts to the potato pieces. After examining the soup for a few minutes, I decided to cut to the chase and try some.  I dug in with a spoon and was instantly in heaven. It was like my food had taken my taste buds on a vacation. Definitely a success, I thought to myself. 

While I was feasting on this delicious meal, I could taste pork, white beans, tomatoes, carrots, a hint of parmesan, some sort of kale, all at the same time. I had to look at the menu for a while to name all the ingredients. The broth was some sort of mix of a bean and broth. After asking the server once again, she responded, “it’s beef broth and cannellini beans blended together.” It was an amazing meal overall. I did notice the potatoes were a bit undercooked along with some of the meat. I quickly finished still wanting more but realizing that it would probably still take a another hour to order. Ten minutes later we got the check and left. Fantastic place, but with a few flaws.

Would you believe that this was my house? And that it cost 20 bucks and took an hour for me to make?

You thought this was a restaurant after all.

My House.

3 out of 5 stars

(not telling the location)

The Hobe Sound Yacht Club by Lucia Heminway

Delicious drinks, beautiful interiors, cordial staff and food that melts in your mouth. If someone asked me what I thought of the Hobe Sound Yacht Club, these four concepts would come to mind.

I had just arrived at my grandfather’s winter headquarters: Jupiter Island, Florida. We were dining at his favorite restaurant entitled the Hobe Sound Yacht Club.

We arrived and were greeted by an extremely friendly entourage of valets and hostesses. None could be more hospitable. A hostess escorted my grandfather, step-grandmother, father, mother and me to a little seating arrangement. We ordered drinks while our hors d’oeuvres were brought to our table. They consisted of scrumptious cheesy popcorn, a mixture of nuts, cold vegetables, dip and thinly sliced potato chips. The Shirley Temple I ordered equaled the perfect combination of sweet and bubbly. I downed it faster than you could bat an eyelash. 

The slightly chilly room made me feel like I was back in Montana, not the humid Florida I was growing accustomed to. I absolutely adored the naval decorations that adorned the walls: Ship hulls, portraits of seagulls and, most importantly, the sailor’s valentines — seashells arranged in a frame — that add brilliant color and took my breathe away.

Donna, the waitress, strolled over and took our order. She recited the dishes that evening as we gazed at our own personal menus that were sitting on the table when we arrived. Donna was quite friendly and seemed to enjoy being asked questions. That, quite possibly, could be because my grandfather was a past Commodore (similar to a president) of the club.

After a brief wait, we were seated at a table next to the bar where I found the television distracting. The walls were a rich chocolate color that made you feel like you were in an Irish pub. Our appetizers had already arrived and were waiting for us to gobble up, except mine, which was the only hot meal. However, it was well worth the wait.

As soon as I took a bite, I was in love. No crab I had ever tasted was this dreamy, succulent and balanced. In our dark corner I was never certain what I was eating. Almost all bites were superb, although one was too heavily seasoned and made me think twice about eating so greedily.

After I had devoured my sunburnt-yellow crab, the waitresses came to gossip with my grandfather and remove our plates. The waitresses here are like old friends; they are full of joy and kindheartedness. They know when to chatter and they sense when to be silent. They brought service to a new level.

Soon, my pan-seared swordfish arrived on my plate. My step-grandmother, Jody, had to serve me the vegetables because the waitresses weren’t able to reach my seat. I dug in as soon as the last carrot hopped onto my dish. 

The fish was the color of an after-sunset cloud, with an extremely dark spot in the middle. I found the swordfish was only okay, since it lacked the flavor I anticipate in a well cooked and flavored fish. The capers were sparse and far apart — I counted only two on my seafood.

The vegetables looked delectable, but when I bit into a carrot, my teeth shook. It was tender on the “crust” but rock-solid at the “core.” I then tried a squash. It was slightly better than the carrot, but its lack of flavor left me hanging.

Donna appeared and read the dessert menu.  After a heavenly description of everything they offered, I chose the apple tart with cinnamon ice-cream on top. It arrived almost immediately and I dug in. I fell in love with a decedent bite of warm tart and cool ice cream. It was the perfect mix — exactly what I needed. Jody commented on how the ice cream tasted different than the Häagen Dazs brand they usually use. An attentive waitress went directly to the head chef, Luis, and told him the predicament. Luis replied that the ice cream was indeed new and called Palm Beach Ice Cream. I, personally, could not tell the difference. 

During each course we had excellent discussion on community, friends, politics, family and life in Montana. This is the kind of discussion that comes from a wonderful meal.

Later, when I asked to see the booklet on the history of the Hobe Sound Yacht Club, they brought it straight in. I found it interesting that when the club was founded in 1892, a commodore would serve a term of up to ten years. Nowadays, each commodore serves for two years. I realize now that my grandfather introduced me to a long and impressive dining tradition.

When we were heading out, I was delighted to see a fish bowl full of jelly beans that I could savor while our car was brought to the front. 

Amiable staff are always what makes a restaurant a positive, adventurous experience, (even if the swordfish is bland.) Florida cuisine isn’t a staple in the U.S. diet, but it definitely has a culture that is conveyed at this establishment. The Hobe Sound Yacht Club exceeds my expectations, not just through the staff but also through the food, the décor and the friendly environment. For these reasons, I am giving the “Yacht Club” a 4.7 out of 5 stars. While this club is for its members, I consider it the leading restaurant in Hobe Sound because of the astonishing gourmet experience awaiting any visitor. If I’m ever in Florida again, I will stop in, chat with Donna and have a delightful meal. The Hobe Sound Yacht Club is the place for good food. 

Pizza Campania by Lily Spicher

As we drive to Pizza Campania the anticipation of good food wells up inside me. When we walk in the door a wave of delicious smells washes over us and soon we are engulfed in a warm fuzzy feeling. I smell sweet cheesy pasta and warm mouth watering meats that are in the delicious entrees.

We were seated quickly, in part because we had reservations, and were brought to a well maintained table. Clean and not too cluttered with items. There were salt and pepper shakers, two menus and shining silverware laid on our napkins.                                                                                                       
As I assess the foods on the menu I find many choices with noodles and other pastas. We look for an appetizer to start the meal. We decide on the Arancini di Riso, a large ball of risotto which is a very wonderfully flavored type of pasta. The ball is filled with pasta and salami and is encrusted with cooked risotto. The pasta appetizers were surrounded in marinara sauce and served on an almost glowing white plate.

After we are served, we order our main meals. I ordered the chicken piccata and my dad orders the Genoa pizza. We are given glasses of water and asked if we would like another drink; we politely decline. As the appetizer is served my tummy rumbles ferociously  and we dig in. It is scrumptious and I eat every bite of my side of the dish. There is time to digest the appetizer before our entrees are delivered to our table.

When they arrived my stomach was very pleased it was there and they were plated quit artistically too. The Chicken Piccata is a plate of cheese sauce and parmesan cheese covered noodles, overlapped by lemon juice and capper covered breaded chicken. My dad’s pizza, was a soft crust covered with green alfredo sauce, pineapple, olives, chicken, lettuce and topped with cheese and tomatoes. Both were very delicious and prepared quite professionally. We were not able to get dessert or finish our meals for we were too stuffed by the wonderfully whimsical, mouth-wateringly delicious food.

The waiters were relatively fast, considering the amount of people there, and were really kind. They answered any of the questions we had about the food and weren't too pushy and in our faces. They let us take our time to eat and digest before asking if we wanted anything else.

The restaurant was very clean and rather home-like and it almost felt as if you were being invited in by the building itself. The ceilings were high, which makes sense given that it was once an old grain elevator, this allowed the room to be open and not echo too much. I do have some recommendations for them that may help their restaurant. First, I would change the chairs because they were rock solid and by the time the meal was over my legs felt sore from sitting in them. Also the lighting was a bit too dim for the atmosphere, so I would brighten the room.

After we got the bill and left for home, I considered how many stars I would rate this restaurant and I have decided to give it four and a half stars, because of the kindness and efficiency of the waiters, the home-comfort feel of the restaurant and how well the food was prepared.

Overall, I had a good experience and will be coming back for more.

Casa Sheckleton by Liberty Sheckleton

I walk into a quiet restaurant enveloped in trees and snow. It is at the foot of a hill and is only a few miles away from Highlight Reservoir. The first thing that I notice about Casa Sheckleton is that it feels like home: it is soothing and spacious, but it also has a sprinkling of silliness. I order at the marbled counter that is a few feet away from the door. The staff is very friendly, and feels like family. One of them offers me a cup of hot cocoa, which is not usually on the menu, and I gladly accept. The restaurant emits a sense of calm, with its blue and green color scheme, which goes nicely with its sea-themed decorations.

After I order, I enjoy the entertainment, which tonight is bubbles. After nearly hyperventilating from blowing bubbles, I sit down at a smooth espresso-colored table, which is not entirely clean: there are a few pieces of string scattered across its surface. A few minutes afterwards, my food arrives. It took a little too long, but the bubble activity kept me occupied while I waited. I’ve ordered cream of mushroom soup in a bread bowl. When it arrives, it smells heavenly. 

Mushrooms are a strange food. Their smell is overwhelming, especially when cooked, but I can’t really describe it. Their aroma is sort of musty, but also a bit sweet. But their scent can be deceiving, because mushrooms are ugly. The mushrooms before me are gray squares sitting in a sea of beige soup, which is less soup-like  and more of a stew consistency. There is a spoon of caution-tape-yellow corn sitting on the top of my “soup.” The bread bowl is light amber, and is shaped like a pumpkin with the top cut off. I decide that this is the part I will eat last. 

All in all, the meal is not presented attractively, but it would be hard to assemble such an ugly soup into anything even remotely attractive. I spoon a portion of the soup into my mouth. Immediately, I realize that  the soup is a bit too hot. Not too hot that it burns, just uncomfortably hot. The corn is a bit too overwhelming, but the rice is perfectly cooked. There is exactly the right rice to soup ratio. 

Some foods get better with each bite, and this is one of them. The soup is a bit bitter, but that is actually perfect, because the bread provides a sweet taste that contrasts with the soup. The bread is soft and chewy, and tastes even better because it has soaked up some of the soup. 

I finish up my meal, and take a moment to contemplate this restaurant. There are a few things that can be hard to find in restaurants, like friendly staff and hands-on entertainment,(which this place has covered), both very unique in restaurants. However delightful this place may be, there are also some improvements that should be made. Specific to the dish I just ate, I recommend no corn, because, although it offers an interesting change from the mushroom, it is also a bit overwhelming. Another thing is that the staff are not dressed professionally. It makes it look like the restaurant is the staff’s home, because they are so comfortable.

Even though there are a few improvements to make, I would still recommend this restaurant. All in all, I would rate this restaurant a four, because I believe that the most important things in a restaurant are the food and how you are treated, and this restaurant got these things exactly right.

Ted's Montana Grill by Clara Maseman

It was a dark and snowy night, as my relatives and I shuffled into the Baxter 

hotel, hungry for Ted’s gourmet burgers. Ted’s is a well known restaurant on main street in Bozeman. Most Bozemanites will know straightaway what you are talking about when you mention Ted’s. Some of my relatives were from out of town, so we decided to take them to a restaurant that had a very distinct Montana feel to it. 

We had called earlier that night and made reservations for an exceedingly large table. When we arrived in the entry of Ted’s, we passed the seemingly endless line of people waiting for a table. This wasn’t unusual, being a friday night at one of the most popular restaurants in Bozeman. The waiters were very kind and got us to our table almost as soon as we got to the front of the line. We sat down and examined our enormous paper menus covered in the Montana delicacies served here. The straws we used for our drinks were made of recycled paper and, strangely, didn’t get soggy when they were used. The waitress was very gracious and nice when she asked us what we would like to order. I ordered a bacon cheeseburger with bison instead of beef. 

We waited forever. Every second seemed like an eternity. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock….. you get the idea. I surveyed the room around me. The walls were a whitish color (it was hard to tell what color it was due to the dim lighting) with a reddish wooden trim. The ceiling had an interesting texture to it and had many milky white chandeliers that looked like upside down wedding cakes hanging from it. The wedding cake chandeliers emitted a dim light, casting a calm mood throughout the restaurant. After at least half an hour (it seemed like half a century), our waiter finally came. He set in front of me my bison bacon cheeseburger with fries. It smelled delicious. The gorgeous, mouthwatering burger was placed on the bottom right area of the plate, while the toppings were delicately stacked just above it. The entire left side of the plate was covered in crispy golden fries, freshly made in the kitchen only minutes before. 

I submerged my face in the burger (literally… It was that big…) . IT. WAS. AMAZING. An explosion of flavors met my taste buds and I gasped at how decadent it tasted. Flavors like greasy bacon, tender bison meat cooked medium rare (my personal favorite), spicy onions, and tasty sauces mixed with Ted’s secret spices erupted in my mouth. It was so delicious that it didn’t need any condiments or toppings! I tried to eat slowly, but I just couldn’t help myself. Within five minutes, the whole thing was gone. I ate the entire plate of fries like a ravenous gorrilla. They were cooked enough so that they were crispy, but not cooked so much as to be burned and crunchy. 

Afterwards, I felt as though I would never eat again. I had overstuffed myself to the limit. It felt as if someone had pumped me up with a bicycle  pump and I was about to burst. After a while my family finished eating and received the bill for the night. I never got to see how much that night cost, but I bet it was ridiculously expensive. I walked out of that restaurant feeling satisfied and overly full. The food at Ted’s was some of the best I ever had, but the waiting was tedious. In result of this, I give Ted’s Montana Grill 4.8 stars. 

Red Tractor Pizza by Trent Brundin

Red Tractor, a local pizza place located on 10th and Main, has a cool and low key environment.  The staff are friendly and ready to help. On the right side of the restaurant is a make your own Italian soda bar.  In the back, they have a huge oven.  The tables are mostly on the left side, but there are some booths in the middle.  The paint is a dark red, like cherries.  

The reason my family chose Red Tractor is because we had eaten the food but we had never been inside and we wanted good pizza.  Plus my family likes to eat locally grown, healthy organic food so Red Tractor was the perfect fit.  We hopped into the car, drove ten minutes and arrived at Red Tractor famished.

The menu is a list of fifteen different pizzas and four different appetizers, or you can make your own design.  We ordered the BBQ Chicken pizza, Verdante pizza, cheese pizza, a salad and a side of garlic bread.  As we waited, we played some of the games on the tables around us.  Miles, my little brother, and I played Rock ‘em Sock ‘em Robots.  

During the wait we got some Italian sodas; mine had two pumps of vanilla and four pumps of orange.  It tasted like a tropical drink.  Then the garlic bread came.  The bread tasted like strong cheese with a hint of garlic.  After we ate that, we had seconds on our Italian sodas and this time I chose: four pumps of cherry and two pumps of vanilla.  It tasted like a cherry sundae or cherry ice cream.  

Ten or twenty minutes after we ordered we got our food.  The cheese pizza had a thick layer of cheese on it so that when we cut the pizza oozed out cheese.  The BBQ pizza had: Bar3 House BBQ sauce, chicken, bacon, roasted garlic, roasted red peppers, carmelized onions, scallions, and garlic oil.  You could really taste the different flavors on the pizza.  The last pizza, the Verdante had: organic red sauce, mozzarella, gorgonzola, fresh parmesan, and local organic chevre.  I did not get to try this because: it was for my mother who is a vegetarian and I was very full from eating the other pizzas.  She said it tasted very good.

After dinner we played Battleship and got a private tour of the back.  The oven was huge like the size of a hut with a fire underneath and had a big stone in it that was the size of a small car.  The kitchen was fairly big like the size of a few normal home kitchen.  Eating at Red Tractor was a very good experience and an adventure for my taste buds.  I would definitely suggest the Red Tractor to a pizza lover and a person that likes to eat organic.

Nova Cafe by Elizabeth Lee

It was 10:00 a.m. as Anne, Aidan, and I descended on Nova Café, thinking that most of the Bozemanites would have cleared out by then. We were about as wrong as the British in 1776. The moment we entered via the back entrance, we were mauled by an angry herd of bison (A.K.A. the colossal horde of people who hadn’t been served yet). 

Nova has created a culture in Bozeman by being privately owned and communally-centered. Nova really focuses on making your experience memorable and positive. They sponsor local events and give out T-shirts. What’s not to love? This popularity was proven by the average 35 minute wait for a table.  Luckily (for Nova) the day we went was an especially cold day and nobody wanted to make the journey back to the car. The waitress gave us one of those beeper things that tell you when your table is ready, and we took a seat in the cramped waiting area as people moseyed around us waiting to be seated. After an eternity of drinking coffee, waiting, talking, drinking coffee, waiting, talking, our beeper started flashing, making me jump. We were finally seated.

The vintage sparkly diner chairs were strangely pleasant next to the more modern atmosphere of the room. Wooden planks lined the walls with artistic drawings of food on them, brightening up the room and emphasizing the “hominess” of Nova. Thanks to the corner in which we had been seated, the noise level was extremely low. However, for the people seated in the main dining area it was an entirely different story. Even to me the noise was excruciating and my ears were plugged thanks to a cold. If you are going to go to Nova for breakfast, I recommend either getting there before 7:00 a.m., or after 11:00 a.m. so that your hearing and other senses are not completely plagued.

I decided to order eggs benedict. It took our meal eight minutes sixteen seconds to arrive, and was the perfect serving temperature. Not so hot that we had to wait for it to cool, and not so cold that it tasted like it had been dead for two months and then heated for thirty seconds in the microwave. When I dug my knife into the first of the pile of egg, ham, and muffin covered with the Hollandaise sauce, it cut somewhat easily (to my great joy) for Eggs Benedict.

The snowy whiteness of the egg whites against the yellow yolk nicely contrasted with with the more robust hues of the ham, muffin, and potato bits to the side. Although this dish was nowhere near dainty, it was appealing and it looked like there had been some thought as to the arrangement of the food.

I impaled the unending layers of local ham, egg, and English muffin until I eventually had a bit of everything on my fork. I’m not exactly the most careful eater in the world, but it doesn’t take Ruth Reichl to figure out that this dish had been constructed in a way that makes it virtually impossible to eat it in a fashion that does not involve looking like a lion hunched over a dead impala. I couldn’t help but wonder if Nova was trying to make it more rugged so people would think that they are truly a home-style restaurant. Even though Nova has a modern design, even though Nova has some “elegant eatery,” even though Nova keeps up with the times and is technologically savvy, they still want to appear to be a good-old down-to-heart kind of place. This was an interesting prospect to me and I pondered it the rest of my stay at Nova.   

Although the egg was cooked perfectly with a nice and runny yolk, there were way too many slices of ham. It overpowered the English muffin slice and sauce so much that I had to remove half of the slices of ham and stockpile them for later on the side of my plate. The Hollandaise sauce was creamy with a little bit of spice, giving the dish a little punch. Besides the ham, the only other thing that held the plate back were the potato bits. They tasted a bit bland and dry, making it feel like you were trying to swallow a freeze-dried pillow. However, this could be remedied by applying a couple squirts of ketchup.

Eventually, our check came and the total for two Eggs Benedict and one waffle was surprisingly cheap at $32.00. We were about to pay when Aidan elected to get a hot chocolate, which I must say sounded pretty good. The waiter was then forced to take back our check and make another to accommodate for the hot coco. He did this with a very positive attitude and gave us a genuine “thank you” when we left. Not just the, “Thank you come again,” that is normally recited to you upon leaving a restaurant, but a real: “Thank you guys for coming in!” He also served us with an upbeat attitude and seemed to, strangely, enjoy being a waiter. Nice job Nova!

When we ascended from Nova, the mood was a good one except for one slight problem: Rather worryingly, Aidan’s Hot Coco cup had an arrow pointing to the “Sip hole.” What kind of mumbling mongoose would monogram that miserable montage of words to map my mug’s “Sip Hole?!” Apparently, mumbling mongooses from Nova’s art team would. I could just imagine some office worker, desperate for promotion, coming up with the “Sip Hole” while on coffee break.

I would recommend Nova to people who like a good meal and not one of those artsy patties that consist of something green with gold shavings on top. My kind of food!

Sweet Chili by Aidan Ferrin

I am someone who has been to many restaurants all around the country, and in several others. I’ve tasted soda from Costa Rica, chocolate from Belize, and quesadillas from Hawaii. Due to these experiences, my view on restaurants has changed over the years. As someone who views restaurants very analytically, I am fairly critical of any restaurant I travel to. Still, I do enjoy reviewing, and I had fun writing this paper. Enjoy! 

As I entered the building, the overwhelming simplicity of the entrance struck me. Compared to what I saw through the large glass panes, it was a desert of absence. Walking through the door to the restaurant was like entering a different dimension: the dim red lighting illuminated the large interior of the room. The reception area was small, but effectual, as people were seated quickly and expertly. In the middle of the restaurant was a giant Buddha head, which had a presence of its own, like an elderly figure watching over, and gifting food to the customers.

After a short wait, we (being my father and I) were guided to our table with quick efficiency.  The waitress, who was very friendly, told us about the specials. I ordered some green tea, and my father some sushi (I don’t like fish or seaweed). After a short wait, which, to myself, seemed a bit too long, my tea arrived. The bag was still in the hot water, and appeared to have not steeped for long, a sign that, to me, the tea was prepared with the customer’s taste in mind. The mug, which was decorated with lavender, tangerine, and a type of dusky white leafy vines, was placed on a small saucer, and no tea was anywhere in sight, signaling careful handling. After steeping to my desired amount, not too bitter, but still flavorful, I took a sip. It was very warm, but still fulfilling. As an agreeable effect, a slight aftertaste of lemon soothed, in its own way, the burn of the scalding drink. 

The table was nicely laid out, and seemed to be designed for the diner’s convenience, as everything necessary was close, but not crowding. The utensils provided were slightly scratched, so they were well used, but not so marred that one could tell without looking. A single rose was in a small vase off to my left. It was not overwhelming, but the shock of red was striking on the white landscape of the tablecloth. 

After, in my opinion, a long wait, the sushi finally arrived. The plate was long and thin, as to accommodate the shape of all the fat little cocoons, and was incredibly clean and blemish free. The sushi had no breaches, and absolutely nothing had touched the plate, besides the sushi’s seaweed skin. The layout was perfect, and, according to my father, tasted nice. 

The waitress came to take our orders, and, as I was hungry, was eager for things to be set in motion. I ordered the Green Curry, and my father the Phad Phed. I continuously sipped on my tea, as the warm liquid filled the gaping hole in my stomach. The entrée was taking way too long to arrive. To pass the time, I, perhaps rudely, (I didn’t care) played with my chopsticks. The chopsticks were provided earlier, but were unnecessary until boredom took hold. More people had started coming into the room, so the noise level was skyrocketing. In the background, I could barely hear the unique music that, earlier, created a relaxing atmosphere without being tiring. 

Eventually, after an eternity it seemed, the food arrived. I understand that there were a lot of people, so I’ll cut the restaurant some slack, but the people to the right of us, who, I might add, arrived after we did, received their food first. At the time this was of no consequence, because my food had arrived, and my stomach was akin to a barren wasteland. I grabbed a piece of the meat and took a bite. Immediately, my mouth was assaulted by immeasurable calefaction. Then, shortly after, my taste buds and lips caught on fire. Not literally, but it was so ridiculously spicy. I should have taken the two chilies—the way the restaurant shows spiciness, 1-4—on the menu as a warning. The taste, though, was outstanding. I can’t even explain it to a mortal. It probably tasted better to me than the average human (I really like green curry), but still, the meanest person in the Andromeda Cluster would appreciate this. 

While my blistered (not really) mouth cooled, I looked at the presentation of the curry. 

The large bowl and the smaller plate it rested on, like the other dishware here, were immaculate. Not a drop of the curry, or a shred of the meat looked to have ever touched the surface of either. The classic wide curry spoon that rested on the plate looked flawless, besides the nearly imperceptible scratches of constant use. The bowl had a wide rim that stuck out around an inch and a half, the purpose of which I couldn’t comprehend. Maybe it was to catch rogue splashes of the curry before it reached the diner. Whatever its actual purpose, I used it to rest the chunks of pork on so that they could cool more quickly (I was still pretty hungry).

After the main course was finished, and I couldn’t eat another bite of the curry (I, being a child, need dessert), I ordered some dessert (told you). It was Crispy Milk, a kind of Asian pastry made with cornstarch, various kinds of milk, salt, flour, baking powder, and seltzer water, and green tea ice cream. I do love my green tea. After a 20 minute wait, or there about, it arrived. At this point, I’m sensing a pattern. The ice cream was in a tall glass, and was garnished with a mint leaf. The lighter and darker greens created a nice feeling of contrast. Next to the glass, on yet another spotless long plate, sat a single strawberry. It was sliced vertically, and looked kind of like a puzzle. It was the first to go. The Crispy Milk itself looked like cute little balls of fried goodness. I took a bite: the outside was crispy, and provided a delicate, but satisfying all the same, crunch. The inside was soft, almost custard-like (but it still stayed in place when cut open), and tasted exceptional. It was like someone took ice cream, made it solid, and fried it. The green tea ice cream was also up to par with the rest of the food I had been served. The green tea flavor was there, but not in such large quantities that it overpowered the sweet ice cream taste. When the warm Crispy Milk and the cold ice cream, were eaten in alternating order—ice cream, crispy milk, ice cream, etc.—an agreement was formed that was both refreshing and relaxing, a nice homey feel.

Eventually, came the time to pay and leave. Thankfully, unlike most of the evening, the check holder arrived swiftly and neatly while I was eating dessert. My father gave the waitress his credit card, and just minutes later, it returned. Thank goodness we didn’t have to wait for another half an hour for the waitress to bring it back. While we were leaving, the owner entered. My father knew her, so they started talking. It ended quickly, and it appeared that she went to help the waiting staff. That I must mention, because it is so incredibly nice. Back in the bland entryway, a crowd of around 50 people was waiting. I smiled and thought, they are going to have a great meal, but it may take them a while to get there.

Makenzie River Pizza by Louis Stevens

Makenzie River Pizza was, for the most part, wonderful.  

The food was scrumptious and the wait not terrible.   And I would know.  I am a person of action you could say; I swim most of the week and when I am not swimming I am doing other things.  Because my family and I do so much, we occasionally go out for pizza.  So I am what you could call along with a man of action but also a Master Food Critic for pizza.  

Makenzie River Pizza, the restaurant its self was interesting, from the lamps on the walls whose shades were finely crafted to resemble the skull of a cow or, the trees which looked like they are growing out of the restaurant its self.  You could call it mystical or just fun. The walls were also decorated in carvings or three dimensional paintings of fishermen and women catching fish with a look of joy on their faces.  The overall the feel of the place stupendous like a warm blanket just out of the dryer.   

The staff was very helpful and kind in the way that they seated us immediately; waiting for our food how ever took a fair amount of time considering that we were the only ones there it being a Monday and all.  Once the food arrived it was enjoyable and everything was quite nice from the local milk and vegetables on the pizza to how it was freshly made.  This might forgive the wait of the pizza to table process, which may I add is very important for hungry children.  The place had the kind of culture of a friendly place where everyone knows your name, but most of the time they just call you Mrs. or Mr. 

The pizza was outstanding, it was an Athenian pizza and you could tell that it was fresh like a cool glass of lemonade on a hot summer day.  Topped with olives, tomatoes, basil, red onion, and exotic cheeses.  The pizza was stupendous.  The olives were finely diced and also the tomatoes were red rubies whose flavor that burst in your mouth causing your tongue to feel the onslaught of freshness in the tomato.  The basil was the gorgeous green grass on the perfect summer day.  Red onions and cheese were like foreign travelers bringing goods of great value from lands so bountiful of precious items.  The temperature was absolutely spot on and so was the pizza when cooked. Thank goodness that there were absolutely no little pockets of cold or scalding hot cheese like lava when you bite.

My experience was a good one and I would recommend it to all my friends.  There is plenty of space for them to join in any escapade including pizza.  My only wish for the restaurant is that they could speed up the food to table process but only if it doesn’t harm the flavor, temperature, and fine cooking throughout the pizza.  Overall I would greatly recommend this restaurant for anyone who needs a fast but tasty meal or just a nice outing. 

Makenzie River Pizza: 4 Stars

Fin by Eric Borgquist

The day we went to Fin, I called 5 different restaurants trying to get a reservation for four at 6:00. Then I thought to myself what about rice? Hmmm it’s never too busy. So, we in leaped the car and…. When we got there, the individual manning the front desk said that it was a 45 minutes wait! Ok, so I was wrong now plan G for those keeping score. Then, thanks to my Dad, we saw Fin. All the way there I was dubious. “Fish?” I said to myself.

When we got to Fin, the man at the front desk waved at us. We decided to look at the menu.  It looked great. The man who waved at us turned out to be our server, and was very nice.  Then he showed us to our table, and asked me if I was doing homework. I said, “No I’m reviewing your restaurant for school.” He said “In that case, my name is Evan, but if you don’t like our service my name is Bob.’’

Next, I decided to take a look around. It was decorated tastefully, and had a wall full of wine bottles. The lighting was like a candle light aurora. A crimson pair of tulips were on each table.  The restaurant had very nice smooth Jazz music, and great root beer. 

When the food arrived, I observed it: lobster mac and cheese, with the lobster shell on top, and a piece of bread sticking out of the shell. My stomach growled.  The first thing that I tasted was lemon, bacon, cheese, lobster and butter. It reminded me of a bowl of happiness warmed up. I would have liked it a little hotter, but despite this it was perfect. 

Next we ordered the Tiramisu, which was creamy, fluffy and melted in your mouth, and a chocolate torte, which was sweet, salty and dense on the bottom and soft on top.

In a few minutes, the head chef came to our table, to say hello. Then, he gave me the restaurant’s card. Then, he left to get back to the kitchen. 

After visiting Fin I would recommend it to anyone. The atmosphere, the food and the service was superb.  Fin is a nice place to have a special occasion or a quick bite to eat.  The atmosphere at Fin was just what I needed that evening:  good food, nice people and a calm setting where I could enjoy an evening with my family.  

Fin: 4.5 stars

Wild Crumb Bakery by Grace Tallman

My first taste of Wild Crumb was a complete accident.

I had wandered into the basement to complain to my dad that my cold had left me unable to do anything fun and therefore desperately bored. In response, he handed me a plastic cup with a bit of pale and clear tangerine liquid left inside––fresh squeezed orange juice from Wild Crumb Bakery. I took a cautious sip and found that it tasted like...orange juice. Not the kind in a carton, with its weirdly artificial opaque color and the sugary aftertaste you can never quite get rid of and the weird preservatives that coat your throat, but the juice you get when you suck on a slice of a fresh orange, the kind that dribbles over your fingers and tastes clear and fruity like...sunshine. After those few tantalizing sips, I was determined to go to Wild Crumb and see what other wonders were in store.

A few days later, my wish was granted. It was in an area of town I was familiar with. The architecture in this area combined modern, boxy forms with the more industrial materials of corrugated steel plates and rusty red metal beams. Wild Crumb was no exception. There was an abstract sculpture comprised of curves and ovals outside in the rocky garden full of straggly green-brown flowers. I wondered idly if the art inside and outside had come from the Mercantile, the nearby art studio where I had once taken private art lessons. It shared the building with several other businesses, but it used its available space creatively. 

When we went inside, the first thing I noticed was cinnamon and dill, the scent of sweet and savory spices and freshly baked bread wafting into my nostrils and beckoning me inside. Although the outer look was industrial and modern, the inside was like a classic Montana bakery. The next thing I noticed was the array of pastries neatly laid out behind a curved glass pane, tastefully arranged on platter stands of varying heights. The indoor design may have been Montanan, but the pastries were straight out of a French cafe! A tray of lavender French macaroons caught my eye. I had been to France before, and loved their macaroons. Since then, I had been disappointed by the lack of macaroons that lived up to that standard. However, the orange juice had given me high expectations for this bakery-cafe, and I wondered if my disappointment might that day come to an end. 

I ordered one of the Lavender Earl Grey French Macaroons, a rich chocolatey brown Hazelnut Chocolate Cake dusted with powdered sugar, and a (non-French) coconut macaroon drizzled with chocolate. The staff were helpful and knew exactly what a gluten-intolerant person like me needed. After they handed us our pastries, we sat outside at some simple copper-green metal chairs. 

With some trepidation, I bit into the lavender macaroon. My teeth cracked through the outside crust and into a soft-as-snow interior that tasted of sweet lavender. The inside cream filling was beautifully smooth, with a deep and slightly bitter undertone that reminded me of hot tea. The two different tastes frolicked on my tongue and melded into something sweet and perfectly creamy. It was heavenly. My disappointment had indeed gone away––and that was only the first bite! I finished the rest of the macaroon, being sure to savor every sweet bite as it melted in my mouth just the way it did in France. 

My dad told me that I could only have one more, so I split the other two desserts in half and nibbled on the chocolate cake. It had a rich chocolate flavor with a sweet nutty undertone and a bitter, almost coffee-like aftertaste. It was almost like Nutella, except, of course, much more delicious. If I were younger, I might not have appreciated that richness, but I had recently learned to love such flavors such as coffee and dark chocolate. After painfully forcing myself to eat only half, I dug into the coconut macaroon.  This one was the most typical (I had seen it in almost every cafe I'd ever been to), but a cut above the ordinary. I had never seen someone coat a macaroon in chocolate, but it was a genius idea. The toasted coconut of the macaroon was perfect with the chocolate, combining to create a sweet and nutty flavor that was better than any other coconut macaroon I had ever had. It was only later that I realized that the pastries were probably even better than they had seemed, due to my cold––a tantalizing possibility

I very rarely return to a cafe within two weeks of my first visit, but Wild Crumb was so tantalizing that it lured me back for more within ten days. The third time I went, there was a whole different set of delicious-looking deserts. I decided on a  raspberry, vanilla bean, and apricot panna cotta along with a vanilla bean almond merengue. I started with the merengue, relishing the way my teeth crunched through it and unleashed a burst of powdery sweetness. It was just as delectable as everything else I had eaten there! The main body of the merengue melted away on my tongue, leaving behind a slight almond taste from the goldenrod sliced almonds embedded within. The merengue itself was eggshell white and shaped like a dollop of sticky frosting––not as visually appealing as the perfect swirl shape I had seen at the Daily Coffee Bar, but certainly more gastronomically appealing. 

The panna cotta was altogether different. The first thing I tasted was the clear tang of the deep red raspberry top, followed by the smooth white vanilla bean main body that reminded me of whipped cream. Finally came the rich bright orange apricot gel at the bottom, which tasted like a sunny field on a prairie of sunflowers at sunset. Not sunshine, though––it was too flavorful for that. Altogether, they created a palette of flavors that danced over my taste buds and created a cornucopia of colorful tastes. It tasted like spring. I let every spoonful spend time on my tongue, savoring its flavors before it slipped down my gullet.

All in all, Wild Crumb is most definitely the best pastry shop I have ever been to––which is saying something, considering I've been to France! I would definitely recommend it for anyone who loves quality food or has been spoiled by French cuisine. The only thing I didn't like about it was the fact that it closes at 3:00 PM, so I can't go after school to experience those wonderful flavors. That's just me being picky, though, because short hours are a hallmark of a good restaurant–something I learned the hard way in France. 

No complaints here!