Judge
Vardigan
Summer
2002
Judge Vardigan, who does not normally drive, toured parts of our füd-filled
nation in vehicles including his mom's Toyota Camry (thanks Mom!), an
Amtrak train, and a rented white Chevy Malibu smelling faintly of carsickness
(thanks AVIS!). Armed with atlas, blue plastic donkey, 89 compact discs,
troughs of coffee, a tape recorder, and pen and paper, he brought back
the following report, which begins in Michigan. Still to come, in future
weeks: Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, South Dakota, Montana, Idaho, Washington,
and Oregon.
Michigan | Illinois | Wisconsin | Minnesota | South
Dakota
Montana | Idaho | Washington | Oregon
Michigan
 Steve's
Lunch
1313 S. University Ave.
between Washtenaw and S. Forest
Ann Arbor, MI
Map
This Restaurant
When I come home to
Ann Arbor, I approach downtown cringing for the worst. Many of my favorite
places have passed on since I was a kid -- even since college -- and the
slow facelift seems more jarring coming at it from a far-off land like
San Francisco. The passing I fear most (after Drake's
(photo), which is already long gone) is that of Steve's Lunch. I hold
my breath every time I make the left onto South U. Once, a few years back,
there were wooden walls around it and scary scaffolding and I nearly drove
through the window of the Bagel Factory before realizing Steve's was just
installing a new sign. Just being able to walk in here is a joyous, relief-filled
event in itself.
Nothing has changed
inside since I've been coming: 15 stools, brown laquered coffee mugs,
brown countertop worn in places from all the elbows. Take a seat near
the griddle and watch the owner (I do not know his name but I don't think
it's Steve) give the perfect rectangular omelettes a last loving tap with
the spatula before plating them. Every so often you'll see his wife(?)
emerge from behind a wall, but mainly you hear her call out something
in Korean, see him disappear around the corner, and emerge with a dish
in some state of done-ness that he then sets to griddling. While the breakfasts
are superb, Steve's claim to fame is Korean füd, specifically the
bi bim bop, which I have been ordering forever. Order it, watch the waitress
write "B3" on the ticket, and sit back. On average, over half
the diners are solo. Eating here out of sheer love for food and place.
 Served in a big steel
bowl, the bi bim bop features brown or white rice (get brown), spinach,
some other kind of green, uniquely seasoned beef, and a crowning fried
egg on top. (Available with tofu instead of meat.) You'll be given hot
sauce (very hot), sesame oil, and soy sauce in squeeze bottles. I use
only the hot and the sesame, in pretty much equal amounts. After that,
throw on a shake of pepper and then mix it all up before taking a bite.
Later, when there are no orders, the owner sits in his low chair at the
end of the counter, next to the empty grill, watching his grateful patrons
enjoy their meals, safe for now in one of Ann Arbor's remaining landmarks.
Drake's photo
courtesy of Jim Rees.
Dunkin' Donuts
Flint exit, I-75/US-23
Flint, MI
Any drive north in
Michigan requires a stop here. Tradition dictates it, as does the coffee,
which tastes to my tongue somehow different than others I enjoy, coffees
you might label gourmet, or West Coast. Dunkin' Donuts' does not taste
like Peet's. It could be all the cream and sugar, I guess, which Dunkin'
dumps in quite liberally, but you have to let him and believe in him,
because Dunkin' Donuts has hit on some truly inspired ratio. This coffee
is a treat, and I don't think that's something normally said about coffee.
Again, I'm sure, the sugar plays a large role. You can also get gas here,
which does not feature any cream and sugar ratio I'm aware of.
 Sugarbowl
216 W. Main St.
Gaylord, MI
Map
This Restaurant
Sometimes when you've
been mired in endless exhausting construction zones, praying for creeping
miles not to see the red brake lights yet again in front of you, and you
finally tumble from the car into some restaurant like this one, the Sugarbowl
in Gaylord (opened in 1919), stride stiffly toward a booth and flop down
with your skin feeling pickled after so much air-conditioning and your
contact lenses dry and shot, and you are served a bowl of something kind
of unexpected like this lemon rice soup, and you crumble Saltines in it
and what you spoon mindlessly into your mouth is suddenly the most nourishing
thing you ever put down your throat, well, that's a special feeling earned
only on the road.
The "catch of
the day" was a tuna steak. Pretty good. Extensive menu of sandwiches
and other American fare. Nothing but booths in here, which I commend.
Empty, pretty much, except for me. And now here is the rain the sky hinted
at in the construction zone, here are the torrents, the thunder rolling
and people outside dashing for cover with newspapers over their heads,
here are people dripping rain on the Sugarbowl doormat, here is a total
summer washout on Main Street in Gaylord and my waitress is calling it
a monsoon, "comin' down heavy duty," and she is right, so I
think I'll wait this out over another cup of coffee, thanks.
 Clyde's
Drive-In
US Highway 2
St. Ignace, MI
(On your right shortly after coming off the Mackinaw Bridge, or on your
left as you approach it.)
Clyde's Drive-In is
exciting not just for being an actual living drive-in, but also because
it usually marks a midway point for travelers on their way to vacation
destinations. For us, it's always after the somewhat numbing four hours
up I-75 from Ann Arbor, and then after seeing that great Mackinaw Bridge
bobbing in and out of sight above the trees, the bridge delivering us
safely into the Upper Peninsula. You're then a mere three hours from my
family's cabin near Boney Falls, three hours on the two-lane US-2 that
hugs Lake Michigan and leads you through towns with names like Epoufette,
Naubinway, and Kipling. So it's more than just a meal, see. There's an
air of anticipation, of giddy knowledge that you're in a great place but
on your way to one even greater.
 It
stands on its own as a fine diner too, featuring the Big "C,"
a truly massive burger I haven't tried to eat in many years. This time
I, along with (soon-to-be) reader-eater David "Hoops" Silver,
went for the whitefish sandwich, which was just fine, and chocolate shakes,
always excellent. Inside dining is counter style with stools, naturally.
Clyde's also offers a wild array of fried treasures, including "cluggets"
(chicken nuggets) and my favorite, jalapeno poppers.
Dobber's Pasties
827 North Lincoln Road
Escanaba, MI
Map
This Restaurant
Once you near the
Upper Peninsula, you'll start seeing big wooden signs reading "PASTIES."
They are always Somebody's Pasties, such as Mary's (reader-eater Armadillo
Joe's favorite). Cornish miners introduced them to the region when the
first iron and copper mines opened in the 1850s, and they were designed
as hearty, hand-held meals the miners could take underground. Some, it
is said, "set their pasties on a mining shovel and held them over
head-lamp candles until warmed." Pasties are beef, little cubed potatoes,
onions, and everyone's favorite, rutabaga, all sealed up in a pie-type
crust. Mine Füd!
My family brought
a bag of three to reader-eater Stron and I at the cabin. Barely able to
cook for ourselves, we were quite grateful for the delivery. Breaking
the surface with our forks we saw the steam wisp out. The smell of beef,
onions, potatoes, and everyone's favorite, rutabaga, rushed into the room.
Ketchup was applied. We devoured them quickly, wearing headlamps, pretending
we were Cornish miners. Later, when my cabin visitors had all left the
peninsula, I reheated the third and last pasty. The oven there is basically
condemned. The microwave, big as a dishwasher, is possibly the first one
ever made. The grill was filled with bees. So I put it in a pan, with
a top on it, and snuck a couple slabs of Wisconsin cheddar cheese on top.
Now that's a hearty Midwestern meal. You can order frozen Dobber's pasties
here.
Michigan | Illinois | Wisconsin | Minnesota | South
Dakota
Montana | Idaho | Washington | Oregon
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