Iowa City, Trip 2, Feb. 2009, Part 1

February 22, 2009 – Started off my second February trip to Iowa City with a hearty, but light breakfast at the Waveland Fairgrounds Cafe on E. 30th, courtesy of Yvonne. I forget the pertinent details but it was an adequate meal. I still do not care for the aesthetics of the square hash browns that Waveland shills out. Yvonne figures the cook forms it that way for convenience of portion, but I beg to differ. It does seem like I'm eating a pre-made patty.

I'm fairy sure that the long departed breakfast spot of lore, Boswell's of Des Moines, used frozen shreds. But how they cooked it made all the difference. Generations weep for the loss of a Boswell's breakfast.

After our last cup of coffee we parted company and I waited outside for my ride to Iowa City. Ace sports reporter Randy Peterson was heading over to cover a basketball game, and I was privileged to snag a lift.

We pulled into Iowa City shortly before 2pm. After an aborted attempt to direct Randy to my destination, we eventually pulled up to the Iowa House Hotel in the Memorial Union.

The digs at the Iowa House are efficient and comfortable, but spartan in design. However the room is equipped with mini-fridge, microwave, coffee maker, La-Z-Boy recliner and good selection of cable channels. Perfect for a longer visit when downtime is a necessity.

Oh, meester. Your beer is SO beeg!

Pizza at The Airliner. Fairly pedestrian stuff. Gamey sausage.

I dallied long enough with unpacking and social networking! The time had come to walk this land and partake of its offerings. Alas, as soon as I was halfway up the hill, I made a hasty retreat back to the lair! I needed a scarf and gloves. Damn you win-TER!!!

Not wanting to just blindly revisit the same places I went to a fortnight earlier, I ventured downtown looking for the unfamiliar. My first stop was at Bo James where I slaked my thirst with a quart of Boulevard Wheat. A refreshing brew, but served in an unappealing plastic tumbler. Beer like whiskey should be served in glass, but for the value price I quaffed my brew with nary a complaint, eating the obligatory lemon slice instead of further adulterating the beer with its addition.

Moving on I opted out of doing a repeat of the tasty grub at Mesa Pizza and instead rounded the corner to The Airliner for a couple of hot pizza slices and a pint of Fat Tire. Hot was an understatement. I burnt my tongue on the first bite!

For my two visits to Iowa City, I found the pizza at The Airliner to be the most average. It's better than a slice from Dominos or Pizza Hut but is nowhere in the league of Pizza on Dubuque and Mesa Pizza. The cheese had a nice brown to it, which is reminiscent of burnt Tombstone's at Carl's Place of another generation, But I found the sausage to be kinda gamey. A very strong flavored meat that overpowered any spice that it may have been accentuated with.

I was amused by the lament of some dickhole. He asked the barkeep to tune one of the tubes over to the Iowa basketball game, but became irritated over how quickly his request was fulfilled. A shame too. I was watching Phil Mickelson, but golf has no priority over a hometown game. I wished for an Iowa lost.

I strolled around another corner and deposited my ass at Joe's Place. Looking upon the beer selection, I came across a pull handle for Czechvar, the beer known as Budweiser Budvar in its native land of the Czech Republic, but due to trademark restrictions cannot be marketed as such in North America. I partook a pint and served myself up with a basket of oversalted popcorn. Oy! I needed the beer just to bring moisture back to my mouth.

I recovered enough from my saline overdose to watch Iowa pull off a win in the waning moments of the game. Rats! I left dejected and slightly salt-cured.

Happiness is waiting for my half poured pint of Guinness to rest at The Deadwood. After the first pint I opted to follow my pints with coffee chasers. The night was young, but I'm not. I got an extra boost from the jukebox when a Supertramp came up. Bloody well right!

Afterwards I felt a pull towards the Tobacco Bowl for a sweet hit of Sister Nicotina [see blog review].

Four basic food groups: eggs, lettuce, Guinness, cigarillos.

Rounding yet another corner I end up at Donnelly's, enjoying yet another pint of Guinness with the added bonus of a small plate of deviled eggs. Now this IS bar food! Sláinte!

Sated, I go back outside for a leisurely smoke and wander the snow-dusted streets until I come upon Quinton's where I savor a limed Negro Modelo with cigarillo upon my palate. Salud!

I take stock of my surrounding and find myself surrounded by a musical who's-who of silk-screened portraits adorning the brick walls. Marley, Lennon, Garcia, Dylan, Cash, Joplin, Hendrix. All but mere pop icons to a clueless generation.

I ended up at the Dublin Underground, drinking Guinness, Smithwick's and Tyrconnell while dividing my attention between watching the Oscars, the fish tank, and the comely barkeep with the fresh looks of a young Chrissie Hynde. Ah, paradise.

On the advice of an Underground patron I saddled over to the Pita Pit for some late night eats. Good food, but the gyro sandwich was mostly vegetables. Then in my alcohol-fueled hunger, I ordered an Awesome Bacon. Also good, but the promised six strips of bacon ended up being nil. I'll likely stick with a vegetarian wrap if I pass through their doors again.
 

Photos from the Picasa Web Album: Iowa City & Coralville, February 2009.