My brother and I were having a Local Dive/Great Grub conversation a couple of months ago. Our parents were in town and we were on our Great Family Staycation of 2009, the home base of which was in the Merriam Park Neighborhood in St. Paul. And, nestled within Merriam Park and the nearby Mac-Groveland neighborhood, are such gems as The Groveland Tap, The Nook, and The Blue Door Pub.*
The Blue Door Pub? Erik threw that out as an option after I’d mentioned I’d had the best cheese-centered-burger at The Nook, but that I’d already brought Dad there before a Wild game a couple of years ago. By cheese-centered-burger, I need to be clear as each local dive has its own name for its masterpiece of hamburger patties fused around cheese that melts as the burger cooks to medium-perfection. Matt’s Bar in Minneapolis has the “Original Jucy Lucy.” The Groveland Tap and South Minneapolis’s 5-8 Club call it a “Juicy Lucy.” The Nook cooks up a mean “Juicy Nookie.” Names and such are important foodie business in the Twin Cities.
What about this “Blue Door” place?
Wanting to expand my stomach’s horizons, I asked a bit more about this new purveyor of gooey cheese food…most importantly, where is it? I get a little territorial and huffy when my brother knows something more about my ‘hood than I do, being that my alma mater is the “Mac” of “Mac-Groveland.”
“It’s at Selby and Fairview,” he said.
I pictured the intersection in my feeble mind. “Did it replace that other restaurant?” I’m all about specifics.
“Yes.”
“The one…what was the name…I went there once…something with ‘azul’ in the name?” I was hot on the trail. I had half of it. He wasn’t going to know more about my stomping grounds than me. “It’s now The Blue Door?”
“Puerta Azul?” he finished the other half of the restaurant’s name.
I nodded. “Yeah. That sounds right. I think.”
He looked at me.
I looked at him.
Blink.
Blink.
Sigh. “I took French, Jerk.”
So, we may have a neighborhood knowledge draw, but he’s got me on the Spanish language. Either way, we didn’t eat at any of the neighborhood dives that lunchtime as we needed to keep the young kids fresh between morning and afternoon engagements and, as we many of us have learned the hard way, kids rule the schedule. We ended up with sandwiches and naps for all of us.
What a segue! Read my next paragraph and tell me how smoothly this transitioned.
This past Saturday was gorgeous here in Minnesota. The sun was out, the air was crisp but not cold. My afternoon activity was to go over to St. Paul for a late lunch and cookfest with Joy and Aisha at Joy’s new pad just off of historic Summit Avenue. Having had an eleventh hour textfest about canceling the cookfest and enjoying the weather (yes, vague), I left the dog at home and dressed for whatever the day may bring. I left that a bit open ended…Joy and her husband Matt have a delightful five-month old lad named Vin. As far as this three-person Dependency Spectrum goes, Joy has a somewhat-distracted student husband and new child so she’s close to the “Never in Control of Own Destiny Let Alone Using the Bathroom Solo” end; Grendel puts me near the middle with “Can’t Fall Off Face of the Earth but Can Crate for the Day Without Too Much Guilt;” while Aisha’s “rocnrol” husband and two flighty cats have her at the “Am I Supposed to Be Somewhere?” end. So, between the three of us, it wasn’t too hard to figure out who picked our afternoon plans.
Vin did.
And Vin’s parents who left the base of his car seat in the vehicle that had gone to the University of Minnesota for the afternoon.
C0nsidering the facts that Vin can sleep in the sling that Joy coils around herself like a textile Slinky and that she’s always got his food supply along for the ride by anatomical default, we were mobile…within walking distance. And, what’s within walking distance of her new place?
The Blue Door.
Porte Bleue.
Being that it was 1:30 in the afternoon, we were hoping the stories of a waiting-line-out-the-door wouldn’t apply to us. But, we’re out of touch with the world. Let me say this again to you folks who don’t know where the intersection of Fairview and Selby in St. Paul is located: We were hoping there wouldn’t be a line to get in at a greasy burger joint located between The University of St. Thomas and Macalester College at 1:30 in the afternoon on a Saturday.
Suckers. No, there wasn’t a line…but there was a wait. The three of us strode through the blue door (Hey, if you wanted to say it in Spanish, it’d be “puerta azul!”) and into a wall of heat and steam with a strong tinge of chlorine. Every table was full and every table’s guests were moving at sloth pace due to the time, day, diet, and climate. I think my pulse slowed to an audible chug as we assessed the situation. We agreed to give them a name and wait but the need to breathe drove us to do our waiting outside. In the sun. In the air. In a chair.
We meandered back outside and Joy and I both plopped into chairs next to a table. Next to the table and chairs were stacks of tables and chairs. Then, collective genius struck. (Really, the three of us could probably change a light bulb but only after we’d been fed.) We could dine outside!
After assuring them we’d be fine with no booze on the sidewalk (apparently it’s a no-no…Vin took it the hardest), we set up our al fresco dining room and settled in for a glorious meal. Even Vin got to try a high chair for the first time. And, rather than sound anti-establishment, the restaurant is quite charming and I could’ve dined inside…it’s just that I was wearing corduroy and had bathed earlier in the day. Plus, look at the mid-October weather in Minnesota. It would’ve been criminal to ignore it.
Sun on Selby with Joy and Aisha.
What? Like You Don't Ever Bring a Monkey to Lunch?
Clearly, all was meant to be. Now, for the menu. It became obvious how The Blue Door chose to distinguish itself among the other cheese-centered-burgers in the Metropolitan Area: We were shopping for Blucys. Charming. My marketing heart smiled. Immediately, I chose the Bacon Blucy. A burger stuffed with cheddar and bacon. Upon reading the rest of the description, I pulled the hair trigger and chose to upgrade it to a Cowboy Blucy, adding a mere fifty cents as well as barbecue sauce, exterior cheese, and onion rings to my culinary near future. I couldn’t wait.
Well, not waiting wasn’t an option…you can’t rush perfection. But, you can have an appetizer in the meanwhile.
It didn’t take long to discuss appetizers. Joy brought up the SPAM Bites and Aisha and I promptly (and perhaps unfairly) shot that one down. She’d had them, they were good. Me? I’ve determined that the only good thing to come out of Austin, Minnesota, was my dog…and he came from the pound, not the Hormel plant. Instead, we were slapped in the face by the Deep Fried Pickles. This is the land of the Minnesota State Fair at which even corn husks are deep fried and served to thronging masses of thick-thighed people. I was also interested in comparing them to the deep fried pickle spears served by The Groveland Tap which, in my estimation, retained the heat of the fryer too long due to the density of the spears. I was pleasantly surprised by what came out of the kitchen with a side of garlic aioli.
Thin-sliced Dill Deliciousness.
There Goes the Neighborhood.
Aisha and I dug in. Joy snagged a bit of batter, tossed it in her mouth, and muttered something sounding like “Tempura.” Undeterred, my first bite delighted me: Garlic introduced a delicately crisped-but-soft blanket of oily batter, surrounding a thin slice of warm pickle. Nothing scalded me, nothing choked me, nothing overwhelmed me. Understand, I have a high grease threshold, but I found these to be well within the “normal” range…for a Minnesotan, at any rate.
Before the Appetizer Afterglow had worn off, our burgers appeared. Between Joy and Aisha, they had chosen the Blucys with blue cheese inside…one of them added bacon. Both of them had the hand-cut fries, I went full-on glutton and had as my potatoes of choice the deep fried Cajun Tater Tots with a side of ranch dressing. And, like those French women who don’t get fat, I’ll tell you that this is not a meal to repeat with any sort of regularity. Moderation, baby.
But a meal to enjoy, it was. The Cajun Tater Tots weren’t too spicy and the ranch dressing was creamy without being cloying. And, that the tots were fried and not just baked added to their decadence. Compared to fries with their geometrical shapes, the tots had the additional and more porous surface area to take on the crisping oil. (Come on. Work with me. Or, are you one of those weirdos who discards crispy chicken skin, too? If so, you may want to stop reading.) At the risk of sounding like Napoleon Dynamite, the tots were fantastic.
And the Blucy? How do I judge my cheese-centered-burgers? I admit, it has as much to do with presentation and self-preservation as it does with taste. First, does it look good and will it leave me looking good?
Shucks, That's Purdy.
Its bun glistened, the pickles and onion rings were obvious and inviting, and the extra cheese and barbecue sauce glued the sandwich together. It looked good, but whether it would leave me looking good was yet to be seen. I cut it in half. The cheese-centered-burgers served by some of the aforementioned establishments tend to run amok at this point…which is why self-preservation is key. When the cheese that is used liquifies instead of melts it becomes a hazard to my well-being and wardrobe. If it spurts, it hurts. We’re talking about molten liquid cheese, here. I already mentioned that I was wearing corduroy…not only would such an eruption potentially burn me, but I could be scraping crap out of my cords until Kingdom Come.
Let me assuage your concerns here. I know tension is high, I’ll end your misery: The Cowboy Blucy passed with flying colors.
Be Still My (Clogged) Heart.
By now, I know better than to lift up a cheese-centered-burger and take a blind bite. I’d rather cut it in half and risk losing the contents in the basket than down my chin and in my lap upon popping it by means of a bite. Being the cheese in the middle was cheddar and there were bits o’ bacon to cobble the burger together, I was in no danger of anything other than clogging my arteries in one sitting. Second, the taste. I know–it’s odd to place taste second in the list of how a meal rates, but this is a special case. If it doesn’t pass the first round, it’s rather difficult to enjoy–or even ascertain–how it tastes. Right?
Oh, did this baby taste good. It was like a marriage. A love marriage. The sweet and tangy barbecue sauce complemented the bite of the cheddar and the smoke of the bacon. The burger, itself, was juicy and discreetly seasoned. The onion ring, barely a hint, was like an unobtrusive chaperone, if such a thing exists. It was there, but only to accompany…not overpower. Perfect.
I can only guess that the other two enjoyed their meals as much as I did.
I Never Knew I had a Thing for Cowboys.
All in all, The Blue Door is a winner. Good location, great food, and the staff was extremely personable. Our server, Angie, was nice enough to be the human eclipse every time we spoke so I could at least try to focus on her facial features as I gazed at her against the sun. And, she handled our little tabletop aberration with class by simply removing it…and the bee within it.
The Bee Menagerie.
I hate bees almost more than I hate clowns.
With happy bellies, a doggie bag, and a strap-on kid we continued with our St. Paul afternoon and hit some of the stores at Selby and Snelling. Our afternoon might’ve taken us over to the old campus, but young Vin started gnawing at his mother’s clothes and we had to respect his need to feed as well.
What a Guy.
Like I said, we know who rules the schedules.
I wouldn’t want it any other way.
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*Merriam Park and Mac-Groveland are known for many other eating establishments, but we’re sticking to the category of Local Dives/Great Grub.
