thelocaldiner.com

Just beyond the glare of the stadium lights at Kindrick Field sits a modest yellow house. Inside its plain front door are a handful of small tables flanking an open kitchen. In the kitchen is Terry Swope, who along with his wife (and voice of the Montana Taxpayer’s Union, incidentally) Mary Whittinghill, host the Carriage House Bistro.

The wine list offers a half-dozen wines by the glass, and another 15 by the bottle, fairly priced.Â? We started with creamy artichoke dip touched by mild green pepper, perhaps an inspiration by their former Mexican hometown of Puebla. (We would love to see them try Mole dishes, which were born in Puebla.) Then came the entrees.Â? First, the polenta with mushrooms and tomatoes, covered in melted mozzarella. Next, their specialty Bistro Chicken, a breast padded in hazelnuts, stuffed with brie, and pan-fried. Both dishes were quite rich.

With the cozy room and luscious menu, the Carriage house is one of the better spots in Helena for romantic meals, with its quiet room and Mary’s unobtrusive service (at the end of our meal, she held off on bringing the check to let us continue our conversation without interruption). But when there’s a game on, don’t park to close to the foul pole.

Carriage House Bistro
234 1/2 Lyndale
Helena, Montana 59601
(406) 449-6949

Speaking of ‘burgers’, Stacy Haslem and Patti Denton report in the Great Falls Tribune that the hamburger is 100 years old:

Most historical accounts date the national debut of the sandwich to the 1904 St. Louis World’s Fair, when Fletcher Davis sold his creation at “Old Dave’s Hamburger Stand.”

According to Texas historian and author Frank Tolbert, “Old Dave” had been serving an unnamed sandwich, a beef patty between two slices of freshly baked bread spread with mustard-flavored mayo and topped with onions and cucumber pickles, since the late 1880s at his Athens, Texas, lunch counter.

(The article mentions a couple of Great Falls burger joints, including Ford’s Drive-In and Burger Master, a member of the odd species of apparently one-off fast food locations that thrive on 10th Avenue South. I last visited Burger Master two decades ago and don’t remember it well, but Ford’s looks to be worth a visit.)

The origins of the hamburger are of course controversial, with at least four contenders for paternity. To my mind the real hamburger centennial was back in 1995, the hundredth anniversary of Louis’ Lunch in New Haven. And unlike Old Dave’s and the others, the hamburger still lives at Louis’, thanks to Louis Lassen’s grandson Ken and great grandson Jeff, and to the hundreds of supporters who saved Louis’ from demolition by relocating and rebuilding it with bricks sent in from around the world. After the bars closed, many of my college nights ended at Louis’ with a slab of ground beef grilled vertically between old cast iron gas burners, then slipped between whitebread toast slathered with cheese, tomatoes, and onions (and maybe salt and pepper but never ketchup). The vertical burners give the Louis’ hamburger a meaty, lightly musky, even clean taste unadulterated by grill residues. Born of fresh and fragrant red meat ground and pounded before your eyes, innocent of sauces and condiments, it is the ur-burger.

So say what you will about who invented the original hamburger–there’s only one place in the world where you can still taste it the way it was. Just head to the little old brick shack on Crown Street and ask Ken or Jeff for a “Cheese Works.” (And if you still have room for dessert after two or three of those, get a slice of one of the homemade pies advertised on the blackboard over the counter; just don’t correct their spelling!)

Louis’ Lunch
261-263 Crown Street
New Haven, CT 06510
Phone: (203) 562-5507

John Harrington of the IR reports:

The 2.5 million red-blooded American men aged 18 to 34 who buy Maxim magazine each month will likely drool even more than usual at the September issue. In addition to the magazine’s standard fare of scantily clad models, “actresses” and NFL cheerleaders, there’s a feature on “America’s Top 10 Meat Hogs” – artery-clogging sandwiches piled high that only a carnivore could love. And checking in at No. 2 on the list: The Nuke, a longtime staple at Helena’s own Staggering Ox.

(For some reason the article doesn’t appear on the IR’s website, and the Gazette’s headline refers to a “Helena burger,” which would come as a surprise to the folks at the R&B, Rialto, and Stinkyburger.)

The Staggering Ox, a ferny deli with other branches in Missoula and Spokane, is gradually taking over a local strip mall with its sprawling two-story dining hall cum art gallery–a big improvement over empty retail space. (They once advertised wi-fi, but I don’t whether they still have it.) The Ox calls its sandwiches “Clubfoots,” and they come in hefty cylinders of white bread baked in coffee cans. The winning Nuke (Ham, Turkey, Roast Beef, Swiss, Provolone, Sharp Cheddar, Lettuce & Sauce) actually is on the tamer end of the Ox’s topically-named (and apparently trademarked, but I haven’t figured out the html for the tiny “tm” symbol) Clubfoot sandwiches, which range from the “Yo Momma Osama” (Gyro Meat, Bacon, Black Beans, Gorgonzola, Pepper Jack, Onions, Salsa and your chioce of sauce) to the “Mount St. Helens” (Ham, Turkey, Roast Beef, Pepperoni, Turkey Pastrami, Swiss, Provolone, Sharp Cheddar, Monterey Jack, Mozzarella, Onions, Green Peppers, Mushrooms, Black Olives, Sunflower Seeds, Lettuce & Sauce).

The Clubfoot bread doesn’t add much to the sandwiches other than extra dough, but it’s worth tearing out some of the relatively bland bread to get to the Ox’s daunting selection of ingredients (often from Montana, including roast bison at times) and tangy homemade sauces. You might say that the fresh deli-style Clubfoots don’t belong with true “Meat Hogs” like first place winner the Fat Darrell at R.U. Grill & Pizza in New Brunswick, N.J., which Harrington describes as “a gut bomb featuring chicken fingers, fried cheese sticks and french fries stuffed into a hoagie roll.” Maxim’s Meat Hog article isn’t yet online–and I personally don’t subscribe (honest!)–though I’d be interested in what else made it on this list.

The Staggering Ox
400 Euclid in the Lundy Center
(406) 443-1729

We planted our garden just before the wedding planning got crazy, then became its absentee landlords during weekend planning trips, honeymoons, and other weddings. Between weeks of neglect, and Lena’s “early harvest’ of our onion, beet, carrot, and pea seedbeds (she dug a foot-deep trench through it), I had nearly given up hope.

But earlier this week, after yet another weekend away from what was left of the garden, I noticed Lena gnawing on a big green roma tomato. Lo and behold, several more had managed to swell beneath the undergrowth. So I ran out, grabbed a couple of stakes, and opened them up to more of the ripening sun. Now they just have to beat the frost.

We had no idea what perennials and bulbs had been planted by our predecessors, and there was only so much mulching could do to clean up the beds. As it happened, there was a whole lot of morning glory looking to climb a trellis we had removed, so instead it strangled the herb garden (pictured). But I noticed that our herbs were hanging on among the weeds. It looked like there were salvageable leaves of rosemary, sage, basil, and oregano, along with hearty stands of fennel, peppermint, and (thanks to Spot’s tending) catnip. Autumn had worked late pulling together her classroom, and I smelled an opportunity.

I threw some frozen gorgonzola-walnut and sundried tomato-cheese ravioli from the Real Food Store into a pot, and picked some herbs. The rosemary and sage went into a saucepan with browning butter, then over the gorgonzola ravioli. The basil and oregano went into a simmering can of crushed tomatoes (alas, not our own), then over the sundried-tomato ravioli. Delicious. Next month we’ll have tomatoes, and next year veggies, but this week herbs will do.