The Cedar Rapids Defender

Restaurant Report Card: Lucky Penny

The Defender July 5, 2016 Restaurants 0 Comments

Food: B+

I had a BLT and fries that I was completely satisfied with. It did not deserve an “A” only because of some components I will break down. That being said, I cannot think of a place in Cedar Rapids where I might find a better one. I also like that they locally source their ingredients.

Bread: B+
Buttered and toasted sourdough was good. One of the better sandwich breads I have had but again, to get an A something really needs to rock my world.

Tomato: A
Tomato was perfectly ripe with still some firmness to it, just the way I like it.

Bacon: B+
They refer to their bacon as “Black Sheep Bacon”, not exactly sure what that means, it was tasty, but I have had better before.

Lettuce: A
Lettuce was crisp and bountiful, a nice leaf lettuce was used which I also prefer.

Fries: B
Fries were the seasoned, natural, in-house cut, which I do like. However, they could have been a bit more crispy. I understand that fresh cut fries tend to have a little more water in them leaving them the tendency to be a bit soggy, that said, I have been to other restaurants that have better combat this.

Price: B +
For the money, I think I got a fair deal. $7.50 for the BLT and fries was more than fair and $4.50 for my draw of Wilson’s Orchard Hard Cider made right here in Iowa was reasonable compared to other craft brew prices in this area.

Specials: A+
I was quite pleased with their low priced lunch special options of a Blue Cheese Buffalo Brat or a Bacon, Gorgonzola, Pear, grilled cheese sandwich. The only reason I did not get a special was to try out their main fare for this review.

Atmosphere: B+
The vibe was nice, very inviting long bar was calling my name as soon as I walked through the door. The bar top itself was very impressive, entirely made from pennies placed in patterns of horseshoes and four leaf clovers merely by the shininess of the pennies used.

The 4 big screen TVs at the bar were also impressive, and what was even more, is that they were on the channels that one might expect to see: ESPN, ESPN2, FS1, and CNN. I was very happy with my viewing options.

A shuffle board right up front in the window looks very usable, although I would be weary of annoying some booths located very close to it.

The only reason the atmosphere didn’t get an A is there just isn’t the level of “hominess” that I like. Call me a sucker for dive bars, but something about older buildings with a tad of “dinge” to them, makes me feel more at home.

Service: A
Service was great, my bartender was polite, quick, and knowledgeable. The food was out within 5-7 minutes of ordering, which is key with lunch time constraints.

Location: C
It is a great location in that it is relatively close to home, I just worry about their sustainability. It is off the beaten path on the back side of a strip mall, that does not scream success. They could use social media advertising to help them in this regard. A business has already proven failure at this location so I would be concerned.

Overall: B+
I like this place, I can see myself frequenting it quite often, the craft beer selection isn’t as good as the Spoke, but who’s is? It is a pleasant change of pace from the bar I frequent most often.

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Scales Pointe Marina: Lake Porta Potty

The Defender June 29, 2016 Featured 0 Comments

The Confederations Cup is a quadrennial football tournament that serves as a dry run for World Cup organizers. The host nation uses the event to work out the kinks before inviting the globe for a look. Brazil hosted the Cup last month amid mass protest, the protesters surely becoming less visible next summer during the big sha’bang.

Lessons were learned, the Confederations Cup serving it’s purpose of preparing Brazil for something bigger.

Last week, I lived in a tent with a Magna-Cum-Laude graduate, a Guatemalan entrepreneur and a complete stranger named Gary. The idea was to prepare for something bigger.

This was our Confederations Cup.

Americans are some strange people, believe me.

A typical young Midwesterner celebrates the Fourth of July in this manner.

First, they gather on boats with packs of shirtless strangers, then jump in a septic tank for a swim. Those turned off by the water, lay on the deck, then fry their epidermis with ultraviolet light. They refer to it as tanning.

It really doesn’t make a bit of sense.

Once the broiling hydrogen bomb sets for the night, the Americans gather down range and set off huge explosions to celebrate a guerrilla war that ended 237 years ago.

That makes no sense either.

The most honorable man I know in the U.S. hates the Fourth of July. Why? He’s done four tours in the Triangle of Death. IED’s are loud, like fireworks. Fireworks scare the shit out of him.

Happy Independence Day!

In order to buck the trend, I sent a simple, July 3rd email to everyone I knew.

Subject: 1st Annual No Fireworks Fourth of July

Meet me in the woods behind North Liberty.

No fireworks.

I’ll pack the tent.

Only the Graduate and the Guatemalan would respond.

It wasn’t more than a season ago the flood waters came, then retreated with dozens of fully loaded shoreline Porta Potty’s. My source of that information asked to remain unidentified during our conversation at the camp fire. Chock full Porta Potty’s floating down the lake were bad for his rental business. But it didn’t seem to stop anybody. If we were lucky out there, we might find a stray toilet.

On day one at the tent we meet Gary, a train conductor from Missouri with a used boat named Henrietta. Gary was extremely green when it came to boating. He had just purchased Henrietta that day, swinging the deal through a broker who returned fastest with legal registration.

“You don’t understand, I want this boat out there. Twooo-day,” Gary kept repeating, reenacting the phone call in railroad twang.

We would learn together, Gary being perfectly comfortable with three complete strangers riding his boat on it’s maiden voyage.

Together we learn how to back a trailer while the entire dock looks on.

Together we learn that boat batteries have an On/Off switch.

Together we learn to drive a boat.

It isn’t long before I ask Gary for the keys. He’s a wild man behind the throttle of his speedboat, a friendly fellow, on the nervous side, he’s my new best friend, but Gary wasn’t going to take my life on that boat. Not on that day. On that night.

Who would write the story?

More comfortable, my life now resting in my own decision making, I open up Gary’s new toy, feeling the exhilaration, while gliding over twelve feet of toilet water. At the end of the day, I got my guys home safe to their wife and kids.

If they had a wife and kids

On day two, the Guatemalan floats in the coffee colored water, up to his neck in Lake Porta Potty.

Still, he looks like an underwear model behind his shades and backwards cap. The Guatemalan is a walking, breathing, JCPenney underwear ad. A living Hanes commercial. The women swoon over him, forcing me to bust the Guatemalan’s chops. We run into one of his ex-wife’s on shore. The Guatemalan is popular. He has family in the area, multiple Guatemalan’s that are to join us at the tent after traveling south on their boat. If you’re scoring at home, it’s now three Guatemalan’s, one Magna-Cum-Laude Graduate, a writer and a guy from Missouri named Gary.

It was going to be crowded.

The Guatemalan’s undocked a quarter past one the following day. Their sparkling new pontoon gently rode the discolored waves of the polluted lake. They are wealthy lawn-mowers, each with genius business sense and organizational skills. We laugh with each other, sharing a few dreams. There is a two year old on board. I miss mine, the little guy packed into a life preserver brings me joy.

On the craft’s nose the Graduate and Guatemalan discuss a grand plan to dominate the fishing industry, going as far as drafting PowerPoint slides. I bring little to the discussion, preferring to lounge and argue about basketball.

I lay in the tent at 3:00 am on the last night. Unable to sleep to the snores of the Guatemalan’s, I talk with the Graduate.

Due to his typically obnoxious behavior and crude nature, there’s a perception The Graduate is uneducated. When I press him, asking why he never mentions his graduation from an exclusive college, in a difficult major, with better grades than every other person in his class, he answers simply,

“It just wasn’t that hard for me man.”

And I go back to bed.

On Sunday morning we visit Bobbers Grill, just the Guatemalan and I. We meet Mary, proud mother of three, a friendly staffer who entertains us with lake banter. The Guatemalan has action on Wimbledon, yelling at the TV during a particularly epic rally. The man from England wins and so does the Guatemalan. The Guatemalan is happy.

Happy Guatemalan’s undock the boat. Even on Sundays.

There was a moment of complete relaxation late that evening, laying on my back, arms folded, eyes closed. Buzzing home ever slowly with the Guatemalan piloting the pontoon. My Irish pigment free from the killer in the sky, I drift off to sleep. We’re a nautical mile out, arriving just at sunset. Traffic is heavy at the dock.

The Guatemalan encounters a wake, the splash sending gallons of water over the short edges of his boat, directly into my mouth, waking me up to the sensation of Lake Porta Potty draining down my esophagus.

I take a gulp, longing for the comfort of that tent, fully prepared for something bigger.

The Rematch: Kennedy vs Jeff

The Defender May 9, 2016 Sports 0 Comments

Our quarterback’s final pass fell harmlessly to the turf bringing a glorious season to an agonizing end. It was November of 1999. Kennedy had battled football powerhouse Iowa City West all night in a violent confrontation between 17 year old kids. That was 11 years ago. I can still hear the crack of the pads. I still feel the sting of the loss. We had that game won and they stole it from us.

I never played football myself. Never so much as put on a pair of shoulder pads. When I was a teen I packed about 150 pounds on my 6’3 frame. They would have broken me in half if I had the balls to try out. I still loved the game though. There were students that showed up to Kingston on Friday nights to be seen and flirt with the sluts. Then there was me. There to analyze the effectiveness of our running game or to see how many times Coach Knock would run the same rollout left play. I absolutely loved those football games at Kingston Stadium. Some of the best times of my life even though I lived vicariously through my peers.

There was something magical about those nights. The green and gold out there on the field representing us against hated rivals. The crisp fall air. The school fight song blaring under the night sky. It felt like you were part of something big when we won. Those games in 1999 meant something. They were a big deal. Almost life and death to some.

One night about 5 years ago I was knocking back a few cold ones at a dive bar in Coralville. Serving me my beer on that evening was a familiar face. Kevin Long, the quarterback at Iowa City West during their undefeated run between 1998-1999. I recognize Long because he was somewhat of a local star during that era due to his football stature. He of course didn’t have a clue in hell who I was but I strike up a conversation none the less.

Long was actually a very friendly guy. I ask what became of his college football career and how he’s doing now. I can’t remember anything he said about those topics because all I really wanted to discuss was the Kennedy-Iowa City West Substate game from 1999.

He probably thought it was weird that I remembered the contest so well given that I wasn’t even on the team. We shared a few laughs and fondly remember the epic battle. He recalled how we jumped on them early, how a blocked punt changed the fortune of the game and how Nate Kaeding was able to boom kickoffs 30 yards out of the end zone every single time.

“Wouldn’t it be cool to have a rematch?” Long suggested.

“It sure would,” I said. “Too bad life doesn’t offer many opportunities for redemption.”

Now it does.

Enter Alumni Football USA, the best idea since that Harvard student dreamed up a social network featuring both pictures and personal information (What a concept!).

The premise is simple. Round up 40 ex high school football players from the same school, throw them in pads and let them go at it for old time’s sake. It’s a brilliant business idea! There are enough aging athletes out there who still got it. Now they get to prove themselves.

Kennedy doesn’t exactly get a rematch with their 1999 conqueror Iowa City West. A game against the Jefferson J-Hawks will do though. Our cross town rivals get another shot at us on the gridiron come July 9th. Kennedy vs. Jefferson, one last time for eternal bragging rights. The Cougars blasted Jefferson back in my day and now a few J-Hawks are after a little thing called revenge. Alumni Football USA presents the opportunity.

There’s something to be said about the second chance. Do over’s just don’t happen in the real world. That’s what makes this special. It’s a second chance for the player who never thought he’d buckle a chin strap again. Another shot for that J-Hawk who hasn’t gotten over his senior year. One more chance for that 30 year old Kennedy Cougar to show his child how Dad used to do it. A chance for me to relive my adolescence one last time.

See you at Kingston.