The Counter - Meridian ID

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to challenge yourself how you think about burgers. At least that's what the folks over at The Counter want you to do. They are about creative construction and feel they make things delicious with what I am convinced must be Monsanto inspired ingredients. Life is about experiences, and if you want to try stuff, learn something or be creative, try your local college dorm. There, you will not only have more fun picking off the scabs you got from your last sexual escapade, but will so intensify your senses from the endless consumption of gourmet frozen-burrito-ramen-noodle-doo, that you will actually enjoy paying high prices for the food at The Counter.

It is without a doubt in my mind that the vast number of toppings available for your creation can only be made possible through the efforts of Nicolas Appert and the magic of butylated hydrocyanisole and hydroxytoluene. How else can they afford to keep that many ingredients in one place? I hope I'm wrong and that their Market Selections are in fact sourced daily and not preserved.

My particular creation started with the hormone and antibiotic free beef, then it was topped with Gouda cheese (a personal favorite), sun-dried tomatoes, roasted green chilies, and the roasted garlic aioli all on a standard brioche bun to preserve the flavor of the ingredients. Along with the Parmesan fries, it all sounded like a delightful and flavorful combination to me! This is what it looked like:

Now, don't let the looks fool you! The burger was in desperate need of salt and was simply not impressive; the bun was dry, the tomatoes had little flavor, the garlic aioli was okay but still lacked garlic and the green chilies tasted like, well, what you might imagine a Leprechaun penis would taste like . . . green with a just a hint of Guinness! The Parmesan fries were dissolving in their own grease and became more limp than the aforementioned Leprechaun.

The only redeeming quality of The Counter was the service! Our server and the rest of the staff were fantastic. Friendly, welcoming and efficient, almost to a fault. A wonderful crew, indeed and I would go back and try a shake just to be served by them one more time.

My personal burger combination at The Counter was not at all what I had built up in my mind and the cost made the whole meal even harder to swallow. With over 312,120 ways to to build your burgers, you could spend a lifetime creating and devouring different combinations! Unfortunately, only one combination was enough to convince me that there were perhaps 312,119 too many. Consider me disappointed.

Pebble Score

Serious Burger. Seriously!

How do you make a hormone? That is perhaps a more baffling question than "Why did the chicken cross the road?". As children, we were often told of the trials and tribulations of the disoriented chicken and the many reasons why it would ever want to cross the road. From "To cock-a-doodle-do something", or the standard "To get to the other side", the answer was never really known. That is, until now! 

According to the National Institute of Health, the real reason that chickens began crossing roads is because, much like humans, they developed a taste for artificial colors, man made ingredients and pink slime in their food. The cravings and sudden urges of the Gallus gallus domesticus brought on by the jonesing affect of monosodium glutamate and nitrate infested foods is the real reason behind the chicken's erratic behavior patterns. 

Those same patterns have recently been observed in humans. Additional studies by authorities such as the World Health Organization, the World Health Animal Trust and the Wholesome Hygiene Earth Resources Entity, have proven that 87.3% of all restaurant food consumed in the United States contains nearly 76% of the worlds badifoyasodum concentration! For those of you not familiar with the class of chemicals badifoyasodum, there are many articles referencing its use in the US food supply and additional information can be found by simple internet searches. Simply stated, badifoyasodum is the leading cause of crossing the road for no apparent reason among both chickens and humans alike! 

So, how does one avoid being poisoned with badifoyasodum (also known as BFD Syndrome)? It's really quite simple. STOP EATING CRAP FOOD! For starters, look for freshly prepared foods when you dine out. Food with minimal ingredients, rGBH free beef and organic labeling. Yes, these foods cost a bit more, but is it not worth your health to spend a bit more for quality?

 I bring all of this up because I recently stopped by Serious Burger in Appleton, Wisconsin. Yes, it is a bit pricier for a burger joint, but you get what you pay for! You can go to Five Guys (which I have on more than one occasion) and get mediocre food with ingredients that are only found on the banned list in many European countries and you will pay a bit less, but what are you getting? Nothing special. You might as well be eating slime burgers for what it's worth. 

The service at Serious burger was fine. The flavor of the beef and the quality of the fresh Brioche bun was outstanding! On my list of the top three burgers I have ever eaten! The fresh fried egg added richness to the entire experience and the seasoning was just right. The Truffle Oil fries were nothing special and I would recommend sticking to the regular fries, but that burger is certainly something to write about!

So if you have the taste buds of an average moron who enjoys a burger simply because it took more than four guys to make it and costs a bit less, by all means have it your way. But if you really want to enjoy the flavor of organic beef on a fresh bun and you have an extra buck to spend on your health, go to Serious Burger.

It only takes eating a Serious Burger to make you moan with pleasure. To make a hormone, however, you have to not pay her. 

Polonia Cafe - Polonia WI

Date of Visit: 4-01-2012

Time of Visit: 9:10 AM

Pebble Score:

Two Poles immigrated to America. On their first day in New York City, they spotted a hot dog vendor in the street. "Do they eat dogs in America?" one asked the other. "I dunno." "Well, we're going to live here, so we might as well learn to do as they do." So they each bought a hot dog wrapped up and sat down to eat them on a nearby park bench. One Pole looked at his hot dog, then over at the other Pole and asked, "What part did you get?"

So, I am stomping on my brakes and typing this quite a bit slower than I normally would. Why? Well, if you have to ask, than I'm writing this for you. I, thought, I, would, put, in, an, extra, comma, now, and, then, to, slow, the, pace,, but, that, just, makes, me, look, like, I, am, part, of, the, "in", crowd. 

There is a misconception that Poles are from Poland, but, as a matter of fact, they come from either the North or the South. Despite the prejudice that surrounds Poles, they are responsible for a variety of inventions and discoveries that have all but dispelled the notion that they can't change a light bulb without ensuing hilarity or that they are easily coaxed out of a tree. Reality about Poles is quite contrary to popular beliefs: Poles are famous for their vaults and their beans; it was a Pole that won the first auto racing time trials; Presidents have relied on their systems to become elected; and Poles were instrumental  with the delivery of electricity to rural areas of the country.

We, as Americans, are familiar with many great slogans that have become the icons of this great nation. Slogans like: "Only you can prevent forest fires.", "Take a bite out of crime.", "A mind is a terrible thing to waste.", and "Nothing sucks like an Electrolux.", are all shining examples of the intellectual minds at work within our marketing borders. Poles are in no way less than masters of the slogan. In fact, Pole masters have come up with a great new tag line that is one of the best I've ever encountered: "Poles, helping dancers pay their bills one dollar at a time!"

Food is another area where Poles excel, and although Pole masters have not come up with a slogan that epitomizes their strudel, kielbasa or pierogi, their eating establishments found throughout Wisconsin are typically a crap-shoot of mediocrity or fabulousness. Of the establishments I have encountered, the Polonia Cafe bullseyes more towards the fabulousness than the mediocrity. 

This little cafe in the middle of Polish America is a buzz with all of the locals and passers-by alike. I have had the pleasure of dining here on a couple of occasions and have never been disappointed with either the service or the food. Becky, our server on this Sunday morning, was pleasant and could take and dish out a bit of sass which gained her high marks in my book! The decor was laden with Packer paraphernalia (surprise!) but also displayed the pride and history of the town in the many vintage photographs that were scattered throughout. Perhaps the only downside to the atmosphere and feel of yesteryear, was the constant staccato sounds of tubas and accordions that blurted out from the little white discs from hell mounted on the ceiling.

This place is small and can get quite busy during prime meal hours, so if you don't like patrons that are waiting for a seat to salivate all over themselves while watching you eat your homemade meal, you may want to take a seat on the edges of the dining room or come in just before or after prime times.

You can judge the quality of the ingredients used in an establishment by the quality of the condiments on the tables. Polonia Cafe not only has the Smucker's jams and jellies, but they also provide the flavored International Delights creamers right at the table. The food that was delivered reflects the quality ingredients that are used and was perfectly cooked and quite flavorful with a hint of a seasoned cast iron. No salt was needed and I enjoyed every bite! 

I hope everyone that reads this post (both of you, thanks) will give this little gem in the midst of  Portage County and the Polish Heritage Highway a try to help support the local Polish community. Perhaps, together, we can finally put to rest the playground like bullying that has suppressed these great people and the Poles can finally stand erect. With a little work and a stroke of luck, there can be an erect Pole in all of us!

Frontier Restaurant - Amherst WI

Date of Visit: 3-25-2012

Time of Visit: 10:00 AM

Pebble Score:

Legends in Central Wisconsin have long told of the first hardy settlers in the area and how they drove their dairy herds from the Southern plains all the way up to the richest milking lands in the country. From Holsteins and their non-prejudistic black and white spots, to Jerseys with "R" pronunciation impediments, the majestic herds drove on through the rain, sleet, snow and darkness of night until they reached the lush and fertile grounds of the promised land. Although the journey was beset with difficulties, the settlers were instrumental in laying down the first building blocks of what is now the greatest cheese and butter producing region in the country. 

The cows were so happy that they rewarded the people with milk so rich in cream that the only thing to do was to make a pound of butter for each and every inhabitant in the area. This land was the frontier to butter giant Land-O-Lakes and paved the way for that cute little squaw on their butter package that if you fold the picture just right and cut out the top of her blouse, it looks like her breasts are hanging out!

After years of stockpiling butter instead of nuclear warheads, and an unfortunate event where the dairy section of the food pyramid became a side note on the new "food plate", a new avenue for butter consumption had to be found or we would risk sliding into a recession worse than the one that befell gyros. Luckily, restaurateurs across the nation heeded the call of the wild and have collectively managed to keep dairy farmers in Wisconsin operational. Now, any new charge must have a leader, and the restaurant leading the charge for butter consumption in the country is the Frontier Restaurant in Amherst, Wisconsin. 

I had the opportunity to visit this restaurant for breakfast on a beautiful Saturday morning where everyone, it appeared, was there to ensure I had the most wonderful eating experience of my existence. . . they failed. When a place is busy, I always expect a bit slower service and don't fault the staff, but personality is another story. Tina greeted us with the exuberance of an ocean tube worm and I could tell right away we were sliding off the borderline in a hurry! 

The decor was predominantly country and I found myself surrounded by wood. The tongue in groove kind and a host of other. We ordered at 10:11 am. I happily requested the 8-ounce chopped steak, over easy eggs, hash browns and home-made raisin toast, while my breakfast companion opted for the bacon and eggs plate. The drinks arrived six minutes later (that's 10:17 for those that can't add very fast) and then the food came at 10:33 a full 22 minutes after we ordered it. 

My egg whites had the consistency of a dried out Trojan, the steak was overcooked but was still juicy and had great grill marks with a small amount of seasoning. Too little for my taste. My companion's eggs were omelet like and were accompanied by tough bacon. Now I was out of coffee. I pushed my hash browns to the side and instantly regretted the move. The rush of butter to the center of my plate must have created an imbalance in the space time continuum and I instantly understood why everyone in town was here . . . to save the cows! 

My home made raisin toast, which I had been looking forward to trying, suffered a similar fate as the hash browns. I picked it up and managed to squeeze out about a teaspoon full of the oleo from each slice! Needless to say, I did not eat most of my breakfast. Tina asked me if I wanted a box to take home my leftovers, but I politely declined as I feared a return of the Blob and I knew Steve McQueen wouldn't be there to pull me out!

Ghee, even though my experience with the Frontier Restaurant and their eternal  stick-of-slick was not to my liking, there are many other folks who enjoy the establishment, so who am I to spread any ill feelings? Try them for yourself. I now wish I had taken that box from Tina because I am planning a trip to Mexico, and if I get a sunburn, I know I will hear my mother say, "Just put some butter on it!"

Famous Dave's - Appleton, WI

Date of Visit: 3-15-2012

Time of Visit: 12:30

Pebble Score:

Chicken, ribs or steak, it don't matter what you cook. If it ain't been barbecued, then it don't cut it in my book. From the back roads of the deep South to the Texas panhandle, I have had the pleasure of sampling some of this country's best BBQ. Arthur Bryant's, Charles Vergos' Rendezvous, Baker's Ribs and countless other juke joints throughout the South have left me with an insatiable craving for that myoglobin/carbon monoxide reaction that can only come from slow smoking unsuspecting  and lethargic animals in huge pits of fire and brimstone! YUM! 

Enter, stage left, Famous Dave's. I first discovered Dave's BBQ at his Blues Club on Hennepin Avenue in Minneapolis soon after moving to Wisconsin from South Texas (what the hell was I thinking?). I enjoyed a great night of beer, blues and cue with some co-workers and I have been a loyal follower ever since!

I recently had the opportunity to sample Dave's Appleton, Wisconsin store. Same decor as most of his other stores (There's a sale at Penny's!) with the all too familiar aroma of burnt offerings coming from the kitchen. Those burnt offerings rejuvenate everything! If you close your eyes, you can see the old empty steel drums found by Billy Bob and Bubba down by that der canal over yonder, cut in half and brimming with hardwood coals and ashes. Betcha can get some good flavor from them drums. Heck, they got them bone pictures on 'em! But I digress. 

I was seated by the hostess (fancy!) and then ordered the Rib Tips (naked, of course) with the Roasted Chicken, BBQ beans and fries. Being the lunch rush, things took about 15 minutes, but I was able to entertain myself by scribbling dirty words, in alphabetical order (I have to do it in alphabetical order, I am a little CDO), on all of the sugar and not-so-sugar packets. The couple seated behind me must have thought me strange when I kept giggling and then kindly asked to exchange my container for theirs. Luckily, the food arrived before I got the letter "F". 

The naked tips were mounded on half my plate. I read a review of this restaurant on Urbanspoon by ManBearPig that you should never order the tips because they are meat scraps and the marrow leaks out of the bones. YUM! Apparently, this neanderthal had no idea that rib tips are short, meaty sections of rib that are attached to the lower end of the spare ribs, between the ribs and the sternum. Unlike back ribs or spare ribs, the structure of the rib is provided by dense costal cartilage, NOT BONE! Bonehead! Rib tips are cut away from the spare ribs when preparing St. Louis Style spare ribs.

Anyway, the tips were a bit greasy with loads of fat but the dry rub is full of flavor and lends itself quite well to be dunked with a multitude of sauces. The beans were great with a nice BBQ flavor and the chicken was a little dry but flavorful. Now, you might ask why I got my Rib Tips NAKED? Simple, really. If you get them naked, you can savor each one with a different sauce! The Texas Pit, Devil's Spit, and the Georgia Mustard are my favorites and I never, ever, use ketchup for my fries. With all of those sauces on the table, why would you use anything else?

Dave's Sauces

The service was okay, but nothing to write home about. So I won't write about it.

Overall, for a Northwoods boy, Dave does a fine job with BBQ and I am able to get my smoke fix whenever I have the occasion to be traveling near one of his joints. The best part of the meal was that wonderful corn muffin they serve on every plate! Like sucking Kansas through a bee's ass (maybe they will use that characterization in their menu)! Not sure how they make those delectable little morsels, but i'm certain Dave will be more than willing to share his recipe with me so I can then post it to this blog and become famous myself! But I'm not holding my breath because, just like the rib tips, there's a fat chance of that! 

Angel's Hwy 63 Diner - Ellsworth, WI

Date of Visit: 03-14-2012

Time of Visit: 1:45 PM

Pebble Score:

I have a job. Unlike many of the folk that frequent Angel's. I'm not saying that they're lazy, I mean, they probably had jobs at one time, but now they just sit around and talk about politics, how the country's gone all to crap, and what color, shape and texture their bowl movement was this morning. And, they wait. They wait for that next social security check to hit their meager bank accounts before it's off to Walmart for an afternoon of fun and frolic. Then they wait again. I sit and wait. Does an angel contemplate my fate? Perhaps. 

Angel's Hwy 63 Diner. I discovered this little side of the road cafe while working in the area and decided to stop and give it a try. The gravel parking lot was a yesteryear's welcome mat and the cars, of which none were of foreign descent, were lined up like a pile of wooden blocks in the losers' bracket at the international Jenga tournament. This was going to be interesting! 

As I walked in, I was visually accosted. My remaining youth suddenly sucked away by the soulful eyes of the patrons who gazed upon me. Perhaps they looked to me to see if I had come bearing news of a pool where they could swim and become energized with youthful vigor. 

The decor matched the enthusiasm in the room as did the free wifi. I seated myself and was promptly greeted with warmth by the matriarch of the group who's name I could only assume was Methuselah. Maty, as I had chosen to refer to her, was friendly and treated me like family. I ordered the hamburger and hand cut fries, and waited. Surprisingly, the wait was only about 10 minutes and my food come out hot and appetizing. 

The burger was not too dry and the words "mom burger" came to mind as the patty was hand formed, the lettuce was crisp and the tomato was fresh and still cold. The bun was toasted but commercially made and the hand cut potatoes, although only single fried, were flavorful and a little limp. Overall a decent burger and fries plate at a very reasonable cost. If you prefer crispy fries, this is certainly not a place for you. However, if you like laid back service, overhearing first hand accounts of the Great Depression, and breakfast served all day, than give Angel's a try. 

As I paid for my meal, in complete shock that they accepted forms of payment other than fattened swines and buttercup coned roosters (which I was well prepared for, BTW), I couldn't help but cast a pitied look back at my fellow patrons as they faded back into their cocoons of hell and waited for their only remaining chance at life . . . Walmart.  

What the Crap is a Crêpe?

Pardon moi, señor! Have you ever tried to find a decent place in which to have a normal run-of-the-mill meal with your friends or family but couldn't quite decide where to go or who had the best food within the range of your social status? So, what do you do? You grab the nearest smart phone and search for the best diner or bar food or local dive around; you search high and low in every corner of the net only to find everything you never wanted to know about some hoity-toity French restaurant where you can't pronounce the entrees and you couldn't afford to buy an appetizer there even if you sold one of your kidneys to be served up as the daily special at Che Guevaras? We've all been there. 


If there was only a place you could turn to whenever you wanted to try somewhere new to eat, or you were just passing through and wanted to find a great burger that included both a normal bun and actual ground beef? You know, a world of never-ending happiness, where you can always see the sun. Day . . . or night. A world with food fit for a prince, but made by a pauper. A world with a guide to all things yummy and all things, well, not so yummy. The wide, wide, world of . . . Foodie Pebbles.


I come from a long line of chefs, short order cooks, restaurateurs, innkeepers and masturbators (very satisfying line of work, I might add). So I come by the love of food naturally and I enjoy sharing my experiences and criticisms with everyone I meat. Maybe I don't know the difference between a French oak barrel wine and an American one, but I do know the difference between crap and crêpe . . . the spelling.