Alaska Day 8: Exploring Homer

And now we arrive at the definitive point in our story where we truly find out that restaurant food in Alaska isn't up to our standards. Sure, we've had hints of it all along, but today is the day after which we cannot deny it any longer and from which point, we will throw in the towel in the search for good food.

We returned from our morning wildlife tour on Kachemak Bay, docking in the Homer Harbor about noon. Not having eaten breakfast, we needed to get some lunch and with an idea to visit Grace Ridge Brewing, recommended to us by a bartender at Girdwood Brewing we headed back towards town where the brewery is located rather than staying on the Spit. The brewery does not serve food.

I had it in mind to check out BlackJaxx BBQ in the parking lot at the ice rink just before the Spit reaches the mainland. I had read decent things about the food there and they are not shy about promoting that they make Alaska's best BBQ. They might well, but where BBQ is concerned, I am skeptical. Having spent the majority of my life in the South, I expect a certain level of expertise in my BBQ and have almost always found it to be missing in other parts of the country.

Barbecue Chicken Leg Quarters

I ordered two chicken leg quarters to take with us to the brewery for lunch. I generally always try chicken first at a new barbeque joint because if you can’t cook chicken you sure can’t cook pork. Although the chicken smelled good, it was just barely cooked through with not enough rub. The chicken wanted to be generously coated in the rub and it wanted another hour or more to get to the ideal doneness for chicken barbeque. The man behind the counter gave me a sample of his smoked bologna which I had never heard of before and found to be great. On the basis of the chicken, however, we wouldn't be returning to try the pork.

Grace Ridge Brewing

Grace Ridge Brewing is a tiny mom and pop affair located just after coming off the Spit. Having lost their current lease, they will be moving elsewhere in town soon. Both beers that we tried, their IPA and hazy, are both good and we had one of each apiece. We wanted a third beer, but under Alaska law in which a brewery may only serve each customer 36 ounces, after two regular-sized 16-ounce beers, we could only have a 4-ounce taster apiece. At this point in the trip, we were no longer surprised by these tiny beers. Most places serve 12-ounce beers to avoid the awkwardness of the final 4-ounce pour.

Our Third Beers: 4-Ounce Tasters

We grabbed a couple of cans of hazy on the way out the door and went back to the B&B where we drank them on the patio, enjoying the bright afternoon sun which continued on the land despite a cloud layer remaining over the water for the rest of the day.

Mike's dog Sammy is a black, sleek-coated female pit bull about 13 years of age. She really is a mellow and sweet girl and was a welcome sight for the both of us as we were missing our two dogs terribly. She got hit by a car at some point and injured the elbow on a front leg, so that leg is a good bit shorter than the other. She's effectively three-legged, but that really doesn't seem to bother her. Despite how friendly she is to everyone who visits, she and Mike are inextricably bonded. She seemed to have separation anxiety when Mike would go out without her, one of her favorite things being to ride in the car.

For dinner, Mike was kind enough to book us his favorite table at his favorite restaurant down on the Spit. Mike, if you're reading this, you should stop now. We had a rough go of it.

Rolling out to Dinner

In the spirit of saying nothing if there's nothing nice to say, I'm just going to say that we left our food mainly uneaten and walked a bit further away to get a take-out pizza. While waiting for our pizza, we watched a teenage girl filleting charter boat fish like a boss. I've never seen anyone fillet fish any faster or with more precision. Props to her.

On the drive back to the inn, a random DJ announced on the car radio that she was going to play some “oldies.” This, just before the first strains of "Gold Dust Woman" by Fleetwood Mac played. In my book, oldies is my parents’ generation of music from the mid-1950s to early 1960s. I thought my label was "classic rock."

Back at the inn, we dove into the Margherita pizza to find that the crust was great but the toppings were really not all that, consisting of hard, pink (unripe) sliced tomatoes, rubber shredded mozzarella, and a bit of basil. And that pretty well capped off a disappointing food day. We're headed for the much-ballyhooed Saltry tomorrow night for what we hope will be a ray of sunshine in a dull gray foodscape. Alaska, can we just have one decent meal here?