Seriously… just don’t do it.
In retrospect, we should have just stayed home.
So, for Valentine’s Day we wanted to hit a steakhouse for some good steaks. I had been owed a good steak dinner since our plan in Bend, Oregon went belly up (so to speak). Jess had heard things about “Peregrine Steaks & Spirits” in Kuna. So, what the hell. I made a last minute reservation for 8:30 on V-day (Wednesday).
We spent the first part of the evening at the apartment, with a few beers and Mythbusters on the tube. Not exactly the most romantic thing I could think of (hey, I did have some candles lit!) but it seemed to fit us just fine. Then came time to head out to the restaurant. We left the house a little after 8 figuring we’d have plenty of time to make it.
Not so fast, smart guy.
I was smart enough to print off a Google map of where the hell this place was, since I hadn’t been to Kuna for years. Actually, the last time I was in Kuna was when I worked at Nu Look Car Wash back in high school (13+ years ago). After work one night, some people were going out to Kuna Caves to have a party. In all actuality, these “caves” are more like “holes in the ground”. After driving around for about 30 minutes, getting lost from a crappy hand drawn map we find the place. It was really out in the middle of nowhere and took many dirt road trips to find. But we did, and hung out for a little while. Then came time to leave. There were three of us piled into my ’78 Datsun pickup and we headed home. About 5 minutes down the dirt road, still in the middle of nowhere, my headlights went out. Oh shit. What do we do now? John, in is infinite wisdom, decides he’s going to sit on the hood and try to navigate this dirt road by voice commands. Ingenious, but not functional. Finally, I remember that I might have some additional fuses somewhere in my truck, and after 20 minutes of searching every nook and cranny in the pitch dark, I finally found some. Voila’ the lights were back on, and we could get home.
Why do I tell you that story? Well, I was at the restaurant’s website and got their address from the banner image they had top and center. 414 W Main, Kuna ID. Which is what my Google map was pointing me to. Simple right?
Well, it would be, IF THAT WAS ACTUALLY THEIR ADDRESS!!!
We drove down this ‘main’ street about 6 times, never seeing anything that resembled a steak house. Back and forth. Tried side streets thinking maybe its down there somewhere. Nothing. We even drove further down Main in both directions thinking “ok, maybe its EAST main or something”. No dice. Son of a bitch! The second time in my life I’m in Kuna and I’m lost… AGAIN! I was about 20 seconds from throwing in the rather angry towel and leaving for a pizza when Jess spots something that looks like a restaurant.
(editors note, checking today, the website is updated with the correct address… maybe they could read my thoughts as I sat there fuming)
Sure enough, we found the place. Only the address on the building is 751 W. 4th. I was about to blow a gasket in my head. But, it’s almost 9 and I’m hungry. So, we headed inside.
I tell the hostess that I have a reservation (I did call in, I swear). She looks down at her ever-so-professional sheet of college-ruled notebook paper with more scribbles than an 8th grade cheerleader’s trapper keeper and says, “maybe you made your reservation for the bar?”. Hell if I know. This is YOUR restaurant, shouldn’t YOU know that? So, we walk outside and to the other door for the bar. Upon entry, we are immediately punched in the face by the combined force of a fog cigarette smoke and live country music at about 110 db. We look at each other and instantly decide, “uh, let’s see if they can fit us in on the restaurant side”.
We go back, and sure enough, since it’s now 9:10, they can get us a table. Finally.
This place was nice enough, until we get to the table. “We’re out of linens, we’ve been really busy” the hostess tells us. So, on our table we have paper placemats. Classy. We also had an oil candle but it wasn’t lit. The table itself was a bit wobbly, but after investigation, it wasn’t something a shim would fix… it was loose bolts. Very nice. There were cloth napkins, so at least we wouldn’t have to use our sleeves or anything.
The decor was, shall we say, fairly pedestrian. It kinda reminds you of your grandma’s house. Wide open spaces, fake plants and oldish looking furniture. The light fixtures were new though, and kinda swanky I suppose.
I will say this however… the people were all very friendly.
We ordered a bottle of wine (Ravenswood Cab $20, which is a good price) and perused the menu. I settled on the 10 oz. fillet mignon (Jess had the 6 oz. fillet, or as their menu called it ‘filet’), but did notice that they have a ‘ground beef steak’ on the menu. Uh… fellas? That would be a hamburger without the bun. Should have been our first clue. This same menu also includes in their “lighter fare” section, Cheeseburgers and Finger Steaks. “I’m watching my weight, I think I’ll just have the battered and deep fat fried strips of beef… with fries.”
Jess ordered a green salad as her starter, and asked for the “house dressing” to which the waitress replied, “ranch?”. Guess so. I had the beef vegetable soup. We both got potatoes au gratin as our side.
Jess ate her salad, which they tried to take away from her when there was still about 60% of it left, and I had the soup. They did give us a nice little loaf of bread, though it was served on a coffee cup saucer. After a while, the waitress came back and apologized that the meal was taking a bit longer than it should. “No worries, we’ve got wine” I replied, which we were drinking out of the exact same glasses as the water glasses.
Just then, the dinner came out. Served on the same sort of plates you used to get at Bonanza (anyone remember that place?), the oblong metal plate with plastic rim for handling. The fillets were bacon-wrapped (which didn’t say so on the menu) and Jess doesn’t like bacon, but no matter. Easy fix. What couldn’t be as easily fixed was that my “fillet” looked a lot more like a bacon-wrapped round sirloin steak, and a rather unattractive one at that. And although I ordered it medium rare and it was cooked medium rare, it was quite a bit like a hunk of shoe leather and just about as tasty. Their menu touted this as their “most tender steak”. If that is the case, I dare not attempt anything else without a good teeth sharping from the horse dentist. As I tried to cut this meat frisbee, the table was moving so much water was sloshing from our glasses and I was afraid that it might collapse. Let’s be nice and just say, that was certainly not a fillet mignon, and if it was, it might have come from an escaped circus animal or something. I guess I should have known that you don’t get a good steak for $22.95.
We spent the meal remembering the best steaks we have had in our lives… though I don’t know if that was really helping this meal out or not. We also enjoyed the Enya and Neil Diamond piped in over the din. For the record, the finest piece of beef I have had in my life was at Beverly’s in the Coeur d’Alene Resort in Coeur d’Alene Idaho. I would drive 300 miles just to eat that again. Unfortunately, C’DA is 450 miles away. (if you’re ever there, get the “Prime Tenderloin of Beef – flown from Chicago, corn-fed, USDA prime center cut with our accoutrement tray”. Trust me on this.)
We finished our meal and they brought the check, which they would “take care of up front”. No desert for us, thanks. So, we coated up and headed for the door. Grand total, with the bottle of wine, was 60 bones. Frankly, I would imagine, though I haven’t been to a Sizzler in a number of years, you could get that exact same meal there for about half the price.
As soon as I got out the door, I told Jess… at very least I’m going to get a good blog post out of this. So, the night wasn’t a total loss. We made the long drive back to civilization laughing about the whole thing. You might think we had a horrible Valentines Night, but all in all, we still had a good time together. At least it was worth a laugh.
Basically, what I’m telling you is this. If you are in the Boise area, or ever come to visit, avoid a joint called Peregrine Steaks and Spirits. If you can even find it, that is.