Arrow-right Camera
The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Bad time at Paul Bunyan not enough to end relationship

Patrick Jacobs Correspondent

In local burger folklore, it’s always Hudson’s that gets all the glory.

OK, sure, the place has been there serving the same product for a hundred years, but so what? Want fries? Too bad. Try ordering them, and they’ll look at you like you just asked for Bald Eagle McNuggets. Take away the “secret recipe,” (do I taste horseradish?) hot mustard and ketchup, and the burgers become a little plain.

And it’s so crowded in that tiny joint that you have to sit elbow-to-elbow with some less-than-appetizing stranger nearly as old as the place itself. Not for the claustrophobic.

Paul Bunyan must be the second-oldest burger joint in Coeur d’Alene, having been in the same spot since sometime in the 1950s.

My mother worked there during its glory years when she was a teenager. For years, it was the teeny-bopper hot spot, a place for car cruisers to gather. By the time I was a kid, the place was pretty run-down, and it was demolished and rebuilt about 10 years ago.

It seems as if the place lost a bit of charm with the rebuilding. I can remember sitting outside at grungy, carved-up picnic tables and having corn dogs and vanilla Coke in the shade of some kind of dilapidated, multicolored ‘50s plastic canopy structure that would cast odd pink and orange shadows on the ground.

Now, the place is rather plain – gray brick, crisp white interior – exactly like Paul Bunyan’s two newer locations in Post Falls and Hayden. However, the giant original iconic sign of Paul himself still stands out front at the Coeur d’Alene location, winking at passers-by.

The menu still remains nearly identical to what it was 50 years ago. Where else can you get a Blue Ox burger or a Hammy Whammy (mmm – layers of thin fried ham and yellow mustard on a double-size roll)?

The food is typically very good – a hometown joint serving food made fresh and with a flair for originality you can find only at old small-town joints like this.

The onion rings are killer – hand-battered and fried to a perfect golden brown until they’re stuck to each other and oh so good right down to the little crunchy bits left at the bottom of the little red-and-white-checkered tray.

You can have your Coke flavored with vanilla, cherry, chocolate and probably a dozen other flavors. There are fresh huckleberry shakes, for goodness’ sake, although they will cost you.

In fact, I noticed that everything on the menu had suffered a dramatic price hike recently, and a Paul Bunyan meal can add up quick. The food normally is worth it, but you could spend the same amount at Applebee’s or somewhere else and at least feel a little fancy.

Unfortunately, a recent visit to Paul Bunyan was marred by a bad customer-service experience.

Hungry after work one day last week, I cruised into the drive-through and ordered my usual double bacon cheeseburger and small onion rings with fry sauce and a large cherry Coke.

The wait is always long at Paul Bunyan, but it’s forgivable because everything is made fresh.

I pulled up and peered into the closed drive-up window as one of the girls yammered away on the phone, talking and laughing, which she continued to do for at least five minutes, during which time I clearly could see my finished food sitting there waiting to be bagged and handed to me. My patience was wearing thin with this girl, who seemed gum-smackingly oblivious to my basic need for sustenance.

She eventually put down the phone, handed my bag of food to me and immediately closed the window. I got halfway home before I realized she had forgotten to give me my large cherry Coke. I was angry, but I decided I was too hungry to go back, that I’d just take the loss and have water – it’s better for me anyway.

I got home, just starving, sat down, pulled my food out of the bag and realized to my horror that the flaky gal had forgotten my darned fry sauce, too.

That was it – my temper was shot. I could handle the forgetting-the-Coke thing, but there was no way I was going to eat cold onion rings with no dip.

I flew back down there (all four blocks), pulled in and barked into the drive-through box, telling them they had forgotten my stuff and letting them know how hungry and upset I was.

There was a long pause, and the girl says (audible sigh) – I’m not joking here – “Well, sir, what do you expect me to do about it?”

Naturally, a million things flooded my brain, all of which I’m too polite to commit to print. Ultimately, I decided not to risk teen-girl spit appearing in my food and calmly replied, “Well, my dear, you can cook me a fresh order of onion rings, because mine are ice-cold by now, and give me the drink I paid for and the dip I ordered in the first place. And the sooner the better, because I am rabidly hungry and now grouchy as a bear.”

(Audible sigh, smack of gum) “Well, I guess we can do that.”

Damn skippy you can, Miss Thang!

When I got to the window, all the Paul Bunyan girls lingered in the back like a flock of turkeys, bobbing their necks, trying to get a look at the mean grouch.

You could feel the tension as top-ponytail girl, wide-eyed, opened the slider. “Oh mah gawd ah am sooooo soooorry bout thay-at!” she drawled, dripping with faux sincerity.

I grumbled, “Whatever. … I’m just hungry, I guess,” and grabbed my food and drink. Then I noticed three cups of dip in my bag. I wouldn’t let one bad experience permanently ruin my relationship with Paul.

Anyway, the employee turnover is so fast, by the time I visit again, there’ll be a whole new set of counter girls for me to razz.