Bill’s Bait Shop and Haraz Coffee House

In this week’s edition of The Heavy Table’s Churn newsletter, we explore a sappy, nostalgia-steeped northwoods-themed diner, and we check out another outpost of the cultural coffee scene at a newly opened shop at LynLake.

At a recent party at my place, one of our guests declined a cup of after-dinner green tea on account of the - seriously, difficult to measure - caffeine content. Yes, my friends are getting to be middle-aged and obsessed with a good night’s sleep while I (presumably) remain about 25 years old and hurkle-durkle to my heart’s content unless I am on the schedule for breakfast duty the next morning.

But I think there should be room in all of our lives for late-night coffee and conversation, even as we age into the glorious Years of Mortality. If we’re not up until 1am every once in a while talking about What It All Means, are we really alive?

When I was a UW-Madison student back in [decade redacted], coffee shops leaned nocturnal - most were open until 10, if not 11, if not midnight. A few doubled as bars and would serve java until 1 or 2. But here in the modern metro region of Twincy [1], almost every coffee shop closes early - 6 or 7pm, if not 4 or 5pm. Coffee is for the morning to help us create units of value for our pitiless bosses; cocktails are for the evening, or, more likely, a healthy glass of tap water and lights out by 10.

Here’s where immigration is coming to save our bacon: Muslim cultures with an interest in robust, non-alcohol-driven Third Spaces are bringing a wave of late-night coffee and dessert shops to the realm. From Golden Nuts on Central to Ramadan’s (which we recently wrote about) to Qahwah and Qamaria to this week’s story about Haraz, there is a welcome new tidal wave of shops serving decent coffee at late hours.

Pair it with the coffee you can get after dinner at Ethiopian restaurants (which seems to be 100% excellent) and it’s boom times for late-night caffeinators. Coffee after 10 might not be the smartest choice on a daily basis, but it certainly is nice to have the option to sit down and talk - really talk! - without getting blitzed. – James Norton

About the only thing I knew about my Czech heritage prior to my recent trip to Prague was that my Czech great-grandma used to make koláče filled with poppy seeds or apricot preserves. She might not recognize the 21st century flavors that trendy bakery Kolacherie is known for—think lemon curd with dark chocolate or olive with blue cheese—but I think she would approve of the light, tender crumb of the pastry. The seasonal strawberry rhubarb flavor featured tangy farmer’s cheese that contrasted beautifully with the sweetness of the berries and the streusel topping. On the bakery wall, there’s a map with pins marking the spread of koláče with the Czech diaspora—I was tickled to see Lau’s Czech Bakery in New Prague and Franke’s Bakery in Montgomery representing Minnesota. – Stacy Brooks

It’s hard not to stop at Northern Waters if you’re rolling through Duluth around lunchtime. It’s equally difficult not to get the Cajun Finn or one of their other smoked fish sandwiches when you do.

I’m not sure what they consider “faux” about their banh mi (that makes it sound like it’s made with mock duck or something). The centerpiece is a thick slab of country-style pâté topped with shavings of thin, salty ham. A generous mound of quick pickled cucumbers, carrots, onions and other veggies cuts the richness.

It may not be strictly traditional, but all the banh mi flavors are there with bells on, and arranged with Northern Waters’ signature attention to quality. Of course I also got a hunk of smoked salmon to go. – John Garland

We’ve relentlessly pounded the sushi restaurants around here for years, and have sorted them into three roughly defined categories: “Kado No Mise” (utterly unaffordable yet somehow completely worth it), “Billy Sushi” (delicious but unendurable due to the thumping club music / nightclub-grade hospitality / 6x priced sake bottles), and “the rest.” But within “the rest” there is a hierarchy, and at the top sits Saint Paul’s Saji-Ya. It’s not mind-meltingly tremendous, but it’s delicious, completely reliable, and lifted up by service that’s reliably warm and competent. And as a place to welcome sushi-loving kids back from summer camp, it’s second-to-none. – James Norton

Pryes’ stylish, spacious taproom is a place where the beer, the view of the Mississippi, or the wintertime outdoor saunas are the thing. But it’s good to know you can get a decent pizza, specifically the Arugula Pizza ($15.60 including service charge), a 12-inch wood-fired crust, modestly sauced and cheesed, with a nice pile of vinaigrette-dressed arugula.The crust is blistered and a bit charred, and the red pepper flakes offer some needed heat. Cut in quarters, it’s just enough to help soak up that tasting flight and fuel your power walk or bike ride back down the river. – Jeanne Lakso

We’ve tried a lot of jerk chicken over the years, in large part because we make an absolutely excellent (and labor intensive) jerk chicken on the grill at home. Time and time again, we’ve encountered “OK” and “decent” and “reasonably good” jerk chicken entrees, all falling short of what we’re able to accomplish at home with 24 hours of time, a grill full of burning lump charcoal, a lot of whole all spice, and handfuls of soaked bay leaves. But then West Indies Soul Food in Saint Paul matched our efforts with an excellent, full flavored jerk chicken; and now Harbor Bar, a riverside patio across the water from Red Wing, has posted similar results. Although their jerk chicken is skinless breast meat - which makes it a little drier and less rich than the home version - it has a lovely char, full jerk flavor, and a salty jerk marinade sauce on the side for an extra flavor boost. Throw in the waterfront view of the Mississippi River, a bottle of Red Stripe, and passing boat traffic, and you’ve got a meal to remember. – James Norton

Is the newly opened Bill’s Bait Shop restaurant a loving homage to the north country or a condescending urban cash grab? Everything about this new spot in the former Chicago’s Taste Authority space - the artfully composed web presence, the meticulously styled supper club-tribute kitsch interior, the “aw shucks” basic menu - tilts toward the “homage” side of the spectrum.

But then push comes to shove and you’ve spent nearly $25 a plate on forgettable fast food. [2] Can a lousy value prospect, all by its lonesome, transform a tribute into a desecration? Yes. Can a lackluster restaurant be redeemed entirely by a really cool looking neon-driven feature wall? No.