(SpoCOOL) A Spokane Blog

Natural Start was excellent in every way; Sharpe had good coffee, if nothing else; now the spot is back to being named Natural Start again, but don't get it confused with the original spot and the people behind it. This New Natural Start, as it shall forevermore be known as, is a slap in the face of good coffee and anything else good in life. I don't doubt the new owners have the best of intentions, and bless them for that, but New Natural Start delivers absolutely nothing.

There are, of course, those who will say we should give any new restaurant a break, with the typical teething problem a new establishment tends to have. OK, sure, but the fact remains that they are still charging full prices, and while some startup issues can be forgiven, there's just nothing here. It's null and void. No light at the end of the tunnel. And that sucks.

We gave them two chances, because, really, we did want them to succeed. No, really. I was downright excited to see the "Natural Start" name again.

During the first visit an Americano and bagel was ordered. We were told the bagel delivery hadn't arrived yet (slightly strange seeing it was primetime for breakfast rush, but whatever) so we asked for a latte instead. After an oddly long wait the latte arrived, without an Americano. Yes. The lady took the "instead" to mean "a latte instead of the bagel you don't have and the Americano the other person clearly wanted." When in doubt, ask.

The latte was atrocious. Not even luke warm and filled to the brim with syrup. 

Second chance: Same lady at the helm, and an order for an Americano and a chai tea latte. Her deer in the headlight look when she repeated "chai... tea... latte...?" should have tipped us off. Again, a strangely long wait -- nobody else was there -- and the order arrived.

The Americano, I'm fairly certain, was made only with hot water. There might have been something stuck in the bottom of the cup to add flavor, but I do not know if it was coffee or not. That's not to say she hadn't pulled any espresso shots, as they, for whatever reason, had found their way into the chai tea latte. That's right. The chai tea latte had no milk, but plenty of coffee mixed with the tea.

This was all so ridiculous you'd think somebody was pulling a practical joke. Sadly, it wasn't funny, just gross.

I am sure New Natural Start means well. On the other hand, if I went into an operating room to remove somebody's appendix, I would also do so with the best of intentions, but that wouldn't make the result anything but disastrous. 

And a disaster New Natural Start is.

It's that time of year again, the time when The Inlander's readers flock together to vote Clinkerdagger Spokane's best restaurant and Taco Bell best fast food. And... Does anyone actually care anymore? I mean, really? I suppose we're writing about it, but I can pretty much promise that this will be it.

Of course, we have been shifting much of the blame onto the Inlander's readers, but that erroneously would suggest the Inlander knows better. To illustrate they don't, you don't need to go much further than their "Fish Taco Throwdown" where they name Twigs the winner. I kid you not. Twigs. In the same article they call Guerrero's tacos "one-dimensional" which blows my mind in so many ways that it's not one bit amusing.

People love to vote in "Best ofs," but why bother with this one? The Inlander is a shrine to mediocrity, and that won't change. Do you really want to be part of that? Of course you don't, even though I'm sure you have plenty of opinions about who's the region's best dog trainer. (And yes, you can actually vote on that.)

What better time to remind you of the results of our last year's "Best Of," where hundreds of Better Tasters voted for what really is the best of the region's food and drinks:

• Best of Libations
• Best of Markets and Cafes
• Best of Cheap Eats and Pizza
• Best Restaurant
• Best of the Rest

Somewhere deep in the Washington wilderness lies Deer Park, a place where men are men, women are women, and Yoke's has a craft beer section.

The latter might not sound earth shattering -- nor might the former -- but the three odd trips I've made there over the past year have accumulated to an interesting social experiment. Deer Park, as it seems, isn't Craft Beer Drinker Central, yet, for some unknown reason, the vast majority of beer in people's carts are either Kokanee or Kokanee Gold. It's kind of strange. Strike that -- it is strange. 

The craft beer cooler, meanwhile, has been shun into a corner between the Red Box, chips, and chilled wine. It's an eclectic and probably vintage machine, one you have to raise your voice when you walk past. The engine sounds like it's about to blow up, quite literally, and I assume it's somebody's designated job to kick it back into shape once an hour.

And speaking of vintage: When in need of vintage craft beer, this is the place to go as, apparently, no-one buys it here. Last July there were three bottles of Mirror Mirror left. I picked one up, and, when returning a few months later, two were still sitting there. It's like having my own private beer cooler. (That admittedly has to be kicked at regular intervals.)

You'd think Yoke's was Yoke's was Yoke's, and in a sense it is, but in Deer Park it's just a bit different. 

One can't help but wonder if Deschutes can do no wrong, and if this year's Red Chair is anything to go by, the answer is pretty clear. I am fully OK with coming off as a slobbering Deschutes fanboy as long as they make beer like this.

It pours a lovely golden amber color, with a seductive come hither look. The nose, with its suggestive sweet malts, leaves little doubt that this is a pale ale, and a good one at that.

The flavor is really what sets Red Chair apart from its more average little brother, the Mirror Pond. What makes this a Northwestern pale are the hops. It's not insanely crazy, but the hops do balance out the malts nicely, and there are citric undertones that add a level of complexity to the beer. 

Yet, with the medium mouthfeel and 6.4% ABV this is instantly drinkable, one that the hardest Corona Man could enjoy. It might feel a bit too early for a spring-like ale, but if our Masters at Deschutes say it is time, who are we to argue?