Is John Hecht Right?

Recently friend and Boisee.com reader John Hecht sent me this article(see below). It bemoans the end of radio. Basically I agree with the author, but mostly it makes me sad. Guess I am now one of the "everything was better when I was a kid" generation. Corporate radio sucketh, whole and large and true.

We know this. Everyone knows this. There is not a single person out there right now who is listening to any of the one zillion lifeless Clear Channel or Infinity-owned rock stations anywhere in the nation who is saying to themselves, gosh this KLOG station is just exceptionally good and clever and smart and plays amazingly fresh music and makes me want to listen all the time and oh my God I am so going to pick up the phone right now and try to be the 157th caller so I can win tickets to go see Dave Matthews live in Portland! Woo!

OK, maybe there's a few. But you probably don't want to know them, because they're the type who never slam ice-cold shots of vodka or have never heard of Rocco Siffredi and they wear pink capri pants or backward baseball hats and drive Ford Escorts with weird stuffed animals in the windows. Mostly.

This is the problem with rock radio. It has become the last option, the thing you listen to only when all other options fail, when you're too tired to pop in a CD or too lazy to reach for the iPod or just a little too buzzed on premium tequila and postcoital nirvana to care about searching your glove box for that old AC/DC tape. In short, rock radio is for people who buy their Matchbox 20 CDs from Target.

It has become background noise, something you leave on just to keep you from falling asleep as you drive to Sacramento, more ads than music and more generic than electrifying, a nearly dead form that lost its spark about 15 years ago and that is quickly giving way to Sirius and XM and your ability to burn your own custom-mix CDs for pennies apiece and listen to them for three days and throw them away and burn a new one.

Then there is the wondrous joy that is the iPod and its new upstart spawn, podcasting, that cute grassroots do-it-yourself radio mini-phenomenon thing that is spreading like porn-flavored candy and has the potential to slap corporate radio upside the head, even more than it has been in the past decade, which is a lot.

The good news is, such innovation and progress and user-powered choice is always good and always forces staid and monolithic industries to rethink their crusty and prehistoric business models, much like the Net forced newspapers to rethink their existence and microbreweries forced Budweiser to rethink its pisswater beer and HDTV is now forcing celebs to rethink all that Botox.

But the sad news is, we are now way past radio's Golden Age, that time way back when before the Internet and before iPods and before you could find out every godforsaken detail you ever wanted to know about any band on the planet with the click of a mouse, a time when DJs were the true music authorities and actually seemed to know fantastic and curious and insider details about the art of noise, and they were rapturous and sexy and interesting and didn't have to be de facto obnoxious and didn't insist on telling really awful jokes and you could actually discover incredible new music by listening to their various antiestablishment noncorporate shows and feel something akin to community and connection and a true sense of your own identity.

But of course, that was then.

And I was just recently switching cassette tapes (don't ask) in my aging car and found myself unwittingly flipping through the local radio options on the off off off chance that something, anything might catch my ear long enough to get me home, when lo and behold the one remaining decent alt-rock station in the Bay Area, Live 105, was playing a new song by a red-hot band called Kasabian.

And I was all, whoa, this is good, followed by hey wait, this is on the radio, followed by wow, radio actually introduced me to an excellent piece of new music I've never heard, followed by the realization that this hasn't happened since about, oh, 1996, followed by the sad recognition that only a handful of major-station radio gems remain on the dial anywhere in the country, stations that still fly their flags of ragged independence like beacons in a wasteland of sameness and blandness and endless replays of Beyonc� and Eric Clapton and Sting, while the FCC stands behind them all like a psychotic nun with a giant ruler and a deep scowl and callused nipples.

But these stations, they're few and far between and they're going down faster than shots of formaldehyde into Laura Bush, and while I'm always happy to hear that companies like Clear Channel, that nasty and adorably soulless megacorporate owner of roughly 1 billion preprogrammed radio Dumpsters across the nation, just posted a $4.7 billion loss, there is no new model coming up behind, no pending radio revolution on a large scale, no new way to introduce the world to butt-shaking new artists en masse.

And while there are plenty of outstanding extant indie stations (hi, KCRW), not to mention gobs of superlative alternative talk radio (hey, KPFA), not to mention countless fabulous FCC-free Net radio stations, and while I certainly love wasting endless hours browsing the iTunes Music Store and Amazon's reader recommendations and watching lesser-known music vids via the video archives on Rollingstone.com and indulging in semi-illegal file sharing via Acquisition and ripping the wondrously good SomaFM Net-radio stream straight into RadioLover, these are not the way to inform huge numbers of people about the absolute greatness of, say, Nick Cave's "Abbatoir Blues." You feel me?

Simply put, it now feels nice, in a painfully nostalgic and rose-colored sort of way, to say that rock radio once had the power to unify, to create shared experience and healthy, rebellious attitudes on a relatively large and badass scale. Was it true? Probably. At least a little. Maybe.

It was, after all, immediate and live and intensely localized while simultaneously seeming to be global and eternal and cool. And in a world of fractured divisive bitter warmongering and the rise of the sneering religious Right and of the sputtering faux-cowboy priggishness of George W. Bush, few are the cultural forces left to foster such a sense of place and togetherness and raw musical heat. Woe and bitch and lament.

But you know, whatever. It all had to change and it all should change, and change in such stagnating industries is always largely healthy and good and necessary. Mostly. We are now ushering in, like it or not, the era of random choice, of TiVo and iPod and all-custom content all the time. Which is, of course, fabulous. But also, not.

The eternal argument still stands: We still need content filters. We still want cool all-knowing ever winking authorities, music-drunk or media-drenched experts who know a bit more than us and who have their cultural s-- together and who are trained in such worldly debauched pursuits to aim our ever hungry taste buds toward the Next Big Thing. We still want cool voices to come on the air and tell us how we simply have to hear this new band because they will change the face of music forever or at least make you want to dance or dream or scream or have more sex like, right now.

Blogs won't do it alone. Podcasts won't do it alone. Burned CDs and iPod playlists and live Net streams can't do it alone. But in radio's sad wake, maybe, just maybe, all these upstart forms hold a seed, a hint, a glimmer of the next thing that will. Or, who knows, maybe they all might work to pry the corporate fingers from the throat of once-great rock radio, and usher in a true rebirth.

What, too utopian? Hey, that's just rock 'n' roll.

Downtown Bar Deathwatch

The bar business downtown is brutal. Here is my humble opinion on the health of Boise's coldest hotspots. This is based almost entirely on rumor, innuendo, observation and my own personal bent. That said, I am not wrong!

Dead Poblano's-never made it! Rumored to be a "Coyote Ugly" style bar soon.

Shotzs,Rodizio's,Lipps, whatever! Peter, Peter, Peter. Mister Shotz, how can you have the balls to blame Jim Borton for your train wreck? Jim could have saved your fancy ass if you would have let him.

Critical Boogie Woogies-Just across the street and up the stairs from ill fated Poblano's. Lunches didn't work. Are payroll checks really bouncing? This was such a hipster haven just a couple of months ago. What happened?

Wounded The "Bucket," formally the Blues Bouquet. All personal bias aside. How long can new ownership lose money? Think I'm wrong, look at the ever depleting liquor inventory. Can you really run a bar with a "keg a beer, and Jaeger." Not one I'll go to. Recent shifts back to more mainstream acts like Soul Purpose and upcoming shows like Coco Montoya may help, but "after hours" seems a desperate plan-likely to be a disaster. Yes, I am looking forward to new management and staff.

Blue about the gills Am I the only one or is the ultra-popular Hanger deadly quiet on all but Friday and Saturday?

Live NUDES

Now we are famous for more then potatoes. It started on channel 7, now this story is on the AP and Reuters wire services. The BBC, ABC, and many newspapers around the world ran it. Guess it is better then when the Aryan nation stuff. . .UPDATE. . . Jay Leno used this story as a joke Monday night!

BOISE, Idaho Feb 16, 2005 ? A city ordinance bans complete nudity at all gentleman's clubs, but one has challenged that ordinance by distributing pencils and sketch pads to patrons during "art night."

The ordinance does give nudity exclusions for artistic displays which include dance, ballet and dramatic performances, so every Monday and Tuesday, the club encourages customers to sketch the models as they perform nude routines.

"As far as the Boise city code, it specifies it has to be a serious artistic manner and this is a serious artistic manner," said Chris Teague, Erotic City owner.

The club has put on art night for two months, and Teague said he has not received any complaints.

Boise Police officials say the club has not been cited for any ordinance violations.

Live MUSIC

Here is a comment from the Fat Tuesday Story. . . Great party . Thanks for the pics and the story. Sockeye Brew Pub is also supporting live music. Saw 2 great acts this week. Also check oout the Ha Penny next Fri. the 25th

Your welcome, more importantly thanks for the live music info. While I am at it rumor has it that Blues guitar gunslinger Coco Montoya will be in town soon and Blues Society www.boiseblues.org members will get a discount. More details soon.

Seattle Sountrack# 2

�What a Difference a Day Makes�

24 little hours brought the sun and the flowers where there used to be rain.

Most big cities wake up on Monday morning with a clatter of sirens, delivery, trucks and clamor. Seattle came alive in a much subtler way. A light wind blew the last of the fog away as commuters quietly headed to work just as the sun began to shine. There is none of the taxi honking brashness of New York, or even the determined frivolity of San Francisco. Seattle seems to get up, grasp a cup of coffee and go. As the city came to life, I went up to take the monorail into the heart of the city. Guess what? The thing doesn�t run until 11 am, stops at 7 pm, guess they are on Boise transit time. Took a wander around the deserted Space Center area and then headed down to Pikes Market.

The market assaults all of your senses. The iridescent rainbows from thefish scales are matched by the wide variety of gifts, carvings, and produce. I love this market, so vibrant and fun. Fish fly past as the languages of the world fill the air. Tourists and local mix in a commercial frenzy. Hunger drove me to the back of the market to the Southview Cafe. Perched on an overhang over The Sound, the cafe was quiet but the staff greeted me with a smile. The coffee was naturally good, (free refills) and my simple breakfast of an omelette and bagel hit the spot. It is often the most unpretentious meals that satisfy the most. This is especially true when the restaurant has such a fantastic view. In the morning the commercial side of the �Port of Seattle� governs the waves. Tugs push barges in and out and cargo containers rolled slowly past. Not a cruise ship or fancy yacht in sight. We needed to be out of the condo by 11 am, so I hiked down to the George Benson Waterfront Streetcar Line Metro, Route 99, to the end of the line station at water front pier # 70. Just a quick up hill walk to �home.�

Back at Don�s new place we found that on those few clear days, he will have a view. Got restless after we moved a couple of things around, drove into China Town, shopped, cooked a meal and than napped. The Day family idea of a perfect afternoon.

The news never sleeps, so Don works a night shift at Northwest Cable News and it was back into the city. Found a parking space and took in downtown. It is sad to think that the next time I will see the Bon, it will be a Macys. Swung into Nordstroms and looked around. Found a bookstore and stocked up. The hipster at the counter said that Pioneer Square was the place to find live music so I walked up to the Pioneer Square Saloon. Unfortunately it wasn�t a saloon at all but a Pub!

The Orleans had Dixieland music and a wonderful historic decor. With the music, pleasant unpretentious servers, walls cluttered with blues and jazz posters, you know it felt like home. Had a couple, had some dinner and headed back to get the kid from his job.

The next night I was back on the sound for natures show and chowder. Sunsets always impress. Watching the fading light shift the horizon from blue to red and orange, and ever so slowly back to blue and black. This night in Seattle proved to be one of the best ever. At a public pier below the freeway and the business district, a small crowd joined me. The big ferries chugged past

bringing the last of the commuters home and the sun set.

Hungry and worn out I found a true northwest style fish chowder at Steamers on the Aquirium peir and went back to the barn early.

The trip almost over, Don took me up to Sea-Tac. The twin stadiums looking so much better than the old King Doom on the way out. Like most of the country's airports, Sea-Tac is being remodeled. However it was easy boarding and soon I was was flying home. Like an old beer commercial, Mt. Rainier flew under our wings. This picture window should be in a Southwest ad. It was great to get out of town and help the son out. I�m looking forward to getting back soon to see, taste and hear, more of Seattle.

And Now The Story-Fat Tuesday-BBS

MS. JO and ERLINDA

It was Fat! Fat Tuesday. The rejuvenated Boise Blues Society knows how to party! Under the guidance of President Jim Teeter, the BBS held a fundraiser for ?Blues in the School? Mardi Gras night. LORI B! AND THE BOYS B!eautiful Ms. Lori B! and her Boys knocked it out early at the Neurolux. It had been a while since B! has rocked us and we miss her soulful sass. At the old Bouquet, the Rockafellas and the Bad Boyz Jam Band held their own party. Boise hasn?t had it this Blue in a long time, so big smiles were everywhere as friends, old and new, avoided thinking about the sacrifice of Lent. THE ROCCAFELLAS---THE BAD BOYZ JAM BAND Made it back to the Lux in time to hear Hoochie Coochie Man Bud singing crowd favorite Soothe Me. The band was so cool they almost had to turn up the heat! Hats off to the BBS for ?Keeping the Blues Alive.? THE HOOCHIE COOCHIE MEN

Seattle soundtrack#1

A very typical day for Seattle. In a coffee shop, light rain, about 45 degrees outside and even a nice, but most likely schizophrenic breaded man, vocalizing in the corner. Almost a movie version of Seattle. Oh, did I tell you I can see the Space Needle out the window and I swear, a jazz version on Bill Withers "Ain?t No Sunshine" is playing over the sound system.

My son landed a big city job with Northwest Cable News and it was dad's job to drive the truck full of stuff to Seattle. Except for the unreasonable speed limit in Oregon, the trip went smoothly. Snoqualme Pass was not to bad as I rolled out of the forest into the Puget sound. The downward transition from mountain to sea is a shift of the green color wheel. The dark rich evergreens become the soft gray green of aspens. As you enter town the flora and fauna explode into the rich lush emerald of the cities nickname. With an unusually mild winter even some brave flowers were still in bloom.

Downtown Seattle is back in bloom itself. The last time I was here the city was suffering from the tech bust. Not now. Buildings are rising as fast as real estate values.

Oddly enough the soundtrack of Seattle continues with the opening lines of The Mamas and Papas, California Dreaming. Remember?

All the leaves are brown And the sky is gray I've been for a walk On a winter's day

After coffee, I finished my winters day walk by heading over to the the Needle to take a look around. Did you know that the monorail doesn't move until 11 am on the weekdays?

Woke the kid up to check on the truck we had to leave unattended, but before we unloaded it we loaded up on a Seattle's favorite the Dick?s Deluxe. Two Bucks, a nickel extra for ketchup or onions. Shakes were a buck fifty. Even on a Sunday afternoon 60 or so customers waited in front of the window servers for a meal. It was good, the shake was a bit weak, but hey, is was tasty and cheap.

Got back to the big Ryder Truck full of Don?s life, Jed(thanks) showed up and we wrestled everything up the stairs into the new apartment. With two bedrooms and a bit of a view I expect the kid will be seeing a lot of his relatives this year.

After the move it was back to the city to drop off the truck and then back to the luxury south side condo. The sun was fading and it seemed as if the tugs and ferries were all headed home for the week. Night fell and it was time to call it a day.

Bullwieser

It had to happen. Anheuser Bush is testing a new beer in Seattle. Be, it combines good old Bud with herbs like ginseng and guirana-the caffeine like juice that gives Red Bull it's wings. "Just what we need, wide awake drunks."

DOH!

Sorry, it took so long for me to post a new blog. It was broken! The smart son fixed it. I will be post photos and a story from Seattle shortly.

The sky is warming!!!

Since the second grade, when I was taught how to "Duck & Cover" under my desk in case of a Russian Nuclear attack, it seems as if some disaster is about to kill us American baby boomers or a least have us starving in the dark. So far we have survived:

Rock and Roll Destroying the Morals of American Youth Rap, Punk, Grudge-see above, Air pollution, Water pollution The Cold War (we won), The Space Race (won that one too), The sexual revolution (I lost), Three or Four Energy Crises, At least Two Social Security Crises, Two Impeachments, The Deficit (twice now), The Trade Balance, The Impending Alien Attack (both from Mexico and outer space), Race Riots, Asteroids, Disco, El Nino, El Nina, The Bermuda Triangle, The Trilateral Commission, Downsizing, Supersizing, Impending - Russian world domination, Arab world domination, Japanese world domination, Chinese world domination, Muslim world domination, French world domination (just kidding), OPEC, The pill, Health Food, Cholesterol, Sugar, Grilled Burgers, Butter, High Carbs, Low Carbs, Asbestos, Radon, Mold, 55 mph, Cars Without Seat Belts, High Interest Rates, Low Interest Rates, Endangered Snail Darters and Spotted Owls, The Current/last/next President,

The Younger Generation, Voter Apathy, Congress, News Casters, Democrats, Republicans, The Rich, The Poor, The 18 Year Old or Uninformed Voters, The red states, The blue states Ending Democracy as we know it.

California almost slipping into the sea, Internet Time, The Digital Age, Cable, Talk Radio, The War on Drugs, The Vietnam War, Iraq,

plus, Ted Danson of Cheers predicting that the population explosion would kill us all by the year 2005.

So hopefully you can understand that I expect we will survive Global Warming.

Snow Day

It was a snow day! In Idaho when someone asks you if you want to go into the back country on a snowmobile you just have to say yes!

It took us a bit to get on the road but as we headed up 55 towards Cascade, the clouds were parting and the temp was falling. The conditions were getting better by the minute. It was soggy and raining at Cougar Mountain so we decided to motor Stan�s big truck up to the west mountain side of Cascade Lake. Turned out to be the right decision. It was misting lightly in the parking lot, but as soon as we headed up the into mountains it stopped. As Stan and Vince powered through the virgin powder, Laura and I got our bearings and rolled upward. The view over Cascade Lake proved a mere preview to the day's vistas.

Snow machines are fun when they turn! Not so much when they don�t! This was the first lesson of the day for me. At the warming shed area I decided to miss the tree and ended up falling off and burying the snowmobile they call "Moby Dick."(�When it goes down it stays down,� Laura told me.) Since I needed lots of help I was now the not so proud owner of the Skunk. The skunk is the �prize� of person who got stuck last. Needless to say the damn skunk and I got to be good friends.

It�s all about power, balance, and timing on a snow sled. Vince and Stan danced and twirled back and forth, shifting there weight and anticipating turns to avoid getting stuck. It was amazing to see these pros rip up the mountains. Each trying to best the other. That was until Stan hit a dip flew over the handle bars and found himself with the coveted skunk! Not to be outdone, our most expert of riders Vince acquired the prize soon after by sticking the nose of his machine into a drift. Laura mostly stayed out of trouble and was skunk free. Me? Well I'll get to the that later.

As afternoon faded into to evening, I got braver and tried some climbing and meadow dancing of my own. The power of these machines is amazing. The skill it takes to maneuver successfully around the valley mountains and trees is a combination of balance and dexterity. Think skiing, motocross and world wide wrestling combined into one. The skunk and I reacquainted after I fell off on a climb. For the remainder of the the day I narrowly avoided smashing into any trees.
We headed back down as the sun was setting. The snow glowed gold as the sky darkened. The headlights of the sleds cast a lonely beam as we turned for home. Stan, Laura and Vince were kind enough to let me capture a wild wilderness sunset.

Margaritas were on Laura�s mind and that sounded good to us all.

Speed, is the thing. "Vince is a wild man!� says Stan. Me, well my momma always told me, �I was too stupid to be afraid.� That is why I tried to keep up with Vin as he flew south to the truck. These machine can travel at speeds not street legal in any state except Nevada and Montana. As Vince�s taillights faded, I tried to overcome talent with a pure lack of sense. Disaster loomed. At first I kept up. It was a rollercoaster ride down. The sleds slid, flew and bounced as we braked into the corners and then gassed out. My legs groaned coming up off my seat and while leaning into the hairpin corners. Vince kindly stopped at a wide spot and seemed surprised that I caught up so soon. It looked as if the skunk was going to stay where it started, with Stan. However, fate was not so kind.

We were almost back to the trailer, a couple of miles or so to go. We let Stan and Laura head out before us so Vince and I could race the rest of the way. Vince�s big new sled flashed away as Moby Dick and I tried to follow. For a bit we could see Vin�s taillight at each straight away. It was taking all of my limited skill to even keep his lights in sight. It was fun to be flying so, so fast. The evergreens whizzed by like a picket fence. Moby the whale turned into a stallion of a snowmobile and was galloping over the snow.

It was Vince who knew I was in trouble before I did. �I was flashing my taillights to let you know the corner was tight.� Didn�t see em. �I saw your sled careening off and into the bushes. The headlight tilted and then just went out.� As Vince turned and raced back, I did the old, well am I alive thing. Yes, I�m breathing. Under the full weight of the machine my foot was caught, but only my pride was hurt. Amazing because the snowmobile was on its side and well into the bushes. With Vince�s expert help, and a long rope, we pulled and tugged Moby back to the road.

The skunk was mine. Still alive and now very tired, I headed to the truck to load up. We motored into Horseshoe Bend where I gladly bought the first round!

This is a True Story

A legend of bartending has been "laid off" by the current owners of the Bouquet, 1010 Main. In what appears to be a concentrated effort to suck the life out one of Boise�s most storied bars, Joe Brown no longer works the happy hour shift at the Bouquet. Where will we go to get a classic 10 minute smokey martini? Locals and tourists alike will miss the gravel voiced delivery of the �True Story� of the historic Brunswick back bar that graces the east wall of the bar. �This bar came over on the Mayflower, "Joe would say with only a hint of irony, "or maybe it was with the Donner party! If you look close enough you can see teeth marks!� All kidding aside, Joe Brown was one of the last true bartenders. Immaculately dressed in his easy going country finery, Joe researched and compiled the history of the Bouquet as he saw it.

Hopefully some wise proprietor will hire Joe to spin his verbal web. Or maybe Joe will move on down the road a piece.

I propose a toast to my friend Joe Brown.

Awsome Dawsons

I�m at it again. A new group of my photos are up at Dawson Taylor at 219 North 9th St. in downtown Boise. If you like them tell Dave the owner or one of the staff. If you don�t like them keep quiet.. If you go, thank you for taking the time to view my photography.

At the most basic, photos are the reflection of light off of an object. These objects are a reflection of my world. Boise is my home. Lucky enough to have traveled the world, nothing makes me happier than the sight of the foothills below on a flight home. Boise is a big part of this exhibit, but you will also see old cars and more than a couple of alleys.

So enjoy a cup of great Dawson Taylor coffee and reflect

2004 Good Bye

2004 wasn�t so bad. Yes, we all miss the Blues Bouquet, but thankfully the family of friends and coworkers are hanging together. This time last year I personally was on a hot streak. High powered job as an editor and all good on the personal side. My father often said that all things are cyclical. Life is a circle, ashes to ashes, really. . . it is a series of ups and downs. The best we can hope for is each ride of life's roller coaster to take us higher. It does seem even though my world was headed down for much of the last year, the wheel should start turning up. I can almost hear the carney calling �all aboard.� Stick around, I�m sure 2005 well be entertaining.

One more thing before I close out the year, thank you to all who read and commented on this site. It is so fun to hear your ideas, comments and suggestions-good or bad.

It's my way or the Milky Way

"It is perfect for Boise! We like to think of ourselves as a big city." My daughter summed up the feel of the Milky Way well. It does have a metropolitan feel. Something "west coast." The decor is open, maybe a little to open; our table had a rewarding view of an alley, service trucks included; the tall glass windows, industrial carpet, metal chairs, stark furnishings and the open grill all contributed to give the diner a pure and efficient atmosphere. Since I had not eaten at the new Milky Way, my expectation was of something more like the old basement location. The previous Milky Way was tiny, intimate and a reveled in a cramped- kinda kitchy vibe. There are elements of the old in the new eatery, but it has mostly to do with the food and style of service. Expect the same well prepared entrees and desserts, combined with servers that are well versed and efficient. Our sever Shea, was amazing as she rattled off 3 or 4 minutes worth of �Tonight's Special.� She cheerfully described��salads, sauces, and food preparation with a sly confidence.

One of the specials was a �trifecta.���It arrived exactly as expected, steak, salmon and a spicy sausage over a bed of baby greens. The salmon was a bit too good. My daughter told me it was better than mine! That hurt, but she was, as usual, right. The fish was grilled to that hard to match firm outside tender inside state and drizzled with a light cream sauce. The steak was as it should be. The winner of this trifecta was the sausage. Also grilled, this was a spicy delight -- the blend of meats and spices is so subtle that I am not sure what the sausage was made of. It tasted of pork, like a chorizo blended with cilantro, and maybe anise.

The daughter enjoyed her �hanger� steak and her not so easily impressed palette was more than happy with the bbq sauce. She was however underwhelmed with the mashed potatoes. To the Milky Way�s defense, I�m not sure anyone can cook mashers that will please my native "spud girl."

I can tell you that the positive nature of this review had nothing to do with the out-of-the-world bacon and I believe mozzarella wrapped grilled shrimp, that now star chef, �Pat the Wonderback� sent to the table. However, it didn�t hurt. Thanks Pat.

St. Lukes

In a world of Walmarts and gobalization, we should tip our hats to St. Lukes. Instead of a turkey, or some funny gift. St. Lukes gives a $50.00 gift certificate to it's employees(something like 4500). Here is the great part. The certificate is to the shops, restaurants, etc of Downtown Boise, not the Mall or some other generic place. The money goes right into the Boise economy, it helps local merchants, their employees-basically all of us. These generous dollars helped my girls and I have a wonderful holiday dinner at the Milky Way. (review coming soon) This is the sort of enlightened thinking that makes St. Lukes such a good place to work. A happy staff is naturally more caring. Where is caring and happiness more important than at a hospital? If I get sick in the next couple of weeks, I hope my nurse and/or doctor have just come from a great dinner on the company as we had downtown. Couldn't hurt

Dirtini

Why is it that anything in a Martini glass is now called a martini? I was offered a Bloody Mary martini the other day. The Statesman had a so-called recipe for a Smoked Salmon Martini. Come on, a martini is vodka and vermouth, shaken or stirred-period. If you want Gin it is a Gin Martini-period. The glass does not make the drink. If you put milk in a coffee mug, it does not become Milkee. The way things are going, soon we will have the Moooootini, yes, milk in a martini glass. That way some fancy bar can charge you eight bucks for a glass of milk.

How about dirtini?
�Today's special. So fresh, the bean garnish is still growing in the finest Idaho farm ground. Shoveled into your martini glass directly from the hole in the basement. Ask your server.�

What we are talking about here is lazy bartenders. It used to be that care was taken in naming a drink. The Kamikaze is basically a sweetened martini. Today it would be called a limetini, which would undoubtedly confuse the Gimlet drinkers.

I know this is an uphill battle, but the consumer is getting the short end of this deal. Owners are loving that people are paying huge prices for a cheap drink in a fancy glass. Drinker wise up, bartender quit taking the easy way out and go back to creating AND naming your drinks.

Ahh! Pair

�It�s Aubergine, grown up,�

co-owner Christine Reid told us. As longtime fans of her and partner Gil's wonderful Park Center Mall Restaurant, Aubergine, we were anxious to check out Pair. Pair may have the best location in Boise, on the corner of 6th and Main, across from City Hall in Old Boise. Pair is hip without being pretentious. The decor is a contrast of light and dark. A hardwood entry, makes way to black floors and the purple columns stand out against light green walls. (You can bet they have a designer name for the color.) Inviting coaches, tables and chairs give Pair the feel of someone's living room. O.K., a living room of someone way cooler than most of us, still it works. This is what China Blue across the street tried and failed to be. The sword of �trendy� can be wicked. Just a little too much and it becomes a parody. In an earlier review, I described China Blues as the place where all the cool kids in high school would go. At Pair you are more likely to find the kinda� average girl you though was cute and nice and you didn�t talk to until the last day at high school. She�s the type that will go to Pair after work at the bank. (She�s still cute.)

Pair is a full day affair. Breakfast at 7:30, lunch at 10:00, dinner at 5:00 and a full bar for cocktails till 2:00 a.m. Friday and Saturday. Be a trend setter and come down to 601 Main.