"I wasn't expecting this," said my friend in admiration. Given our generic strip-mall surroundings, I wasn't, either.
He was tearing into a stunner of a dish, a whole Wisconsin-raised trout, stuffed with a lemon-thyme butter and roasted to perfection. On my side of the table, I was making quick work of a hunk of Minnesota-raised lamb shoulder, slow-braised in tomatoes and a chicken-duck stock until the meat yielded to my fork's slightest touch. It was crowned with mellow, slow-cooked onions and paired with a hearty parsnip mash and Swiss chard. I couldn't imagine a more satisfying midwinter meal. Here's the best news: My pal's entree was $17, and mine was a buck more.
Hurray for the suburbs, right? Urban diners -- present company included -- tend to take the ever-expanding local foods movement for granted. But outside the 494/694 ring, the support-your-nearby-farmer phenomenon remains something of a rarity. Which is why it's such a treat to encounter the Purple Sandpiper Bakehouse & Pub.
Chef Chris Johaningsmeir is proving that it's possible to do delicious things to fresh, regionally raised fare without busting dining-out budgets. Even better, he's demonstrating to diners that familiar dishes can taste anew when they're treated with care.
Anyone in search of a memorable burger needs to look no further. On his lunch menu, Johaningsmeir grinds and liberally seasons locally raised beef, forms it into a fat patty, grills it in butter exactly to order until it sports a tantalizing char, tops it with aged Wisconsin Cheddar and a criss-cross of thick-cut smoked bacon and slips it into a toasted bun. My mouth is watering just thinking about it.
There's a lamb-pita version, too, a shining example of alluring simplicity. Another noon-hour star is a tasty vegetarian panini, built upon a chewy foccacia with a thick, aromatic swipe of spinach-sunflower seed pesto and piled high with lightly charred onions and peppers. Sandwiches are served with golden, hand-cut sweet potato fries.
The flatbreads are a treat, too, blanketed with like-minded ingredients. Other highlights? A creamy risotto studded with sweet peas, earthy mushrooms and ham that actually tasted like ham (from Hidden Stream Farm in Elgin, Minn., one of our state's unsung treasures). Kudos also to a satisfying beer-braised pot roast and a rich mac-and-cheese fortified with roasted cauliflower.
Some dishes didn't work. Saffron-scented risotto cakes sounded great on paper, but turned out to be gluey and plain. Ditto a greasy chicken paprikash, where the sum of its compelling parts didn't quite add up.
It's not unreasonable to expect more in the baked-goods department -- after all, the word "bakeshop" appears in the restaurant's name. Still, pastry chef Tom Supplee's work demonstrates some promise. His flourless chocolate cake is satisfying -- ditto his buttery, fruity crisps -- but the slim selection is predictable, and not treated with particular care. That said, I'm still daydreaming about the must-consume-every-bite cinnamon roll I encountered during a very pleasant brunch.
Weekend days are when influence of the chef's six years at Lucia's felt particularly pronounced, in a good way, with dishes that included an expertly made chèvre-spinach frittata, a decadent lobster Benedict and tender pumpkin-molasses hotcakes.
Owner M. Haider should put some effort into the forgettable decor. His customers -- many of whom, I suspect, are quickly becoming regulars -- deserve better. Service is friendly if a bit spotty. Still, if I lived or worked in Bloomington, this is where I'd be eating. Frequently.
