I think it's the blueberries calling my name—even though they're buried in a mound of half-eaten muffin that's been covered in cream cheese frosting (a yummy, sticky mess that's also covering my fingers and making a mess out of my keyboard)—from behind my coffee mug. For two days I've been chipping away at this muffin, practicing great restraint for the sake of food science. Two days ago, armed with the promise that the muffins at Blue Jeans Café were "simply divine," I purchased this very muffin and took only one bite. It was so soft that I'm pretty sure it must have been in violation of at least one Idaho State Code, and rumor has it that muffin makers all over town are engaged in muffin wars to attempt to replicate the recipe. But enough about the muffin.
As avid fans of breakfast—but not of our own endeavors to cook it—we've been searching for a new breakfast place. Sure we love trendy downtown breakfast fare and 24-hour breakfast places, but sometimes we need a change of venue to really get our taste buds excited about getting out of bed on a Saturday morning. The Blue Jeans Café, with itsy-bitsy jeans on the walls, was exactly what the muffin doctors ordered.
Even before we walked in the door, we were greeted with a giant window sign that boasted the best biscuits and gravy in Idaho ("huge portions, made fresh," said the sign). Shame on me for admitting that after the B&G challenge was set I only glanced over the menu for the sake of saying I did. Add two coffees and a Brie and mushroom omelet combo (and, of course, one cream cheese topped blueberry muffin from heaven) to my B&G and we were off to find a table where we could suck down hot coffee like it was going out of style.
Before I get too carried away about my B&G, let me tell you that this place is more than breakfast. Chili and soup comes in the following sizes: papa, mama and baby. Sausage Burritos come in the following sausage options: Idaho elk and buffalo. The fresh fruit looks mighty fresh, the sandwich options come hot or cold, and whether you're in the mood for chicken or salmon on your salad, they'll do either. Breakfast, lunch, cream cheese-topped blueberry muffins from heaven, they do it all.
We were least happy with the order-at-the-counter method only because we were slow decision makers. We're sure once we're regulars we'll appreciate the convenience of walk-up ordering, but on this visit we were the idiots holding up the line. However, we didn't mind getting up to help ourselves to coffee refills because we like it black, hot and kept coming (two of which rarely happen when we're waiting for inattentive waitstaff at other places).
The Brie and mushroom omelet was loaded and we sat wondering why we never thought to put Brie on an omelet. The combo included hash browns and sausage. We liked the sausage so much we asked what kind it was. When Jimmy Dean was the answer, we sat wondering why it never turns out that good when we cook it. So what about the B&G challenge? Like the muffins, the biscuits suffer from the same delicious fate. They were sooo soft we wanted to cry for the toothless millions that had never been able to crack into overcooked pastries. The gravy was just a touch peppery and loaded with enough sausage to satisfy a horde of sorority girls. Whether they'll be crowned "Best B&G in Idaho" depends on the outcome of very scientific food research, but for now our "how many days will the cream cheese-topped blueberry muffin from heaven stay this soft" experiment has been terminated. I ate the entire specimen.
—Rachael Daigle was the tot who expertly mixed salt, ketchup and Tobasco in her pink lemonade.