“This isn’t authentic,” my friend from Wisconsin said, about the
green-bean hot-dish appetizer ($4.95) at Zayda
Buddy’s, a newish
venture by Joel Radin, one of the folks behind Top Pot and Bauhaus. His
latest culinary endeavor is actually a step back in time for Radin, a
native Minnesotan, who’s using Zayda Buddy’s to educate his adopted
town about the joys of his beloved childhood cuisine. The casserole was
rich and luscious: tender green beans enrobed in a cream-of-mushroom
base with a tinge of garlic and a nice, peppery kick. “It’s got way too
much flavor,” my friend said. “There’s garlic and shit in it. It’s
really good.” We paired the beans with alarmingly hot deep-fried cheese
curds ($5.95), which were served with a decidedly nontraditional
marinara. The question of authenticity was raised again. With my
friend’s mother’s Lutheran casserole cookbook as our benchmark for the
meal, we determined that Zayda Buddy’s willingness to experiment a
little with traditional dishes elevated its cuisine far above the level
of that served at an authentic Zumbro Falls church potluck.
The decor in Zayda Buddy’s is a mix of a 1976-era basement and,
well, 21st-century Seattle. The wooden booths, mirrored beer signs, and
photos of Radin’s grandfather (Buddy), Tom Selleck, and Farrah Fawcett
in the restaurant give way to a slick little bar that wouldn’t look out
of place at some downtown hotel. Although I was intrigued by
signature cocktails made with fresh-squeezed juice, Zayda Buddy’s
cuisine demands beer, so it was beer we ordered.
My friend downed a traditional Wisconsin brew, Leinenkugel’s ($4),
which had a rusty sweetness to it that recalled crisp, clear,
football-studded October evenings. I sampled something lighter, but
also sports related, a snappy Grain Belt Premium lager ($4) that would
be perfect on a hot and steamy August afternoon at Miller Park.
The food side of the menu focuses on
Minnesota-style pizza
(thin crust, rectangular slices) and Midwestern comfort food, so we
ordered some of each. I’d heard there had been some issues early on
with the service, but our food arrived promptly and was brought to us
by a professional, amiable gentleman who seemed genuinely concerned
with how we were enjoying our meal.
My Erik the Red pie ($14.95) boasted a light, crisp, and tasty
cracker crust and a plenitude of toppings. The rectangular slices
allowed me to focus my attention on the edges and corners, which
boasted a higher-than-average ratio of crust to topping. The sauce was
a spicy-sweet tomato paste that had a faint undertone of ketchup, while
gobs of cheese covered huge portions of salami, Mama Lil’s peppers, and
fragrant white onions. Overall, I thought there was a bit too much
going on all at once, but I generally like my pizza simple. The
flavors, however, were striking, spicy salami going toe to toe with
briny peppers and slightly sweet onions. My only criticism, really, is
that the amount of toppings prevented full enjoyment of the buttery
crunch of the crust.
Overabundance, however, is the foundation of Zayda Buddy’s cuisine.
My friend’s tater tot casserole ($9.50) comprised about a pound of
tender beef, gravy, and cheese, dotted with 8 to 10 tater tots. “The
ratio of tot to beef,” he said, “would traditionally be reversed.”
Happily, he plowed through the zesty hot dish, ignoring the small salad
that cringed on the side of the plate. He stopped only to allow me a
few savory, satisfying bites, and to make small exclamations such as
“mmmmnhmhmm” and “damn.” After it was over, he laid his fork down and
looked a bit stunned.
His wife’s tuna casserole ($9.50) with egg noodles was a touch
lighter, though still studded with lumps of tuna and chunks of pungent
celery. French-fried onions baked on the top gave the hot dish a
welcome frisson of crispiness. She made her way happily through half of
it before surrendering and returning to the remains of the green beans,
which remained the highlight of the meal.
When it was all over, we slumped in the booth and allowed the
mellifluous chords of “Don’t Do Me Like That” to wash over us as we
sank deeper and deeper into postprandial stupors. I felt both satisfied
and guilty. The comfort of the Midwest, it turns out, may be too much
for a simple East Coast transplant. I resolved to redeem myself by
eating nothing but sashimi and organic greens for a month. But I’ll
probably sneak in a Grain Belt Premium or two every now and then, and
maybe just one more plate of those green beans. 