Panhandler Pies

A Something Old, Something New, And Something Reminiscent Restaurant Review

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Even though I grew up wandering all over the Pacific Northwest and Alaska, the Idaho Panhandle has always been one of those repeatedly traveled crossroads in my life. My Papa was born in Moyie Springs which is so far north in the Panhandle that it is almost Canada, and a swath of my dad's family has dwelt in burgs from Careywood to Hayden over the last couple of decades. That said, I have been traversing through Sandpoint for many, many years, and one of the first landmarks that one beholds when they cruise into that fine town is a restaurant aptly named Panhandler Pies.

I have quite literally drove by the restaurant thousands of time, but until last Saturday had NEVER eaten there. Shocking I know! I mean, the place has the word PIE in their name, attendance and munching should have been a no-brainer. I just haven't ever crossed the threshold.

I think part of the reason why I personally have never graced the restaurant with my presence stems from another pie joint happening. When I was sixteen I competed in the Science Olympiad at Montana State University. A couple of other students and I were tasked with building a clock that kept accurate time using water. It was a kick. There was a botany competition involved as well, but what I honestly remember most was the pies. Our school gave the three of us girls our own hotel room, a food stipend, and very little supervision. Hair was dyed and then there was the pie. Right next to the hotel was a restaurant that was pie-centric. Being sixteen and in possession of a little bit of freedom, we did the only logical thing we could do with our food stipends, we went next door and spent the whole lot on pies, lots of them. By the end of our three day foray into Bozeman I never wanted to see let alone eat another sweet pie ever again. I still get a bit green around the gills when I think about it.

Moving on, one of our dearest friends apparently got wind of our Panhandler Pie attendance deficit and a couple of weeks ago presented us with a gift certificate to the place. As it is spring and farm to-do task time on overdrive, we decided to hit the restaurant up for some grub last Saturday morning as we ran a plethora of homestead errands. It was not very busy when we walked in the door, and were seated by the most lovely waitress ever. Her name was Yellowbird, and she was one of those waitresses that paid attention to you without being overly into your space and time. Plus, she had the coolest name ever and a laugh like melted dark chocolate trickling over rock candy.

The nice thing about Panhandler Pies is that you can order off of the whole menu any time of the day. When you have kids that prefer sandwiches and chicken strips over traditional breakfast food that feature is appreciated. My husband likes to have an occasional Murican breakfast and partook in a plate full of carbs, fat, and protein that left him grinning like a cat in a pigeon coop. Me, well, I still am not a fan of sweet pies, but as some of you know, I love me some quiche, and that is what I ordered, Quiche Lorraine. Interestingly enough, my quiche was to come with a big square of homemade cornbread and quaintly enough, an apple!

Usually I don't eat a lot of starch, but there was no way that I was going to pass on homemade cornbread. The thing about cornbread is that I detest dry crumbly cornbread. It needs to be moist and springy to the touch. I started smiling as soon as Yellowbird sat my plate in front of me, for the chunk of cornbread facing me met the proper texture requirements. You can bet I made purring noises as I inhaled that butter and honey slathered goodness!

My quiche was pretty tasty and as hot as a freshly blistered sunspot. Everyone's food was rather good in a wholesome, country kitchen sort of way. In fact, that is what I enjoyed about the place, it was like eating at Grandma's house. There was a lot of food, a homey atmosphere, and very attentive service. I honestly was waiting for someone to show up and tell me to go wash my hands before and after I ate. In fact, it wouldn't have felt out of place to play a game of Aggravation after the food part was done.

Things got even better when the kid's slices of pie were placed in front of them. One ordered peanut butter chocolate and the other ordered mud pie. Both slices were excellent so I was told. The visuals of the pies were reminiscently close to my Bozeman Pie Experience, so I took their word for it regarding pie excellence. My son has a very discriminating pie palate, so I take it as a good sign that he inhaled his slice.

And on that note, if you are in the mood for a grandparent's house atmosphere, to have your belly filled, and to not spend a fortune, then I recommend a foray into Panhandler Pies if you happen to be in Sandpoint, Idaho.

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And as always, all of the images in this post were taken on the author's super fly for not eating a pie iPhone.

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