Eatin’ in Wahpeton

This morning we drove about an hour south of Fargo to the small, farming town of Wahpeton, North Dakota. Since I know that many of my readers are (nearly) as culturally sophisticated as we are, it’s probably unnecessary to mention that our quest was to see “Wahpper,” the world’s largest catfish sculpture. And even though the Wikipedia article I read (well, mostly read) about Wahpper was a veritable masterpiece in non-sourced, collaborative reference, it still left us wholly unprepared for the up-close majesty of a 5,000 lb. fiberglass carp perched atop a man made hill in a partially occupied RV park.

Goose bumps. 

We stand together, hand in fin.

Although one possible reaction could have been to drop to our knees and weep in the shadow of its greatness, in all honesty, my left knee has been bothering me a bit lately, so we agreed to drive to a local saloon and gently drop into a booth instead. 

Bloody Mary Bar?
Yes, please!

Mostly, when picking a new restaurant or bar, I rely on a combination of experience, instinct, and tons of research, and like when paper-training ferrets or creating an iTunes playlist, you hope the extra effort is rewarded. However, on some very rare occasions (as when you’re emotionally spent from basking in the presence of giant, novelty aquatica), we just stumble into an establishment blindly and hope to get lucky. 

This time, we got damn lucky. 


Although this blog contains a cumulative foodie page that I’ve been updating since we left (and most of you have been ignoring), today’s post is also going in that same direction and is devoted to the most unexpected dining surprise I’ve experienced in a long time: 

The Boiler Room in downtown Wahpeton. 



I can not tell you that The Boiler Room had the best food, drinks, or service I’ve ever known. These are claims I never make lightly, and it simply did not, and in a town of less than 8,000 (and that’s including the giant fish), experience dictates that culinary expectations are relative, but whether you are in a market of 8,000 or 800,000, you can always tell (and appreciate) when a restaurant is operated by someone who gives a damn. The Boiler Room is such a place. Anyone can open a restaurant. It’s a select few, in my experience, who can attend to the hundreds of details, large and small, that make for a consistent, positive dining experience. 

In my opinion, before food is even mentioned, first you need service. I don’t care if your authentic pizza oven was imported brick by brick from Neptune or you only use locally-sourced, free-range mozzarella sticks. If you employ inattentive, untrained, and un-invested help, don’t even bother trying to sell manna from heaven. Open a DMV instead.  Our server, Kimmy (or possibly Kimmie, with an ‘ie,’ but, God, I’m really hoping it’s just plain Kimmy), was friendly, accurate, informative and seemingly invested in the success of the establishment. And although that speaks volumes about Kimmy, it also speaks to the training she received and the reasons she received it. 

The food, by any standard, was very good. More importantly, however, was that you could tell it was personal to someone. Homemade items, unique combinations, avoided cliches, and upscale plating all pointed to a chef with a personal interest and not just a line cook with personal debt. 

Sorry, Charlie.

For me, in terms of importance, decor generally ranks lower than other aspects of the dining experience, but I understand the value of presentation and appreciate when it is done right. The Boiler Room was retrofitted by professional designers, and, like Jim Gaffigan, is clean, quirky, and appropriate for its time and place on this planet. 

So regardless of which things you might find more relevant when identifying a great joint, remember that the devil is always in the details, and finding one that knows how to exorcise all those little bastards is rare. It lets you know that they take their endeavor seriously, and even that resonates with a smart ass like me. 

Count on it.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, there’s no catfish on the menu.