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REVIEW: Beckett's is your best bet on CR's northeast side

By LaDawn Edwards

A lot has changed since I last stepped into a restaurant for a review—a couple of places I’ve written about have been flooded, several other owners must have been extremely nervous and the Corridor’s economy is a little less recession-proof than it seemed last month. Those who can still afford to eat out will find their favorite places a little emptier as the economic ripples hit. The corporate owned chain restaurants have deep enough pockets to see them through a few lean quarters, but the mom and pop places may not have the luxury of hanging in until all their customers have a steady paycheck again.

I’ve been meaning to review Beckett’s Public House, 5300 Edgewood Drive NE, ever since my favorite 13-year-old told me about this new pub with really good food (like turkey apple sandwiches) and a WIFI connection. So what if it’s an odd juxtaposition of old and new—what’s the web anyway but a fancy way to share news with people who care about the same things you do, just like gossiping with your friends in the pub. To seal the deal, she described Beckett’s as “the kind of place you’d go before prom”—a fairly classy description for a restaurant in a strip mall, so I needed to see for myself.

When we stepped in the door I noticed two things. It had some lovely stained glass decorating the walls and the host stand held a bowl of souvenir Beckett’s matchboxes. It was only the second day of Iowa’s anti-smoking law and already the matchboxes looked kind of quaint. (I took one anyway.)

Folks on a budget or with smaller appetites will be pleased to find the Lighter Lunch on the broadsheet menu that’s printed every day. It’s a limited selection of soup, salad and half a sandwich for $7. Beckett’s also has a full bar and features live music on weekends. Owner Chris Robinson is a Cedar Rapids native who got his literature degree from the University of Iowa and worked in enough Iowa City restaurants to realize he wanted his own. He named it for his favorite poet and playwright, Samuel Beckett. The food, by the way, is fantastic. Beckett’s is easily the best restaurant on the city’s northeast side (not that they have much competition) and its menu is unique in Linn County.

We started with the gravlax appetizer—it’s really a combination with cute rounds of cranberry soda bread, a generous scoop of the dreamy dill-accented goat cheese potato salad and six big slices of Old World salmon. The waitress compared it to sashimi-style salmon, but it made me think of smoked lox that you’d plop on top of a big smear of cream cheese on a pumpernickel bagel. The menu mentions that it’s “beet and horseradish cured,” but don’t let that scare you off, because those flavors are nearly imperceptible.

My young research assistant ordered her favorite, the turkey havarti sandwich on multigrain bread, accented with slices of green apple, field greens and Amana apple butter on the side. While she normally orders her sub sandwiches with nothing but cheese, she did not find it necessary to remove anything. When I looked up from my gravlax to ask for a bite, the sandwich was half gone. This is exactly the kind of sandwich I like—a stack of good ingredients that are balanced for flavor and not too filling. Every sandwich comes with a pickle spear and lightly seasoned skin-on French fries, prepared in peanut oil. You can substitute for a low-fat side if you’d rather.

I’m not that big on fries, but I can never resist potato pancakes, so I had to order the chicken boxty. ‘The what?’ you’re thinking. ‘I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt on gravlax, but now she’s just making words up!’

The spellchecker didn’t believe me either, but a boxty is sort of an Irish crepe made from potatoes that’s used to wrap up whatever lovely filling you might have. Mine contained chunks of chicken breast, bell peppers, onions and mushrooms. (It’s possible that that Beckett’s ale fondue moonlights as boxty sauce; it’s that good, topped with a slightly paler sour cream sauce for contrast.) This is the kind of cheesy wonderfulness that I used to turn to when I’d just gotten my heart broken. Nowadays, I can justify the calories in the name of “journalistic inquiry.” (Thanks, CB—I owe you one!)