Hear about this ‘shockingly good’ new sandwich shop, Boise? Lunch cost me $22
When a new restaurant opens, it’s not unusual for out-of-the-gate reviews to be strangely effusive — as in thanks for the write-up, Grandma!
Cadence Kitchen is no exception.
In the two-plus weeks since its Garden City inception, the mom-and-pop sandwich shop has racked up more than a dozen Google ratings, earning a perfect 5.0 score. “Amazing,” at least three reviews trumpet. “The best we have had in Boise!” one declares.
“Shockingly good,” another gushes.
(About a bowl. With marinated beets listed as the first ingredient? Come on, man.)
As I scanned the online pom-pom waving, my stomach growled. Theoretically, the cheerleading could be totally legit, right? But my BS Detector had shifted into alert mode.
It was time to head to 5169 N. Glenwood St. for lunch.
Tucked into a strip mall, Cadence is easy to overlook. It competes with a veteran local secret just two doors down: Hit List, which serves hand-ground burgers and hot sandwiches to its own loyal following (despite fast-food joint Big Bun Drive-In opening about a pickle’s throw across the parking lot last year).
A sparsely decorated room with indoor seating for maybe a dozen, Cadence is simple and direct. Much like its menu. The chalkboard highlights six sandwiches ($13-$15) served on ciabatta from Garden City’s Acme Bakeshop. You can add a side and a drink for 4 bucks. A side is either a bag of chips or a small tub of housemade potato salad.
(Shockingly good potato salad. I swear. More on that in a sec.)
I ordered the Italian sandwich ($15) and made it a combo, serendipitously hitting a home run by choosing that potato salad. I also sipped a par-for-the-course-tasting Arnold Palmer, one of three housemade drinks. (Lemonade and iced tea are the others. Otherwise, it’s mostly cans of soda.)
Total cost of sandwich, side and beverage? $22.15 — $19 plus tax and a 10% tip. On a separate ticket, my dining companion requested a turkey club ($13) and made me look Scrooge-like by tipping 20%. (What’s an appropriate counter-service gratuity? We’ll save that debate for another day.)
A slow, steady trickle of customers entered the two-person operation during this rainy lunch hour. As music by The Black Keys rocked unobtrusively in the background, we explored our cuisine.
Cadence does not sell half-sandwiches. You’re all-in. Or ordering from the children’s menu. Which adults are allowed to do. (Yes! Granted, the sammies are a bit less creative and served on sourdough.)
We each shared half of our full sandwiches. She was able to finish, which is either a testament to the food’s deliciousness, or to the sandwich size itself — substantial and filling but not elephantine or unwieldy.
We quickly agreed: The Italian trumps the turkey club. Loaded with a neatly stacked, generous layer of meat (capocollo, salami and ham), it was bright and flavorful. That fluffy, chewy ciabatta can be condensed and smashed flat if you want, which might help prevent ingredients from spilling out when you take the initial bite. (I lunge-chomped and made a mess.) This was a well-constructed sandwich. The tomatoes and onions were thinly sliced. The house vinaigrette was prominent but never overwhelmed. Every mouthful tasted fresh and balanced.
I liked the turkey club, too. More than she did. Apparently, certain confused people don’t always prefer bacon on a turkey sandwich. I appreciated both the texture and salty flavor of that cured pork. To my taste buds, the turkey club was a mindless seek-and-destroy mission — just lacking the gratifying depth of the Italian.
You might have a different definition of spice than Cadence Kitchen does. There was a faint trace of sweetness on the turkey club thanks to supposed hot honey listed among the ingredients. But no discernible heat. And the claimed hot pepper relish on the Italian sammy? Same story. Zero noticeable Scoville units.
No matter. I was too busy hoarding the potato salad to sweat such details. Luscious and addictive, it was fueled by perfectly cooked taters, creaminess and nice crunch. Salt and pepper? Forget it. You won’t need to add anything. There was no overpowering onion, which drives me nuts in potato salad. Instead, celery and dill stole the show. The dill flat-out popped. This potato salad is freaking good.
Do Cadence’s sandwiches live up to the early online review hyperbole? They’re certainly the real deal. But best in Boise? That might be pushing it. Perhaps Garden City. (Uncle Giuseppe’s could have a beef with that.)
Either way, if you’re in the mood for a quality, satisfying sandwich, Cadence certainly feels like a better option than any chain. No offense, Jersey Mike, my boy — but in Idaho, next-level potato salad is an automatic ticket to the VIP room.
