I remembered the Taproot Café as a south Anchorage island of progressivism. That was a few summers ago, before I became torn about eating the meat of animals tortured on our industrial farms. (I should mention here that I didn't seek this cause. I just woke up one day with it. I knew that if I continued to eat meat from miserable animals, the favor, someday, would be returned.) But back before my happy meat conversion, I wanted a big juicy burger one day and there was a café called the Taproot...
My memory is hazy, but I do recall rough-sawn benches and art-project walls, the perfume of Indian spices and acoustical remixes of acoustical folk songs. Also heavy grains that I couldn't pronounce and sprouts and a bowl of vaguely seasoned broth. No flesh in site.
Back then, I was like, meh.
Now, however, since I can't eat animals that have been tortured without hearing them bleat, the Taproot has been kind of a beacon in my mind. A place, smack dab in the soulless center of the south side where I could dine with others who want to escape the cry.
So the other night, initially I was comforted by the same rough-sawn benches. The same strumming from the speakers. The same kinds of customers (cue the woman with the long hair and violet scarf, the faded blue jean-clad, bearded man having a very serious conversation with his seven-year-old daughter). It had the same bohemian atmosphere that I remember.
But what had happened to the food? Sure, there are the juice concoctions -- carrot with apple with beet, say. And the micro-beers and wine still match. It still has some tasty looking salads and its version of palak paneer, which came as an appetizer, was at least aspirational. But now the menu is focused heavily on breakfast, which the Taproot serves Friday through Sunday and it looks pretty good -- a little flair -- but I'm not sure that breakfast burritos and roasted veggie omelets are particularly original any more. And its vegetarian menu consists of only four sandwiches, all for $9.75. In fact, what makes up the bulk of the dinner menu? Burgers.
At Taproot, burgers come seven different ways, a fact that made my husband happy; me, less so.
The waitress (the very good waitress I should say) explained to me that the menu had changed because the old one was just not bringing in the customers. It's hard for me to imagine that more burgers in a part of town that seems positively cow-poked is what it takes to herd them in. But then again, I'm the one who drove all the way across town in a snow storm to eat some sprouts, hummus and avocado on two slices of bread, so what do I know?
But in the end I discovered that even if the food isn't there anymore, the spirit is. Taproot, if nothing else, is cozy and local. And it tries to re-create a mood. Every night they feature different types of live music -- jazz one night, bluegrass another (it fact, a good website might do more than the burgers to draw customers).
I soaked up the vibe, sitting tall and virtuous munching on a veggie sandwich, and slurping the vegetarian minestrone, and my ears were full of acoustical chords not animal bleats. It was exactly the kind of meatless food that the new me craves, thick and a bit creamy with lots of pasta. Eating the soup, watching the bluegrass players unpack their instruments, I could tell that the place's soul is still struggling to fight the good food fight. I'm rooting for it.
1330 Huffman Rd.
(907) 345-0282
alaskataprootcafe@yahoo.com
Mon-Thur. 4 p.m.-midnight
Fri.-Sun. 9 a.m.-midnight
Kitchen closes at 10:30 p.m.
Breakfast: Fri.-Sun. 9 a.m.-2 p.m