Royal Pigs at the Sunrise Cafe
If you’re ever on the Sterling Highway in Cooper Landing, take time to stop at the Sunrise Café for a buffalo burger. The coffee is good, the conversation better and if you’re lucky enough to be there when the summer tourists aren’t, you can also enjoy a bit of local wit and wisdom. The coffee will warm your hands, but the people will warm some harder to reach places.
The Sunrise was built at the same time as the highway, in the early 50’s. It fits all the basic requirements of a modern day roadhouse – good spot right off the road with eye-popping beauty all around, lodging, gas, plenty of good hot coffee, people who will chat if you’re so inclined and leave you alone if you’re not. The café menu has no mochas or lattes and only a small token handful of “upscale” items. Chipotle is misspelled, the fries are marvelously greasy and burgers have American cheese instead of cheddar.
A century ago, I would have relied on carefully placed roadhouses to ensure my safety and in fact my survival as a traveler. It’s unlikely that I would have been traveling alone and even traveling in the company of others, my gender would have assured me of an uncommon roadhouse luxury – a room of my own. Of course, that room might only have been a corner near the stove with a curtain drawn across, but deluxe accommodations still compared to the men’s bunks.
The Sunrise Café is a roadhouse run by women, one in particular by the name of Sue. The red and black plaid flannel and gum boots don’t quite square with the collection of Betty Boop salt shakers, but there you have it. Welcome to Alaska.
The collection of salt and pepper shakers at the Sunrise actually branches out far beyond Betty Boop. My table featured black bears and the adjacent table had roosters with a matching lamp. Strolling around the café looking at the eclectic collection, I was reminded of my family’s turkeys – a joke gift to grace the table of the unwed daughter without children. My sister and I started bidding for the turkeys in our early twenties, each wanting to outdo the other for black sheep status. I wish I knew what happened to the truly hideous turquoise turkeys – they would have been perfect for the Sunrise and I suspect Sue would have appreciated their pedigree.
Salt and pepper sets meeting Sue’s rigorous tableware standards were in use throughout the restaurant while other more delicate items were in a shadowbox display. There was a moose with a fly rod standing in a boat and a pair of hogs (she had lipstick and a leather bikini bra) on a Harley. Sue doesn’t actually remember how the collection got started, just that she had one pair of odd salt and pepper shakers and then before she knew it, there was this “thing.” Customers give them to her all the time now and she recently had a good looking 35 year old man come by and ask if he could swap out her Betty Boop set. Apparently his thousand plus collection of Betty Boop memorabilia doesn’t include anything like Sue’s salt and pepper set.
There’s even a clinic for injured ceramics – a box under the counter lovingly labeled “Sue’s Clinic.” I was sad to see two pair of moose in there but glad to see that they were getting the best standard of care available.
Just after I put in my order (buffalo burger with American, no onions) three old women came in and headed straight toward what was clearly “their” table. They had just been snowbirding in Arizona and had brought back a pair of pigs in capes, royal pigs with crowns and jewels. The new arrivals were quickly filled and promptly installed on a nearby table next to the pigs in underwear. The royal male pig in his purple cape seemed strangely appropriate stationed next to the pot bellied pig in polka dot boxers scratching his butt.
OK, a bit of creative license – there may not have been actual polka dots on the boxers, but I swear I don’t make this stuff up.
As I watched the three ladies order their pie and coffee and settle in for a nice Saturday afternoon chat, I found myself wondering how long they had been friends. They had a way with each other – a perfect balance of lively chatter and companionable silence. It made me feel safe and content just being in their presence, or was it the truly superior buffalo burger that made me feel just so?
They were so different – one in a slightly fussy embroidered pink sweater trimmed in satin ribbon, another in a purple and turquoise tie-dye t shirt under a very lived in blue fleece. The third was wearing all American colors, literally head to toe red white and blue but for the gray sleeves of a sweatshirt popping out from under the cuffs of her jacket. I was just thinking “Eddie Bauer catalog” when I saw the label flash from the back of her jacket.
There were three pies available at the Sunrise today – peach, blueberry and apple. The three aunties, as I had started to think of them, were careful not to order the same thing. For some reason, it was important to them to get all three types of pie represented on the table. It wasn’t that they sampled or shared, just a need to strike pie harmony.
An odd thought crossed my mind when Sue brought out the generous slices of pie. Could I match the woman with the pie? It seemed obvious that tie-dye with unruly curls would be blueberry, carefully coiffed pink would be peach and all-American girl would be apple. Too obvious? I wasn’t able to get a glance at all three plates without appearing rude, but I know I got Ms. Clearly Blueberry right. You could call it a lucky guess, but I know a kindred spirit when I see one.
Lest you think that there were no adventures in this adventure, let me just say that there’s no way to even begin describing what I saw and experienced today on my trip to Kenai, so I’ll just put all of that in the category of things you have to do for yourself and not settle for the armchair version through me. There was one particularly magic moment when a bald eagle swooped down about 15 feet in front of the car, right at eye level. I don’t think it’s much of a flight of fancy to say he was showing off for me.
So I’m writing about roadhouses instead of eagles and moose, about slices of pie instead of swirling snow eddies and frosted trees. It may be that I no longer need a roadhouse as a safe place to come in from the cold after each day of travel, but I do still need one to punctuate my journey.
Next time you’re on the Sterling Highway, stop by to pay Sue a visit. It may be a long way to travel for a hamburger, but I know it will be worth the trip.
