• Tweet
• Email
• Sharebar

• Tweet
• Email

by G. Sax

I finally got a chance to eat at the Blue Door Pub last weekend. The establishment at 1811 Selby Avenue in St. Paul has received some good press of late, especially for it’s addition to the local “Juicy Lucy” catalogue of hamburgers. Or “Jucy Lucy” if you’re in line with the faithful at Matt’s Bar in Minneapolis.

Matt’s frequently gets credit for the first Jucy Lucy, a burger with cheese melted inside of it. The superheated core makes for a remarkably delicious nosh, whether you’re eating the Matt’s original, the offering further down Cedar Avenue at the 5-8 Club, or the St. Paul versions at The Groveland Tap, Casper and Runyon’s Nook, Shamrock’s, and now the Blue Door Pub.

The Blue Door’s base burger is actually the Juicy Blucy, named for a delectable bomb of bleu cheese (and garlic!) inside an Angus beef patty. So good. I landed at Blue Door because Mpls/St. Paul just put out its “Best Restaurants” issue, it jumped out at me from the “Best New” category, and I wanted to take my wife somewhere different on a Sunday night.

Although different is debatable. Not because the Blue Door is stale (far from it), but because the corner of Fairview and Selby and I go way, way back. I used to live on that corner for one memorable year. 1977.

Certain life years rise up on a person as formative, and I have a strong tendency to return to that one even though I was only 7. Memories remain vivid. The Vikings last Super Bowl appearance. The squirrel that hissed and lunged at me when I cornered it with a stick. Fleetwood Mac playing “Don’t Stop” on the bus on the way home from school. The old corner store where I bought my mom a birthday card with her money. The girl of my dreams, Jessica Knapp. The last time I mentioned Jessica on a personal blog, she found it, contacted me, and we’ve been friends ever since. Facebook friends, too, if you want proof. So 1977 lives on.

I have to imagine 1977 sticks out because it’s the year before I became who I would become. The next year I moved to the neighborhood where I would live for the next decade, where I would forge my lifelong friendships, and where I would eventually return in adulthood.

Where I live now is not so far from Fairview and Selby, and I drive by there frequently. And even though all the buildings are the same, it’s different of course. Captain Ken’s Beans has been replaced by a collection of antique stores. A hip, new burger joint with a splendid beer menu is just around the way. But that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s a head change. The world is so much bigger at 7, yet the things that happened then can shrink you down to size thirty years yonder. My daughter turns 7 this year. I hope she’s able to recall this year so fondly. I hope this blog entry gives you pause to consider where you were when you were 7. You should return there if you can. It may no longer be your neighborhood, but it’s still yours.

 About the photo: That’s the house I lived in, and no, that’s not my business in the foreground. It belongs to my uncle, Gary Sax. I do like having another G. Sax on one of my favorite corners of my favorite city.