Ivory Jack’s, 2581 Goldstream Road, Fairbanks, Alaska
There’s something appealing about returning to the scene of one’s misspent youth with children in tow. Maybe you want to prove you’ve turned responsible. Maybe you’re hoping that your kid will misspend his youth in the same place. For many of us in Fairbanks, especially the cabin dwelling variety, Ivory Jack’s is the place.
They do a great job welcoming the younger patrons. High chairs are plentiful. There’s space between tables to park the car seat and enough elbow room to nurse comfortably. Our server promptly brought a silver bowl brimming with crayons and a bright paper menu for Cedar to color. Her special water, a to-go coffee cup and lid with a red straw, was a hit as well. She was thrilled to ditch her old sippy cup.
The kids’ menu features chicken fingers, grilled cheese, a smaller sized version of the adult burger, and a kids’ dessert among other things. Fries can be added to any kids’ item for one dollar. If you have fries coming with your burger, save your dollar. There will be plenty to share with your toddler. Cedar chose a burger and told the server repeatedly, “French fries please. Ketchup please.” She used the ketchup as pickle dip and didn’t actually eat any fries.
Coral cooperated by playing angel baby for a little while. She nursed and then sat in her car seat staring at the people next to us like a tiny stalker. I took advantage of her bad manners and ate my dinner in peace.
When bringing the little ones, keep in mind it is a bar, and a particularly Alaskan one. There are bearded Goldstream Valley gentlemen drinking, smoking, and occasionally yelling, “motherfucker!” over at the bar. Mounted on the wall, right next to my head, was an oosik (a walrus penis bone—for my readers outside Alaska). The placemats feature a long poem about said oosik.
If any of this offends you, you probably didn’t misspend your youth, so you’re probably not looking to return, but if you’re thinking of taking the kids, come early, just before five o’clock or so, and the secondhand smoke and cussing will both be at a manageable level. Whenever we’ve gone at this time, there’s a tiny contingent at the bar, and several other families with small children in the dining area. It’s the under three happy hour.
Around five o’ clock, it’s pretty quiet, so the service is quick. With so much on the walls–from the giant Elvis, to News-Miner articles, to every piece of elementary school artwork the owner’s kid ever made–there’s plenty to distract an escalating two-year-old during a pre-dinner stroll.
The changing situation is a challenge. I took Coral in after our meal for a pre-departure change and confronted the harsh reality of changing a baby in a bar. No changing table. In fact no surface was really large enough for a baby. I improvised by rolling out eight feet of paper towels, stuffing them in the small space between the lip of the sink and the wall of the handicapped stall. Coral lay there wedged and smiling. Changing complete, as I walked back to our table, Cedar smiled and said, “I need a diaper change too.” The table next to us laughed. When she entered the bathroom, she said, “Hey! There’s no changing table.”
Honestly, it wouldn’t be fair to ask Ivory Jack’s to put in a changing table. The owners have done enough. They rebuilt from ashes a number of years ago, a resplendent log cabin with huge beams and a high ceiling. Besides, no one will mind when next time I spread a dirty Carhartt on the floor, strip the baby down, and duct-tape a new diaper on right in the dining room. It’s family-friendly, Fairbanks style.
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