By Jim Duncan CVFDude@aol.com

Sometimes a restaurant is more than a restaurant. It's a critical mass supporting a self-sustaining economic chain reaction. That is why a small town will hold on to a money-losing cafè with its last grasp of hope. And why some city neighborhoods grow, while others just grow depressing. A quarter century ago, Spaghetti Works demonstrated that Court Avenue could be more than a parking lot. But it took Java Joes to initiate the chain reaction that put the district atop the docket for downtown planning.

The Drake Diner was its neighborhood's Spaghetti Works, triggering a revival that stalled at 24th Street. Now Mars Cafè is its new millennium's Java Joes, exuding the energy of a critical mass while anchoring a project that revitalizes Dogtown. Lofts above Mars, in a restored livery, have what Meredith editors beamingly refer to as "raw space." Designers even maintained historic horse ramps, not to mention original brick walls, timber beam supports and giant sliding fire doors. The ground level retail space has attracted eclectic merchants: West African cafè, sub shop, head shop, tattoo parlor, copy center, accountant's office.

They are merely moons orbiting Mars, a place with enough gravity to attract students, faculty, city councilmen, state legislators, developers, restaurateurs, artists and street people, all before noon. This is significant east of 24th Street. Politician-developers do not work the system on behalf of this risky real estate. It takes a dreamer, or in this case, a family of them, to transform an entire block, where students once feared to tread, into a Division I college town. More significantly, the James Gang (a handful of family members who also own and operate the cafe) did this without taking a developer's fee. That's so rare it encouraged observers to speculate about future economic revivals spearheaded by other young dreamers willing to play in this poker game without raking a percentage off the top of the pot.

Mars is hosting a National Endowment for the Arts-financed "telemetric-extension installation" (a "groovy sound and light show" to non-MFA's) by Michael Betancourt, and more down-to-earth art by Syniva Whitney. Food and beverage arts were easier to appreciate, representing an all-star team of local caterers. Sweet Binney's, responsible for upgrading dessert courses all over town, provided exceptional Danish, cinnamon rolls, muffins, Dutch letters, croissants and other sundries. This little company, soon to go retail, is so committed to natural, scratch baking that they use only Cloverleaf's free-ranged dairy products. They are even making all their own fruit preserves this year, from fresh, naturally raised fruits.

Small Batch provided bete noir's, coconut cakes, rice crispy treats and other desserts (That company is owned by Walter Jahncke, former chef of the much-loved Chat Noir.). Bagels came from Iowa Bagel, other cinnamon rolls from Big Sky, guantis from Cafè di Scala and quiche from the excellent kitchen of the Frommelt sisters, at Taste, to Go. The single import introduces a Midwest food legend to Des Moines - Napoleonas tortes from the Lithuanian Bakery in Omaha combine a dozen layers of buttery pastry with custard filling. Homemade parfaits, hummus and artisan cheeses rounded out the food fare. Coffees and teas were fair trade or organic. Syrups were from Monin. There were 32 wines - 12 by the glass - and 20 eccentric beers, including several rare East European imports.

In spite of the plotting of politicians and the research of demographers, neighborhoods happen. Obstinately, they refuse to die because dreamers will them to live. There's evidence of such life on Mars.

Food news

Rumors about the future of Johnny's Hall of Fame suggest that Court Avenue's senior citizen could be replaced by a sushi bar and a second restaurant. CV

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