Photo by Jason Bacon Brix

Iknow I’m a glass-half-empty kind of gal because by May, I’m anticipating the heat and imagining the worst. In May, I start talking to myself with the sort of doomed urgency that suggests the coming of the Apocalypse, not summer. “Two months from now we’ll be sweltering,” I mutter. Or, “Better enjoy breakfast on the patio while I can – not many days left.”
As scorching temperatures loom, I remember how much I like Flagstaff, which is cool in more ways than one. I’ve always loved its outdoorsy gestalt and its old-fashioned downtown, where historic buildings house the kind of funky cafés and clothing stores that suggest a real college town, not some developer’s soulless vision of it. But for all its charm, Flag has never had much to brag about in the way of restaurants.
In the past, if you wanted something grown-up and sophisticated, you had exactly two choices: The Cottage Place or Josephine’s. But the dining scene has improved dramatically in the past year, thanks to the opening of two new restaurants/wine bars, both of them so appealing I’d be thrilled to have them down here in the Valley. In fact, I really wish they were. On the bright side, I now have even more good reasons to head north this summer.

Brix Restaurant & Wine Bar
I’ll admit, I was prepared to like Brix before I ever set foot in the place. Reading chef and co-owner Laura Chamberlin’s menu on the internet before my visit made me ravenously hungry for the farm-focused, Mediterranean-inflected Contemporary American food described there. Then, when I showed up one arctic night with a hungry pal in tow, I fell in love with the setting, too – the red brick building (formerly a carriage house, built around 1910), the beamed ceilings, the soft glow of sconces and a stained-glass glorification of wine, flanked by rows and rows of bottles. That first night, we ate and drank at the copper-topped bar, my buddy splurging on a half-bottle of Paul Hobbs Pinot Noir that set the tone for many good things to come. The first of them was warm olive bread, a dense, moist loaf served with a block of butter, sprinkled with coral-tinted Hawaiian sea salt.
A chalkboard near the bar explained the restaurant’s commitment to cooking seasonally and buying locally, naming prominent purveyors such as McClendon Farms (supplier to some of the best chefs here in the Valley) and Black Mesa Ranch (goat cheese producers in Snowflake). Unfortunately, I didn’t read the part about the goat cheese before we ordered an artisanal cheese plate, leaving the choices to our server’s discretion. No matter. It was excellent just the same – generous wedges of Taleggio, Manchego, Explorateur, ash-veined Humboldt Fog and Three Sisters Serena, served with crisp house-made lahvosh and dried apricots poached in star anise, cinnamon and vanilla ($13.50). The delicate lahvosh was a perfect tabula rasa for the cheese, the only accent coming from those heavenly apricots.