So far this morning I've recieved five emails from loyal fans of Serafina, telling me, in no uncertain terms, that I screwed up, missed the boat, or was crazy not to include them in our Restaurants that Stand the Test of Time section of this year's Seattle Mag Best Restaurants issue (on newsstands this week).
Every year our Best Restaurants issue is our most popular, and it's also our most controversial. But I love reading other diners' thoughts on which restaurants "make" Seattle. So please, chime in and nominate/complain all you want right here. I really do want to know what you think.
[where: 98101]
Showing posts with label Restaurant Review. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Restaurant Review. Show all posts
Monday, March 23, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Eating Seattle: Poppy
I've got a theory about Poppy which I'm hoping you can either confirm or deny. The theory goes something like this: Men hate/dislike/roll their eyes at the place, and women love it/like it/are intrigued by it/find it fun.
Now, I'm already about to throw a wrench into my own simplistic assumption by telling you that I do not love Poppy, and I am a woman. But then again it's entirely possible, and maybe even probable, that I like to eat more like your typical man than your typical woman. I don't know if this is true (more studies must be done, surely), but it's possible.
Anyhoo, my review of Poppy is up on the Seattle Mag website now, and I hope you'll read it to get a more rounded, broad idea of what I think of the place.
But if I were forced to sum up my reason for not loving it, it'd come down to this: I like to get lost in a dish I enjoy. I like for there to be enough of something warm, stewy, meaty, savory and so on for me to actually feel satisfied after eating it. I love a big bowl of pho, a hearty cauldron of ramen, but size isn't all that matters--we can all get our fill of a rich, hearty chili or an intensely clammy chowder in a thick cup of the stuff. I just like to take my time, taste it a bunch of times, really get to know my food.
At Poppy I was frustrated by all the little dishes that neither added real value nor enhanced the other dishes. But mostly I was frustrated by the tiny portions at the heart of the thalis, because, when they were good, I just wanted to get lost in them, and I couldn't. Have you ever been to a mediocre (or even worse) restaurant, eaten a full meal, but left feeling like you just didn't scratch the itch? You're belly was full but you were far from satisfied?
So Poppy doesn't curl my toes. What about you?
[where: 98115]
Now, I'm already about to throw a wrench into my own simplistic assumption by telling you that I do not love Poppy, and I am a woman. But then again it's entirely possible, and maybe even probable, that I like to eat more like your typical man than your typical woman. I don't know if this is true (more studies must be done, surely), but it's possible.
Anyhoo, my review of Poppy is up on the Seattle Mag website now, and I hope you'll read it to get a more rounded, broad idea of what I think of the place.
But if I were forced to sum up my reason for not loving it, it'd come down to this: I like to get lost in a dish I enjoy. I like for there to be enough of something warm, stewy, meaty, savory and so on for me to actually feel satisfied after eating it. I love a big bowl of pho, a hearty cauldron of ramen, but size isn't all that matters--we can all get our fill of a rich, hearty chili or an intensely clammy chowder in a thick cup of the stuff. I just like to take my time, taste it a bunch of times, really get to know my food.
At Poppy I was frustrated by all the little dishes that neither added real value nor enhanced the other dishes. But mostly I was frustrated by the tiny portions at the heart of the thalis, because, when they were good, I just wanted to get lost in them, and I couldn't. Have you ever been to a mediocre (or even worse) restaurant, eaten a full meal, but left feeling like you just didn't scratch the itch? You're belly was full but you were far from satisfied?
So Poppy doesn't curl my toes. What about you?
[where: 98115]
Monday, November 17, 2008
The Best Thing You Ate All Year
I don't think it's letting the cat too far out of the bag to tell you that our April Seattle Magazine issue is our Best Restaurants issue. The thing that might surprise you is that I'm already knee-socks deep in the planning (and EATING) that goes into that issue.
We actually started talking about the issue in September, and so far I've been to handfuls of older restaurants to check out which ones are worth including in the issue. We always cover new restaurants, and since those are so fresh in my mind, that part's usually a cinch.
The tricky part comes in choosing the best restaurants that aren't new. Many of Seattle's best restaurants are 5, 10, 15+ years old, but a girl can only eat out so often. Yep, even a "food editor" has geographic and gastronomic limitations. I'm not saying I have foods I won't eat; I'm game, so that's never really been an issue for me. The real issue comes in having the time to eat everything I want to eat, in neighborhoods that might be 45+ minutes from my home while still, you know, working and keeping clean clothes on my kid's back. In the course of a year I eat in an embarrassing number of great (and not-even-close-to-great) restaurants, but by the time the Best Restaurants issue comes around again, my knowledge is already 6 months, 9 months, a year old or older. So you see the problem here.
So here's where you all come in: Tell me the ONE single best thing you tasted all year. It doesn't have to be fancy. In fact, most of the time the tastes that linger for me aren't fancy at all.
the awesome fig tart at Columbia City Bakery...the best thing YOU ate all year?
There's a Calvin Trillin quote that I've always liked. He wrote that, whenever he'd ask strangers in a strange city for restaurant recommendations, he'd always say something like, "Don't give me the name of the rotating-continental-restaurant-in-the-sky, tell me the first place you'd eat when you just got home from war." THAT's what I'm looking for. The one dish you crave constantly.
Please leave your ideas in the comments. And thanks.
We actually started talking about the issue in September, and so far I've been to handfuls of older restaurants to check out which ones are worth including in the issue. We always cover new restaurants, and since those are so fresh in my mind, that part's usually a cinch.
The tricky part comes in choosing the best restaurants that aren't new. Many of Seattle's best restaurants are 5, 10, 15+ years old, but a girl can only eat out so often. Yep, even a "food editor" has geographic and gastronomic limitations. I'm not saying I have foods I won't eat; I'm game, so that's never really been an issue for me. The real issue comes in having the time to eat everything I want to eat, in neighborhoods that might be 45+ minutes from my home while still, you know, working and keeping clean clothes on my kid's back. In the course of a year I eat in an embarrassing number of great (and not-even-close-to-great) restaurants, but by the time the Best Restaurants issue comes around again, my knowledge is already 6 months, 9 months, a year old or older. So you see the problem here.
So here's where you all come in: Tell me the ONE single best thing you tasted all year. It doesn't have to be fancy. In fact, most of the time the tastes that linger for me aren't fancy at all.
There's a Calvin Trillin quote that I've always liked. He wrote that, whenever he'd ask strangers in a strange city for restaurant recommendations, he'd always say something like, "Don't give me the name of the rotating-continental-restaurant-in-the-sky, tell me the first place you'd eat when you just got home from war." THAT's what I'm looking for. The one dish you crave constantly.
Please leave your ideas in the comments. And thanks.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Surly Gourmand on Spring Hill
Two posts in one day = banner day round here.
Just dropped in again to point you toward the Surly Gourmand's latest reviews. I missed the Spring Hill review when he wrote it a month ago, but since my Spring Hill review won't be publishing in Seattle Mag until October, who better to should nudge you all toward West Seattle's best new restaurant than the SG?
But way funnier in my oh-so-important opinion (hey, it's my damn blog) is the Cremant review.
Happy hump day.
[where: 98101]
Just dropped in again to point you toward the Surly Gourmand's latest reviews. I missed the Spring Hill review when he wrote it a month ago, but since my Spring Hill review won't be publishing in Seattle Mag until October, who better to should nudge you all toward West Seattle's best new restaurant than the SG?
For years the downtrodden people of West Seattle have had to deal with culinary bullshit: Shadow Land sucks. Ama- Ama is good enough, but it would be better if the topless girl in their logo was totally nude. Talarico's is pretty good but turns into a giant frat party after 9 pm. Blackbird tries too hard. Mission, packed to the gills with yuppie scum, wants to be Fremont West; plus I only like Mexican food that comes out of a truck, so Mission sucks extra.
But way funnier in my oh-so-important opinion (hey, it's my damn blog) is the Cremant review.
The Jarret d'Agneau au Vin Rouge ($22) was a lamb shank, braised in red wine until it fell off the bone. It came with a ramekin of aoli (mental note: complain about aoli in a future review) and was served atop a smashed Yukon Gold which was so lightly smashed that the smashing didn't look intentional. It was barely dented. In fact, that potato looked as though someone started to step on it, then realized they were stepping on a potato and jumped off before they could totally crush it. Still, it was good.
Happy hump day.
[where: 98101]
Eating Seattle: Georgetown Via Tribunali, plus terrible food at Serafina
I've been neglecting my responsibilities, that's for damn sure. I've let my dear blog get all dusty and oily and I've just walked by pretending I don't see it. Sorry folks. I've been blogging over at Seattlemag.com, but I haven't been posting here much.
I'd like to send you over there to read about my dinner at the new Via Tribunali in Georgetown and my very disappointing dinner at Serafina. Ugh. Read all about it here.
[where: 98108]
I'd like to send you over there to read about my dinner at the new Via Tribunali in Georgetown and my very disappointing dinner at Serafina. Ugh. Read all about it here.
[where: 98108]
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Eating Seattle: Quinn's
Just checking in to remind you that I'm blogging over at Seattle Mag. Today I wrote a little about Quinn's--my first full-length restaurant review for the magazine, which is in the March issue. Take a look.
Oh, and we've finally added an rss feed. Sign up here, under the pie picture.
[98101]
Oh, and we've finally added an rss feed. Sign up here, under the pie picture.
[98101]
Friday, February 15, 2008
Eating Seattle: A Tom Douglas restaurant crawl
I made my parents take me to Palace Kitchen 12 years ago to celebrate my 21st birthday. It'd just opened, and I was just beginning to follow the restaurant scene around town. I'd caught the bug, the thrill of the news that a restaurant would be opening, the research of where the chef had cooked before...I love all of it, and I guess I was just starting that love affair back then.
Anyways, SCORE! My parents were footing the bill (birthday and all), so I chose Palace. It was, to me, a fancy place. I mean, it was DOWN TOWN. Parking was NOT EASY. It was a thrill to be in that room. I loved the horseshoe-shaped bar (still do, actually). It was a great meal. I had a pumpkin risotto. It was amazing.
Fast-forward to last Tuesday night. Ed and I had been given a gift certificate to all of Tom Douglas's restaurants for Christmas, and since most of our dining out is now focused on whichever (usually new) restaurant I'm covering for Seattle Magazine, we thought we'd use the GC to enjoy a night out that I wasn't going to have to write about later. And it just happened to be our anniversary. Ed hadn't been to most of Tom Douglas's restaurants (and I usually just hit Palace for a drink once a year or so), so we decided on a Tom D restaurant crawl.
We started the night at Dahlia Lounge, sat at the bar and ordered a raw bar sampler, plus a martini for him and a glass of Prosecco for moi. We were excited, in a celebratory mood, so the fact that the bartender was a complete and utter dud (who clearly had a boner for a chick at the bar, because he pretty much ignored everybody else) was a major bummer.
The food, though, was really good. We loved the kanpachi, which had a little shiso and crisp pear; the smoked salmon, which was fantastic!; and the sesame tuna. The only exception was a squid-potato salad--the potatoes were very undercooked, so the whole thing had a terrible raw-potato texture. Unfortunately, our bartender was busy making googly eyes at the chick; when he finally checked in with us and I told him about the potatoes, he just kind of shrugged and said, "oh, sorry." Ugh. We left.
Off to Etta's, which hasn't really been my favorite throughout the years. Maybe it's because I worked at Pike Place Market for so many years, and everyone in the market is always telling every tourist they talk to to go to Etta's for seafood. But Ed had never been, and I felt like I needed to give it a chance. So, to Etta's.
Again, we copped a squat at the bar at Etta's. The bartender there was great--he's worked there for 12 years (seriously!) and I remember saying to Ed that he had a friendly ease about him. Like, "this job is easy and fun," you know, cause really, it kind of is if you like being a bartender. He poured me two wines to taste (so nice when they just do that without making it a big deal).
So we ordered the mini crabcakes, which come with a little dish of tomatillo salsa. Yum. Ed said these were the best crab cakes he'd ever had (and, bonus: I found the recipe so now I can make them at home). The room is dated, but it's also comfortable. We had a good time at Etta's.
Back up that steep hill to Lola. Again, we sat at the bar, debated whether we should order the goat tagine (entree) or the lamb kabobs (appetizer), and decided on the lamb (hey, we still had Palace Kitchen to go, so we had to keep it quick and relatively light). We also ordered skordalia (a garlicky dip) and feta with fresh pita. The kabobs arrived on a hot platter, all savory and lamby. This was delicious. It made me want to go back and get the "big dinner" which is like a greatest-hits 5-course feast.
Off to Palace Kitchen. After eating three dishes at three restaurants (and, uh, more than a little vino), we were moving a leetle beet slower, but remember: I'm a professional!
We'd asked the bartender at Lola for his faves at Palace, and he told us he always gets the wings. Wings? Really? Well, we went for it, and these wings were fan-f*cking-tastic. First off, they're real wings, not those grody fat globules fried in day-glo chili sauce. These were, you know, chicken wings like the ones you see when you look at a roast chicken. I asked one of the cooks what they put in the marinade, and he said it's a long list, including soy sauce, Worcestershire, garlic, and so on. I'm telling you. Order these.
Then we shared the hamburger. Locals know that the Palace hamburger has a cult following. But honestly? While the burger was good, the fries kicked the burger's ass. These were fantastic fries, left to get nice and dark in the fryer. I'm not even a fry person, really, and I loved these. Anyhow, didn't the burger used to be served on a 2-tiered thingy? It wasn't, and I was somewhat disappointed. It was a good, respectable burger, but really, those wings and those fries...yum.
Oh, and a little shout-out to Sandy, the bartender who was charming and sweet. He's been at Palace for a dozen years (which means he was working there when I came in for my birthday). That's--count 'em---two bartenders out of four who've been working for Tom D for over a decade. They both made our night. We had a great time--thanks S & P!
Dahlia
Etta's
Lola
Palace
[where: 98101]
Anyways, SCORE! My parents were footing the bill (birthday and all), so I chose Palace. It was, to me, a fancy place. I mean, it was DOWN TOWN. Parking was NOT EASY. It was a thrill to be in that room. I loved the horseshoe-shaped bar (still do, actually). It was a great meal. I had a pumpkin risotto. It was amazing.
Fast-forward to last Tuesday night. Ed and I had been given a gift certificate to all of Tom Douglas's restaurants for Christmas, and since most of our dining out is now focused on whichever (usually new) restaurant I'm covering for Seattle Magazine, we thought we'd use the GC to enjoy a night out that I wasn't going to have to write about later. And it just happened to be our anniversary. Ed hadn't been to most of Tom Douglas's restaurants (and I usually just hit Palace for a drink once a year or so), so we decided on a Tom D restaurant crawl.
We started the night at Dahlia Lounge, sat at the bar and ordered a raw bar sampler, plus a martini for him and a glass of Prosecco for moi. We were excited, in a celebratory mood, so the fact that the bartender was a complete and utter dud (who clearly had a boner for a chick at the bar, because he pretty much ignored everybody else) was a major bummer.
The food, though, was really good. We loved the kanpachi, which had a little shiso and crisp pear; the smoked salmon, which was fantastic!; and the sesame tuna. The only exception was a squid-potato salad--the potatoes were very undercooked, so the whole thing had a terrible raw-potato texture. Unfortunately, our bartender was busy making googly eyes at the chick; when he finally checked in with us and I told him about the potatoes, he just kind of shrugged and said, "oh, sorry." Ugh. We left.
Off to Etta's, which hasn't really been my favorite throughout the years. Maybe it's because I worked at Pike Place Market for so many years, and everyone in the market is always telling every tourist they talk to to go to Etta's for seafood. But Ed had never been, and I felt like I needed to give it a chance. So, to Etta's.
Again, we copped a squat at the bar at Etta's. The bartender there was great--he's worked there for 12 years (seriously!) and I remember saying to Ed that he had a friendly ease about him. Like, "this job is easy and fun," you know, cause really, it kind of is if you like being a bartender. He poured me two wines to taste (so nice when they just do that without making it a big deal).
So we ordered the mini crabcakes, which come with a little dish of tomatillo salsa. Yum. Ed said these were the best crab cakes he'd ever had (and, bonus: I found the recipe so now I can make them at home). The room is dated, but it's also comfortable. We had a good time at Etta's.
Back up that steep hill to Lola. Again, we sat at the bar, debated whether we should order the goat tagine (entree) or the lamb kabobs (appetizer), and decided on the lamb (hey, we still had Palace Kitchen to go, so we had to keep it quick and relatively light). We also ordered skordalia (a garlicky dip) and feta with fresh pita. The kabobs arrived on a hot platter, all savory and lamby. This was delicious. It made me want to go back and get the "big dinner" which is like a greatest-hits 5-course feast.
Off to Palace Kitchen. After eating three dishes at three restaurants (and, uh, more than a little vino), we were moving a leetle beet slower, but remember: I'm a professional!
We'd asked the bartender at Lola for his faves at Palace, and he told us he always gets the wings. Wings? Really? Well, we went for it, and these wings were fan-f*cking-tastic. First off, they're real wings, not those grody fat globules fried in day-glo chili sauce. These were, you know, chicken wings like the ones you see when you look at a roast chicken. I asked one of the cooks what they put in the marinade, and he said it's a long list, including soy sauce, Worcestershire, garlic, and so on. I'm telling you. Order these.
Then we shared the hamburger. Locals know that the Palace hamburger has a cult following. But honestly? While the burger was good, the fries kicked the burger's ass. These were fantastic fries, left to get nice and dark in the fryer. I'm not even a fry person, really, and I loved these. Anyhow, didn't the burger used to be served on a 2-tiered thingy? It wasn't, and I was somewhat disappointed. It was a good, respectable burger, but really, those wings and those fries...yum.
Oh, and a little shout-out to Sandy, the bartender who was charming and sweet. He's been at Palace for a dozen years (which means he was working there when I came in for my birthday). That's--count 'em---two bartenders out of four who've been working for Tom D for over a decade. They both made our night. We had a great time--thanks S & P!
Dahlia
Etta's
Lola
Palace
[where: 98101]
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Good Read: The Surly Gourmand reviews Quinn's
Everywhere you turn there's a review of Capital Hill's new gastropub, Quinn's. But none comes close to the quality and hilarity of the Surly Gourmand's review. Before you click, you should know that it's chock-full of, urh, colorful language.
Three choice quotes:
I'm his new #1 fan. Read it and laugh, fellow "bored old people."
[where: 98122]
Three choice quotes:
No one ever asks me before they open a business in this town. If they did I would have said “No gastropubs because they’re for yuppie douche bags. Now make out with your twin sister and let me videotape it.” But they opened Quinn’s anyway.
...So we had to order something more substantial. Like the brandade ($7). Brandade (not to be confused with a Band- Aid) is mashed salt cod. Sometimes it’s mashed with potatoes. Sometimes not. Quinn’s version was combined with potatoes and lots of rosemary. The salt cod adds a rich pelagic essence to the potatoes, and while it does taste fishy, the fishiness is muted and distant and salty, like a sea breeze. Damn tasty. The brandade was served with a plate of Quinn’s house made potato chips. These were a fucking revelation: easily the best chips I’ve ever eaten in my life, and I’ve been pretty stoned.
Some of the menu items are REALLY good, but others are as lame as someone who admits they own a Labradoodle. If you live on Capitol Hill and can stand the idea of eating at a gastropub, go to Quinn’s. But don’t go now: wait a couple of weeks until after the hipsters and “foodies” (AKA bored old people) have gotten over this place and you can actually get a table.
I'm his new #1 fan. Read it and laugh, fellow "bored old people."
[where: 98122]
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Eating Seattle: Villa Victoria
Try this: Bring up the fact that Villa Victoria’s back open, selling those addictive homemade tamales, and you’ll know the real-deal food obsessives from the fakers. A happy light will come into their eyes, a smile will creep up, and before you know it they’ll be telling you all about the good old days, when Naomi Andrade Smith would pop open the window of her Madrona catering kitchen and dish out Seattle’s best tamales. Then they’ll start asking for directions.
she's back
Six years ago, chef Naomi Andrade Smith earned herself a cult following for her banana leaf-wrapped tamales, made with the most tender, moist masa imaginable. They tasted better than any you could get anywhere, including much of Mexico. But, just as Smith was planning to open a real store-front take-out shop to keep up with increasing demand, she fell ill. And Seattle went into withdrawal.
The good news is that she’s back in good health. The other good news is that she’s, well, back. Back with fried plantains that you can buy by the pound. With whole roast chicken adobo, ready to take home. Back with some of the best guacamole in the world (which you can pass off as your own—she won’t tell). And back selling those perfect tamales, filled with Oaxacan mole and chicken, beef with red mole, and cheese and jalapeno. The burritos are back as well: chile-marinated whitefish and lime, tofu in adobo, carne asada. All served out of a sunny, colorful storefront just off the main-drag in Columbia City.
Showing her Seattle roots, Smith’s roasting her own coffee, too. Sip a cup of her Café Mocambo brew as you browse the case, salivating over her spicy Mexican rice and homemade black beans, or the dreamy orange rind-flecked wedding cookies. There’s no doubt about it: The good old days are back. Get there and eat.
[where: 98118]
Six years ago, chef Naomi Andrade Smith earned herself a cult following for her banana leaf-wrapped tamales, made with the most tender, moist masa imaginable. They tasted better than any you could get anywhere, including much of Mexico. But, just as Smith was planning to open a real store-front take-out shop to keep up with increasing demand, she fell ill. And Seattle went into withdrawal.
The good news is that she’s back in good health. The other good news is that she’s, well, back. Back with fried plantains that you can buy by the pound. With whole roast chicken adobo, ready to take home. Back with some of the best guacamole in the world (which you can pass off as your own—she won’t tell). And back selling those perfect tamales, filled with Oaxacan mole and chicken, beef with red mole, and cheese and jalapeno. The burritos are back as well: chile-marinated whitefish and lime, tofu in adobo, carne asada. All served out of a sunny, colorful storefront just off the main-drag in Columbia City.
Showing her Seattle roots, Smith’s roasting her own coffee, too. Sip a cup of her Café Mocambo brew as you browse the case, salivating over her spicy Mexican rice and homemade black beans, or the dreamy orange rind-flecked wedding cookies. There’s no doubt about it: The good old days are back. Get there and eat.
[where: 98118]
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Good Read: Angela Garbes reviews Art of the Table
Just popped in to point you toward the Stranger's review of Art of the Table, the first review of the supperclub-style restaurant by any of the Seattle papers.
image via Art of the Table
I read about the opening of Art of the Table several months back on Egullet and I remember thinking, "this is a place I definitely want to try." Haven't made it there yet, but now, after reading Angela Garbes' rave, I'm even more excited to go.
Check out upcoming menus here (next up: Northern Italian! yum)
PS--Kinda nice to see the Stranger taking restaurant reviews seriously. They used to let anybody write about restaurants, whether they knew anything about the food they were "reviewing" or not. No longer, and I'm happy to see it.
[where: 98103]
I read about the opening of Art of the Table several months back on Egullet and I remember thinking, "this is a place I definitely want to try." Haven't made it there yet, but now, after reading Angela Garbes' rave, I'm even more excited to go.
Check out upcoming menus here (next up: Northern Italian! yum)
PS--Kinda nice to see the Stranger taking restaurant reviews seriously. They used to let anybody write about restaurants, whether they knew anything about the food they were "reviewing" or not. No longer, and I'm happy to see it.
[where: 98103]
Friday, September 28, 2007
Eating Seattle: Crush
It was a long time coming. Crush has been at the top of my must-go-to list for years, and with chef/owner Jason Wilson's recent accolades (especially the biggie: he was named best new chef 2006 by Food & Wine), well, it was obvious we needed to see (and taste) what we'd been missing.
And what's better than a surprise? Ed had not only made reservations without telling me, he also landed us two seats at the bar. We both love sitting at the bar (and with a baby that's not happening anymore), but it's even more fun to sit at the bar when the seats offer a view into a busy working kitchen, which these do. Great husband, great surprise.
So we toasted. I had a perfectly crisp, sparkling Cremant D'Alsace and Ed had a gibson. Off to a great start, we picked up our menus. So many things were calling our names: sweetbreads, foie, heirloom tomato salad (the last of the year probably), braised octopus, and that's just from the appetizer menu.
We knew we needed a plan. Luckily we were in no rush, so we decided to make our own tasting, just like we did at Matt's. Four dishes (three apps, one entree), each served as a course. We'd ask the bartender to suggest wines along the way. And we were off!
A trio of tartares arrived first. Sweet, sweet scallop in a barely-there ginger sauce atop tiny shreds of carrot; a more traditional tartare of tuna with pickled olives--a fascinating take. But the killer was the hamachi: slices of the raw fish with itty specs of crispy bacon. Wow. We continued with the Cremant, which was outstanding with the tartares.
Next up: Buttermilk fried sweetbreads on a bacony celery root slaw, with honey mustard. It's funny they're serving them like this because, once, when I was trying to talk a friend into trying sweetbreads I told her to pretend it was fried chicken. Crush is riffing on that here, but while we both enjoyed this dish, the bacon flavor in the slaw was just too much for the sweetbreads; we couldn't taste them. We shared a glass of J. Rijckaert Chardonnay with this. Good enough pairing, but Ed's glass of French pinot noir was actually better with the bacony flavor of the dish.
Next came the braised-then-grilled octopus tangled with hunks of merguez sausage, drizzled with chorizo oil and tossed with a bit of gremolata. I was really looking forward to trying this combo, so it was a bummer when it just wasn't very good. The major problem was that the octopus had an unpleasant, thick texture, similar to well-done liver. And the rest of the dish was all smoky meaty-ness. It lacked contrast. Perhaps more gremolata could've given our palates a break from all the meat and smokey oil; as it was, the dish was very one-note. We had a glass of barbera with this, which was good with all the smokiness.
Next we had the duck, seared with aromatic spices (lavender, clove, fennel and a bunch more that I can't remember), with braised onion and topped with little chunks of sweet fresh peaches. They really hit this one out of the park. We loved the perfect crackling layer of skin, and the meat was tender and gorgeously rosy. I want to go back for this dish. We both had glasses of the fantastic Sheridan cab Franc from the Yakima Valley. By far our favorite wine of the night (ok, maybe not by far, since that Cremant was such a perfect brut).
Of course we had to have cheese (maybe just an excuse to drink more wine?). We had Sally Jackson sheep's milk cheese, served with a plum sauce; Delice's cow's milk brie served with violet jam, and my favorite, the Cana de Cabra goat cheese, a nicely chalky goat served with quince syrup. We stayed with our Sheridan cab Franc for this course. Lordy, I do love cheese.
We ended with a surprise gift from the kitchen: five homemade chocolates, my favorite being the rosemary. A fitting ending to a wonderful evening.
Service was flawless, pacing was nice--I hate being rushed through dinner, and they must've sensed we weren't in a hurry. The restaurant's location (a pretty house on a hill) affords for personal spaces; tables aren't lost in a cavernous dining room but rather tucked into the corners of what would've been a living room, or a sitting room. And though I'm not a fan of the Jetsons-ish furniture, the low, soft lighting helps to create a warm, inviting air. We will be back.
[where: 98112]
And what's better than a surprise? Ed had not only made reservations without telling me, he also landed us two seats at the bar. We both love sitting at the bar (and with a baby that's not happening anymore), but it's even more fun to sit at the bar when the seats offer a view into a busy working kitchen, which these do. Great husband, great surprise.
So we toasted. I had a perfectly crisp, sparkling Cremant D'Alsace and Ed had a gibson. Off to a great start, we picked up our menus. So many things were calling our names: sweetbreads, foie, heirloom tomato salad (the last of the year probably), braised octopus, and that's just from the appetizer menu.
We knew we needed a plan. Luckily we were in no rush, so we decided to make our own tasting, just like we did at Matt's. Four dishes (three apps, one entree), each served as a course. We'd ask the bartender to suggest wines along the way. And we were off!
A trio of tartares arrived first. Sweet, sweet scallop in a barely-there ginger sauce atop tiny shreds of carrot; a more traditional tartare of tuna with pickled olives--a fascinating take. But the killer was the hamachi: slices of the raw fish with itty specs of crispy bacon. Wow. We continued with the Cremant, which was outstanding with the tartares.
Next up: Buttermilk fried sweetbreads on a bacony celery root slaw, with honey mustard. It's funny they're serving them like this because, once, when I was trying to talk a friend into trying sweetbreads I told her to pretend it was fried chicken. Crush is riffing on that here, but while we both enjoyed this dish, the bacon flavor in the slaw was just too much for the sweetbreads; we couldn't taste them. We shared a glass of J. Rijckaert Chardonnay with this. Good enough pairing, but Ed's glass of French pinot noir was actually better with the bacony flavor of the dish.
Next came the braised-then-grilled octopus tangled with hunks of merguez sausage, drizzled with chorizo oil and tossed with a bit of gremolata. I was really looking forward to trying this combo, so it was a bummer when it just wasn't very good. The major problem was that the octopus had an unpleasant, thick texture, similar to well-done liver. And the rest of the dish was all smoky meaty-ness. It lacked contrast. Perhaps more gremolata could've given our palates a break from all the meat and smokey oil; as it was, the dish was very one-note. We had a glass of barbera with this, which was good with all the smokiness.
Next we had the duck, seared with aromatic spices (lavender, clove, fennel and a bunch more that I can't remember), with braised onion and topped with little chunks of sweet fresh peaches. They really hit this one out of the park. We loved the perfect crackling layer of skin, and the meat was tender and gorgeously rosy. I want to go back for this dish. We both had glasses of the fantastic Sheridan cab Franc from the Yakima Valley. By far our favorite wine of the night (ok, maybe not by far, since that Cremant was such a perfect brut).
Of course we had to have cheese (maybe just an excuse to drink more wine?). We had Sally Jackson sheep's milk cheese, served with a plum sauce; Delice's cow's milk brie served with violet jam, and my favorite, the Cana de Cabra goat cheese, a nicely chalky goat served with quince syrup. We stayed with our Sheridan cab Franc for this course. Lordy, I do love cheese.
We ended with a surprise gift from the kitchen: five homemade chocolates, my favorite being the rosemary. A fitting ending to a wonderful evening.
Service was flawless, pacing was nice--I hate being rushed through dinner, and they must've sensed we weren't in a hurry. The restaurant's location (a pretty house on a hill) affords for personal spaces; tables aren't lost in a cavernous dining room but rather tucked into the corners of what would've been a living room, or a sitting room. And though I'm not a fan of the Jetsons-ish furniture, the low, soft lighting helps to create a warm, inviting air. We will be back.
[where: 98112]
Monday, September 17, 2007
Eating Seattle: Lark
I almost felt like, why bother? Lark opened when I was living in NYC, so I missed the first-year, just-opened excitement. Now the restaurants is, what, four years old? Why pick Lark over, say, a newer place like Veil? Would it really be as good as I hoped?
The chef, Johnathan Sundstrom, just won the James Beard Best Northwest Chef award. And although I'm not convinced the Beard committee members know much about chefs outside their home town of NYC, there's no question: it's a huge accolade.
And I've loved Johnathan Sundstrom's food for a long time. I reviewed Earth & Ocean when Sundstrom was the debut chef there, when his (great) food took second billing to the ultra-trendy scene in the bar. He wasn't a foodie household name back then.
But Sundstrom's cooking has long shown that rare touch, part instinct and partly an ability to get out of the way of carefully chosen ingredients. I still remember (seven years later?) his roasted asparagus with just a hint of truffle oil (back when truffle oil wasn't the ubiquitous ingredient it is now). It was simple, it was like tasting asparagus again for the first time. It was perfect.
Several years later I was writing this article on stew for Restaurants & Institutions. It was a great excuse to call Johnathan up and give him some much-deserved press. He'd just opened Lark, so it was timely. And it turned out, he's a really nice guy.
And yet, despite coming home to Seattle for holidays and family visits, I never managed to make it into the restaurant. For four years.
Which is the long-winded version of how we ended up at Lark this past Friday night for our much-anticipated first dinner.
The room is lovely at night. Candles flicker, there's a nice hum, and when you look up, the warm rough-hewn wood ceiling just adds to the sophisticated charm of the space. There were four of us--including my oldest friend, Clare, and her husband Matt--so we decided to all pick one thing from the menu and go from there. Matt ordered a great bottle of Sancerre and we were well on our way.
Ed and I share a lack of control when faced with chicken liver pate, so when the dish arrived we went right for it. The pate (called parfait on the menu) was smooth, rich and fantastic with a smattering of the huckleberries served alongside.
Next up: sweet corn soup with gulf prawns. Have you had a prawn that tasted like a prawn lately? Probably not. The soup was just gorgeous corn through-and-through, but those prawns that tasted like prawns are what I keep thinking about.
Then came the burrata. If it's possible to be the new "it" cheese, burrata is it. No, seriously: Mozza (you know, Nancy Silverton + Mario Batali = busy as hell Italian in LA) orders their burrata from a cheese maker who delivers it the day its made.
I first tasted burrata many years ago when I wrote a review of Valentino for the Citysearch office in LA. I remember being stopped in my tracks by the warm, oozing cream center. It's a truly fantastic experience, and Lark's version--with perfect tomatoes and just a hint of basil oil--rightly accessorized the cheese without doing much to divert attention elsewhere.
Yellowtail carpaccio was next, wearing just a drizzle of lemon oil and slices of green olives. Nice.
Local squab (breast and leg) arrived tasting amazingly flavorful in its rare glory, accompanied by a house cured bacon-wrapped fig. Why aren't bacon-wrapped figs on every menu in town? They're amazing.
Last, the striped bass with taragon and tomatoes. Very good, but a little "eh" after everything else we'd tasted. This was the "safe dish," the dish you'd order if you were on a diet. Don't get me wrong: They nailed this one too, it just wasn't as inspired as the rest.
Four years into it, Lark is still at the top of its game. Every bite, every taste was excellent. How many restaurants can you say that about?
It's surprising and yet not, especially after noticing that chef Sundstrom himself was expediting that night, wiping plates and watching to make sure everything leaving the kitchen was just as it should be.
NOTE: Sorry for the lack of photos. I don't like to take pictures when I'm dining out (especially in nicer restaurants). I think it takes away from the experience and draws attention to my table, neither of which is something I want to do.
[where: 98122]
The chef, Johnathan Sundstrom, just won the James Beard Best Northwest Chef award. And although I'm not convinced the Beard committee members know much about chefs outside their home town of NYC, there's no question: it's a huge accolade.
And I've loved Johnathan Sundstrom's food for a long time. I reviewed Earth & Ocean when Sundstrom was the debut chef there, when his (great) food took second billing to the ultra-trendy scene in the bar. He wasn't a foodie household name back then.
But Sundstrom's cooking has long shown that rare touch, part instinct and partly an ability to get out of the way of carefully chosen ingredients. I still remember (seven years later?) his roasted asparagus with just a hint of truffle oil (back when truffle oil wasn't the ubiquitous ingredient it is now). It was simple, it was like tasting asparagus again for the first time. It was perfect.
Several years later I was writing this article on stew for Restaurants & Institutions. It was a great excuse to call Johnathan up and give him some much-deserved press. He'd just opened Lark, so it was timely. And it turned out, he's a really nice guy.
And yet, despite coming home to Seattle for holidays and family visits, I never managed to make it into the restaurant. For four years.
Which is the long-winded version of how we ended up at Lark this past Friday night for our much-anticipated first dinner.
The room is lovely at night. Candles flicker, there's a nice hum, and when you look up, the warm rough-hewn wood ceiling just adds to the sophisticated charm of the space. There were four of us--including my oldest friend, Clare, and her husband Matt--so we decided to all pick one thing from the menu and go from there. Matt ordered a great bottle of Sancerre and we were well on our way.
Ed and I share a lack of control when faced with chicken liver pate, so when the dish arrived we went right for it. The pate (called parfait on the menu) was smooth, rich and fantastic with a smattering of the huckleberries served alongside.
Next up: sweet corn soup with gulf prawns. Have you had a prawn that tasted like a prawn lately? Probably not. The soup was just gorgeous corn through-and-through, but those prawns that tasted like prawns are what I keep thinking about.
Then came the burrata. If it's possible to be the new "it" cheese, burrata is it. No, seriously: Mozza (you know, Nancy Silverton + Mario Batali = busy as hell Italian in LA) orders their burrata from a cheese maker who delivers it the day its made.
I first tasted burrata many years ago when I wrote a review of Valentino for the Citysearch office in LA. I remember being stopped in my tracks by the warm, oozing cream center. It's a truly fantastic experience, and Lark's version--with perfect tomatoes and just a hint of basil oil--rightly accessorized the cheese without doing much to divert attention elsewhere.
Yellowtail carpaccio was next, wearing just a drizzle of lemon oil and slices of green olives. Nice.
Local squab (breast and leg) arrived tasting amazingly flavorful in its rare glory, accompanied by a house cured bacon-wrapped fig. Why aren't bacon-wrapped figs on every menu in town? They're amazing.
Last, the striped bass with taragon and tomatoes. Very good, but a little "eh" after everything else we'd tasted. This was the "safe dish," the dish you'd order if you were on a diet. Don't get me wrong: They nailed this one too, it just wasn't as inspired as the rest.
Four years into it, Lark is still at the top of its game. Every bite, every taste was excellent. How many restaurants can you say that about?
It's surprising and yet not, especially after noticing that chef Sundstrom himself was expediting that night, wiping plates and watching to make sure everything leaving the kitchen was just as it should be.
NOTE: Sorry for the lack of photos. I don't like to take pictures when I'm dining out (especially in nicer restaurants). I think it takes away from the experience and draws attention to my table, neither of which is something I want to do.
[where: 98122]
Friday, September 14, 2007
Eating Seattle: Green Leaf
Expectations are a bitch. You read raves ("oh, the lemongrass eggplant!" "ooh la la the pho"), you get hungry just thinking about noodles and meat and the spring rolls you've read are "ethereal" and "perfect." And then you go.
This is what happened to me last night. I'd read nothing but "my God this is the best food!" reviews about this place, so I walked into Green Leaf with lofty expectations. And you know what? I just don't get it.
We started our meal with the shrimp and pork-filled spring rolls. They had a straw of fried dough in them that gave the rolls an awesome crunch. There was a hint of herb but not enough. And maybe they were out of pork? Nowhere in sight or in taste. Pretty good spring rolls, but nobody was making any When Harry Met Sally noises.
image via 43 places
The vermicelli combo arrived next, thin rice noodles topped with grilled pork, chicken, a fried egg roll and some herbs and lettuce. We doctored the vermicelli with some sambal (chili sauce) and the sweetened fish sauce (delivered with tiny shavings of carrot). The meat was great--dark from a good, hot grill fire. We were sharing this dish and we didn't get quite enough so we ordered another one, this time with all grilled chicken. We raced for the hunks of meat. They should just sell a huge plate of the chicken. It's great.
image via 43 places
Then the lemongrass shrimp arrived. I was worried when I could see the twiggy lemongrass puree coating the shrimp, and I was right: it was over-the-top with that soapy lemongrass flavor. Ed said it tasted like Pledge. And it was served with undercooked hunks of onion. Really, not very good.
We left satisfied but somewhat bewildered. It was good, but not so good that we were wowed. I'll probably go back to try the pho (I just can't order hot soup on a warm summer evening), but I can't help but wonder: Am I missing something? Or are there are others out there, secretly thinking to themselves when they hear the endless Green Leaf raves, "I just don't get it."
[where: 98101]
This is what happened to me last night. I'd read nothing but "my God this is the best food!" reviews about this place, so I walked into Green Leaf with lofty expectations. And you know what? I just don't get it.
We started our meal with the shrimp and pork-filled spring rolls. They had a straw of fried dough in them that gave the rolls an awesome crunch. There was a hint of herb but not enough. And maybe they were out of pork? Nowhere in sight or in taste. Pretty good spring rolls, but nobody was making any When Harry Met Sally noises.
The vermicelli combo arrived next, thin rice noodles topped with grilled pork, chicken, a fried egg roll and some herbs and lettuce. We doctored the vermicelli with some sambal (chili sauce) and the sweetened fish sauce (delivered with tiny shavings of carrot). The meat was great--dark from a good, hot grill fire. We were sharing this dish and we didn't get quite enough so we ordered another one, this time with all grilled chicken. We raced for the hunks of meat. They should just sell a huge plate of the chicken. It's great.
Then the lemongrass shrimp arrived. I was worried when I could see the twiggy lemongrass puree coating the shrimp, and I was right: it was over-the-top with that soapy lemongrass flavor. Ed said it tasted like Pledge. And it was served with undercooked hunks of onion. Really, not very good.
We left satisfied but somewhat bewildered. It was good, but not so good that we were wowed. I'll probably go back to try the pho (I just can't order hot soup on a warm summer evening), but I can't help but wonder: Am I missing something? Or are there are others out there, secretly thinking to themselves when they hear the endless Green Leaf raves, "I just don't get it."
[where: 98101]
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Eating Seattle: Skillet Street Food
Ruby and I just returned from an outing to where-the-hell-is-Terry-Street-anyways? to taste what Skillet Street Food was dishing today. I was expecting a long line, but when we got to the shiny, dented Airstream trailor around 12:30 there were just a handful of people--office workers, construction guys, people with babies (me)--milling about, playing bag toss to kill time while their food was cooked.
The menu changes every week or so; the three main lunch dishes on offer today were an almond-crusted chicken sammie with apple-fennel slaw, a burger with bacon jam, blue cheese and arugula, and a chopped salad with tiny bits of peppers, cucumbers, garbonzos and salami. They also had their "poutine," gravy-smothered fries with chopped up bits of white cheddar and fresh parsley.
We ordered three out of four: the burger, the salad and a side of the poutine (with the burger). The burger was rad: loosely bound, nice and tender and just a bit pink. Not sure what's in the jam (probably onions and bacon and fat) but it was great. I would order that burger again in a heartbeat. Didn't love the poutine, but I don't love fries in a puddle of anything but ketchup. And it seemed like the gravy needed something. The chopped salad was fine, but nothing spectacular. I like the one at Pagliacci's just as much. This was good but not worth ordering again.
Dangit, we should've had that chicken sandwich. I watched that thing walk away with lots of folks and regretted not ordering it. The slaw looked awesome.
What impressed me most was the gracious, friendly welcome that we recieved. Josh (Henderson), the cooking half of the operation, stuck his head out to say hello, but Danny (Sizemore)--the guy taking orders--was a delight to chat with while we waited. Or maybe that "delight" was a result of his irresistable "hay shugar" Kentucky accent. Either way, I'll be back.
RELATED: Skillet Street Food opens
[where: 98101]
The menu changes every week or so; the three main lunch dishes on offer today were an almond-crusted chicken sammie with apple-fennel slaw, a burger with bacon jam, blue cheese and arugula, and a chopped salad with tiny bits of peppers, cucumbers, garbonzos and salami. They also had their "poutine," gravy-smothered fries with chopped up bits of white cheddar and fresh parsley.
We ordered three out of four: the burger, the salad and a side of the poutine (with the burger). The burger was rad: loosely bound, nice and tender and just a bit pink. Not sure what's in the jam (probably onions and bacon and fat) but it was great. I would order that burger again in a heartbeat. Didn't love the poutine, but I don't love fries in a puddle of anything but ketchup. And it seemed like the gravy needed something. The chopped salad was fine, but nothing spectacular. I like the one at Pagliacci's just as much. This was good but not worth ordering again.
Dangit, we should've had that chicken sandwich. I watched that thing walk away with lots of folks and regretted not ordering it. The slaw looked awesome.
What impressed me most was the gracious, friendly welcome that we recieved. Josh (Henderson), the cooking half of the operation, stuck his head out to say hello, but Danny (Sizemore)--the guy taking orders--was a delight to chat with while we waited. Or maybe that "delight" was a result of his irresistable "hay shugar" Kentucky accent. Either way, I'll be back.
RELATED: Skillet Street Food opens
[where: 98101]
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Eating Seattle: Madrona Eatery & Ale House
Ugh, kid-friendly places. Ed and I don't usually opt for restaurants that bill themselves as such for obvious reasons. The words "kid" and "friendly" don't exactly scream "we really care about our food and it's seriously delicious," am I right?
But we were itching to get out of the house last night and hadn't been to Madrona Ale House; I hadn't heard bad things (or really anything) so we figured we'd give it a try.
We piled into a booth and ordered a round. They've got about 15 mostly local brews on tap including the very hoppy Chopper's Red from Georgetown Brewery. Yum. When we started looking at the menu we realized we were facing a familiar connundrum: On the one hand they've got steak frites and a pork chop special served on sauteed onions and apricots; on the other they've got pizzas, burgers and fish-n-chips. Without knowing whether the kitchen can pull off a decent steak frites, we weren't going to gamble $20+ in a kid-friendly corner pub. Maybe that's where we went wrong.
I ordered the lamb sausage sandwich, which was served with aioli, shredded lettuce and a terrible, un-ripe slice of tomato on a nine-inch loaf of bread. This thing was just all bread, but it was also the dryest sausage I've had in at least five years. How long does one need to cook a sausage to remove all the fat? Ask the cooks at Madrona Ale House. I also had the onion rings (instead of fries) and they were nothing special. Bummer.
Ed had the beer-battered fish-n-chips. The fish was fine but the coating was clunky and heavy. Ed actually peeled it off before eating the fish. $13? Right.
All the while there are probably 10 kids running around in the place having the time of their lives. There's a toy-filled area over by a gas fireplace and the three-to-seven year old set was really loving it. Which just makes me feel worse for their parents, because you just know these kids are going to beg to come back.
I'm sure we "ordered the wrong thing"--don't get me started on how there shouldn't even be a wrong thing to order on a menu. Lucky for us Ruby's too young to do any begging, so we won't be hurrying back.
[where: 98144]
But we were itching to get out of the house last night and hadn't been to Madrona Ale House; I hadn't heard bad things (or really anything) so we figured we'd give it a try.
We piled into a booth and ordered a round. They've got about 15 mostly local brews on tap including the very hoppy Chopper's Red from Georgetown Brewery. Yum. When we started looking at the menu we realized we were facing a familiar connundrum: On the one hand they've got steak frites and a pork chop special served on sauteed onions and apricots; on the other they've got pizzas, burgers and fish-n-chips. Without knowing whether the kitchen can pull off a decent steak frites, we weren't going to gamble $20+ in a kid-friendly corner pub. Maybe that's where we went wrong.
I ordered the lamb sausage sandwich, which was served with aioli, shredded lettuce and a terrible, un-ripe slice of tomato on a nine-inch loaf of bread. This thing was just all bread, but it was also the dryest sausage I've had in at least five years. How long does one need to cook a sausage to remove all the fat? Ask the cooks at Madrona Ale House. I also had the onion rings (instead of fries) and they were nothing special. Bummer.
Ed had the beer-battered fish-n-chips. The fish was fine but the coating was clunky and heavy. Ed actually peeled it off before eating the fish. $13? Right.
All the while there are probably 10 kids running around in the place having the time of their lives. There's a toy-filled area over by a gas fireplace and the three-to-seven year old set was really loving it. Which just makes me feel worse for their parents, because you just know these kids are going to beg to come back.
I'm sure we "ordered the wrong thing"--don't get me started on how there shouldn't even be a wrong thing to order on a menu. Lucky for us Ruby's too young to do any begging, so we won't be hurrying back.
[where: 98144]
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Eating Seattle: Le Pichet
My dream came true: After working our tails off weeding and digging in the dirt (our dirt! I'm still getting used to the fact that we own this house!) we took quick showers and headed down to the market. We hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast and it was after four, so we were a little grumpy and a little slow to make a decision. The rooftop patio at Pink Door? A Post Alley table at Kell's? Nah, let's go see what they're serving at Le Pichet.
All the tables outside were taken but we decided to stay and take a seat near the front windows; almost as good. We ordered a pitcher (hence the name, Le Pichet) of a French white from the Gascogne (sorry, can't remember the exact name but it was fresh with a little mineral and perfectly chilled), plus their five-cheese plate and my personal favorite, the country pate with honeyed walnuts and grain mustard.
Ruby had decided to skip her afternoon nap so we were a little worried she might start erupting with her "talking to the seals" voices, aka making squeeking noises so piercing that only seals can understand. I'd brought all the essentials: ice water in a bottle (for teething), teething biscuits that taste like animal cookies, even her wiggly doggie sock toy. But instead of erupting, just as our cheese and pate arrived, she started falling asleep in my arms like a beautiful little angel. This is probably something that happens a lot with other 7 month olds, but I think the last time Ruby drifted off to sleep in my arms without at least a little struggle was probably when she was 4 months old or younger. You know what they say about the little things in life? Well, this was magic.
So was the food. I nibbled the wonderful cheeses and Ed helped me make perfect pate-walnut-mustard bites since I only had my tard arm at my disposal. We were having such a nice time--tired in that great way you only feel after physical work--and Ruby was being such a trooper that we decided to order one more thing: the warm chicken liver and spinach salad, with walnuts, parmesan and a fried egg! Hell yeah. Is it me or has the "salad" category seriously improved in the last 10 years? We shared a demi-pichet of a light red to go with the salad. Perfect. I think the entire bill was around $45 and it was one of the most enjoyable afternoon meals I can remember. Our server was warm and attentive (she even let a little girl sitting outside borrow her jacket when she got chilly). Damn, I love that place.
All the tables outside were taken but we decided to stay and take a seat near the front windows; almost as good. We ordered a pitcher (hence the name, Le Pichet) of a French white from the Gascogne (sorry, can't remember the exact name but it was fresh with a little mineral and perfectly chilled), plus their five-cheese plate and my personal favorite, the country pate with honeyed walnuts and grain mustard.
Ruby had decided to skip her afternoon nap so we were a little worried she might start erupting with her "talking to the seals" voices, aka making squeeking noises so piercing that only seals can understand. I'd brought all the essentials: ice water in a bottle (for teething), teething biscuits that taste like animal cookies, even her wiggly doggie sock toy. But instead of erupting, just as our cheese and pate arrived, she started falling asleep in my arms like a beautiful little angel. This is probably something that happens a lot with other 7 month olds, but I think the last time Ruby drifted off to sleep in my arms without at least a little struggle was probably when she was 4 months old or younger. You know what they say about the little things in life? Well, this was magic.
So was the food. I nibbled the wonderful cheeses and Ed helped me make perfect pate-walnut-mustard bites since I only had my tard arm at my disposal. We were having such a nice time--tired in that great way you only feel after physical work--and Ruby was being such a trooper that we decided to order one more thing: the warm chicken liver and spinach salad, with walnuts, parmesan and a fried egg! Hell yeah. Is it me or has the "salad" category seriously improved in the last 10 years? We shared a demi-pichet of a light red to go with the salad. Perfect. I think the entire bill was around $45 and it was one of the most enjoyable afternoon meals I can remember. Our server was warm and attentive (she even let a little girl sitting outside borrow her jacket when she got chilly). Damn, I love that place.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Eating Seattle: Matt's in the Market
They finally got the place back open! For those who've had their heads up their you-know-what's for the last year, Matt's closed last fall for renovations and expansions, which--shocker!--took way longer than expected. It finally re-opened in July. Needless to say, any local with even a minor interest in food has probably been thinking of popping back in.
Ed and I decided to head to Pike Place and try for a walk-in table. The reservation policy is totally confusing, so feel free to enlighten me in the comments, but when Ed walked in around 6:30 they'd just seated the entire bar (which they don't reserve) and all the tables were booked until three years from now or something. So we wanted to put our names down for the bar and go somewhere for a drink. Except they don't take names for the bar. Apparently it's first-come-first-serve-only-if-you-never-leave, which I guess means you have to sit in the hall that entire time? What a load.
So I explained my confusion to the hostess--who deserves an award for continuing to smile while being quite bitchy--and she finally relented and took down Ed's name. We promised to check back in and off we went to the Alibi Room for a drink. Hey, maybe all my time in NYC is paying off? I wasn't about to sit in that friggin' hallway for almost an hour.
Back at Matt's we get two seats at the bar, start looking at the menu and take in the new room. It's about double the size of the old Matt's, but it feels bigger than that and airier. There's a view! And I love that there are bar seats at the actual bar and at the open kitchen.
While we're picking our favorites we're given a little bread with a wonderful fennel seed, carrot and celery-infused olive oil for dipping. I just love it when restaurants pay special attention to details like this. It makes me anticipate my dinner much more.
We decide to do a tasting. Well, that makes it sound like they offer a tasting menu, which they don't. But we wanted to have a special dinner, so we asked the bartender to help us create a tasting with wine pairings. We figured we'd do three appetizers and one entree, one at a time so it'd feel like four courses, with wines to match. It was like the good old days: Sitting at the bar, excited about a menu, sipping some nice wine. I even slipped the menus into my purse. Now, if only we were still on an expense account....
First up: Seared foie gras on brioche with reduced Villa Manadori balsamic vinegar (a special). We hadn't had foie gras in so long and it was nicely seared and had a fantastic crust, and was warm and soft inside. The reduction was sweet-tart, a traditional pairing for foie. We drank a surprisingly fruity viognier with this course. The whole thing was sublime: I always feel like I'm celebrating when I eat foie, so it was a nice start to the night. I do wonder why the chef didn't create a more seasonal sweet-tart accompaniment--maybe something with apricots or nectarines?--because this pairing is very season-generic. But that's something we noticed again and again on the menu.
Next up was mussels with chorizo and charmoula. My mom always steams her clams with sausage and beer, so the sausage-shellfish combo is an oldie-but-goodie for me. We sipped a dry nebbiolo with this--a really nice pairing with the smokey mussels.
Onto the tuna confit. I love fish slow-cooked in olive oil (Le Bernardin's chef Eric Ripert poached escolar in olive oil at a very very low temperature and it was unforgettable). So this wasn't anywhere on par with that, and was just good, but nothing special. I think most people would consider this tuna salad, so unless you're interested in the technique or the olive-oil flavor, probably not worth having. Also, nothing seasonal about this. We continued our nebbiolo with this course, and it worked well.
Last but certainly not least, one of my all-time favorite things: halibut cheeks. Dear lord, they are so good. Another dish off the specials list, the fish was seared golden and surrounded by a cava-caper berry buerre blanc. Nice. Roasted fingerlings, gorgeous green beans and purple heirloom carrots were tucked underneath. We had a glass of Wineglass Cellars (Yakima, WA) Chardonnay with this and it was nice with the subtle butter sauce.
Done? Don't forget: I'm a (former) professional. And plus, when the fresh green Kadota figs were spotted down the bar, we were sold.
A chunk of Cabrales and a little drizzle of that Manadori vinegar, plus a swirl of the tawny port Ed ordered, and that's a fantastic way to end the meal. I think we might've gotten high somehow during this final course. Or maybe just drunk.
Matt's in the Market: Will we go back? Of course. The food was good, the room feels airy and casual. And the service, after the initial chilly welcome, was great, easy to engage and swift. The un-seasonal menu made me a little confused--why duck breast in August? Couldn't it wait until October? This place is, after all, perched right above Pike Place Market, home to the freshest, most seasonal produce in town. And the door policy has got to get a little more flexible.
Will regulars who loved the old Matt's love the new Matt's? Totally. By the time we left, one of the cooks had taken a spot at the bar a couple of seats down from us and he was BS-ing with the bartender. It's always been that sort of place, and that hasn't changed.
Ed and I decided to head to Pike Place and try for a walk-in table. The reservation policy is totally confusing, so feel free to enlighten me in the comments, but when Ed walked in around 6:30 they'd just seated the entire bar (which they don't reserve) and all the tables were booked until three years from now or something. So we wanted to put our names down for the bar and go somewhere for a drink. Except they don't take names for the bar. Apparently it's first-come-first-serve-only-if-you-never-leave, which I guess means you have to sit in the hall that entire time? What a load.
So I explained my confusion to the hostess--who deserves an award for continuing to smile while being quite bitchy--and she finally relented and took down Ed's name. We promised to check back in and off we went to the Alibi Room for a drink. Hey, maybe all my time in NYC is paying off? I wasn't about to sit in that friggin' hallway for almost an hour.
Back at Matt's we get two seats at the bar, start looking at the menu and take in the new room. It's about double the size of the old Matt's, but it feels bigger than that and airier. There's a view! And I love that there are bar seats at the actual bar and at the open kitchen.
While we're picking our favorites we're given a little bread with a wonderful fennel seed, carrot and celery-infused olive oil for dipping. I just love it when restaurants pay special attention to details like this. It makes me anticipate my dinner much more.
We decide to do a tasting. Well, that makes it sound like they offer a tasting menu, which they don't. But we wanted to have a special dinner, so we asked the bartender to help us create a tasting with wine pairings. We figured we'd do three appetizers and one entree, one at a time so it'd feel like four courses, with wines to match. It was like the good old days: Sitting at the bar, excited about a menu, sipping some nice wine. I even slipped the menus into my purse. Now, if only we were still on an expense account....
First up: Seared foie gras on brioche with reduced Villa Manadori balsamic vinegar (a special). We hadn't had foie gras in so long and it was nicely seared and had a fantastic crust, and was warm and soft inside. The reduction was sweet-tart, a traditional pairing for foie. We drank a surprisingly fruity viognier with this course. The whole thing was sublime: I always feel like I'm celebrating when I eat foie, so it was a nice start to the night. I do wonder why the chef didn't create a more seasonal sweet-tart accompaniment--maybe something with apricots or nectarines?--because this pairing is very season-generic. But that's something we noticed again and again on the menu.
Next up was mussels with chorizo and charmoula. My mom always steams her clams with sausage and beer, so the sausage-shellfish combo is an oldie-but-goodie for me. We sipped a dry nebbiolo with this--a really nice pairing with the smokey mussels.
Onto the tuna confit. I love fish slow-cooked in olive oil (Le Bernardin's chef Eric Ripert poached escolar in olive oil at a very very low temperature and it was unforgettable). So this wasn't anywhere on par with that, and was just good, but nothing special. I think most people would consider this tuna salad, so unless you're interested in the technique or the olive-oil flavor, probably not worth having. Also, nothing seasonal about this. We continued our nebbiolo with this course, and it worked well.
Last but certainly not least, one of my all-time favorite things: halibut cheeks. Dear lord, they are so good. Another dish off the specials list, the fish was seared golden and surrounded by a cava-caper berry buerre blanc. Nice. Roasted fingerlings, gorgeous green beans and purple heirloom carrots were tucked underneath. We had a glass of Wineglass Cellars (Yakima, WA) Chardonnay with this and it was nice with the subtle butter sauce.
Done? Don't forget: I'm a (former) professional. And plus, when the fresh green Kadota figs were spotted down the bar, we were sold.
A chunk of Cabrales and a little drizzle of that Manadori vinegar, plus a swirl of the tawny port Ed ordered, and that's a fantastic way to end the meal. I think we might've gotten high somehow during this final course. Or maybe just drunk.
Matt's in the Market: Will we go back? Of course. The food was good, the room feels airy and casual. And the service, after the initial chilly welcome, was great, easy to engage and swift. The un-seasonal menu made me a little confused--why duck breast in August? Couldn't it wait until October? This place is, after all, perched right above Pike Place Market, home to the freshest, most seasonal produce in town. And the door policy has got to get a little more flexible.
Will regulars who loved the old Matt's love the new Matt's? Totally. By the time we left, one of the cooks had taken a spot at the bar a couple of seats down from us and he was BS-ing with the bartender. It's always been that sort of place, and that hasn't changed.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Eating Seattle: Cactus
Is this salsa from a can?
Ed and I got a babysitter Friday so that we could go to my friend Steve's 40th birthday bash. I hadn't seen Steve for years so I was excited, and it's always fun to have a night out with Ed. So we decided to head to Madison Park, see if we could find a place to eat outside, then head to the bar for the party.
We walked around, looked at the menu at Sostanza (which I love, but we weren't in the mood) and decided on Cactus. Of course there was a wait for their tiny patio, so we went across the street to Impromptu for a glass of wine. Pretty interesting wine-by-the-glass list; I had the Excelsior Chardonnay from South Africa, which was really nice, summery and not full of oak. But the menu was a little odd: one of the specials was Morrocoan lamb stew. Sorry, but lamb stew in August? Come on, we have plenty of opportunities to eat lamb stew when it's crapola outside.
So we finished our drinks and went over to Cactus. I'll just start this out by saying I've never been a huge fan of this place, but the patio was calling and the idea of margaritas had us hooked. Plus, sometimes Ed and I get so caught up in trying to find a "perfect" place for dinner when we have a rare night to ourselves that we spend way too long searching and it kind of takes the fun out of it. So I went with it. Hey, maybe it'd be better than I remembered?
Well, let's just say that any place that charges for chips and salsa should NOT be using canned salsa (jazzed up with fresh cilantro, but does this fool anyone?) Especially when tomatoes are in season! And yes, you can actually make decent salsa with canned tomatoes. I've done it. This salsa sucked, though. We thought about getting guacamole but it was $6 and since it was just the two of us that seemed silly.
We ordered the grilled jalapenos to start. Stuffed with goat cheese, wrapped in bacon and set on the grill, these things were awesome. The grill gave the peppers a nice char and a smokey flavor, and the bacon and goat cheese--it all just worked. Yum. I'd go back for these.
Then I had the carnitas and Ed had the Negro Modelo-braised short ribs. I was thinking Ed's were going to take the prize, but while the meat was tender and the sides--yummy pepper-flecked corn bread-- were good, there was something really lacking in the flavor department. It was just a big plate of bland meat. A bummer.
My carnitas were really good, though.
They were served with a sweet-spicy peach salsa, fresh cilantro and pickled red onions. Spicy, tart, savory. Great.
Ed was smart and opted for a margarita. I was feeling date-happy and decided to order a girly drink. The chi-chi was supposed to be their updated version of a pina colada, and it sounded good: cranberry vodka, coconut, soda, something else... What ended up being served to me was basically frilly panties in a glass: it was pepto-bismal pink, kind of foamy, and came with sugared coconut on top. I drank half and then got wise and ordered a Negro Modelo. Good lord.
So Cactus: Not in a hurry to go back. The grilled jalapenos are great, but I'll probably just make them at home if I get a craving.
Ed and I got a babysitter Friday so that we could go to my friend Steve's 40th birthday bash. I hadn't seen Steve for years so I was excited, and it's always fun to have a night out with Ed. So we decided to head to Madison Park, see if we could find a place to eat outside, then head to the bar for the party.
We walked around, looked at the menu at Sostanza (which I love, but we weren't in the mood) and decided on Cactus. Of course there was a wait for their tiny patio, so we went across the street to Impromptu for a glass of wine. Pretty interesting wine-by-the-glass list; I had the Excelsior Chardonnay from South Africa, which was really nice, summery and not full of oak. But the menu was a little odd: one of the specials was Morrocoan lamb stew. Sorry, but lamb stew in August? Come on, we have plenty of opportunities to eat lamb stew when it's crapola outside.
So we finished our drinks and went over to Cactus. I'll just start this out by saying I've never been a huge fan of this place, but the patio was calling and the idea of margaritas had us hooked. Plus, sometimes Ed and I get so caught up in trying to find a "perfect" place for dinner when we have a rare night to ourselves that we spend way too long searching and it kind of takes the fun out of it. So I went with it. Hey, maybe it'd be better than I remembered?
Well, let's just say that any place that charges for chips and salsa should NOT be using canned salsa (jazzed up with fresh cilantro, but does this fool anyone?) Especially when tomatoes are in season! And yes, you can actually make decent salsa with canned tomatoes. I've done it. This salsa sucked, though. We thought about getting guacamole but it was $6 and since it was just the two of us that seemed silly.
We ordered the grilled jalapenos to start. Stuffed with goat cheese, wrapped in bacon and set on the grill, these things were awesome. The grill gave the peppers a nice char and a smokey flavor, and the bacon and goat cheese--it all just worked. Yum. I'd go back for these.
Then I had the carnitas and Ed had the Negro Modelo-braised short ribs. I was thinking Ed's were going to take the prize, but while the meat was tender and the sides--yummy pepper-flecked corn bread-- were good, there was something really lacking in the flavor department. It was just a big plate of bland meat. A bummer.
My carnitas were really good, though.
They were served with a sweet-spicy peach salsa, fresh cilantro and pickled red onions. Spicy, tart, savory. Great.
Ed was smart and opted for a margarita. I was feeling date-happy and decided to order a girly drink. The chi-chi was supposed to be their updated version of a pina colada, and it sounded good: cranberry vodka, coconut, soda, something else... What ended up being served to me was basically frilly panties in a glass: it was pepto-bismal pink, kind of foamy, and came with sugared coconut on top. I drank half and then got wise and ordered a Negro Modelo. Good lord.
So Cactus: Not in a hurry to go back. The grilled jalapenos are great, but I'll probably just make them at home if I get a craving.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Eating Seattle: Agua Verde
I had dinner with Clare, Courtney, Whitney (and Whitney's darling 6 month old baby Lauren), and Lauren, Whitney's brother's girlfriend, last night at Agua Verde. I hadn't been there for probably 10 years, so I'd forgotten how crazy busy the place is. Of course, it's the U-District, and it's on the water, and the weather was beautiful, so that's a recipe for crowds. Everyone in Seattle wanted to eat outside last night.
I was really looking forward to dinner with the girls and taking in the gorgeous evening sunshine. So it was a bummer when we ended up having to wait for a table, and then we got seated inside. Not a huge bummer, but when you only get to go out with friends for dinner once every couple of months, the stakes are way higher for where you go. A jail analogy: When you get out of the county lockup, you don't want your first encounter to be with some old wrinkly cottage cheesey woman, you want to have sex with a real va-va-voom, Hotty McHotterson, am I right guys? This is what I'm saying.
So I had some camarones tacos and a rum drink with tamarindo. It was fine. My camarones were overcooked but I wasn't expecting miracles. The best thing on the table was the salsa: two versions, one tomatillo and the other chipotle. And the bill, which was in the low $20s per person, and since three out of five of us at dinner had lived in NYC, where group meals usually range from $60 to $90 per person, this was an awesome surprise.
But it's always fun having dinner with girlfriends. Courtney just bought a house! I'm so excited to see it. And Clare's building a house so she was in town from NY to meet with an architect. Whitney's got a three year old son and the baby and she somehow keeps it all together and has a great sense of humor. And Lauren, who I'd just met, is training for an Iron Man. No, REALLY! Let me just lay that out for you: 2.5 mile swim, 112 mile bike, and a full friggin' marathon. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? As Courtney said (she was near Couer D'Alene during the Iron Man this past year), when you wake up at, say, 9am, the athletes have been exercising for four hours already. And when you go to bed, they're STILL exercising. I asked Lauren how long she thought the bike portion would take and she said six or seven HOURS!. Everyone kept moving on to other topics and all I could think about was SEVEN HOURS on a bike. And then dragging your sorry ass another 26+ miles on foot. Do people die during these things? They must.
So, Agua Verde: The company was great. The food, decent. The experience was not what I was hoping for last night. If you only eat out one or two times a month, this isn't a place I'd put into one of those slots.
I was really looking forward to dinner with the girls and taking in the gorgeous evening sunshine. So it was a bummer when we ended up having to wait for a table, and then we got seated inside. Not a huge bummer, but when you only get to go out with friends for dinner once every couple of months, the stakes are way higher for where you go. A jail analogy: When you get out of the county lockup, you don't want your first encounter to be with some old wrinkly cottage cheesey woman, you want to have sex with a real va-va-voom, Hotty McHotterson, am I right guys? This is what I'm saying.
So I had some camarones tacos and a rum drink with tamarindo. It was fine. My camarones were overcooked but I wasn't expecting miracles. The best thing on the table was the salsa: two versions, one tomatillo and the other chipotle. And the bill, which was in the low $20s per person, and since three out of five of us at dinner had lived in NYC, where group meals usually range from $60 to $90 per person, this was an awesome surprise.
But it's always fun having dinner with girlfriends. Courtney just bought a house! I'm so excited to see it. And Clare's building a house so she was in town from NY to meet with an architect. Whitney's got a three year old son and the baby and she somehow keeps it all together and has a great sense of humor. And Lauren, who I'd just met, is training for an Iron Man. No, REALLY! Let me just lay that out for you: 2.5 mile swim, 112 mile bike, and a full friggin' marathon. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? As Courtney said (she was near Couer D'Alene during the Iron Man this past year), when you wake up at, say, 9am, the athletes have been exercising for four hours already. And when you go to bed, they're STILL exercising. I asked Lauren how long she thought the bike portion would take and she said six or seven HOURS!. Everyone kept moving on to other topics and all I could think about was SEVEN HOURS on a bike. And then dragging your sorry ass another 26+ miles on foot. Do people die during these things? They must.
So, Agua Verde: The company was great. The food, decent. The experience was not what I was hoping for last night. If you only eat out one or two times a month, this isn't a place I'd put into one of those slots.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Bruni reviews Wild Salmon
So the NYTimes critic finally got around to reviewing Wild Salmon, the mega-NW-salmon-seafood extravaganza that took Charlie Ramseyer from local fish spot Ray's to the Big Apple. And the review? Bruni gives the place one star and the whole review just sounds like a big "it was...uh, fine" to me.
I remember having to review restaurants like this, and when you're not inspired by a place it definitely comes through in the tone of your review.
For example:
"Wild Salmon presents the fish in so many varieties and guises that the tone of a question from one of my companions wasn’t necessarily facetious.
“Where,” she asked, “is the salmon cereal?”
Jeffrey Chodorow, who put this production together, must not have thought of that. After all, few restaurateurs work a conceit as exhaustively as he does, a tendency evident in the nomenclature of the seafood platters. The smallest is called Mount St. Helens; the next biggest, Mount Shasta; the biggest of all, Mount Rainier. The amount of shellfish you get increases with the altitude of the Western peak you set out to scale."
Good lord.
When I first went to NYC as a 17-year-old visiting a friend, she told me I should say I'm from "Washington State" because everyone would think I was from DC if I said I was from "Washington." To them, Washington State was this far-off place that, until Microsoft and Amazon became what they are today, New Yorkers probably couldn't find on a map.
And it's just kind of funny to see the combination of passive xenophobia and double standards at play here. I mean, theme platters? Jeepers. Honestly, good thing nobody's opening a restaurant here in Seattle serving Chrysler Building strombolis. The lines would be out the door!
I remember having to review restaurants like this, and when you're not inspired by a place it definitely comes through in the tone of your review.
For example:
"Wild Salmon presents the fish in so many varieties and guises that the tone of a question from one of my companions wasn’t necessarily facetious.
“Where,” she asked, “is the salmon cereal?”
Jeffrey Chodorow, who put this production together, must not have thought of that. After all, few restaurateurs work a conceit as exhaustively as he does, a tendency evident in the nomenclature of the seafood platters. The smallest is called Mount St. Helens; the next biggest, Mount Shasta; the biggest of all, Mount Rainier. The amount of shellfish you get increases with the altitude of the Western peak you set out to scale."
Good lord.
When I first went to NYC as a 17-year-old visiting a friend, she told me I should say I'm from "Washington State" because everyone would think I was from DC if I said I was from "Washington." To them, Washington State was this far-off place that, until Microsoft and Amazon became what they are today, New Yorkers probably couldn't find on a map.
And it's just kind of funny to see the combination of passive xenophobia and double standards at play here. I mean, theme platters? Jeepers. Honestly, good thing nobody's opening a restaurant here in Seattle serving Chrysler Building strombolis. The lines would be out the door!
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