Still Liquor, Capitol Hill, Seattle

The mister and I sauntered into this place at 11:30pm on a Saturday night.

This was our first mistake.

The thing is, this place has remarkable potential in both aesthetic and product.  Unfortunately, after scanning the room and seeing 20 somethings with much more pressing needs than a tasty old cocktail in a quite dive, we knew we were out of place.  But we simply couldn't believe it.  I have never wanted to like a place more...it has all the right elements of the (perhaps now overdone?) speakeasy.

• Impossible signage?  Check.
• Bare-bones decor?  Check.
• Seedy lighting? Check.
• Barkeep with slicked hair and kerchief in his Levis?  Check.

But alas, what was missing was perhaps the most important part of a preprohibition hide-out.  THE COCKTAILS.  Since it was late, I was in the mood for a night cap and asked the waitress (who didn't great us for 10 minutes) about their scotch, to which she replied that she wasn't aware of their scotch list.  Not acceptable.  There is a really precarious time for a drinker...that time where she is waiting for the first cocktail.  Once that first one is in her hand, there is a wellspring of patience from which she can draw to wait for the second, or the third, or the check.  This is basic service knowledge to my mind.  In addition, if a place is selling a theme (like speakeasy or french bistro), the service and selection are the first things that should reflect the theme, with the building and decor following behind.  Still Liquor got this equation backward.

However, Still Liquor has only JUST opened, like one week ago.  I was not in the mood to be cranky about it, so I let it go and ordered Oban.  Unfortunately, the mister ordered one of their signature cocktails and though it wasn't bad, it certainly wasn't worthy of drinks we've tasted oh HERE or say HERE.

Quite promptly, the place filled with more and more kids.  Seriously, I am only 31, and I have never felt older, and this almost never happens on Capitol Hill.  I felt like I had wandered into the lusty late-night Belltown.  We got to the point where we couldn't hear each other, couldn't concentrate for continued annoyance at the meet and greet happening, and couldn't get our cocktail waitress's attention to pay our bill.  I hate to say it, but this place reminded me of the Bauhaus for booze.   Therefore, if you people need to take over yet another place for your "to see and be seen" shenanigans, I suppose Still Liquor is totally up for grabs.

The potential is really quite tangible, and I am guessing that the more we go back on Wednesday nights and the longer they are in business, the better it will be...but I will not be giving them that second chance any time soon.

Bottom Line

Let Still Liquor alone for now and spend your time
basking in the beauty of the Sun instead.

Bleu Bistro, Capitol Hill, Seattle

It was the first fall rain of the season, and I decided to treat myself to a lunch date at Bleu Bistro. I wanted to sip wine and reply to a letter from my sister in an inspiring ambiance, so I walked up the hill.

The last time I had been in Bleu, I had the most fabulous bartender attending to me and the mister. She listened to my typical drink palate and then finally concocted me a Hendricks martini with an orange twist. I loved it so much that I've been ordering my martinis with an orange twist ever since. The experience, service, and food was great.

Upon entering by myself, I find a cozy little booth for two that will be perfect for hiding away with my thoughts. The bartender promptly greeted me with more than the usual "I have to do this because it's my job but I would rather be sitting on my couch playing Halo." Bleu has a smokin' happy hour, by the way, and he introduced me to all the ins and outs of that while I decided.

Malbec and Macaroni for me, thank you very much. That's just the kind of snob I am.

So what's interesting about this situation is not how awesome Bleu Bistro is, because I assume that you already know that I would never go back to a place that was sub-par. But about 1/3 of the way into my wine and 1/2 of the way into my letter, an aspiring old rapper decides I need to be the bearer of the lyrics he's working out in his head. He literally appeared at my right shoulder and went off. He spouts of these HORRIBLE lyrics, but instead of my usual disinterested response, I try and talk myself into being kind because after all, he may actually be an aspiring artist and not just trying to pick up on me.

NOPE.
(Note to self: Trust gut)

He actually starts stumbling over his rhymes and tells me it's because "I am too beautiful," and he wasn't expecting me to be "so beautiful." Oh, and "am I alone?" Mmmhhmmm. So eventually he leaves because of my paralyzing beauty, and the bartender comes to check on me.

Now this is bartending at its finest. This guy was TOTALLY busy, running his ass off bartending and waiting tables, and he takes the time to stop by and make sure I was not being molested by this wanna-be, 39 yr-old Eminem. I assured him I was fine, and thanked him profusely for his kindness.

But then Eminem came back.

He sat his sorry ass right down across from me and said, "I'm joining you." I mentioned that I was on my way out and was busy writing, but he assured me he just wanted to sit silently. Apparently my beauty was so vast that he needed to absorb it for himself.

So I'm totally uncomfortable, working up the nicest way possible to tell this guy he was seriously a loser, but instead SUPERBARTENDER tears off his shirt and tie only to reveal his power-jumpsuit-lycra thingy they all wear and heads over my way!

-Dude. I think she wants to be alone.
-Oh really? I just asked her...
-Yeah, I think she's trying to be nice.

EYES ON MY PAPER.

-Oh, that's interesting you would think so, but she assured me...I mean I'm just...
-Dude. I'm not trying to be a dick. But leave.
-WHOA! Okay man, sheesh.

EYES ON MY PAPER.

I left a fatty tip.

It's not that I can't defend myself, it's just that I didn't want to make a scene. But my wonderful bartender-in-shining-martini glass showed up and made me feel like the most important patron in the room. And that, my fellow snobs, is the trickery only really great restaurants can pull off.

Bottom Line

Bleu Bistro is the haven for single-diners everywhere.

Except middle-aged-white-wanna be rappers.

Also, the food and drinks are good.

Zig Zag Cafe, Seattle

I don't know what I love about Zig Zag more...that it's impossible to find or that the cocktails and service are superb or that it is almost never crowded (even when I've gone on a Saturday evening at 8pm). I may regret telling you about it because it feels like the best kept secret in Seattle, which of course scores it major snobbery points.

Pleasantly pink in ambiance, this watering hole eases you into her jazz-playing bosom. There are these gorgeous, plush half-mooned booths that nestle you in while you read the extensive drink menu which is guaranteed to give you an education on liquors and digestives. Though I am typically a dry martini or makar's manhattan kind of girl, I throw myself willingly into the hands of Erik Hakkinen and Murray Stenson (certainly a Seattle legend) and emerge well-pleased indeed. May I suggest the Armistice and The Turf Cocktail.

For a snob such as myself, there is nothing more embarrassing than bringing a big group into a classy bar, but Zig Zag accommodated our varying tastes and separate checks with grace and ease. Our server even happily and knowledgeably answered my indecisive little sister's questions and suggested drinks according to her taste. To top off our drinks, I had a caesar salad (very good and garlicky) and a lamb burger (light and savory).

Bottom Line
Throw on some class and adventure and saunter down to this swingin' joint

~the secret snob

p.s. Did I mention the outdoor patio?