Tavern Law, Capitol Hill, Seattle

All Seattle cocktail emporiums could take a lesson from Tavern Law, located in the BOOOM we call 12th and Madison on Capitol Hill.  If I were living on the hill again, I would be accidentally on purpose wandering into this little gem of a saloon just about every chance I could.  However, this particular visited happened to be well-planned.  From the creators of Spur Gastropub, Ladies and Gents, I give you heaven in a bar.

It was the evening of the first fall rain in Seattle.  It was a perfect, perfect backdrop to lollygag in a bar who boasts knowledge and books as their decor, inspired and intelligent old-timey cocktails, and one of the most delicious hamburgers known to yelpers.  I had to try it...and with these conditions, how could I not love it?!

I had read several reviews to not patronize this restaurant from the hours of 9pm and beyond on weekends, so being the senior citizen diners that we are, my husband and I entered the gates of heaven at precisely 5:30pm, exactly 1 half hour after the doors opened for business.  It was almost entirely empty, save a few huddles of cocktailers here and there.  Though the establishment is quite intimate, we had several options for seating.  We positioned ourselves right beside the wall of Encyclopedia Brittanica, of course!

One of my only criticisms of this place was that the decor was only JUST enough to look like a law library.  I would have covered every wall with books and more books, hell - I might have even bought some dust room spray to fragrance the place a bit, and would have perhaps spent less time on the gimmicky speak-easy part.  We didn't go up to the second floor (accessed through a door made to look like a bank-vault, and only via reservation), but I am over the pretentious of secret passwords and hidden rooms.

I am not sure I've had better service in all of my dining experience.  Either that, or our lovely tow-headed server (who also happened to make our drinks, which I think is kick-ass for a restaurant...all their servers are their own bartenders, and can therefore recommend cocktails intelligently) got me totally drunk, totally early.

I had also read that the best way to enjoy Tavern Law was to have a conversation with the bartender, telling him your precious preferences, and  some some magic concoction will appear before you.  Well, I often shy from long conversations with staff (residual politeness from days serving at a busy restaurant, perhaps?), but I offered up my likes: gin, bitters, grapefruit, etc.  What surprised me was the slew of questions he threw back at me, "Do you like aromatic or floral flavors?"  "Citrus or sweet?"  It was awesome.  But what he brought back to me was even more awesome, this pink beauty that had many layers and different notes.  It seemed to be a small nod to a gin and grapefruit juice, but with so much more.  Dare I say I tasted lilac?  It was unnamed, so we affectionately deemed it "The Lady in Waiting."  

Whatever it was, it went down fast.  As did the next three...whatever they were concocted with - god nectar for all I could tell. Even as the place got busier and busier, our server paid just as much attention to us as ever.  I even ordered a gin fizz for the first time, despite our server saying he didn't really love them, but that one simply HAD to try it.  Apparently it takes forever to make, as it's basically egg whites and cream.  It was worth the wait.

After the froie gra terrine, fried chicken, and the hamburger*, we stumbled into the night in love with our lives, that delicious gin-fizz makin' man,  Seattle, and all mankind.  Shoot, I may have even loved Lady Gaga in that moment, which just shows you how tight I may have been. The rain kissed our faces and we knew we would be back.

I think that means we are an easy date...but lord knows, after that check - we are not a cheap one.  No siiiiirrrreeee.

Go. Go. Then Go Back.
s.s.

*that hamburger made me cry.  foodgasm all the way.

Cafe Presse, Capitol Hill, Seattle

If I lived back on Capitol Hill, I doubt I would go anywhere else for weekend breakfast than Cafe Presse.  Unfortunately for me, many other diners feel this way.  Cafe Presse does really well handling this crowd, however.  I never have waited longer than 15 minutes and since it's prime people watching (though somewhat lacking in variety - it IS Capitol Hill after all - standard uniform of arm sleeves, skinny jeans, TOMS, and greasy-chic hair), it's never felt like too tedious a wait.  Not to mention their AWESOME magazine rack in the front really helps you swallow the wait time.

I have never been for anything other than breakfast, but I've always loved what I ordered.  I typically stick with the eggs broiled with ham and Gruyère, but have occasionally ordered the croque madame.  Joel recently tried some interesting trout dish  that was a bit off-putting at first, but what ended up being delicious after a few bites).  

Bloody Mary - num.

Coffee - num.

Baguette and jams - num.

It's perfect food snobbery at its non-pretentious finest.

Bottom Line

Eat here every day, for every meal, si possible.

The Secret Snob

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.

In the Bowl: Vegetarian Noodle Bistro, Capitol Hill, Seattle

It's a widely-known rumor that In the Bowl puts crack-cocaine in their curry which makes all manner of Capitol Hillian crave their food for a fortnight. The mister and I have been many times, but tonight we had a 9pm itch that only In the Bowl could itch. It also happens to be about 300 feet from our front door, and that they are the fastest take-out on the hill, but these do not discredit our adoration.

Though the regular menu is quite expansive, we almost always order off the specials. Tonight it was pumpkin curry with pineapple, mango, green peppers, and fresh tofu. It was seriously spectacular.

In the Bowl is also solely responsible for my introduction into the perfection that is the UDON noodle. I had never tried it before, and now I dream about this noodle. The texture, the taste. Oh, udon, take me away...

Ahem.

When the mister and I move out of the city, you can bet we'll be making trips back into the parking lot hell that is Capitol Hill just to hit this joint.

Bottom Line
Flanders sayz: "Noodley-oodley perfection.

The Hopvine, Captiol Hill, Seattle

I feel completely ashamed that it's taken over a year of living on Capitol Hill to dub The Hopvine as the perfect neighborhood pub. Thank god it's pleasantly missing the "cool" factor this snob has come to dread.

It was moving week, and the mister and I were famished. We knew we needed to eat before we took another load to our new place, so we decided to head up to VIOS in Madison Park. They were closed (note: VIOS only breakfast and lunch). So we then drove by The Kingfish Cafe, one of our favorite (though gastronomically challenging) places to eat. Closed.

So we drove back to 15th and settled on The Hopvine because 1) we found a parking spot right in front of it and 2) we've been meaning to try it - and it did NOT disappoint us.

I am a snob, yes. But my mister is the beer snob. The Hopvine delivered us a tasty pour of some respectable breweries (Baron Oktoberfest and Big AL Hop Soup), plus AMAZING SOUP.

I know, totally random that this dive would have gourmet soups, but I tell you - the soup here was way better than anything we tasted at LARK (see review here) for way cheaper. The mister had a tequila, bacon, and juniper soup whereas I vacillated between the melon gazpatcho and the chanterelle mushroom soup and finally settled for the later. So friggen tasty! To compliment our delicious beers and soups, we also ordered the greek pizza, which was also very good...but honestly, we could have been fat and happy on just beer and soup.

Bottom Line

The best dive on Capitol Hill.

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.

LARK, Seattle

You know, the mister and I really (LIKE REALLY) wanted to enjoy LARK. We had heard quite a bit about it and walked all the way over there (okay, it's only 1 mile, but when is the last time you walked a mile for a fine dining experience), but we left feeling like we just shelled out a small fortune for really "meh" food.

Reasons to go to LARK:

1. AHHMMAAZING wait staff. They were so incredibly warm, welcoming, friendly, and knowledgeable. I mean we show up without reservations at 7:30 on a Saturday night - which would give ANY concierge a reason to be cranky with us, but instead we were greeted immediately and assured that we would have a table within 20 minutes...oh, and did we want to go next door to LICOROUS and have a cocktail? They would call them and let us know when our table was ready. And truly, one of the things I love about dining in Seattle is that no dining is off limits, no place too elite. Once we had settled at our table, our delightful server spent plenty of time with us explaining the menu (because it needs it, sadly) and helping us chose a bottle of wine (which was not good, but whose fault is that really?). Perfect score for service.
   
   
   
2. The ambiance. Truly, it's so quaint in that place. I told the mister that it reminded me of this hole-in-the-wall bistro in Paris. Very simple decor, but intentional and perfectly executed. I felt at home and at ease.

Reasons not to go to LARK:

1. The food. The mister and I kept looking at each other with wide eyes ,"This is good, RIGHT?" and coming up short. We ordered a cheese plate, it was good, but it's hard to fuck up cheese. Then we ordered...hmm. I am honestly sitting here trying to grasp what it is we decided on because the menu was JUST THAT FRENCH.
   
   
   
   Side note here: We are no stranger to French cuisine, culture, or language. Two French foodies should easily be able to decipher a menu. Either we were exhausted or took a stupid pill, but we honestly had no idea what we were ordering. And that's where it's important to include descriptions of food on your menu. This seems like a silly (or I daresay, pretentious) oversight.
   
   
   So whatever it was we ordered...wait, I JUST REMEMBERED. We had some duck dish. It was okay. We had some sort of tomato salad, of which the heirlooms were the star of the entire night. We tried a whitefish special, which was bland and four bites total at best.
   
   
2. Price.
   Mediocre Wine : $40
   Cheese plate: $12
   Fish: $16
   Duck: $18
   Steamed Mushrooms : $10
   Tomato Salad: $10
   Grand Total: Somewhere around $120-$140 including tip.
   
   
   
   Side note here about the Snob's guide to pricing: I AM NOT CHEAP. I have NO problem spending small fortunes on dining experiences. But I do expect that if I have paid over $100 for two people that I would leave the establishment on a fluffy cloud of culinary bliss.

Bottom Line
Either we ordered all the wrong things, or LARK is simply larking about.

Bad, I know.

Chutney's Grille on the Hill, Capitol Hill, Seattle

The mister and I were in a wandering mood. How this mood took us 10 blocks uphill (with laptops in tow), I'll never know, but I am surely joyous that it did so.

After an iced-tea cool down at Victrola on 15th (a place we love, btw), the mister was getting hungry. We decided to head to Chutney's, which was the closest Indian food, and he had a hankering for some curry.

We have a soft-spot for Indian culture, and were curious how a chain restaurant could possible compare to Naan-N-Curry (our favorite!). Since Naan-N-Curry is Pakistani (northern) and Chutney's is southern cuisine, we knew the differences would be obvious...so we just stopped comparing.

The place looked a bit dead when we came in, and the air conditioning was too cold to sit inside (mental note for those HOT DAYS!), so we camped on their large outdoor patio. We were immediately greeted by the friendliest Nepalese (we found out later) man. When Joel said thank you in Hindi, we made an instant connection. How he loved talking about his life and culture and how Seattle was great because people still walk (he had just returned from culturally-rich Dallas, TX). After a while, more and more people trickled in...

Yeah, so we felt at home...
But the food? We wondered.

We ordered a Coconut Curry Stew with lamb to share (never, never order more than one entree for two at an Indian restaurant, or you will have to be rolled out of there), some basmati rice, and the regular naan. It was really good! I have no idea how we still spent just over $40. Wait, it was probably our two cocktails. :)

The evening was quite pleasant with our conversation, our server, and our food.

Bottom Line

Absolutely worth the walk, but probably try somewhere else if driving.

the secret snob

The Broadway Grill, Capitol Hill

Funny thing about The Broadway Grill. When I didn't live on Capitol Hill, I would have no problem showing my face here. I went two or three times and didn't think anything of the overpriced booze and poor service. I would say that I EVEN enjoyed it.



Upon the mister and I relocating to Capitol Hill 1.5 years ago, we have not been back. It was a subconscious omission, however. We only slightly noticed that their music is borderline annoying or that the touristy/hipster clientele is trying too hard. We were just distracted by all the other choices available to our walking feet.



My friend came into town last week. We wanted to have lunch with outdoor dining, and so we just made an excuse to try this place again (I had secretly wanted some confirmation to my elitist avoidance of this silly place). We made the mistake of going to an already lame restaurant during lunch traffic.



We sat at our table for 10 minutes before greeted.

Upon greeting, the totally ditsy boy-stud who waited on us greeted us with "What do you want."

I told him a bottle of rose, and he blankly agreed.

The bottle arrived 9 minutes later.

Upon arrival, he asked me if I wanted to taste it.

Of course.

He then poured me a bit AND my friend a bit.

The rose was completely disgustingly sweet.

This was the only bottle on the menu.

This bottle cost $32.

The server left.

Without taking our order.

We sat for 6 minutes.

He came back.

He didn't write anything down.

He forgot our appetizer.

Our food came 35 minutes later.

I asked him where our appetizer was.

He smiled with vacant eyes..."Oh. Did you order one?"

"Yes."

"Oops."

No offer for recompense.

No check back.

He had 4 tables.



We may as well have eaten at Applebee's.



Truly, the only thing remarkable about this place was my visiting friend and her witty conversation.

Bottom Line

I love my friend. I'll prove it by never taking her to The Broadway Grill again.

the secret snob

VIOS Cafe and Marketplace, Capitol Hill

I drive by VIOS on my way to my hairdresser about 6 times annually. I finally decided to treat my newly colored hair to a lunch and writing date (I am, in fact, IN VIOS as I type this). I had no idea what to expect, as it advertises itself as a Café/Marketplace.



First of all, there is no WIFI. This is really quite unforgivable in Seattle Café. I unsuccessfully tried to access a poor neighbor’s signal, to no avail. I have a feeling this happens a lot to quest387, sad little unsecured network it is. Strike 1.



Secondly, as I walked up to the counter to order, I was expecting the cashier to help me decide or at least explain some of the workings (it’s really not that obvious if you are not familiar with Greek cuisine). I was instead greeted by a very curt female who had no patience whatsoever with my not knowing which sides I wanted with my lamb kabob right away. I didn’t even understand where the sides were listed (again, it’s really not that obvious). Then, instead of helping me by listing off the choices (she should have them memorized, after all), she waited in silence as my confused eyes wandered around looking for anything that said "SIDES." Strike 2.



Ah, but then my entire mood changed. Perhaps my low blood sugar was making me a bit cranky, for when my kabobs arrived…Oh DEAR GOD…I was in Tzatziki heaven. Now that my belly is full and I’ve entered my coffee coma, this place is starting to look better. As I look up at the then-curt cashier, I mark how decidedly friendly she seems. I’m even almost glad that there is no internet to distract my flow of words. The atmosphere is warm and inviting with friends meeting for a late lunch or singles lingering over a newspaper. I admire a mother reading as she holds her chubby baby.

And so I suppose I must give VIOS a thumbs up. And I also suppose I must return post haste for another taste of that addicting Tzatziki, if only in a quest to find strike 3. Oh the sacrifices I am willing to endure for you!

Bottom Line

A lamb kabob covers a multitude of sins

the secret snob

Smith, Capitol Hill

I vowed never to go back to Smith again. It was the great snow storm of 2008, and all the restaurants on Capitol Hill were so busy one could barely secure a table anywhere. Because driving was an equally impossible task, all manner of people were walking to any foodery they could find. When QFC’s shelves started to empty, the panic set in.

This is the general hysteria into which I walked when attempting to go to Smith. Not only was there truly cacophonous clamor evading from the doors, but there was no space to wait for our table inside, out of the snow-covered ground. Granted, we had a group of 6, but even a group of 2 was being quoted a 1.5 hour wait. We went on to 22 Doors and squished into a booth and had a less than amazing time, disgruntled as we were by frostbite and Smith rejection.

I am rather glad that I decided to give Smith another chance. I decided to meet my lovely friend in crime (with whom I’ve gallivanted all over town in a weekly search for an authentic German pub) for happy hour. I opened the doors that once kicked me on the way out and noticed immediately the wonderful din of quiet conversation and beer swigging.

Our bartender was awesome! He managed to keep our lovely Belgians filled and recommend some saucy episodes of South Park…and I don’t even watch South Park. I am the kind of beer drinker that actually likes talking to bartenders, and he knew precisely where to interject in our conversation and when to get lost. I really the underrated the social prowess of a good barkeep, for surely a bartender is just as much a sociologist, psychologist, and philosopher as he is a drink slinger.

Truly one of their most wonderful assets is their menu. The happy hour prices were totally reasonable; I tried the macaroni and peas*. My side-kick ordered the great sweet potato fries with a sage aioli that was dangerously tasty. My mister arrived sometime later and ordered the pork loin…and that was some tasty swine.

First impressions are hard to break. Though I have come around to appreciate what Smith has to offer Capitol Hill, I will never forgive a place that does not attend to the noise-factor in initial design. I was there when Smith was both obnoxiously loud and pleasantly vacant and in either case, the open-room design is their fatal flaw.

Bottom Line

Smith, you are forgiven. Your beer, service, and eats demand respect…but only on Wednesday afternoon at 4:30pm.

the secret snob

*DISCLAIMER: Though I am a self-proclaimed and proud snob, I do not deny my white trash upbringing and consequential subconscious gravitational pull towards said cuisine.