Bastille Cafe & Bar, Ballard, Seattle

Bastille Cafe and Bar has been on the Snob radar for several years now.  Unfortunately, the two attempted visits were unsuccessful due to the throngs of people crowding the doorsteps.  This snob and her spouse simply do not tolerate overly-populated restaurants.  There are way too many amazing hole-in-the-wall eateries to justify waiting for what will most likely be an over-crowded experience.  No restaurant does well when busy, so we decided just to wait a few years.  In addition to the crowd-aversion, several of our friends had  less than stellar experiences there...so we put it on the back burner.

I am happy to report that it was WELL WORTH THE WAIT.

The years could have worked against Bastille.  The build-up and expectation is one of the worst things for any artistic endeavor and restaurants are no exception.

It happened just as any good restaurant experience should - with no hype and in total spontaneity.  It was a random Monday night when I picked up my husband from his work in Fremont.  I suggested we go to dinner and a movie nearby and when the 30-min "where do you want to go" black-hole question threatened to suck us in, I promptly suggested Bastille, even though I have a strong "no-Monday" opinion about eating out (if the establishment is open at all, the wait staff is usually secondary because all the primary staff is recovering from the weekend).  I had my doubts.

FOOD

I'll just say it.  There's no way around it.

Bastille has the best hamburger I've tasted in Seattle.

Yes. 

 I went to a great french bistro with so many distinctly french options on the menu (confession: I wasn't expecting the cuisine to be so authentic) and I ordered the hamburger. 

 Least you begin to judge, the hamburger is actually quite the french delicacy (Bifteck Hache a la Lyonnaise -ground beef with onion and herbs) AND the bartender recommended it over the french onion soup and the croque madame.  He wasn't kidding. It was the perfect size, small but not pretentiously-small, cooked to perfection, drizzled with harissa aioli, topped with the brightest arugula, and smothered in pickled onions.  I am getting all emotional just thinking about it.

DRINKS

My husband performed his whiskey test with the bartender which is to say he told him several ingredients he likes in cocktails (almost always rye whiskey and some sort of digestive/vermouth), and told the keep to surprise him.  Oh, fellow drinkers, this can go so terribly wrong. To our delight, it didn't.  Joel ordered the house-made rabbit pâté, which came with violet mustard and pickled young fennel. and swooned over it the entire time. 

Overall we were excited about how impressed we were.  

There is simply nothing worse than spending money on a less-than-fabulous meal out.

(Which reminds me.  Don't eat in Port Angeles, Wa. Ever.)

Bottom Line

"Off with their heads!" but let them eat cake at Bastille first.

le secret snob

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

Le Pichet, Seattle : Déjeuner

Seattle and outdoor dining have a tricky relationship. More specifically, because of the phenomenon of most Seattleites absolutely loosing their sanity when the sun comes out, dining outdoors can be near impossible on the weekends as well as lunch hour downtown on any weekday. However, much to my surprise, I found a table at Le Pichet on a regular old Thursday noon.

I needed a taste of Paris from my summer of 2006. I needed to sip a sparkler, sit in the cool breeze, and butter a crusty baguette. Le Pichet had been on my radar for quite sometime* and since I needed my daily dose of Vitamin D, I sauntered downtown and found Le Pichet.



It was not what I expected...in a really good way. It was not expensive or upscale. It had four sweet outdoor tables on the sidewalk, all of which were free when I chose mine. It was relatively small and unassuming, almost lost to its neighbor, The Virginia Inn. The servers were all adorable, good looking (how faux-french, non?), and friendly.



I saw two euro-hikers enjoying their lunch with a glass of rosé. I noticed a few business casuals on their lunch breaks as well as friends meeting to catch up over coffee and pastries. I noticed two different couples of tourists (always a casualty of dining near Pike Place Market), one of which sat next to me and proceeded to attempt their french with each other.



But that's the thing about Le Pichet, it actually makes you think you need to speak french in order to, well...order. It had me fully convinced, hell, fully transported to Paris...complete with a menu I found somewhat lack luster (I find French lunches less luminsecent than dinners). But this is very much to their credit. After choosing my bubbly, a medium-price Blanquette, I settled on the soup. Potage de topinambours et poireaux, sa tranche de Fourme d’Ambert to be exact. Translation: “Creamy Jerusalem artichoke and leek soup garnished with cow’s milk blue cheese.”



My food came out very fast and was seriously delicious. I was about to leave when my sweet server suggested dessert...and after all, I was there a) to pamper myself and b) to write a review, so I had to try it. At the server's suggestion, I ordered the profiteroles. Voila! Puff pastry filled with ice-cream and covered in chocolate? Mais oui!

I was feeling so good at that point that I spoke to the annoying couple next to me, charmingly mentioning that they should help me finish the desert. They were quite lovely back to me, so I promptly forgave them for their ameri-french and fanny packs.



I then ordered an espresso macchiato and oh dears, this is one point upon which I cannot be amiable. My foam was about 3 inches high and horribly steamed. I forgave the aesthetic blunder and discretely used my wee spoon to remove the unsightly "casper of a friendly milk." But the espresso! Oh the espresso...dears, I hate to say it, but it was simply horrible. Bitter, over-extracted, barely palatable. I even considered using sugar to get it down, but couldn't break apart a sugar cube to get just a little bit. Judging from the name on the demitasse cup, Le Pichet uses Cafe Vita. I have a feeling it was not Cafe Vita's fault. I was not impressed...amaturely prepared espresso in the city of coffee is simple inexcusable.



My only suggestion to the service staff: Do not make a gal repeat three times that she is "just one." I believe covering it once with the hostess should suffice. But then the water gal brought two waters and asked again if I was just one. I braved it with poise, but when the server asked yet again, I found myself flaunting my diamond wedding-ring for all in earshot/eye shot. Oh I am so weak.



That is NOT to say, however, that I won't be back again, husband happily in hand, ready to test out my french appetite once more. I cannot wait to go back for Le Diner.

Bottom Line

Bon Appetit!

snootily yours,

-le secret snob

*I passed a friend in the hallway once that couldn't stop to chat because she was too busy fixing up her friend with her estranged husband. He was on his way down from Bellingham to make the "grand gesture" and take my friend's advice by taking her to Le Pichet in the early evening. From then on, I've known I simply must try it.