Fresh Bistro, West Seattle

My girlfriend and I met at The Fresh Bistro for lunch one lazy Tuesday afternoon (she was celebrating her day off; I was celebrating my life off).   I appreciated quite a few things about the place:

1. Parking.  Thank god.  Since I am no longer a city-dweller, this is suddenly important to me again.
2. Aesthetic.  It's the perfect lunch spot with it's bright white dinner ware, bamboo-style tables, and clean feel (I LOVE the bathroom sinks).
3. My quinoa cake!  Whoa...it was SO DELICIOUS.  
4. It's dedicated to using fresh ingredients from local farmers.

The service and prices were nothing to rave about...but if I lived in West Seattle, I would probably frequent this place often for lunch dates, brunches, and lazy afternoon white wine.

Bottom Line

A nice neighborhood spot, but nothing to cross the bridge for.

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.

Joule, Wallingford, Seattle

First of all, I would like to apologize for my snobbish absence. Rest assured that it is not for lack of restaurants to try, not for Seattle's falling into the ocean, nor lack of places tried in the last four months. Nay, the reason for my silence I shall blame entirely upon the country. The mister and I moved from the walking-culture delights of Capitol Hill to Hobart.

That's right.
Hobart.


Such a horrible name.

There is nothing withing walking distance save millions of trees, a few hundred deer, and maybe a dozen elk. This being the case, our local places now consist of diners and dives I could never deign to review...but the mister and I still manage to get into the city about once a week or twice a month for some tasty food and beverage consumption. I will catch you up on those places post haste...however, today I am still in food bliss from the fabulous meal we had last night at Joule.

My friend recommended this as her personal favorite restaurant, so the mister donned his cap and I my gloves, and we set out to Wallingford.

The restaurant stars must have aligned for us because we got an immediate parking spot right out front, immediately sat despite arriving 30 before our reservation, and everything we tasted made the country-bumpkin scales drop from our eyes. As if being back in Seattle wasn't enough euphoria...

I have only two complaints which I will get out of the way. The restaurant is quite frigid; I suggest you belly up to the counter so you get the benefit of the stoves to keep you warm. Also, this place (like so many others we have visited, and perhaps our most common complaint) is very loud and very small...with no noise barriers. If we had sat across from each other, at a table we would have been shouting the entire time (I cannot imagine having a good time here with a group). Since we were cuddled up side by side, we were able to both flirt and speak more easily.

Now on to the food.
Holy God.

So this place is advertised as Korean-French-American cuisine. I had no idea what to expect, but as we feasted our eyes on the menu while sipping our first cocktails, I saw just the most interesting combinations. For our first course, we decided on Zucchini Basil Pancakes with shrimp and soy mustard sauce as well as the "Mac and Cheese" made with speatzel and truffle oil. Both of these were so incredibly flavorful - we were swooning all over each bite.

After ordering two glasses of the delicious Barbara, the mister settled on the Lamb Sirloin with castelvetrano olives and tamarind yogurt for his entree while I chose the Dungeoness Crab Stuffed Cannelloni with mint sauce. I do not consider myself an exhibitionist, but this dish made me so audibly pleased that I knew I was making a fool of myself to the stool-sitter next to me, but I was in such nirvana that I didn't care. And that, folks, is one fine entree. As a side, the mister ordered a little kimchi of beef tongue on the side, which was also really tender, spicy, and delicious.

After our meal, it felt foolish to not try at least one dessert. I chose the chocolate torte with blood orange salad, and it was lovely...but nothing terribly memorable. The french press that accompanied it was vastly more delightful.

The service was warm and efficient, the manager (who I am guessing is also the owner/head chef) spoke to us several times over his work, and we felt so ridiculously good when we left. So much so that we headed to the newest speakeasy on Capitol Hill, Still Liquor...which we regretted...but more on that place in the next review.

Joule was a bit on the expensive side, but nothing we felt wasn't worth every morsel. I wouldn't necessarily go there for an anniversary or something eventful, but I would go there for no reason at all, over and over again. The mister and I toasted to exactly that...to a lovely meal for no reason at all.

Bottom Line
By far the best restaurant experience I've had in the last year.
GO.

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.