But why?

Sunday, August 31, 2008

Oh my.

In atypical fashion for my not-so-social self, I was out amongst my fellow humans this past Friday. The topic of blogs was broached. I confessed to possessing several, but could not bring myself to hand over the addresses when pressed for them.

It's not that I entertain blissful notions that I'm alone in this ether world. I know the rest of the Net-surfing population is free to stumble upon my ramblings and read them at will. I don't mind it, really, so long as that idea is kept at arm's length. Anyone from Seattle and Szechuan and Santa Fe can read my silliness, drop in a comment if they wish, even tell me I'm a low and tasteless nincompoop. All of that is wholly acceptable.

But the notion of people I know reading my food-obsessive nonsense?

Unthinkable.

Why? Because we are judged by the words we use and how well we use them. I could no more hand over such an invitation to find all my flaws than I could gather spotlights around my lackluster body and pose for inspection.

Let me repeat: unthinkable.

So why do I blog? Oh, that's ever so simple. I blog because I've developed a nasty habit of summing up my life and experiences in syllables. It is a repository of memories. Diary. Journal. Scrapbook. (In particular, in this blog I hope to keep track of restaurants I've enjoyed as well as ones I'd do better to avoid in the future.) Why do I choose an online forum rather than a private set of paper pages? Again, the reasons are simple: 1) paper ages, crinkles, and gets lost even as the messy handwriting upon it becomes ever harder to decipher and 2) paper takes up space. Paper is a physical burden I don't intend to cultivate any longer.

With its personal posting options Livejournal fulfills my needs far better than Blogger, but LJ doesn't allow nearly so easy an insertion of photos in posts. I like to fill my food ramblings with images, so for this topic Blogger it had to be.

It never occurred to me before Friday evening that many (perhaps even most) people writing blogs are actually seeking to be read by others. Ahh, everyday I learn a new and surprising thing about this strange world and the creatures that inhabit it. They are so very different from myself.

What do we have in common?

We all must eat.

~L

Moscow's lovely green Nectar

Friday, August 15, 2008

For months my thoughts have wandered hungrily to Moscow's small but well-loved Nectar restaurant. (When I called a few months ago, a staff member told me the restaurant is working on a website that will arrive soon. As yet, it hasn't debuted, but I look forward to it. It would be great to know menu options before setting out to dine there.) A mandatory family excursion to the Co-op and Tri-State Thursday evening gave me the perfect excuse to step in and try the place out.

As befits a restaurant dedicated to serving as much natural, local food as possible, the outside offers a barely-tamed display of growing veggies and other lovely flora. The greeting desk in the entry features a vase holding a colourful menagerie of fresh flowers. The effect, upon entering, is soothing and lovely.

The restaurant does offer outside seating, but my family is too timid and allergen-averse to eat so brazenly in the open air. Instead my father, when given the choice, opted for the more shaded section of the restaurant. Had it been up to me I'd have expressed a clear preference for the sun-bathed portion of the interior. Ahh well. Do be aware that the inside seating does, in fact, have two areas with distinctly different lighting. The section adjacent to the floor-to-ceiling-length windows is blessedly well-lit. The tables that hide in further recesses and hug the internal walls, however, are cloaked in a darkness that gangsters, assassins, spies and migraine-sufferers would appreciate. While each table sports a candle at its center, that softly wavering flame offers little illumination amidst all the darkness. (I had to tweak the brightness and contrast in the photos significantly in order to make them viewable, so please imagine these images 30% darker than they appear here.)

The dark wooden tables are set with simple elegance. I loved the clear solid simplicity of the tall, slender water glasses. The textured ceiling tiles, variety of fabric-cushioned wood chairs and bare brick walls gave the restaurant a wonderful atmosphere that was complemented by the slinky flow of jazz from the bar. I should note my (increasily pregnant) sister would have preferred comfier seats, but I am resolute in my love for the chairs as they exist right now. Hey, you can't please 'em all.

The restaurant was relatively empty when we arrived at its opening hour of 5pm, but it began to fill up soon thereafter. If you plan to eat later in the evening on a Friday or weekend, reservations would be wise. You should also be forewarned that Nectar appears to embrace the philosophy of slow food. Although our salads arrived not too soon after we ordered, we waited a long time before our entrees appeared. (Gluten-intolerant sis was getting very hungry--and telling me not so happily about it--the longer we waited. Yes there was bread and butter, but sadly that didn't help her.)

As to the staff: Our waiter was informative with regard to the gluten status of menu items. I always appreciate that! He also doted on my cup of coffee. Again, much appreciated.

Nectar's single page menu is short and my sister groused a bit about the limited options she had. (Pregnancy has put her off so many former favorite dishes and restricted her safe food choices so drastically that eating out has become more an unhappy obstacle course than a pleasure. I pity the girl even as I envy her.) While I admit it might have been nice to have a greater selection to choose from, I was perfectly happy with the presented options. I'd never had clams and steamed ones in a wine and butter broth sounded scrumptious. I also chose a green salad (minus onions) with bleu cheese crumbles.

So, on to the food: My decaf coffee was among the best I've had at a restaurant. I tried to control my inner java-chugging fiend, but I still managed to guzzle three cups. Shame on me. The salad was superb. It had just enough slightly sweet vinegar to dazzle my tongue and just enough oil to make the greens a sleek tasty delight to my palate. I should note, however, that I've begun to grasp that restaurants featuring local edibles do not offer typically-sized salads. Rather, the precious and limited nature of the available greens seems to translate into smaller-than-average side salads. That's okay. The truth is that I don't need to gorge on such beautifully-dressed leaves. A smaller portioned indulgence is just fine.

As for the clams, not surprisingly they brought to mind the familiar flavor of my favorite childhood chowder. The wine and butter broth accompanied the chewy creatures well as I unearthed them from the array of shells in my bowl. It was fun and cheerfully time-consuming to separate each clam from its curved abode. Since I can eat so darned little but still like to linger over my meals, this was the perfect dish for me.

My mother and sister were kind enough to offer me bites of their respective pork loin and filet mignon. I found the pork to be splendid. The filet mignon--eh. Once again my disinclination toward steak manifested itself. Sis gave me a big enough bite that I cleaved it in two before tasting it. Had it not been impolite to sibling and restaurant and an unspeakable offense to the animal that gave its life for the meal, I would have forsaken the second bite. This reaction to the meat was later echoed by my sister as we wandered back to the car. While she had enjoyed the salad very much, the filet mignon was just not to her taste and seemed underdone even at medium. She declared the grilled asparagus to have a flavor remiscent of hash (yes, the cannibis kind, not the kind slung over grills at breakfast diners) but had enjoyed the salad quite a bit.

I should note that my mother expressed great fondness for her roasted (or was it grilled?) peach.

Overall Nectar's food was a mixed bag for my family. I will always zealously support the locavore cause and truly admire Nectar's commitment to that culinary philosophy. Still, I'm not sure their dishes have all arrived at the level of delectability that would justify the prices. (And how I hate to say such a thing for I truly do love their cause and want them to stay and thrive in Moscow.) The atmosphere is fun and jazzy. I have a suspicion that this place is a flavor oasis for wine lovers. Since not a single soul in my family can imbibe, that aspect was wasted on us.

Will I revisit this locavore retreat? Not soon, but eventually. Yes.

~L

Cafe Marron, Spokane

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Everyone defines the perfect breakfast a little differently. And that definition evolves--as I've learned from my sister's unhappy pregnancy-related taste changes--as days pass. In that stomach-rumbling blissfully-ignorant time before I learned I dare not eat wheat, my perfect breakfast was Denny's cheap Sunshine slam: hash browns, pancakes and eggs. Learning that I am insulin resistant and need to keep gluten out and fructose at a minimum changed everything.

I have learned to embrace and pursue the savory with all my happy might. And I've come to appreciate any place that can put a fresh twist on my limited breakfast options. How many ways can you present eggs and meat on a plate?

Well, some places do it simply but with such incredible flavor (Frank's) that you melt with love. Other places do it creatively, with flare and unexpected tastes (Peso's) that compel you to return again and again. The reviews I'd read for Cafe Marron suggested it might be a great breakfast bet, so I had to find out for myself.

My sister navigated the residential Spokane streets with ease and found parking right across the street from our destination. The restaurant is nestled in a gorgeously green and flowery neighborhood. Although the interior seating area feels a bit dark, the patio dining is inviting and cheerily sun-drenched even beneath the huge fabric overhang that shades most of the exterior tables. My sister was most pleased to find ample room left between the tables as she is subject to feeling crowded by others' noisy conversations. The breeze and the environment were almost too pleasant to part from even after we'd finished our meals. Around us huge planters supported colorful veggies and flowers.

The service was friendly and knowledgeable.

So how is the food? Cafe Marron delivers a satisfying breakfast, and it does so with fresh, local ingredients combined to great effect. My duck eggs and chorizo scramble was most enjoyable. The bacon? It was crisp nearly to the point of being too dry, but still wonderfully tasty. My sister found it too crisp. She and I, on bacon, will never agree.

We did agree, however, that Cafe Marron was a wonderful place to linger over good food and that we will definitely return for more leisurely breakfasts.

~L

**************

Edited 10/16/08 to add:

Sister and I returned to Cafe Marron this week accompanied by our mother and her delightful ENFJ husband. Mother opted for an appetizer of toast followed by her favorite breakfast: oatmeal. Mandy once again chose ham and eggs. BIL opted for quiche Lorraine. In a whimsical morning mood, I ordered from the lunch menu instead and received the most tender, flavorful, lovely bunless Kobe beef burger adorned with a slice of cheddar and four half-slices of bacon. This shared plate space with a scrumptious crouton-less Caesar salad and some tomato slices. Absolutely delicious down to the very last bite.

Sister was less pleased with her potatoes this time around, pronouncing them less than done, but she still loves the unsweetened ham. BIL quite enjoyed his quiche.

The interior decor was charming--colourful walls scrawled with pretty designs and golden lettering, marble tables (though we were at a table with a vinyl cover--yikes!) and plentiful sun streaming through the huge retractable windows that form the restaurant's front wall. If you're inclined to be sun-sensitive or squinty, you might want to choose a table a few feet back from the bank of windows.

Much much love for this restaurant. There will be many happy returns.

The Breakfast Club, Moscow

I haunt this place. Can't help it.

It's their bacon. The likes of it you'll find nowhere else in the Palouse. Trust me on this. This is the best breakfast to be had in the Moscow/Pullman area.

Plus? The service is cheery and intelligent (as only Moscow's progressive and educated citizenry can provide), the prices are great, and the food shows up quickly.

Cons? Well, parking is not easy. And the double-doored entry is both awkward and cramped. The narrow path you must follow to reach your seat is also less than ideal. And the stiff and narrow vinyl-seated chairs are less than comfortable for the unlucky diners who have to place their bums there and not on the much cushier booth. If they could afford it, The Breakfast Club would benefit from a serious re-arrangement of seating and inner architecture. It would also befit Moscow's progressive, nature-respecting style if the decor and furniture were updated to more comfier and more eco-friendly textiles, but I know that's asking a lot of this restaurant. It's really only fair to ask for good food. And their food is good indeed.

I do have some hesitation with the omelets. I'd been salivating over them for ages, imagining their delights without having the calories available to indulge. For my birthday, I finally took the plunge only to find they're not nearly so rich and flavorful as my dreams. They're just okay. Granted, my dietary restrictions meant I couldn't order some of the saucier options that may have better suited my tastes. Shrug. All I can say is that the omelet I had for my birthday didn't justify the calories I gave up. (And just to be clear on this: I have found omelets that were worth the dietary splurge.) So when dining at TBC, I will limit myself happily and always to bacon and eggs. The eggs, I should add, are perfectly nice. I actually think I prefer them to the omelet.

In any case, for crisp, thick salty bacon aficianados, The Breakfast Club is heaven.

Sniffle... I get to travel through Moscow every other Wednesday and most of those I can drop by TBC for breakfast. Tomorrow, however, my trip will be late in the day thus precluding bacon. 'Tis a sad thing.

With Much Love for this little restaurant,
~L

Edited 8/27/08 to add: Our kind waitress obliged me and happily divulged that The Breakfast Club serves Daily's bacon which can be found at Safeway and Rosauers. I have joyfully procured same and hope to replicate TBC's fine porcine creation at my next opportunity.

Love this place.

Do not, however, love its coffee which is much too dark a roast for the mild-java-lovin likes of me.

Wild Ginger, Seattle

Darn me for not writing this review sooner. We had a truly enjoyable meal at this restaurant--though parking downtown Seattle with a mobility-challenged mother was a bit of a bear. This restaurant deserves better than my faded memories are up to providing, but here goes nothing...

Once again my family was challenged by the need to feed low-carbing gluten-intolerants alongside vegetarians. I researched like crazy trying to find an Asian restaurant that would offer tofu along with meat and veggie dishes while catering to our wheat-free needs. The truly Asian establishments in Chinatown were a possibility, but I wasn't sure my sister and I would be able to communicate effectively that no wheat also means no traditional soy sauce, etc.

I decided our best bet was Wild Ginger. I hesitated to herd all of us there because some reviews suggested stylish attire was mandatory. When I called, however, they assured me there was no dress code. This turned out to be true. The waitress never batted an eyelash at our decidedly on-vacation casual attire.

The jasmine tea was fragrant and enjoyable.

The bok choy with garlic sauteed in oil was just nummy.

The duck grabbed me by the taste buds and wouldn't let me go. It was all I could do to stop myself from plowing through an absurd amount of calories at Wild Ginger. The chicken dish, while good, was predictable. For the bok choy and duck I would return--with a hesitation. Though my sister insisted the duck didn't taste sweet to her, it tasted sugary to me. If I were going to return, I would ask them to leave the sweetener out of the duck. No sugar carbs for me, thanks muchly.

But the rest?

All good.

~L

35th Street Bistro, Seattle

Boy howdy, trying to accommodate my mum-to-be sister's need for bland, my own (and sis's) need for gluten-free low-carb as well as my brother and sister-in-law's need for vegetarian fare is a serious dining conundrum. (Of course, I can remind myself that I lived that precise way for over a year--low-carb, gluten-free vegetarian dieter that I was--but it's one thing to dine at home and control your ingredients, it's quite another to try to find meals on the go.

It's darned hard, actually.

The places that vegetarians would typically flock to--Italian retreats full of pasta and sweet tomato sauces or Asian restaurants offering up tofu and rice or even the local Subway with its veggie sandwich--none of these have items I can typically consume. Lately I've had my easiest meals at places dedicated to meat and seafood. These places do not suit my brother and sister-in-law.

So when we set out to choose a nice restaurant we could all enjoy we ground our gears for quite some time before settling on Fremont's 35th Street Bistro. With its local, grass-fed fare, it appealed to me. And apparently there were some menu items that my brother and his bride quite enjoyed in prior visits.

Like every other destination in Fremont, this restaurant has awful/nonexistent parking. Just find a space and plan on walking several blocks.

The bistro features thick wooden tables and chairs and the decor--though my memory is beginning to fade--is dominated by glass, wood, well-placed lights and plant life.

Sadly it's been weeks now and I can barely recall my Bistro burger with no bun. I do remember that I enjoyed it, but it seems it was missing the promised bacon and came only with a sprinkling of bleu cheese. The bite I had of my father's dish was appealing and my family all seemed to revel in their chosen meals. Unfortunately my poor pregnant sister has the touchiest tummy and became pretty sick following the meal. (We suspect there's likely gluten in the fries that I gave her, never planning to eat them and thus not querying the waiter for their gluten status.)

There was a bit of a snafu with our order. I noticed other tables full of diners who'd arrived well after we had being served their meals while we waited and waited... The waiter did apologize for the delay. It wasn't a big deal, but I was getting fairly hungry.

Would I go back? Definitely. They offer local, humanely-raised, healthful food and prepare it beautifully then serve it in a stylish environment conducive to good conversation and relaxation. Yes, it is pricey, but it's worth it.

Sigh... I sorta love dining in Fremont.

~L

The Dish, Seattle

Ohhh breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. Not only is it my first giddy tangle with food after hours and hours of nothingness, it's filled with so many of my faves: eggs, sausage, bacon, coffee, tea...

It never fails to give my tastebuds a thrill. Thus, I am always looking for the Best Breakfast Around when I'm on vacation. Seattle has so many highly-recced destinations that it was hard to choose which to sample on my recent vacation. My dietary restrictions (and my sister's) did, however, play a role. Some venues focus so heavily on gluten-infested carbs that we gluten-intolerants are restricted to side dishes. Other places actually advertise that they won't do substitutions. I understand they're probably a huge pain for the kitchen staff, but yikes. I did not ask to have the lousy GI tract I was born with. Ahh well.

I knew it was going to be hard to surpass the splendor of Pesos, but I still wanted to give some other places a shot.

The Dish down in Ballard was mostly a hit for my family. They offered an ample variety of different egg-based dishes while still providing gluten-y options for my carb-monster of a mother.

I had a sausage scramble with a side of bacon. (Bacon has become all but non-negotiable on my breakfast plate.) The bacon was not as perfect as Frank's nor as delightful as TBC in Moscow, but was still scrumptious. The scramble was delicious.

Vinyl was abundant, but the room was much sunnier than Peso's cavernous interior. The food was not as unusual as my Seattle morning fave, but it was still worth the drive.

I will definitely go back there again--as soon as my sister can handle non-bland food. My still gestating nephew/niece does not like flavors, the little scoundrel.

Charmed and Sated,
~L

Before it traipses too far from my memory: 13 Coins Seattle

I wanted liver.

I'd been reading about it from various Nourishing Traditions and Weston A Price sources and my curiousity with regard to this organ meat was all but killing me. I know, call me silly. Call me absolutely crazy. Still, I was a woman with an agenda.

I also wanted to try escargot. Hey, don't judge me. It was my vacation. I can eat snails if I want to.

In any case, I found only three places in Seattle that seemed to serve liver, and one of them didn't list it on its current menu. I could choose from Campagne or 13 Coins. Now the reviews I'd read for 13 Coins at Seatac were mostly positive, but the ones for the Seattle 13 Coins were less than consistently happy. Knowing this, I fully planned to eat there by myself in one of the bar seats. I told Dad this, but he insisted the whole family was going.

They should have heeded my warning and left me to my own devices.

It wasn't that it was awful--though both my mother and sister got sick--it was just very pricey for mediocre food.

I loved my escargot. Who could ever object to such chewy delights hunkered down in buttery wells? I will absolutely have snails again asap.

But the liver?

It was a fiasco. I had told the waitress I couldn't have wheat--no gluten. But somehow she didn't connect that with the liver. When it arrived, it looked sodden in gravy. Many gravies contain flour. When I queried her and she went to the kitchen, she returned and advised me not to eat the liver--there was flour there.

She said they would make me a new one and I stated "Just liver, nothing else". She nodded agreement. Well the second one arrived with just as much gravy as the first and I was again most concerned--I asked her again.

Yeah, there was much more than just liver there. Even sugar. I was just... what can I say? I'm always so hesitant to be a pest and so I tend not to communicate my dietary prohibitions as effectively as I should. This is my fault. The waitress obviously misunderstood my question.

But this did mean that all I had for dinner was snails. I was not up to a third try. I felt bad enough that two livers went to waste because of poor communication.

Anyway, other aspects of the restaurant: it's fairly dark and the music is older style lounge/jazz. The decor is mostly nautical--a big pirate ship filled a large shelf behind our booth. The booths themselves are generously cushioned and the backs reach so high that you have a full sense of privacy. This also keeps the noise of others' conversations happily away from you. This could be an enjoyable restaurant for a lingering dinner, but they do need to work on their food.

Would I go back? Hmmm... Not sure. The escargot was terrific, but if I can teach myself to cook it then no. I wouldn't need to return. And other places serve snail.

I know with certainty my family will not return there.

But let us remember fondly the delicious snails and go forth to better adventures...

~L

Perkins, Division Bridge

No, no, no. Do not blame me. I did not choose this destination, nor would I.

It was my pregnant sister's fault. She was hungry and wasn't up to anything "strange". She wasn't even up to the breakfastly joys Frank's.

Nope, she wanted to go to Perkins and would not be stopped.

I blame my unborn nephew/niece.

In any case, there we were: me with eggs over easy, bacon and a side salad with no croutons; Mandy with a mushroom swiss burger with no bun. Fine.

What can I say? The bacon is small and thin and so insubstantial as to be created from oil and tissue paper. The eggs are far better. In fact, they're reasonably good, but I fear they could be addled with transfats. The salad? The bleu cheese dressing is okay--better than something from a bottle, but not something I'd ever seek out. I suspect the ranch might be better, but just barely.

No. Just no. This is a place with comfy booths and easy parking and a bland menu with enough variety to accommodate--generically--a whole family's tastes. That's good and necessary.

But I don't need to go back here.

That was a very naughty nephew/niece forcing this peculiar breakfast upon me. Appropriate revenge will be had involving lima beans and okra when the time is right.

~L