Practice Round

I occasionally play guinea pig for my boyfriend. The guy is a seriously good cook. Like really, really good. He loves it (so I swear it's fun for both of us) and gets a kick out of making special snacks, hors d'oeuvres and multi-course meals for people. He'll be at it again tomorrow night, indulging a house full of lucky people at a New Years Eve fete his sister and brother-in-law are throwing.

I rounded out the holiday weekend sitting back with a glass of white while he perfected techniques and marinades for a couple of the items making an appearance on the menu--sushi rolls and pork skewers. (I offered to help as I always do, but he wouldn't have it.)

He did the sushi for the same party last year, and it was apparently a hit. He's made it once or twice since, but he wants those little spicy tuna rolls tight and perfect. And the marinade for the pork is a new addition to his meat-on-a stick repertoire. So he practices. And so I benefit...

Spicy tuna rolls with touches of panko breadcrumbs for texture and julienned carrots/cucumber.

Spicy Sambal pork skewers and crab cakes (not on the menu, but made an appearance on Sunday just for fun.)

Hamachi nigiri, also not on the menu, but good, and I kinda like the shadow the fish casts on the plate.

I'll try to snap some shots of the full spread tomorrow night. Happy New Year people!

Finally....

Finally, I have a camera that will let me take some decent pictures at night. As an incredibly generous Christmas gift, my boyfriend--who I'm pretty sure got tired of me stealing his little Canon and then complain later about the photo quality--gave me a Nikon Coolpix P90. It's mid-sized, lightweight and I'm slowly but surely learning its ins, outs and features.

We gave it a test run at Pike Place market Saturday evening as the vendors closed up shop. Here's a handful of the shots from its maiden voyage:

Looking forward to documenting some of these little adventures with some better visuals. Stay tuned for more pics and bits from a most lovely holiday weekend.

Wanted: Perfect Little Hand Mixer for Making Holiday Memories

It's five days before Christmas, and I just slipped into the spirit of the holiday season. I went to bed wishing it was Jan. 1 and woke up feeling festive and nostalgic. Feeling like my own little tree is in order so my itty-bitty apartment can hold the scent of pine. Feeling ready to conquer the holiday shopping crowds and excited to spend hours carefully wrapping gifts the way my parents use to.

But more than anything I want to make some sweet treats. I want my kitchen to turn into a time machine and transport me back to when I was little. I want it to take me to my grandma's house in late December--warm and cozy and full of smells like ginger and molasses with the sounds of Christmas music and oven timers in the background.

So I spent some of this morning looking for a recipe I could get excited about, surveying my cupboards for ingredients and making a shopping list. But then I pulled my hand mixer out of its box and cursed. What happened to the beaters that do the actual mixing? I opened every drawer and searched every shelf. Nowhere to be found. Guessing I lost them in one of my last two moves. Sigh.

And then I think, oh well, really that mixer wasn't very good anyways. But I start remembering all of the other recipes I've read and tagged recently that require one. Cookies, cakes, cupcakes--basically anything I want to bake. So now I've justified buying a new one. A few I'm considering:

KitchenAid 7-Speed Hand Mixer--Because it matches my blender, which still works well and looks like new despite multiple moves and some tough love.

Cuisinart 5-Speed Hand Mixer--Because it's a tad cheaper and I like the chrome.
Michael Graves Design Hand Mixer (White)--Because it's less expensive than the other two, and it seems I could put that little container that holds the beaters to good use.

And yes, I am well-aware I could just buy replacement beaters for my current mixer. But again, it really doesn't work that well. And I've worked hard enough this year that I can make the case for buying myself a little something that will probably end up yielding things for other people anyway. I'm planning to pick one up while I finish my holiday shopping over the next couple of days. Other suggestions?

Cheers to Ebey's Landing and Life in the Pacific Northwest

A couple of weeks back, I briefly mentioned a Friday hike that ends my boyfriend's family's annual Thanksgiving festivities. Well I recently got my hands on a few photos that were snapped that day and realized I didn't give that hike due space here. I glossed over it, neglecting to mention the details that made it one of the better days I've spent in the Seattle area since moving here a few years back.

I didn't mention how ridiculously excited I got about the morning ferry ride to Whidbey Island (lame, I know, but it was only my second ever). Or how the random cup of drip coffee I got during the 20 minute ride was hot, strong and tasted surprisingly perfect...despite the fact that it had probably sat there for an hour before I pumped it into a Styrofoam cup. I forgot to explain how psyched we were to finally find Ebey's Landing (our destination) after driving in the wrong direction for a good 15 minutes before we realized we passed it (kind of a reoccurring trend, I'm afraid).

I also neglected to write about how the first part of the "hike" was really more of a leisurely walk along the beach, or how the day was stunningly clear, oddly warm and yet still cool enough to make the jaunt refreshing. And I most definitely failed to describe the view--how the scene from the top of the ridge we eventually reached when we finally moved from walking to hiking was incredible. The water was layered shades of blue. The sky the same, with mountains framing it in the background.

And I also didn't mention how we stopped halfway through for an impromptu picnic. How a table made of washed-up logs formed in a matter of minutes, or how 15 of us gathered around it eating crackers, cheese, dried fruit and nuts--incredibly simple but delicious snacks that paired with the scenery and the shoreline perfectly. I also failed to mention the bottle of Moet that was cracked open while we sat.

Now I love Champagne (and am equally affectionate about its Italian cousin Prosecco). The bubbles. The sweet taste. I don't need a special occasion to order it. I like it in the morning when it's cut with juice and served as a Mimosa, will take it in place of a cocktail before dinner and love sipping it slowly with a dessert. I like how it makes any moment feel special. How it elicits a toast. I especially liked this sip. It wasn't just that it was a nice bottle. I liked that its qualities matched the day--cold, crisp, sparkling and fun. We of course toasted, and I again felt extremely fortunate--for the weather, the people, the day, the view of some of the Pacific Northwest's finest and overall to live where I do.

Ethan Stowell Picks Up a Pen

I had a series of painfully long days last week. Days where I could barely find time to get up from my desk to grab a glass of water let alone peruse my RSS feeds and regular fun reads. As a result I'm just now reading last week's news about Ethan Stowell's forthcoming cookbook.

I'm psyched about this. I wrote here about how I was surprised that none of this local restaurateur's places made Seattle Magazine's big list this fall. And while my last two trips to How to Cook a Wolf have admittedly not been my favorites, I still love a seat at that bar and could call a plate of his crudo dinner (or lunch, brunch or breakfast) every night for a week.

I like that he can make three or four ingredients taste like a full on feast, and I love that it sounds like that's where this book is headed. It's due out in Fall 2010, and Seattle Mag's Alicia Arter has more here.

Happy Holiday Weekend...

I'm late to the well-wishing happy holidays weekend posts. I started to write yesterday but was too tired to turn words into sentences so gave in to a nap instead. Filled with food, wine and conversation, the few days prior drained me of an ability to do anything productive. I spent the majority of those days with my boyfriend's family--a smart, lively and active bunch that's full of fun, opinions, life and love for each other.

Thanksgiving is not a one day celebration for this group. It starts with a smaller (and by smaller I mean 15 people) family dinner the Wednesday before, includes the holiday itself and ends with a hike the day after. This year was especially significant because it served as a memorial for my boyfriend's grandfather. I only knew him briefly but admired him, his life and feel comfortable saying that I'm pretty sure he helped instill a long list of admirable qualities in each member of his clan.

For the Wednesday night fete, my boyfriend made an amazing vegetarian lasagna. It was layered with homemade tomato sauce, noodles, a mixture of Ricotta, leeks, peppers and mushrooms and heavy handfuls of mozzarella and Parmesan. It was delicious. It went well with a perfect spinach, apple-flecked salad someone whipped up out of nowhere and the Petite Syrah I was sipping.

Veggie lasagna, ready for the baking.

We left a tad early so we could hit Met Market for some last minute Thanksgiving shopping. We were bringing hors d'oeurves for 40 and hadn't started a thing. My boyfriend still needed to buy everything for the spicy cauliflower soup shots and braised lamb pizettas he was planning. I'd done most of my shopping for the gougeres I was making, but needed the makings of the pomegranate ginger prosecco cocktail I decided I wanted to serve them with after reading this post from Lean with Green, the blog my friends Melissa and Lacy pen together.

We spent the next morning frantically grating, chopping, pureeing and baking so we could make it to his grandmother's place in time to help turn the barn into a dining room and set up for the day's festivities, which in addition to eating, include baseball golf, round robin ping pong and singing.

We finished plating our snacks while everyone made their way in from baseball golf. I think our contributions turned out pretty well. The cauliflower soup shots had a nice bite and good texture, and the gougeres (which I've made a couple of times using this Jacques Pepin recipe) were fluffy and full of cheese flavor.

Taking to the field for baseball golf.

Gougeres and Prosecco cocktails.

But my boyfriend's lamb pizettas were hands down amazing. He braised the lamb overnight and made a reduction of the braising liquid. He cut Greek pita into small, bite-sized circles and toasted it before adding a topping that consisted of the uber tender lamb, the reduction and a dollop of Greek yogurt mixed with Siracha. They were a hit and served as an amuse bouche for dinner and the incredibly touching slide show that illustrated the full, adventurous life his grandfather lived.

Little lamb pizettas.

Dinner in the barn came after the slide show and conversation, and was followed by a ceremony by the pond on their property, dessert and round robin ping pong (which I like to think I'm slowly but surely improving at). It was one of the most memorable holidays I've had and was filled with amazing people, tradition, food, wine and laughter.

I went into the long weekend missing my own clan but thankful for a lot. My family...my health...my job...my friends...relationships with the people I care about...the happy feeling I get in my belly when I think about the future and what's ahead. And I closed the day even more thankful, feeling lucky to have spent the holiday surrounded by a huge group of warm, interesting people. (Not to mention incredibly full, since dinner apparently wasn't enough and we decided to turn what remained of that braised lamb into quesadillas that made for a perfect late night movie-watching snack.)

I hope you all had lovely holiday weekends.

Matt's in the Market: A Weekday Lunch at its Best

Non-regimented days off are ideal in my world. Days I wake up a little later than usual and smile when I realize that I can fall back asleep if I so choose. Days I don't have to get up with the rest of the world. Days I know I don't have to do anything I don't really want to. Those days are even better when they're Fridays, because I know if I didn't get enough nothing done the day before, I have the rest of the weekend to make up for it.

I spent a recent one of those days sleeping in just late enough to wake up without an alarm and rested enough to hit the gym before meeting one of my nearest and dearest for a Friday lunch. She works downtown, is lucky enough to be within walking distance of the market, and was kind enough to trek over in the rain to spend a portion of her busy day catching up over a long leisurely meal at Matt's in the Market.

I took advantage of my lax schedule and got there early ('cause she'd attest I never am), holding down our table and taking in the small, quaint and decidedly Seattle dining room and bar. I probably looked like a bit of a crazy, smiling to myself as I watched the the tables fill up with casually chic but unique diners debating orders consisting of good, fresh ingredients.


We took our time ordering and started with cold, crisp glasses of Sauvignon Blanc, a standard of sorts for the two of us. We recounted our weeks (mine already done and hers almost there), trading war stories that made the house chips and dip--crisp, salted homemade potatoes served with a rich onion dip--seem necessary.

The second or third time our server politely interrupted our convo to see if we were ready to order I decided on a seafood cake sandwich that was served on potato bread with a remoulade. Good, but the salad I got with it was better. Served with toasted pumpkin seeds, blue cheese and a garlic vinaigrette, it was everything I look for in a plate of greens (or anything else really)--nutty with some richness and acidity to balance it all out.

We lingered over lunch, filling each other in on things that were stressing us out across the board, asking each other questions and genuinely caring about the answers. She's the kind of friend you spend 30 seconds talking small stuff with before you find yourself spilling relationship details, family headaches, the future, worries, hopes--all of it. And it's not just chatter--you really talk.

I felt bad for keeping her so long, but the best part was she sincerely didn't mind. It wasn't that she didn't or doesn't care about her job (she's one of the most dedicated people I know); it was more that for that hour and a half her attention was undivided.

We both just knew that the best thing we could be doing with that time was exactly what we were doing. Catching up. Laughing. Relishing a Friday and realizing that in the grand scheme of things, we're actually pretty lucky. It was the best possible way I can think of spending that afternoon off. And the good food? Well, to be honest, it was kind of an added bonus in this case.

Columbia Crest Nabs Top Spot in Wine Spectator Rankings

Big news in the local wine world today. Or at least it seems as much given pretty much all of my local RSS feeds are abuzz with word that Wine Spectator magazine deemed Columbia Crest's 2005 Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon the "No. 1 Wine in the World" in its latest Top 100 list.

The list has been an annual thing since 1988, and this is the first time a Washington winery has taken the top spot. It's based on quality (score), value (release price), availability and "excitement." They apparently paid more attention to value than previous years given the current economic situation and chose the local bottle out of 17,000 releases the editors tasted in '09. More info here and here.

It seemed a decent deal for the top pick, so I was going to take a lunch break (a rarity for me) to grab a couple of bottles--one to make a low key night later this weekend feel a tad more special and one for a holiday gift. Silly me--it's sold out, of course. Columbia Crest made 5,000 cases, and they obviously went quickly.

Nonetheless, I think it's sweet to see a Washington winery featured prominently.

Anyone tried it?

To Zig Zag, with love, from Drink.

When I was in Boston visiting family earlier this fall, I treated my little siblings to a few nights out. We started one of those nights indulging at Sibling Rivalry and ended it with cocktails at Drink, a hip little bar on Congress. It's the kind of place that's the perfect amount of crowded (thanks to the doorman, also known as Joey Bag of Doughnuts), has a cool candlelit ambiance and drinks that are for real.

I'd first come across the spot in a Bon Appetit article featuring the bartender, Misty Kalkofen. She's got kind of a cool story, getting into bartending by way of Harvard Divinity School (slinging cocktails to fund her education). Misty was actually working the night we went in, and I couldn't resist asking if it was her and about the article. She laughed, admitted it and gave us the scoop on photo shoot. She was totally friendly, amazingly cool and mixed me one of the best cocktails I've ever had. (No clue what it was called, something with gin and Chartreuse, which sounds not so great but was actually oh so great.) When we told her we were from Seattle, she lit up, asking if we'd ever been to Zig Zag and if we'd ever met Murray.

We answered, well yes, of course we'd been to Zig Zag, and that no, we'd never met Murray but know him as a local legend of sorts. Things get a tad fuzzy from there, but the night essentially ended with this:

• My boyfriend and little brother sampling some of Drink's finest Chartreuse and Mescal with Misty and the staff.
• Misty signing a $20 bill that we promised to deliver to Zig Zag on her and Drink's behalf.
• Us leaving feeling like the coolest kids in school.

We finally delivered on our promise last week and headed to Zig Zag for after-work drinks with Kate (the Violet in Orange Violet) and Joe, a couple of friends who absolutely love and make a habit out of frequenting the place. We met Murray himself, handed over the $20 along with our story, and he laughed as soon as my boyfriend uttered "Boston."

Murray then explained more about how the money trading started. It's apparently a thing the two bars, on opposite sides of the country, have had going for awhile. They send customers going from Seattle to Boston and vice-versa to each other's spot, sharing business and stories in the process. So cool. He genuinely seemed to appreciate our participating.

The whole thing was one of the more memorable exchanges I've had in Seattle. Loved it, and partaking with people I knew would dig it as much as I did made it all the better.

The lovely Orange Violet has the play-by-play and the photos, including one of Murray, here.

Welcome to the 'hood: Toulouse Petit

I call a little apartment in Seattle's Lower Queen Anne (LQA) neighborhood home for the time being. I like that pretty much anything I need is accessible by foot. A ten minute walk will get me to a handful of coffee shops (Caffe Ladro or Uptown Espresso are my cups of choice), grocery stores (I'm semi-embarrassed about how much of my paycheck Met Market gets), a few dry cleaners (convenient, because I am awful at ironing), nail salons, a post office...and Bartell's for pretty much everything else.

There's also of course a bunch of bars and decent restaurants, but not a lot of spots I get really excited about. Sure, I'm fine grabbing a cocktail at the Sitting Room, having a glass of wine and an appetizer at Ten Mercer's bar or taking some Panang curry from Tup Tim Thai to go. But I think LQA has been in bad need of a new spot for a better, sit down meal for awhile.

Lucky for me (and my neighbors), Toulouse Petit--a French Quarter inspired restaurant/lounge--opened it's doors this week. I've been walking by this place for the past year, peering in the big windows and trying to get a glimpse of what was going on in there. Now I know. Good, good things have been happening in that green, stucco-painted building.

My boyfriend and I slid into a big wooden booth for a late dinner on the place's second night open, and I was ready to claim it as our new neighborhood spot (though, come to think of it, I guess we never really had an old neighborhood spot) as soon as my drink hit the table. (A pretty Kir Royale in a flute so big that I saw the champagne and creme de cassis blending in front of me. Fun.)

The place is pretty and big. We took in the mosaic tiles, dark wood, big windows and textured walls in between slurps of oysters from the half shell that were served with a spicy remoulade that tasted like cocktail sauce but thicker, tangier and better. They also came with a mignonette, but all I got from it was a vinegar taste that did nothing for me. We followed the oysters with shrimp cakes that were crisp but not crunchy, almost like they'd been broiled versus pan-fried. I swore I tasted a hint of mustard in the sauce that accompanied the cakes and the little greens on top of them. Delicious.

Almost as delicious as the duck confit we shared as an entree. We debated the steak frites but somehow decided a duck leg rendered in its own fat and served over lentils would be a less indulgent choice for a 10:00p.m. dinner. (Logical, I know.) Probably not the case, but I didn't care either way because this thing was amazing. The duck was crispy on the outside but moist on the inside. The lentils were the perfect texture of soft but not mushy and soaked up a gravy like sauce that helped a slight, sweet flavor (cinnamon, I think) sing. I couldn't do dessert but saw beignets on the menu so will undoubtedly be giving them a go during my next trip (I love you friend dough). I'd also like to try the crab appetizer served over fried green tomatoes, the lamb burger and the charcuterie.

All in all, I'm an early but big fan. Kudos to Brian Hutmacher (who also owns Pesos) and team for taking their time and turning the space into something special. My biggest hope is that the late night Pesos crowd doesn't claim Toulouse Petit as a second spot on their bar hopping docket. Otherwise, I'm looking forward to having afterwork cocktails, dinners with the girls, Sunday brunches and steak frites with pan veal sauce just steps away.

What's your favorite neighborhood spot?

Delancey Family Supper Series

Seattle Magazine's Lorna Yee spread the good word today about a new Family Supper Series Delancey is hosting. The idea is to use their cute little space to host a family-style, reservations-only, prix-fixe dinner with optional pairings.

A couple of weeks back I posted here about how in love I am with this place, and this sounds like the perfect occasion for round two. The first dinner is Nov. 17, and the menu includes oysters, mussels, braised rabbit and an Heirloom apple tart.

They're taking reservations via e-mail at delanceyseattle@gmail.com. I shot them a note tonight and am crossing fingers and toes I'm not too late to snag two spots. For more info and a more detailed overview of the menu, see Yee's post here.

Smitten Kitchen's Salted Brown Butter Cripy Treats

Deb of Smitten Kitchen's post on Rice Krispie Treats last week left me craving gooey squares of marshmallow goodness. And when Deb mentioned this specific recipe making a quick but special treat for something like a Saturday party I thought, "Huh, is she talking to me, 'cause I need something to bring to my friend's Oregon vs. Stanford get together this Saturday? How did she know?"

OK, so I know she was not talking to just me (evident from the nearly 300 comments on the post), but the recipe did do the trick yesterday. I'm a big fan of Rice Krispie Treats in general (seriously, I'll even eat the single serving prepackaged ones), but these guys were special.

Made with sea salt and brown butter, they have a salty, nutty thing going on that tastes great with the sweet marshmallow. And they're still super easy to make. Though I did learn that you have to watch a pot of browning butter very, very closely. (Deb gave some words of caution on that bit; I just should have read that portion of the post a tad more carefully.)

I took a couple of pictures, but my camera is functionally challenged at the moment so the one at the top is about the only shot worth sharing. You can't see the grains of sea salt sprinkled over the top, but they did add a little something.

Sweet, salty, chewy, crunchy and definitely worth a try. Thanks for reading my mind, Deb.

The Counter

A few weeks back a girl I work with mentioned The Counter, a new burger place at Ballard Blocks. She’d gone on a Sunday (presumably after a night out; though she didn’t spill) and was a fan. Burgers aren’t really on my regular brunch rotation but seemed like the best possible choice last weekend for me and a friend—two girls who found themselves tired, starving and all around lazy the day after Halloween.

The company that owns it is California-based, and their whole thing is letting you take the wheel. You get a clipboard and pencil and go about checking boxes to make your own custom combination in the form of a traditional beef, chicken or veggie burger. You choose cheeses (everything from standard cheddar to herb cheese spread), toppings (dried cranberries to the standard lettuce and tomatoe) sauces (aioli, soy ginger glaze, onion marmalade and more) and a couple of varities of buns (or English Muffins, if you prefer). You can also do a burger bowl if that’s your thing, but I figure if I’m going to take on an actual burger I might as well go all the way and get the carbs.

It was a lot decision making for a Sunday morning. (You can also choose from about a handful of pre-determined options, but that seemed wrong.) I went with beef, jalapeno jack cheese, lettuce, Bermuda red onion, bacon, roasted chiles, dill pickles and horseradish mayo. Random with no rhyme or reason, but it worked out. Pretty well actually. We shared their fifty-fifty too—a side of onion straws and sweet potato fries.

I had a round of Bravo reruns for dessert and was a normal, productive person again in no time.

Perspective

Seattle Times' Nancy Leson's post from this morning caught my eye. Quickly sifting through some RSS feeds after a long day, I paused and took my time with this one. The headline pulled me in, and I got fully caught up in a short but moving story about how she kind of blew off a friend of hers who stopped by with a restaurant tip and story of his own about cooking his friend's last meal. (A friend of a friend of Leson's, to break it down more succintly.)

And then I got completely immersed in the New York Times' piece on Thomas Keller (of the infamous French Laundry as well as Per Se and more) she referenced. It paints a picture of how Keller reconnected with his dad after decades apart and ended up cooking him his final, favorite meal just a few years later. I read this bit, referring to Keller's forthcoming "Ad Hoc at Home" cookbook, a few times: "He reminds readers that life is better when you eat together with family and friends."

And then I took it all as my healthy dose of perspective for the day. Both are worth a read when you can make the time.

Delancey is Delovely

Mid last week I found a pocket of Ballard I never knew existed. Just off NW 70th there's about a block and a half of containing a couple of quaint little shops, a yoga studio, a bar and two restaurants. One of those restaurants is Delancey--the wood-fire pizza spot owned by Brandon Pettit (formerly of Boat Street) and Molly Wizenberg (of much loved food blog, Orangette). I've been following Orangette for the past couple of years and love how Wizenberg's posts read like stories that end with a recipe, detailing how food and her everyday life intermix along the way. I've also been making my way through her book, A Homemade Life, and it reads very much the same.

So I was psyched when this place opened, super excited at the idea of possibly seeing Molly and her husband, who she met via an e-mail about a cake post (adorable), in action. I finally went last Wednesday with a few girlfriends--two old and one new--and spent a couple of hours taking in and loving the space while we talked about our weeks so far, hashed out weekend plans and contemplated Halloween costumes (still not sure). It was a full, lively house, and we were surrounded by tables of other girls gabbing away and couples that looked like they were enjoying date night.

It's a little spot (which means a wait--ours ran around 45 minutes), with what looked like personal artwork/photographs against white walls and simple votives on each wooden table. It was easygoing and felt comfortable.

We started with a salad of baby lettuces with radishes, Grana (like Parmesan) and some kind of vinaigrette. (Yes, my love for minimalist salads continues.) We ordered three pizzas to share so we could try more (too much for one sitting, but we all took two slices for the road). One was topped with prosciutto, tomato sauce, fresh mozzarella and the Grana. Another came with mushrooms (Porcini or Chanterelle, I think), mozzarella and fennel sausage. And then the Padron, which was delicious with tomato sauce, fresh mozzarella, aged mozzarella, Grana and Padron chiles. All of the pizzas have a tiny bit of char to the crust from the wood fire that cooks it. I like that. The Padron was the best of the trio for me. The chiles are basically whole, seeds and all, so it's pretty spicy. But delicious mixed with all that cheese and chewy crust.

We didn't get dessert, which I really, really regret. Wizenberg makes them in house and so many of her recipes involve sweet treats that I'm pretty sure forgoing was a severe mistake. I want to get into the plum crumble when I go back. Soon.

Seattle Met's Top 10

Seattle Metropolitan's October issues includes its Best Restaurants feature. I liked Kathryn Robinson's intro, detailing how hard it was to pick the top 10 and how lucky we are to have so much to choose from in Seattle. And how they culled the list based on service, soul, beauty in plates and places and using and transforming raw ingredients into something that tastes really, really good. Here's their top ten (in no specific order):

• Serious Pie
• Canlis
• Boat Street Cafe
• Crush
• Cafe Juanita
• Cascina Spinasse
• Poppy
• Rover's
• Spring Hill
• Shiro's

I've only been to six of the 10, so I can't really say which should come first, but I could make a pretty good case for Crush and Rover's. I'm guessing Canlis would be the other strong contender. I need to invent an occasion to go; it's still on the lengthy need-to-try list along with Boat Street, Cafe Juanita, Spring Hill and a whole bunch of others.

The best part of the spread for me though is the "30 Seattle Restaurant Experiences You Must Have Before You Die" piece. It explains what makes everything from dinner at the Corson Building (also on the list) to a burger and fries in the parking lot of Dick's worth it. Love it.

Notably absent from the whole thing? Ethan Stowell. He's got four places, and I'm surprised at least one didn't get some kind of mention, even if not in the top ten. He's able to make a few simple ingredients taste big, and I'm a huge fan of the How to Cook a Wolf space. It's cozy and warm and feels special.

What other local places should have gotten a nod?

Sibling Adventures in Beantown—Part Three: Neptune Oyster

Toro was one of two places on my must-do list in Boston. The other was Neptune Oyster, found via a random restaurant search and verified as worthy by my darling sister. We’d run out of nights for special dinners so made it a special lunch spot instead. Best call ever.

First, I’m a big fan of oysters. Raw ones. On the half shell. I usually eat them with some kind of mignonette but love when they’re good and fresh enough to hold their own with nothing but lemon and maybe a wee bit of horseradish. We got both, only the lemon and horseradish came by way of a surprisingly good cocktail sauce and paired perfectly with the three small local varieties we tried.

We ordered too much and decided it was OK because it was our last meal of the trip. I knew going in that aside from the oysters, I wanted to try Neptune’s yellowtail sashimi. It was served with a drizzle of good olive oil, Thai chile oil and sprinkled with cracked coriander and pepper. Spicy and delicious.

I decided I also had to have the clam chowder. I felt a tad guilty for ordering after a long weekend of indulgence, but then the bartender explained that they made each bowl fresh and that it wasn’t ladled in from a big, sitting pot. And for some reason that made me feel better about it. Like it was unique or something. And it was. Unexpectedly light (or as light as clam chowder can be), it was silky with texture from celery and even a bit from the clam. So, so good.

And then (since it was again our last meal in Boston) we had to get a lobster roll. My boyfriend ordered it, so I felt a little less guilt than I did with the chowder. Plus Neptune apparently has one of Boston’s best lobster rolls. How could be pass that up?

We couldn’t.

It was my first Lobster roll. My first bite of warm baguette with tender lobster meat and warm, melted butter. Oh. My. Word. It was rich and amazing, especially when chased with a cold glass of rose.

I was glad we split it three ways, because otherwise I wouldn’t have had room in my belly for the perfect little salad my sister ordered. After Boston I’ve decided simple salads are best. Simple as it should be, as my beloved Tristan Prettyman would put it. This one came with tuna ribbons (which was just really thin slices of sashimi) served over green beans, olives, capers and hardboiled egg with a potato aioli. I could only fit a couple of bites but that’s really all I needed to fall in love.

I fell in love with the whole place actually—the food, the wine, the girl shucking oysters in front of the window—all of it. It was a busy, loud Monday lunch crowd consisting of what seemed to be a mix of friends, families and solo diners. We sat at the bar, which I like to do in general but especially enjoyed in this case.

Everyone just seemed happy. Everyone was laughing. Everyone was smiling. Even the solo woman next to us who was dining solo over what I think was a working lunch. She was just sitting there making notes on a legal pad, nonchalantly smiling and glancing at her Blackberry every so often in between sips of a healthy-sized glass of red. I didn’t know this woman, but I loved her. And and she made me love everything going on around me.

She made me think I could sit there for hours. I would have had a few more oysters and a few more bites of the salad (which I’m going to attempt to recreate). I would have savored more of the conversation with my sister and happily listened to her elaborate on her and her husband’s hopes to spend time in New York after she graduates (from art school—she’s so hip it kills me), how they’d love to try London from there, spend time in Asia after that. I could have spent hours there sipping another glass of wine, talking about things that do or could make us happy. It was all so perfect—the perfect little place that served as the perfect backdrop for the perfect end to a perfect trip.

Thanks much, Boston. I’ll be back.

Sibling Adventures in Beantown—Part Two: Bravo, Toro

My last night in Boston, I forced my sister and her husband back to the South End. I’d read about Toro, a little tapas place there, and it was one of two places I put on my must do list for the weekend. So glad I insisted. It was a decent wait, but we killed the time over a cocktail at Stella a few blocks down, a little neighborhood bistro where I would most definitely claim a regular seat at the bar if I lived in the ‘hood. My sister and I took our time over a Fresca (me) and Bellini (her) while the boys went back to claim our table. By the time we sat down, they had our first round of plates on the way and we made our way through a little feast:

• Gambas al Ajillo (grilled shrimp)


• Maíz Asado con Alioli y Queso Cotija (grilled corn with aioli and cheese)


• Patatas Bravas (potatoes with alioli and spicy tomato sauce)


• Coliflor a la Plancha (basically just grilled cauliflower, but crunchy and superbly seasoned


• Tortilla Espanola (egg, potato and onion omelet with aioli—my boyfriend swears this dish executed well is a sign of a good tapas place)


• Escalivada Catalana (roasted eggplant, onions, peppers, and tomatoes with sherry vinegar


• Mussels with chorizo (enough said)


• Pan con Tomate (toasted bread rubbed with tomato, garlic, Spanish olive oil and sea salt


• Churros with dark chocolate dipping sauce (yes we apparently still had room for dessert)
  

Everything was incredibly tasty. Except the eggplant which we ordered for my sister, who’s a vegetarian, and I think really wanted to like the last mushy dish but couldn’t.

But the two standouts were the shrimp and the corn. The shrimp came in a creamy saffron sauce. I wanted to drink that sauce. I think I took half of it as my own and probably dipped about a quarter of a loaf of ciabatta in the remainder when all the shrimp was gone. And the corn is apparently a house specialty. It was served on the cob with a little char. Drenched in an aioli and then sprinkled with peppers and cheese. Aioli and cheese on corn? Um, yes please. I squeezed a wedge of lime on mine to help cut the richness and didn’t even care that I was licking my fingers in public. I washed the whole meal down with a glass of sparkling rose….utter ambrosia.

The space itself was dimly lit, with chalkboard menus, walls of wine and a fun, good looking crowd. It was fairly affordable, and I begged my sister and her husband to make it part of their regular rotation so I can sleep at night knowing that saffron sauce isn’t going to waste.

Sibling Adventures in Beantown—Part One: Dueling Brothers

I spent last weekend in Boston visiting my darling little sister and her husband. As an added bonus, my little brother flew in from El Paso, and we used the four plus days to celebrate their birthday (they’re twins) and have a mini family reunion of sorts.

It was my first time in Boston. I loved it. Traipsing down the cobblestone streets in the North End, window shopping the walk-ups on Newbury Street, listening to my little sister explain what she likes about her city as we meandered through the public gardens, walking around Cambridge… I adored every second and sight. And it’s a good thing that all happened on foot, because to say we indulged at meal time would be an understatement.

I almost don’t know where to start. I think our most special night was the one we spent actually celebrating the twins’ birthday in the South End at a spot called Sibling Rivalry. My sister mentioned the place and the concept behind it to me when she first moved to Boston a few years back. The chefs are brothers David and Bob Kinkead, and they each have their own menu, one a tad more classical and the other a bit more modern. The menus are presented side by side, and you can either order from one exclusively or mix and match. A la carte or pre-fixe. Cool idea, and it was a fun choice for a group of siblings who see each other but once a year.

We jumped from brother to brother because I couldn’t limit myself to one side of the menu. It all looked too good. My boyfriend and I shared four plates, starting with pork and shrimp wontons in a creamy soy sauce. Then came the most perfect Romaine salad. I know Romaine salad sounds boring. And this one was really simple. But not standard. The dressing was like a light but velvety ranch. Buttermilk. I could taste it. And it was served with half an avocado that was deliciously ripe and perfectly sliced. Sliced red onion for texture and a splash of acidity, and I was practically licking my fork. Embarrassing for my siblings and boyfriend, I’m sure.

We also shared tuna tartare before our entrée. Hands down one of the best things I ate all weekend. It was served on a bed of sushi rice with an odd little surprise on the side—ruffled potato chips. Oh. My. God. Mixing the soft, sweet tuna and rice with the crunch and salt from the chip was amazing. I half jokingly asked my boyfriend if we could order another plate of it and secretly wished he took me seriously. Instead we got ready for the short ribs, served over a potato puree with horseradish. And then the butterscotch pudding on a gingerbread cookie. And then…I couldn’t move. I was a happy girl, not only because I really liked the food, but because my little sister, her husband, and my brother seemed equally happy if not downright giddy. They’d tried a new place, tasted some different things and were laughing, conversing like adults and smiling the whole time. I’m so proud of them, and they’re so grown up it’s silly.

More Boston love to come.

Artisanal Brasserie

A few weekends back, I went to Artisanal Brasserie at the Bravern, Bellevue’s new (over the top) luxury shopping complex. Some friends of my boyfriend invited us out for a friends and family opening type thing, and we had a blast. The space itself is huge but charming, with tile floors, large mirrors and crimson coloring. It's like a big version of Bastille in Ballard.

Our server encouraged us to try pretty much everything on the menu so the kitchen could get the practice. So we obliged, ordering and eating a ridiculous amount of food. We started with cheese tempura as an amuse and moved on to a round of hors d’ourves—perfectly plump oysters on the half shell and a mini mason jar of foie with apricot chutney. Then not one, not two, but three bowls of mussels (provencal, curry and espagnol). The espagnol were my favorite. Then came grilled octopus with fingerling potatoes and paprika followed by a mesclun salad with a tasty little herb vinaigrette.

Entrees came next. We all got one and passed to the left every few bites. I started with the 7 hour lamb shank, which was ridiculously good, if not for the meat itself for the parmesan polenta underneath it. We also got a nice piece of ling cod that came with clams and chorizo (always a plus), a plate of hangar steak frites and diver scallops with a blood orange sauce. The only thing I didn’t go back for another bite of was the scallops because I couldn’t take the too sweet sauce.

And then came dessert. We didn’t choose dessert; they just brought our table an assortment. I should be clear that I don’t eat a lot of dessert, so when I do I tend to think everything is beyond delicious. Most definitely the case in this situation. We again got four plates and passed every few bites. My first bite was an apple tarte tartin with a cheddar crust and crème fraiche. I didn’t want to give it up. But then I looked at the pecan praline cheesecake coming my way and conceded. Same case there. I couldn’t let it go. Until I smelled the fried dough from the beignets with huckleberry sauce next to me and tasted the custard like filling. Le sigh. My last bite was a chocolate mousse with hazelnut and coffee crunch. Good for sure, but the tarte and cheesecake were the clear winners. I’m a sucker for cheese.

The place and service had a few kinks, but the staff fully knew it and the place wasn’t even really open yet (sure a lot of it’s worked itself out by now), so it actually made it a bit more of an experience for me personally. That and when famed chef Terrence Brennan stopped at our table while making his rounds outside of the kitchen. He asked the obligatory how is everything question, we bid him the standard congrats and then we asked what he thought of the ingredients here. I appreciated his honesty when he let on he’s less than impressed with the seafood here. Struck me as odd given I always thought the PacNW was at least somewhat known for seafood (and the sea things we had that night were really good), but evs.

All that coupled with a smile and nod from Thierry Rautureau (the chef in the hat from Rover’s) on our way out made the night. I’ll be back for the number of wines they serve by the glass, the cheese and charcuterie selection that weren’t available before opening and another long, lingering dance with that tarte.

What's Worth It

A little over a year ago, I realized I was growing up. I don’t think a specific moment sparked it. Hitting twenty-some-odd years-old with a solid job, student debt and complete financial independence should have done that years ago. But it was like all of a sudden I was looking at how I was spending my time more judiciously and had somehow acquired a better sense for the things that really, truly make me happy. I was over wasting precious free time at lackluster, cheesy bars and unenthused about shelling out for random shirts that were worn once before being shoved in an already overcrowded closet. Ad hoc Sephora shopping sprees left me with nothing but drawers full of unused lotions, potions and serums. And I found myself frustrated when my beloved evenings and weekends came and went with nothing to show but a handful of receipts for nothing exciting. No clue what did it, but I realized the things most worth it for me most often involve a good meal and fun people.

Now don’t get me wrong. I love a beautiful bag, peruse fun baubles and covet sky-high heels as much as the next girl. I love going out for random nights with the girls and will throw down my hard-earned cash for a pair of perfect fitting jeans, a dress I can accessorize up or down and shoes that have that special something. I’d be fibbing if I said I didn’t love shopping, and my friends and family would laugh in my face if I tried. But, I’ve found I have more fun breaking in any given purchase over a fun, memorable outing than I do taking hold of a pretty shopping bag. (Don’t we all want somewhere fabulous to flaunt a fun new buy?) I don’t mind and actually like opening my wallet for experiences that leave me feeling full and content in more ways than one. Tastes and conversation so good that I know I will and need to remember them. Occasions where I've giggled over potluck dishes with some of my nearest and dearest (many of whom just happen to know their way around a kitchen). Times when I've tried new things like crickets at local haunts in Puerto Vallarta (yep, they’re crunchy). Four hour, multicourse Gypsy dinners with complete but interesting strangers. And trips where I've laughed off incredibly lengthy waits like the one at Vij’s in B.C. because the curry and conversation were just that good.

Those are the kinds of things that made me want to start this itty bitty blog. I wanted a place to log and recount all of the tastes, dishes and details that made them so memorable. A spot to spread the word about the spaces, places and things worth trying. So here we are. Cheers.