Long Weekend

I sat down a moment ago to start the long task of recording the weekends' dining adventures, but found myself on facebook and now I'm braindead. Watch as this post get more coherent as coffee recharges my battery.  Now, forward or backward, forward or backward. Which way do I walk best? Let's assume I'm great at both and start with last night.
On my way home from training at the Center for Wooden Boats, I called Bill to play our little game of "what's coming over for dinner?" Winning this game is not a plus. Whoever wins, typically the one behind the wheel, is in charge of picking up both a satisfying, frugal and novel meal, reaping the consequences of self-flagellation if one of those statutes is not met. What boner-killer did I decide on last night?
This crap. I chose the $13.95 Beef Brisket Dinner which comes with baked beans and your choice of cole slaw or potato salad. I'm a slaw gal myself, but this was meant to be a crowd-pleaser, so the motley mayo mush came  home. The brisket: a fatty, wet, sauce-drenched "pound" of meat (sauce) done no justice by the curiously white white bread, the above potato number and some straight-forwardly sweet baked beans. Surely though, for near $15 after tax this meal was plentiful? Stingy sides, saucemeat and the four slices of bread I begged for could've been excused with some pickle/onion action, but at Jones BBQ, they apparently haven't heard of such phenomena. Rudy's, I've got a Phil Collins ballad playing for you, states away, (half passion/half shame). Jones, you are forgotten, D.

Matt, Angelica, Bacon and Eloise

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This past week we played at vacationing with the visiting Nortons. Their vacation needs revolve around Belgian ales, parks, architecture, acclaimed dining, high chairs, milk, fruit and bacon.

Goat Cheese, Carmelized Onion &
 Red Bell Pepper
Quiche

For brunch on Monday we visited Odd Fellows Lodge, an old fraternal temple built in 1909, spruced up with updated/outdated repurposed cooler-than-thou decor. Ready to out-class you at every turn, this spot is guaranteed to impress you and your hipster cousins. The Nortons sampled the BLAT, (BLT+Avocado) Meatball sub, tomato soup du jour and a honey drizzled fruit bowl. I took a leap of faith and ordered something with goat cheese, which I totally enjoyed. Coffee was ok, they sold me Turkish Taffy, and I was genuinely distracted by the whole presentation, scoring them an A+. I'll be back.

Digesting, we strolled next door to The Elliot Bay Book Co, where I perused the staff-recommended shelf, reading their eloquent and clever reviews of books I'll be chasing down at the library. Visiting good bookstores gives me pause, short pause, right before my brain shuttles headlong into writing novellas without hope of recording word one. Reading those reviews reminded me that I, too, can write, have written, and should write simply because I share a vocabulary with billions of people. Communication is not the point, I have access to finite experiences I have only moments to memorialize before the brain surge vaporizes (if that's what it does), the memory never to be recalled. And my memory needs all the extra RAM I can get. Is that what this blog is for? Probably, but without becoming a "Captain's-log-in-public" kind of person, I won't really alleviate the loss of my fleeting brilliance.

Ha Noi Grilled Pork Noodles

For dinner, we spent our last meal together at Long Provincial, a posh, Vietnamese spot with neither high chair nor milk, but with a menu fit for reciting. Our server was reminiscent of E.T., his presence and cadence alike, and the things he brought to our table were no different. Tamarind Tree Rolls, crispy chicken wings, shrimp paste fried rice (an elusive favorite of Eloise), fresh tequila cocktails, just a few examples of the quick-to-vanish fare. I ordered the Ha Noi Grilled Pork Noodles, a combo of thin-sliced grilled pork patty and pork sausage in a broth with vermicelli. Hiding under everything were pickled kohlrabi and crisp green mango treasures. Hiding elsewhere on the table were the cinnamon pork rice balls. This was the last thing I tasted here and the effect was arresting. I'll say nothing else. Just get yourself some. Soon. A- for dirty water glasses and cheap flatware.


Sunday was all power eating. We grabbed an early booth at Luna Park Cafe, just down the hill from our West Seattle sublet. Everything I've read about this place is prefaced with "The milkshakes are" and though I like to do some high-protein breakfasting, I ordered an Espresso hand-dipped milkshake that made me feel like I'd finally made peace with lactose. Maybe. Dizzy with my dairy delirium I lazily nibbled on some of "Betty's Pile." Not the sexy, faceless situation you're envisioning, but a mound (doh!) of breakfast foods topped with fried eggs.

Betty's Pile (add black olives) and her friend,
 the highly preyed-upon grilled biscuit.

The dutifully grilled hashbrowns wanted salt and the coffee tasted like dirt water next to my creamy Espresso creation, but truly, everything was good. The eggs benedict I glimpsed across the table had some pillowy soft medium poached eggs going on, but I couldn't move my fork past the grilled biscuit and gravy I was devouring. Listen. Be sure and order that biscuit grilled. Our laugh-at-everything hyperactive waitress claims she ordered it that way for us, but I assume she does it for everyone.Make sure this is done for you. It was right. A.

SPL Lounge

Top view from SPL's 9th floor, 

Shortly after breakfast, Eloise was nap-ready, and everyone was full so naturally the boys went out for Banh Mi. Returning from Saigon Deli in the international district a little later with 10 or so sandwiches ($2.50ea) and beer, the eating recommenced. If you know anything about enjoying Banh Mi, you know you're a lover of cilantro, tender meats and crisp veggies, and probably call yourself a savant of sandwich. Sandwiches have yet to make their presence known on this blog, but as my exploration continues, I hope they will reveal themselves.
Having gorged sufficiently, it was time again for an outing. We headed to the Chapel of St. Ignatius, to admire its many architectural inventions, then on to closing time at the Central Seattle Public Library, a breath-taking cathedral of books. As soon as I get an address I'm getting my very own SPL card, and running mad up in that house.

4 of 16 orders at Kaname Izakaya's Happy Hour

Now it's time for the star of the show, the honored winner of the weekend, Kaname Izakaya's happy hour. I'm short of photos because as each dish arrived, we came down on it fast and furious. Here's a sample of dishes we carefully maneuvered to fit on the table already crowded with sake decanters, glasses, plates and the requisite foot of clear space out of Elo-weasel's reach. Fast and calculating as she is carefree, she relieved us of a hot presentation of sake, striking it to the floor milliseconds after its delivery to the table, getting mercilessly splashed in the process.The staff was on the scene immediately with grace, broom and towels, Eloise bounced back, the sake was replaced, and our ordering continued. My favorite? The Takoyaki: fried octopus balls. Chopped boiled octopus, pickled ginger, scallions and rice crispies battered, fried then coated in bonito flakes and drizzled with special, sing-for-your-supper-flavored sauce (sometimes called mayonnaise). Ultimately, my shellfish allergy bristled at this divinity, but was clouded by my delicious shochu martini. Kaname's a shochu bar at heart, serving the indigenous Japanese alcohol that goes down smooth and mixes like a siren. Shochu is the distilled cousin of brewed sake, and is now my number one alternative to that clear but vulgar fluid I used to imbibe: vodka. A++

 Bill hopes to acquire the statuette
 that allows him to summon
the magical panther Guenhwyvar.

 Saturday was Pax day. Bill and I headed down to take in the sights. Later that evening back in the West, (a new, presumptuous, never-likely-to-catch-on nickname for West Seattle) we took Matt to Beer Junction, a full service beer retailer. Their selection rivals the best you've ever seen, with knowledgeable staff, a chiller (3 minutes to perfectly potable!) and a database that logs your purchases and rewards your frequent buys. Thank you Beer Junction, for being just down the street. A++
 Friday night we met up with some of Bill's pals, and went to 820 Pike Street Pan Asian Cuisine. Usually, anytime a place boasts its Pan Asian status, I'm doubtful of its potency. 820 Pike Street, you have only confirmed my suspicions. I had the Spicy Ranch Noodles, (a disappointment for $9.95), Bill had the Drunken Crispy Chicken (good flavor and textures but lacking any star power) and the rest of the table ordered the acclaimed Hue Beef Noodle Soup (glorified, apparently typical pho).The real stand-out, was the Bloody Rooster - fresh basil, lime, & cilantro with vodka, tomato juice & a dash of Sriracha and hoisin sauce. : fresh basil, lime, & cilantro, with vodka, tomato juice, & a dash of Rooster Sriracha sauce & hoisin. Just know that every Bloody Mary you've ever raved about took a hard beating this weekend, and if you have any integrity, you'll put this on your bucket list.  B+
We traveled to Jai Thai for a stand-up comedy battle in their back bar. A nice room, unless you were there when we were. It was hot, with a tiny stage and a commercial fan that was turned off, to our chagrin, so the comics might be heard. Seemingly unattached to a Thai restaurant, attentive and quick, the bartenders were pouring generously. Will probably return for a meal here someday, despite the reviews on yelp. A.