The Weekend. Again.

One of several licorice cases

 This week we continued to explore our dear West Seattle, a kindly peninsula sporting a well-endowed park, 2 1/2 miles of beach with an unrivaled view, fabulous homes and The Junction - a strip of retail clutter with something for everyone. We took a turn in Husky's, a deli specializing in expensive groceries, vast selections of licorice not entirely captured here, and home to a hard-working ice cream counter. For $3 I got a generous single scoop obligingly split in half: maddeningly-smooth nutella and potent kona koka rum. I haven't tried Full Tilt yet, but I'm giving this a free-spirited grade A.

Powerful shit.

While in Paris in 2006, Bill and I went to a charmante petit cafe by Notre Dame one morning and split a breakfast of eggs, tomato slices, coffee and the only croissant I'd ever met. Surely, I'd had croissants before? I couldn't say. It wiped my memory card of anything I'd previously called croissant. I hadn't tried another contender since, until recently. I stole away to Bakery Nouveau a while back to try their famed Twice-Baked Almond Croissant. While no one [everyone on the street] was looking I walked out of the bakery and tried to nonchalantly eat the whole thing, (a whopper about the size of your biggest, most delicious shoe) but dutifully saved [about] half for Bill. It's got the softest, most confident almond paste center surrounded by layers of expertly formed pastry. Looking at it, I thought, almonds on top. Isn't that garish? Powdered sugar. Who are they trying to impress? At the end, when my crinkled bag had yielded all the flakes and crumbs it could, I recanted. It's meant to be a mess. If you're going to lose yourself in a pastry, and hopefully that's while wearing a smock, shouldn't there be some evidence? That thing was large and in charge.  A++. +.

Now that you're in the mood, gaze into the deep paper sack that held our Labor Day celebration. En route to Marysville last weekend to hang out with my uncle, we sought out the thoroughly reviewed Countryside Donut House in Mountlake Terrace. At 11am they were already close to sold out, with no plain glazed left. We got some maple bars, an apple fritter, some bavarian filled and their most threatening confection, the Bacon Maple Bar.

Are you getting this, Texas?

Unadulterated, their maple bars were the best I'd ever had. Topped with bacon, I felt scared, like maybe I'd gone too far. I only had two bites of it (too many flavors taking shameless advantage of each other), but I've been extra watchful of my jowls this week, certain that I'm at the mercy of gravity and calories like never before. Cheap and addictive, donuts are the crack in my well-balanced diet. By some twist of fate, I've been placed in a region where I have to actively seek out these things; nothing in walking distance or even on my radar in West Seattle. I'm living undetected in a healthy warp zone where it's always a good time to be outside, there's fresh produce begging to be taken home, an average temperature of 75 degrees, juice bars, rampant park landscapes - all this complete with an entire zip code of people who are not what I'd call obese.
Take these beauties for example. I picked them this morning on the street and could've picked lots more. Blackberries are as commonplace as Teriyaki joints up here, growing wherever they can, despite the ideal sun/shade war that's becoming apparent as the summer dwindles, and have a huge role in my snacking.

Chicken Yakisoba for $7.95

Teriyaki is an ubiquitous nuisance here. A retail space vacates, the block hopes together that something novel and healthy will spring up and then, just like you knew it would, a teriyaki shop moves in. Mostly, they are all the same. The recipe is simple. Either a large portion of skillfully fried Asian barbeque or a disappointing and small serving of oily mess served up for around $8 out of a divy storefront. One such teriyaki joint that gets pretty stellar reviews is Beni Hoshi. We tried the Chicken Yakisoba at the recommendation of the guy behind the counter. Rice and yakisoba, (?),  some pretty great chicken and some questionable broccoli, and a crumbling bodega storefront, Beni Hoshi didn't quite fulfill the teriyaki fantasy I was hoping for. B.
Today, we thought we'd give it another try and set out for New Teriyaki, another highly-regarded spot for quick, cheap take-away. Sorry Moreno, Sunday's are anti-teriyaki, and no matter how many listings you can find on your smart phone, they'll all be closed. Teriyaki time over, we opted for another fast food phenomenon...

It really is.

Mexi-fries. or in Christian circles, Tater Tots.

        I know. It's unreal. It's something you'd see on Full House, warning Uncle Joey from your couch that it's gonna turn out bad. Bill has a devout attachment to Taco Bell, and I thought I'd jazz it up a little with some tacosomethingelse. Here's the low-down: Taco Time, while sporting wildly different architecture from store to store, has the same problem - oh you guessed it - the menu. How this chain took off with actual Latinos in the vicinity is beyond me. This place is where Mexican food goes to die a sterile, uninspiring and overpriced death. Granted, their fish taco was pretty delicious for $4, the burrito Bill ate garnered no complaints, their "Mexi Fries" were fried to perfection (if not a little surprising to find on the menu), but I'm not sold on this Seattle staple. Taco Cabana, you're a treasure. TacoTime, you get a B, because you have crushed ice.

Chunky and crisp Corned Beef n' Hash Bash

We had a great time yesterday morning at West Five, a diner and cocktail bar born of the flawless style of the businessman's 1960s. Brunch offers generous portions to sop up whatever social faux pas you overindulged in last night, the coffee arrives in a cup and saucer you actually want to drink from, and the cocktail menu is the stuff of fantasy, inviting me to coordinate the outfit I'd be wearing next time I walk into this paragon. Despite it all, an A-, for stale coffee and an absentee server.

You'll be glad you did.

Chilaquiles, The Migas from my personal paradise.

Culture is expensive. Sorry.

   And now, a quick holla to our new feature: the item of the week.

Noosa Yoghurt.

 I'm at the grocery store about once a day, and Friday I sampled this, right before I bought it. Find it if you can, and enjoy. Creamy, expensive and pretentious as hell, it's well worth it. Try it with another snooty snack, such as Granola Flats, about 8oz of crisp, sweet crunch in a bag for about $5.
Enjoy!