Posted by Anita on 03.27.08 7:57 PM
There’s a strange thing that happens in Seattle. (OK, there are many strange things that happen there, but this one is food related.) Some restaurant — usually a reasonably popular one — puts a relatively obscure but approachable item on the menu, and before you can say “hamburger with a fried egg on top”, said item pops up on menus everywhere, from divey diners to haute-cuisine haunts.
Thus it is with the Reuben, the sandwich some might call Seattle’s signature. And it’s no great mystery why: There’s something irresistibly naughty — not to mention entirely un-Kosher — about a deli sandwich that combines salty corned beef, gooey cheese, zippy Russian dressing, and crunchy sauerkraut between two slices of butter-grilled rye bread. A Reuben is the perfect antidote for drizzly, chilly Northwest weather, an overstuffed slice of golden sunshine on a plate. Served with a garlicky dill pickle and a ramekin of good potato salad, there’s hardly any better cure for grey-day blues.
Child of the sunny Southland that I am, it’s entirely possible that I had never eaten a Reuben before we moved to Jet City. I quickly made up for lost time: Fremont’s Red Door tavern used to make a pretty good example, as did our old ‘local’ pub, the 74th Street Ale House on Phinney Ridge. Once we moved across town to Madison Valley, it was only a matter of days before I discovered the heavenly Reuben — and his turkey-licious sibling, Rachel — served on just-baked sour rye at the Essential Bakery Cafe. I could probably fill an entire post with Seattle Reubens I Have Known and Loved. (Thankfully, I managed to avoid the vegan one!)
Once we moved back home to San Francisco, I don’t think I ever encountered a Reuben on a restaurant menu. I’m sure Reubens exist somewhere within our seven-by-seven grid, but so far we have yet to cross one another’s paths. It’s a sad truth that moving from city to city often means leaving behind foods (and friends) you’ve grown to love.
Luckily, once you have the right ingredients, it’s easy to make your own fabulous Reuben. Sure, you can pick up pretty good deli meats around town, but one of the the best reasons to make your own corned beef is that you’ll have plenty of leftovers. Leave the little trimmings and end bits for tomorrow morning’s hash; the best and highest use of that glistening chunk of pink, lipid-laced meat lies between two slices of good bread. Shave it thin with your sharpest blade, and don’t stop until you’ve got a goodly pile.
—-
Knowing there were Reubens in our future, we picked up a loaf New York Rye from Acme and a hunk of Spring Hill’s Portuguese cheese, which makes a better-than-decent stand-in for Swiss. We thought we would be out of luck finding local sauerkraut, until fate intervened. The good news: Not one but two of our favorite local purveyors has just recently started brining their own ‘kraut. Fatted Calf sells a chunky, tangy variety, and Alexander Valley Gourmet sells a crisper, finer-gauge flavor. Happily, both are excellent, and equally well suited to Reuben-making.
The bad news: Neither brand is (yet) available in San Francisco. Fatted Calf sells theirs over the counter at their Oxbow shop but, alas, not at their market stands. Alexander Valley is wrestling with the classic shelf-space squeeze: So far, no San Francisco shop has made room for their newest product. (There’s hope, though: Alexander Valley’s fresh pickles are already available at Whole Foods, Rainbow Grocery, and Andronico’s; if you want the ‘kraut, too, leave a note for the manager asking that they stock it. So far, the new Napa branch of Whole Foods is as close as we’ve been able to locate it.)
With two containers of locally made sauerkraut in the fridge, all that remained was the Russian dressing. We stirred together some homemade mayo, a bit of last summer’s tomato jam, a blob of local horseradish, a few chopped pickles… and got ready to griddle. Sure, Thousand Island dressing would have done in a pinch, but we decided that making a 100%-local sandwich was worth a few minutes of extra prep.
And let me tell you: It was a Reuben to make you forget all the others.
The Perfect Reuben Sandwich
Here’s the part where I would normally explain exactly how to craft the platonic ideal of a Reuben sandwich. But frankly, there’s no way I could possibly improve on the recipe we found on Epicurious, as transcribed from Arthur Schwartz’s New York City Food.
If you think the Zuni Cafe mock porchetta recipe is detailed, let me assure you: It ain’t got nothin’ on Schwartz’s step-by-step tutorial on building the proper Reuben sandwich. The devil may be in the details, but the details are in Schwartz’s Reuben.
lunch, Seattle, locavore, Dark Days challenge
14 Comments »
Posted by Cameron on 05.17.07 5:23 PM
Seattle must have missed us, because she tucked away her raincoat and put on her cutest spring dress for our recent three-day-weekend trip. Not that we would have cared if it had poured rain for 72 straight hours. Well, maybe a little. But the sunshine rounded out an amazing trifecta of food, friends, and fantastic weather.
As soon as we checked in at the hotel, we headed over to ‘Seattle Customs and Immigration’, better known as the Zig Zag Cafe. Anita has already posted about that stop, but I’ll just add that the joint was as packed as we’ve ever seen it. The revival of the cocktail and a couple of years of steady national press, including a spot for Murray on Playboy’s Top 10 American Bartenders list, have alerted the rest of the world to the magic happening there.
We usually keep to ourselves on our first night in Jet City, but we weren’t surprised to run into several friends at the Zig Zag, including Rocky (a.k.a. Old Two Livers). When the lights went on and the chairs went up on the tables, we followed Rocky to The Purple Dot in the International District. The menu at the Purple Dot reads like a description of a catering accident at the United Nations, and we took full advantage, ordering beef internal delicacies (belly, tendon, and tripe), soup noodles with beef and fish balls, beef curry, spaghetti with ham and chicken, and salt-and-pepper pork ribs. This is stuff that’s meant to be eaten at 3am with a serious load on, but I’d go back for those ribs at any time of day or night.
Dawn’s early light made way too much noise on Saturday morning, accompanied by a call at 7:30am from our remodel contractor spouting incomprehensible (and ultimately inessential) gibberish. Seeing round out of one eye and square out of the other, we shaped up as best we could and set course for the Steelhead Diner by way of the Daily Dozen Donut Company at Pike Place Market.
We figured that a mixed dozen baby doughnuts would be essential sustenance for a wait for brunch at the Steelhead, as it was close to noon on a bee-yoo-tifful Saturday. There was no line, but we killed some time snarfing doughnuts and replenishing the world’s stock of pictures of the Market’s famous sign. As it turned out, that bag of pastry would be the best thing that we’d eat that morning.
Despite a promising menu packed with foodstuffs from local purveyors, the half-empty Steelhead took nearly 45 minutes to deliver disappointment on white plates. The fish portion of my fish and chips was pretty good, but the chips absolutely sucked. The whole plate cost $16, and they didn’t even put bourbon in it or anything. Anita’s eggs Ellenburg — a Sysco-style chicken-fried steak topped with (broken!) fried eggs and a terrible sausage gravy — was stunningly bad.
Salvation lay only a couple of hours away. When the mid-afternoon turned peckish, we decided to visit our friend Jason at his ‘office’: Pagliacci Pizzeria in Lower Queen Anne. We ordered a couple of slices, sampled the monthly special ‘za (Portabello Primo: yum!), and re-acquainted ourselves with the sorely missed Pagliaccio salad.
After a quick stop at the hotel to freshen up, we met a crew of friends for drinks at the stylish, strikingly beautiful Vessel. Read Anita’s review and go now: This winning combination of smart, solid cocktails, tasty nibbles, and attentive, welcoming service is already drawing crowds.
From Vessel, we taxi-ed over to Tavolata, a new Belltown Italian venture from Union superchef Ethan Stowell. With a little help from a friendly kitchen, our posse of eight serious eaters managed to sample almost the entire menu. It was all very, very good, right down to the lemon zeppole for dessert. (How can you argue with a day that begins and ends with doughnuts?)
Two weeks later, Anita is still dreaming about this meal. Ethan’s crew is making most of their pasta from scratch in a basement workroom filled with flour-grinders, dough-extruders, and restaurant-sized rollers. And, while the secondi are glorious — both the Fiorentina-style T-bone and the double-cut pork chop are among the best meat dishes of the year so far — the pasta is amazing and totally different than anything else in town. Out of a near-dozen options, we sampled eight and there wasn’t a clinker in the bunch, from familiar standbys like a heart-stoppingly good rigatoni in tomato sauce to more-adventurous recipes like gnocchi with bitter greens.
Mind you, this was after we’d eaten our fill of gorgeous starters like cork-shaped fried polenta with bagna cauda, asparagus and fried duck egg topped with shaved Parmesan, octopus and bean salad (which will win over tentacle haters), and house-made mozzarella cheese served with a hazlenut-butter crostino. And they serve all of this gorgeous fare until 1am daily — sure beats the pants off of Beth’s.
One of the pleasant hazards of visiting our second home city is that we have a long list of ways to complete the sentence, “A visit to Seattle wouldn’t be complete without…” Sunday morning, the Mad Libs answer was, “brunch at Cafe Campagne with friends: ouefs en meurette, ouefs en cocotte, bloody marys, and bowls of cafe au lait.” We filled in another blank later that day with “…pizza and pasta at Cafe Lago,” with Tea and Carla.
Our last day was a bit of a struggle, food-wise. Breakfast: indifferent ouefs plats (but fabulous conversation and to-die-for morning light) at Le Pichet. Lunch: Lots of laughter (and friendly staff) at Bernard’s on Seneca, a “morbid curiosity” favorite as much for its “Germans storming the castle” decor as for the surreal food.
The lone bright spot for our tastebuds on Monday was a pint of cream ale at Hale’s Ales. We knew better than to try and eat at the pub, and decided to grab a pre-flight late afternoon snack at Baguette Box as we passed through lower Cap Hill. Can we say it? We are completely over this place. Every time we go, poor execution torpedoes a nifty “bahn mi-goes-global” sandwich-shop concept. And they’re always out of the first two things I want to eat… argh.
The rain began to fall as we drove south to the airport, and the droplets obscured the glimpses that we were catching of the skirts of Rainier. The distant mountain just barely peeked through the haze that erases her enormous presence even when the day seems clear and bright. We waved and said goodbye. Maybe she’d come out for our next visit — one of the many dear friends that we look forward to seeing again.
ps: You can see photos from all 15(!) food and drink stops in our Seattle Collection.
Purple Dot Cafe
515 Maynard Avenue South
Seattle, WA 98104
206 622-0288
Daily Dozen Donut Company
93 Pike Street (Pike Place Market)
Seattle, WA 98101
206 467-7769
Steelhead Diner
95 Pine Street
Seattle, WA 98101
206 625-0129
Pagliacci Pizzeria
550 Queen Anne Avenue North
Seattle, WA 98109
206 726-1717
Tavolata
2323 Second Avenue
Seattle, WA 98121
206 838-8008
Cafe Campagne
1600 Post Alley
Seattle, WA 98101
206 728-2233
Cafe Lago
2305 24th Avenue East
Seattle, WA 98112
206 329-8005
Le Pichet
1933 First Avenue
Seattle, WA 98101
206 256-1499
Bernard’s on Seneca
315 Seneca Street
Seattle, WA 98101
206 623-5110
Hale’s Ales Pub
4301 Leary Way NW
Seattle, WA 98107
206 782-0737
Baguette Box
1203 Pine Street
Seattle, WA 98101
206 332-0220
breakfast, Italian, restaurants, Seattle, travel, bar culture
2 Comments »
Posted by Anita on 05.14.07 5:28 PM
Damn you, Seattle. How can a small city have such an enviable concentration of great watering holes? San Francisco may have a cocktail scene, but so few of our places — especially the ones that turn up on those maddening “best cocktails” lists — are actually worthy of their hype. And yet, inconceivably, Seattle is now home to not one but two drinking establishments that make me want spend every summer weekend in the land of 10pm sunsets.
I never thought any other Seattle bar would turn my head so long as the Zig Zag Cafe served liquor and Murray Stenson tended bar, but now… hang it all, now there’s Vessel, too. Where Zig Zag is cozy, Vessel is swanky. Contrasting all the ways that the Zig Zag crew embodies unpretentious craftsmanship, Vessel’s staff leans toward the amusingly purist. (Shall we cheer or sneer at phrases like “juniper- and citrus-infused vodka” used to woo gin-phobic drinkers?)
Just like in my dreams, Zig Zag bathes in rose-tinted shadows; Vessel goes for the green with a vengeance. Where Zig Zag settles in for the night in warm woods and textured concrete, Vessel puts itself right on display with walls of glass, dark metal accents, and Philippe Starck chairs. The almost-windowless Zig Zag feels sultrily subterranean, whereas Vessel’s mezzanines and vitrines perch you high among Fifth Avenue’s glowing treetops.
And yet, both establishments converge in the expected place: An unwavering commitment to classic and creative cocktails. One early Saturday evening, a single bartender and waitress kept pace with the steady libational needs of our crew of eight (nearly all serious drinkers and drink-makers), putting together bullseye-solid renditions of drinks from their own menu — a pleasant mix of old standbys and original creations — plus more than a couple of tricky off-list requests from the peanut gallery.
For such an unrepentantly contemporary space, Vessel manages to be cozy and comfortable. Within the 1920s-era Skinner Building’s gorgeous old bones, a hive of brightly colored walls, modern furniture, and architectural lighting comes together to create an environment that wouldn’t feel out of place in a European capital. And in lieu of the usual V-stem cocktail glasses, Vessel serves its shaken-and-stirred drinks in gorgeous crystal champagne coupes. (Maddeningly, they’re from a Speigelau line that’s unavailable here. Any readers abroad want to buy us a case and trade for something you can’t get locally?)
Order the house cocktail, dubbed Vessel 75 — not an homage to the same-numbered gin-and-Champagne drink, but a nod to the last warcraft constructed in Seattle’s shipbuilding heyday — and you’ll be served Old Fashioned-like blend of bourbon, bitters, and orange zest. It’s topped with a gimmicky (yet completely lip-smacking) maple syrup foam… it works, yes indeed.
I had a chance to sample a Seelbach, a two-time entrant in last month’s MxMo roundup, and found the Vessel version nicely balanced. Aviations, Manhattans, ‘Ti Punch, Blood & Sand variations… I sipped them all, and loved the lot. And the nibbles our group shared — a charcuterie platter, and an assortment of almonds and olives — were well-constructed enough that I’d consider ordering some of the more-ambitious offerings next time.
I’ll be the first to admit that a couple of rounds of pre-dinner cocktails may not be a solid way to judge the depth of any bar’s talents and charms. But I will say that on the rare occasion when I’m just not in the mood for a trip down to the Hillclimb, or when I’m feeling glittery and uptown, it’s nice to know that Vessel’s garnered enough of a following among Seattle’s cocktail cognoscenti that we’ll have another worthy place to drink in our second hometown.
Vessel
1321 Fifth Avenue
Seattle, WA 98101
206.652.5222
- Monday through Friday from 11:30a; weekends from 4p
drinks, Seattle, bar culture
7 Comments »
Posted by Anita on 01.23.07 9:50 AM
I made an atypical stop at Starbucks on the way in — oooh, they’re importing Top Pot doughnuts from Seattle! — and got a huge kick out of the array of super-picky orders being called out by the barista:
“Short triple latte extra-hot, extra foam”
“Iced triple tall sugar-free cinnamon dolce”
“Venti half-caf extra-shot soy with-whip white-chocolate mocha”
They were all picked up by people wearing Fancy Food Show badges.
breakfast, Seattle, coffee & tea
6 Comments »
Posted by Anita on 01.05.07 10:00 AM
Cookiecrumb over at I’m Mad and I Eat and Kev at Seriously Good have challenged one another to a mac-n-cheese-off, an ooey-gooey duel, a fight to the death on the field of fromage. Their chosen weapons? Bechamel, pasta… and cheese.
What is it about humble ol’ Mac & Cheese that brings out the competitive spirit in otherwise mild-mannered foodies? Last year, our old Seattle crew hosted a mac & cheese showdown, where no fewer than half a dozen recipes vied for the crown. And about a month ago, Union — one of Jet City’s top restaurants — hosted a citywide smackdown (mac-down?) that got promoted on local radio.
I’ve got a few favorite recipes in the files, including a 5-minute version that I make sometimes for breakfast, but no single concoction owns my allegiance… certainly not enough for me to want to enter it into public competition. But the eye-rollingly good version I serve to company — as a side dish, mind you — comes courtesy of our friend Wendy, the hostess with the mostest, who’s tweaked Martha Stewart’s recipe to the point of decadence.
Fondue Mac and Cheese
4T (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, plus more for dish
2 slices good white bread, grated coarsely
2 cups whole milk
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 to 1/2 cup white wine
1 tsp. salt
1/8 tsp. each freshly grated nutmeg, freshly ground black pepper, and cayenne pepper
1/2 pound sharp white Cheddar cheese, grated
6 ounces Gruyère cheese, grated
1/2 pound penne
Heat oven to 375°F. Butter a 9×9 baking dish, and set aside. Place bread in a medium bowl. In a small saucepan over medium heat, melt 1T butter. Pour butter into bowl with breadcrumbs, and toss. Set breadcrumbs aside.
Fill a large saucepan with water, and bring to a boil. Add penne, and undercook by 2 to 3 minutes, until the outside of the pasta is just cooked. Transfer macaroni to a colander and drain well, shaking the colander to remove as much water as possible from inside the penne. Set penne aside.
Heat milk in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Melt remaining butter in a high-sided skillet over medium heat. When butter bubbles, add the flour and whisk for 1 minute. While continuing to whisk, slowly pour in hot milk. Continue cooking, whisking constantly, until the mixture bubbles and becomes thick. Turn off heat, and whisk in the wine, salt, nutmeg, black pepper, cayenne pepper, and both cheeses, reserving 1 cup of cheese for topping.
Stir macaroni into the cheese sauce, then pour mixture into prepared dish. Sprinkle remaining cheese over top, followed by the buttered breadcrumbs. Bake until browned on top, about 30 minutes. Transfer casserole to a wire rack, and cool 5 minutes; serve hot.
food boards, recipes, Seattle, other blogs
13 Comments »
Posted by Anita on 10.06.06 7:13 AM
Since tonight marks the beginning of Sukkot and the Chinese Autumn Moon festival, I suppose it’s futile to pretend that it’s not yet fall. Even though we live in a place where we don’t really see the leaves falling from the trees, all this rain makes it pretty obvious that Indian Summer is, at last, behind us.
This Audrey Saunders cocktail — a favorite of our Seattle crew — requires a bit of shopping, but the end result is well worth it. If you try it, I suspect that you’ll enjoy making it well into the holiday season.
Falling Leaves
1 oz. Clear Creek pear eau de vie
2 oz. Trimbach reisling
1/4 oz. honey syrup (equal parts of honey and water)
1/2 oz. Orange curacao
dash Peychaud bitters
Measure all ingredients into cocktail shaker, add ice, and shake well. Strain into a cocktail glass, and garnish with a whole piece of star anise.
drinks, recipes, Seattle, Drink of the Week
4 Comments »
Posted by Anita on 10.01.06 3:23 PM
it’s our last night in Seattle, and where better to wrap things up than Palace Kitchen, the casual-dining jewel in the Tom Douglas empire’s crown. Palace quickly became one of our Seattle haunts when we were locals, and somehow they always managed to have “our” usual table ready and waiting just as we walked through the door — no mean feat, given that they don’t take reservations.
Years before ’small plates’ became a thing that every decent chef dabbled with, diners at Palace were already constructing delicious meals from just the left side of the menu, where you’ll find favorites like plin (ravioli-like Piemontese dumplings), mind-bogglingly good oysters with shave-ice mignonette, and a rotating selection of five artisanal cheeses.
After extensive research — and 18 months of the foodiest folks in town trying hard to dethrone the resident Royale — pretty much everyone I know agrees that Palace is home to Seattle’s best hamburger. (It’s also home to the world’s coolest ladies’ room stall: the size of my first apartment and just as funkily furnished.)
Palace also is one of just a handful of locations where you can buy a slice of Tom’s justly famous Triple Coconut Cream Pie. (He also sells it at touristy Etta’s near the Market and the upscale Dahlia Lounge, plus Dahlia Bakery.) If you don’t have room for dessert, they’ll box it up for you to eat later… and throw in some napkins and plastic cutlery, too. Or come late, just for dessert: Palace serves their whole menu until 1am — pretty much last call for food in sleepy Seattle — and a special breakfast-style entree just from 10pm through closing time.
Palace Kitchen
2030 Fifth Avenue
Seattle, WA 98121
206.448.2001
(reservations for parties of 6+ only)
restaurants, Seattle
No Comments »
Posted by Anita on 10.01.06 3:07 PM
A recurring theme at our house is the sad downward slide into mediocrity that many of our former restaurant favorites have taken. I’m sure we’ve got more than a handful of friends who are thoroughly sick of hearing me crab about how Thep Phanom has languished, for just one example. So we were sad to hear of the departure of the chef (and most of the staff) of our old Seattle haunt, Seven Stars Pepper. Apparently they’re still cranking out decent food, but nothing compared to the mind- (and mouth-) numbingly amazing treats of yore.
Thank the eight immortals that Szechuan Chef is essentially the reincarnation of Seven Stars Pepper. Instead of a dingy Asian mini-mall at 12th and Jackson on the fringe of the International District, you’ll now find yourself at a thoroughly generic strip-mall in the ass-end of Bellevue, which once housed a really skeevy Kmart. (One interesting side note: The drive may be a haul, but the parking lot is a lot less reminiscent of a place where the hero gets jumped in a video game.) And Szechuan Chef has slightly higher pretensions than ol’ Seven Star: better decor, better uniforms, nicer dishes and menus — although the prices remain insanely reasonable. Six of us ordered a thoroughly sufficient amount of food — check out the photos if you don’t believe me — and spent exactly $20 each, including tax and a 20% tip.
Best of all, it seems that much of the kitchen staff and most of the waitresses have followed the chef to his new location, including Ming, the amiable woman who we’ve always called Szechuan Auntie. As we walked through the door Friday, she stopped cold in her tracks and blinked, then walked toward us with outstretched arms and a huge grin.
“I can’t believe it’s you!” she said, cracking a huge grin. Man, we knew we missed her, but we had no idea she missed us, too. She must have come over three times in the next 10 minutes just to explain how surprised / happy / amazed she was to see us. And then she quipped: “I’ll tell them to start your Chong Qin chicken right now!” Wowsa… this doesn’t happen at San Tung.
Never one to tamper with a successful formula, we started out with a pair of old favorites: the green onion pancake and an order of hand-shaven dandan noodles with pork. Both were served promptly and piping hot… and tasted just as good as ever. We waited for one our party to arrive, and enjoyed an array of beverages, including a trio of house-made (but adorably packaged) fruit slushies. And then the food onslaught began. Chong Qin chicken, just as crispy and glorious as in the old days, smoky flash-cooked water spinach (aka ong choy), and many other faves. Even a couple of mis-steps — they were out of shell-on prawns so our salt-and-pepper shrimp came white-people style, and the whole Szechuan fish we thought we were ordering turned out to be chunks — couldn’t dampen our enthusiasm.
It’s good to be missed, but it’s even better to find an old favorite doing even better than you remembered.
Szechuan Chef
15015 Main Street
Bellevue, WA 98007
425.746.9008
restaurants, Seattle
No Comments »
Posted by Anita on 10.01.06 2:35 PM
Even if you don’t live in Seattle, you’ve probably read plenty about Union, a restaurant that crops up on all the “best-of” lists in glossy food mags. But unlike some hotspots that offer more style than substance, Union actually has the culinary cred to remain a fixture in the fickle downtown scene.
Union splashed onto the foodie radar in fall 2003 by besting the city’s “25 for $25″ promotion with a deal of their own. Just like at the official 25 restaurants, you’d pay just $25 for your November meal at Union. But instead of a cheap appetizer, a meager entree, and a dessert you didn’t want, you’d actually get a full-blown seven-course tasting menu. Needless to say, this made a huge impression on many of our foodie friends — especially when Union reprised the offer in the spring.
Union quickly became known as the place to go for high-end food without the high-end pricetag, a place to enjoy an entire evening’s worth of small, perfectly-exectuted tastes, along with exquisitely paired flights of wine. Even when the $25 deal ended, I think we were paying somewhere in the $75 range for dinner with sommelier-selected wines… an unbeliveable steal of a deal, even in affordable Seattle.
Like all good things, it wouldn’t last. Word ’round the campfire was that Chef Ethan Stowell became frustrated with diners ignoring the a-la-carte side of his menu in favor of the tastings. First the wine pairings disappeared, then the tasting menu shrank to a tiny footnote, eventually disappearing all together. (It’s still available by request for those who ask, but I presume few folks do.) Union’s reinvented itself with a bar menu that would knock the socks off any other restaurant’s main offerings, and it’s paying off: The average age of the clientele has taken a noticable dip, and the buzz near the front windows draws in more customers to fill the main dining room.
The whole place was hopping when we gathered eight of our nearest & dearest on Thursday night for dinner. We’d asked Chef Stowell to return to the days of the tasting menu, and sat at the table just outside the kitchen’s pass. (Pics — such as they are — can be seen here.)
We started out with a salad of tomino cheese, stacked with roasted beets and arugula. Served with a slightly sparkling 2005 Furst Muller-Thurgau, the earthy beets made a convert out of Richard, who just moments before professed his loathing for them. It reminded me of the many times at Union that I’ve eaten things I “knew” I didn’t like, only to discover that I found them much more interesting — and often delicious — when Chef Stowell made them.
Speaking of which… the second course, grilled sardines, came served atop a panzanella that featured tiny breadcubes and baby tomatoes. I’m not a huge fan of sardines, or oily fish in general, but I’ve eaten them plenty of times at Union. I still don’t think I’d go out of my way to order them, but that’s precisely why I love tasting menus. These sardines were quite pungent, but in a flavorful way, and the fresh-crunchy panzanella served as an excellent foil for the fishiness, as did the 2004 Renard Rousanne from the Santa Ynez Valley.
My favorite dish of the evening came next. A signature soup presentation at Union, we were brought bowls with just the garnish — in this case, a poached duck egg and a drizzle of pumpkinseed oil — to which our waiters then added creamy kohlrabi soup. I thought the accompanying 2005 Qupe Chardonnay “Bien Nacidio Y Block” was a touch too oaky-acid for this unctuous soup, but plenty of my friends disagreed. There was no argument that the kohlrabi puree was sublime, as so many of Chef Stowell’s soup courses have always been.
Many at the table felt that the following course of grilled branzino with cranberry beans and parsley pesto was the highlight of the evening. Smoky and perfectly cooked, the firm-fleshed fish worked well with its sides, but I thought the beans were a touch bland. (I think I’m spoiled by all the good heirloom beans we’ve been coooking at home. Even fresh beans can’t compare for me, anymore.) I have no strong memory of the accompanying 2005 Rene Noel Legrand Samur-Champigny “Les Lizieres”, but I’m sure one of my cohorts will step up in the comments section and remind me!
Given the love affair that Northwest chefs have with Wagyu beef, you’d think they’d do a better job of it, on the whole. I’m not the first person to remark that choosing a soft-textured cut like filet mignon when you’re paying for Kobe-style beef is the culinary equivalent of wearing suspenders and a belt: unnecessary and rather foolish. Luckily, this is a principle that Union well understands: Our next course of sirloin steak married the softness of Wagyu with the beefiness of a heartier cut, striking a perfect balance. Cooked on the rare side of medium-rare with a stunning crust, served atop potato puree, Thumbelina carrots and a thyme-heavy red-wine sauce, this was a course for the carnivorous. The 2003 Waters Cabernet Sauvignon set off the heartiness of the beef and the richness of the sauce.
Another Union favorite: pot de creme for dessert. Ours was a chocolate-espresso version served in a demi-tasse, topped with whipped cream and a shaving of cacao nibs mimicking cinnamon sprinkes. With a spot of 1999 Quinta de la Rosa late-bottled port, we had our after-dinner drinks and our ‘coffee’ all at once. Our favorite server (and oft-times maitre d’) Hans took great care of us, and chose an assortment of wines to complement our meal. In many ways, it felt like old times.
Cameron adds: I hadn’t had kohlrabi in at least 25 years and hadn’t missed it much, but one of Chef Stowell’s X-Men powers is an amazing facility with purees, liquids, custards, and creams. It’s like he’s got an extra “texture” sense that the rest of us lack. I also had to smile when the sardines and panzanella course arrived. Anita avoids strongly-flavored fish, and I rank panzanella as one of my least-favorite uses for bread. And yet in the hands of Chef Stowell, Anita found a sardine that she could love and I was able to make peace with bread salad.
Union
1400 First Avenue
Seattle, WA 98101
206.838.8000
restaurants, Seattle, wine & bubbly
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Posted by Anita on 10.01.06 1:35 PM
If you’ve read Bill Buford’s Heat, you know about Dario, the Tuscan butcher who taught Mario Batali the arcane mysteries of traditional Italian meat-curing. What you may not know is that Dario also taught Mario’s pop, Armandino, much of what he knows about the art of salumi. There’s even a Dario namesake salami on the menu at Salumi, Batali Senior’s pint-size salumeria near Pioneer Square.
A zillion other bloggers have written about the heady pleasures of Salumi — it seems like dozens of Bay Area folks have trekked to Seattle in the past few weeks, and they all made their dutiful pilgrimage to the altar of pig. And given the breadth of our own ramblngs on the subject over the years, I don’t have a whole lot new to report.
But, following our homesick hearts, we found ourselves casting about for lunch options of Wednesday, and for once we were (a) in town during the week and (b) not otherwise occupied during the slender slice of time that Salumi is open for business.
We shuffled in at the end of the lunch rush, amazed to find one lone Muffo sandwich — Salumi’s take on the muffaletta — waiting for Cameron. Lucky me, I managed to get the very last trio of meatballs (along with some glorious house-made mozzarella) in my own sandwich. Mindful of our upcoming dinner at Union, we grabbed a table, ate exactly half of our sandwiches, and dutifully wrapped up the leftovers. Resisting the siren song of cured meats is never easy, but we both pratcially whimpered as we shuttled the sandwiches back to the hotel mini-fridge.
Armandino’s Salumi
309 3rd Avenue South
Seattle, WA 98104
206.621.8772
literary, lunch, Seattle
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