The Hopvine, Captiol Hill, Seattle

I feel completely ashamed that it's taken over a year of living on Capitol Hill to dub The Hopvine as the perfect neighborhood pub. Thank god it's pleasantly missing the "cool" factor this snob has come to dread.

It was moving week, and the mister and I were famished. We knew we needed to eat before we took another load to our new place, so we decided to head up to VIOS in Madison Park. They were closed (note: VIOS only breakfast and lunch). So we then drove by The Kingfish Cafe, one of our favorite (though gastronomically challenging) places to eat. Closed.

So we drove back to 15th and settled on The Hopvine because 1) we found a parking spot right in front of it and 2) we've been meaning to try it - and it did NOT disappoint us.

I am a snob, yes. But my mister is the beer snob. The Hopvine delivered us a tasty pour of some respectable breweries (Baron Oktoberfest and Big AL Hop Soup), plus AMAZING SOUP.

I know, totally random that this dive would have gourmet soups, but I tell you - the soup here was way better than anything we tasted at LARK (see review here) for way cheaper. The mister had a tequila, bacon, and juniper soup whereas I vacillated between the melon gazpatcho and the chanterelle mushroom soup and finally settled for the later. So friggen tasty! To compliment our delicious beers and soups, we also ordered the greek pizza, which was also very good...but honestly, we could have been fat and happy on just beer and soup.

Bottom Line

The best dive on Capitol Hill.

Bleu Bistro, Capitol Hill, Seattle

It was the first fall rain of the season, and I decided to treat myself to a lunch date at Bleu Bistro. I wanted to sip wine and reply to a letter from my sister in an inspiring ambiance, so I walked up the hill.

The last time I had been in Bleu, I had the most fabulous bartender attending to me and the mister. She listened to my typical drink palate and then finally concocted me a Hendricks martini with an orange twist. I loved it so much that I've been ordering my martinis with an orange twist ever since. The experience, service, and food was great.

Upon entering by myself, I find a cozy little booth for two that will be perfect for hiding away with my thoughts. The bartender promptly greeted me with more than the usual "I have to do this because it's my job but I would rather be sitting on my couch playing Halo." Bleu has a smokin' happy hour, by the way, and he introduced me to all the ins and outs of that while I decided.

Malbec and Macaroni for me, thank you very much. That's just the kind of snob I am.

So what's interesting about this situation is not how awesome Bleu Bistro is, because I assume that you already know that I would never go back to a place that was sub-par. But about 1/3 of the way into my wine and 1/2 of the way into my letter, an aspiring old rapper decides I need to be the bearer of the lyrics he's working out in his head. He literally appeared at my right shoulder and went off. He spouts of these HORRIBLE lyrics, but instead of my usual disinterested response, I try and talk myself into being kind because after all, he may actually be an aspiring artist and not just trying to pick up on me.

NOPE.
(Note to self: Trust gut)

He actually starts stumbling over his rhymes and tells me it's because "I am too beautiful," and he wasn't expecting me to be "so beautiful." Oh, and "am I alone?" Mmmhhmmm. So eventually he leaves because of my paralyzing beauty, and the bartender comes to check on me.

Now this is bartending at its finest. This guy was TOTALLY busy, running his ass off bartending and waiting tables, and he takes the time to stop by and make sure I was not being molested by this wanna-be, 39 yr-old Eminem. I assured him I was fine, and thanked him profusely for his kindness.

But then Eminem came back.

He sat his sorry ass right down across from me and said, "I'm joining you." I mentioned that I was on my way out and was busy writing, but he assured me he just wanted to sit silently. Apparently my beauty was so vast that he needed to absorb it for himself.

So I'm totally uncomfortable, working up the nicest way possible to tell this guy he was seriously a loser, but instead SUPERBARTENDER tears off his shirt and tie only to reveal his power-jumpsuit-lycra thingy they all wear and heads over my way!

-Dude. I think she wants to be alone.
-Oh really? I just asked her...
-Yeah, I think she's trying to be nice.

EYES ON MY PAPER.

-Oh, that's interesting you would think so, but she assured me...I mean I'm just...
-Dude. I'm not trying to be a dick. But leave.
-WHOA! Okay man, sheesh.

EYES ON MY PAPER.

I left a fatty tip.

It's not that I can't defend myself, it's just that I didn't want to make a scene. But my wonderful bartender-in-shining-martini glass showed up and made me feel like the most important patron in the room. And that, my fellow snobs, is the trickery only really great restaurants can pull off.

Bottom Line

Bleu Bistro is the haven for single-diners everywhere.

Except middle-aged-white-wanna be rappers.

Also, the food and drinks are good.

Ray's Boathouse & Cafe, Ballard.

It's a gorgeous day in Seattle, and my friends and I head out to Ballard...to the famous Ray's Boathouse & Cafe to celebrate a birthday, sunshine, and food. We make reservations for the cafe, but arrived early enough to secure a wonderfully private corner of the deck.

Side note to the skin-cancer conscious: No umbrellas. Bring a big, BIG hat.

We sit down and are greeted sweetly by our meek server, who has informed us that the birthday girl's husband has a surprise for the table, and she would be back shortly with said surprise. We assumed it was a bottle of champagne, and though we were right, we had to wait for the grapes to be crushed, the champagne to be bottled, corked, and shipped from France before it came to our table.

So there we are, all young and beautiful and ready as hell to drop some cash once we'd had our introductory toast, but no...we are trapped to our table with the promise of a "surprise," (why didn't she just inform us that it was champagne? how were we supposed to know that it wasn't a stripper to jump out of a cake, because if that were about to happen, i needed to run and get some small bills!) and ABSOLUTELY.NO.HOOCH. Unacceptable.

Finally, after 10 years, our bottle arrives, and how it goes down easily. We hem and haw over the menu for probably about 15 minutes before we can even agree on an appetizer. We decided on the calamari, which comes rather quickly (or was that the effect of the champagne) but without marinara, which is totally fine. So...we wait and wait for our server to come back within the vicinity of requests, and I politely ask for marinara. At this point, the deck has filled up and our server has god knows how many tables...nice going, management, for whom I blame the rest of this review.

The marinara arrives after 90% of the calamari is gone. Again, really poor form for an upscale restaurant.

But we are easy, quickly ready to forgive and move on.

We order food and another round of cocktails.
The birthday girl orders a house mixed-drink specialty, but doesn't like it sweet, so asks for the sweetness factor to be decreased...and if this were possible? Is it?

Oh yes, no problem.

Only it was a problem. Perhaps the bartender should have known to either refuse to make the drink because it was going to be a serious disaster if the recipe were altered or to TASTE the cocktail before sending it out to the table. It was gross. Seriously gross.

We had to wait for our server to return before we could fix the situation by ordering something else...something less complicated. And friends, fellow snobs, this is just the kind of lack of drinking etiquette that pisses me right off...IF YOU MUST CHARGE $10 FOR A COCKTAIL, THEN YOU MUST KNOW HOW TO SERVE IT PROPERLY AND WITH PRIDE.

Sidenote: This is also yet another reason I despise corporate restaurants.

Well, our food comes. It's fine. It's tasty for a tuna melt and caesar salad. The other dishes were simple, but a bit messy...too many flavors covering up the fine taste of Seattle's seafood. My friend had to piece apart her fish and make a new little concoction with her bread in order to taste it. Again...if your entree is $15, you should not, I repeat NOT, have to recreate it in order to eat it.

At this point, we were done. Ready for our check. We still enjoyed each other, but it was SO distracting to be taking such unprofessional care of, and we managed to drop over $100...so I felt especially frustrated.

I will not return to Ray's Cafe for any other important meal...but I do hear the happy hour is amazing and NOTHING can beat that view of my puget sound. So if you find yourself in a wandering mood where you don't care how the evening goes, head on over to Ray's.

Bottom Line

It's the perfect place to expect nothing of.

Sidenote: This review is of the cafe, not the boathouse. I am eager to get back and waste more money giving the "upscale" section a chance.

Chutney's Grille on the Hill, Capitol Hill, Seattle

The mister and I were in a wandering mood. How this mood took us 10 blocks uphill (with laptops in tow), I'll never know, but I am surely joyous that it did so.

After an iced-tea cool down at Victrola on 15th (a place we love, btw), the mister was getting hungry. We decided to head to Chutney's, which was the closest Indian food, and he had a hankering for some curry.

We have a soft-spot for Indian culture, and were curious how a chain restaurant could possible compare to Naan-N-Curry (our favorite!). Since Naan-N-Curry is Pakistani (northern) and Chutney's is southern cuisine, we knew the differences would be obvious...so we just stopped comparing.

The place looked a bit dead when we came in, and the air conditioning was too cold to sit inside (mental note for those HOT DAYS!), so we camped on their large outdoor patio. We were immediately greeted by the friendliest Nepalese (we found out later) man. When Joel said thank you in Hindi, we made an instant connection. How he loved talking about his life and culture and how Seattle was great because people still walk (he had just returned from culturally-rich Dallas, TX). After a while, more and more people trickled in...

Yeah, so we felt at home...
But the food? We wondered.

We ordered a Coconut Curry Stew with lamb to share (never, never order more than one entree for two at an Indian restaurant, or you will have to be rolled out of there), some basmati rice, and the regular naan. It was really good! I have no idea how we still spent just over $40. Wait, it was probably our two cocktails. :)

The evening was quite pleasant with our conversation, our server, and our food.

Bottom Line

Absolutely worth the walk, but probably try somewhere else if driving.

the secret snob

Zig Zag Cafe, Seattle

I don't know what I love about Zig Zag more...that it's impossible to find or that the cocktails and service are superb or that it is almost never crowded (even when I've gone on a Saturday evening at 8pm). I may regret telling you about it because it feels like the best kept secret in Seattle, which of course scores it major snobbery points.

Pleasantly pink in ambiance, this watering hole eases you into her jazz-playing bosom. There are these gorgeous, plush half-mooned booths that nestle you in while you read the extensive drink menu which is guaranteed to give you an education on liquors and digestives. Though I am typically a dry martini or makar's manhattan kind of girl, I throw myself willingly into the hands of Erik Hakkinen and Murray Stenson (certainly a Seattle legend) and emerge well-pleased indeed. May I suggest the Armistice and The Turf Cocktail.

For a snob such as myself, there is nothing more embarrassing than bringing a big group into a classy bar, but Zig Zag accommodated our varying tastes and separate checks with grace and ease. Our server even happily and knowledgeably answered my indecisive little sister's questions and suggested drinks according to her taste. To top off our drinks, I had a caesar salad (very good and garlicky) and a lamb burger (light and savory).

Bottom Line
Throw on some class and adventure and saunter down to this swingin' joint

~the secret snob

p.s. Did I mention the outdoor patio?

Le Pichet, Seattle : Déjeuner

Seattle and outdoor dining have a tricky relationship. More specifically, because of the phenomenon of most Seattleites absolutely loosing their sanity when the sun comes out, dining outdoors can be near impossible on the weekends as well as lunch hour downtown on any weekday. However, much to my surprise, I found a table at Le Pichet on a regular old Thursday noon.

I needed a taste of Paris from my summer of 2006. I needed to sip a sparkler, sit in the cool breeze, and butter a crusty baguette. Le Pichet had been on my radar for quite sometime* and since I needed my daily dose of Vitamin D, I sauntered downtown and found Le Pichet.

It was not what I expected...in a really good way. It was not expensive or upscale. It had four sweet outdoor tables on the sidewalk, all of which were free when I chose mine. It was relatively small and unassuming, almost lost to its neighbor, The Virginia Inn. The servers were all adorable, good looking (how faux-french, non?), and friendly.

I saw two euro-hikers enjoying their lunch with a glass of rosé. I noticed a few business casuals on their lunch breaks as well as friends meeting to catch up over coffee and pastries. I noticed two different couples of tourists (always a casualty of dining near Pike Place Market), one of which sat next to me and proceeded to attempt their french with each other.

But that's the thing about Le Pichet, it actually makes you think you need to speak french in order to, well...order. It had me fully convinced, hell, fully transported to Paris...complete with a menu I found somewhat lack luster (I find French lunches less luminsecent than dinners). But this is very much to their credit. After choosing my bubbly, a medium-price Blanquette, I settled on the soup. Potage de topinambours et poireaux, sa tranche de Fourme d’Ambert to be exact. Translation: “Creamy Jerusalem artichoke and leek soup garnished with cow’s milk blue cheese.”

My food came out very fast and was seriously delicious. I was about to leave when my sweet server suggested dessert...and after all, I was there a) to pamper myself and b) to write a review, so I had to try it. At the server's suggestion, I ordered the profiteroles. Voila! Puff pastry filled with ice-cream and covered in chocolate? Mais oui!

I was feeling so good at that point that I spoke to the annoying couple next to me, charmingly mentioning that they should help me finish the desert. They were quite lovely back to me, so I promptly forgave them for their ameri-french and fanny packs.

I then ordered an espresso macchiato and oh dears, this is one point upon which I cannot be amiable. My foam was about 3 inches high and horribly steamed. I forgave the aesthetic blunder and discretely used my wee spoon to remove the unsightly "casper of a friendly milk." But the espresso! Oh the espresso...dears, I hate to say it, but it was simply horrible. Bitter, over-extracted, barely palatable. I even considered using sugar to get it down, but couldn't break apart a sugar cube to get just a little bit. Judging from the name on the demitasse cup, Le Pichet uses Cafe Vita. I have a feeling it was not Cafe Vita's fault. I was not impressed...amaturely prepared espresso in the city of coffee is simple inexcusable.

My only suggestion to the service staff: Do not make a gal repeat three times that she is "just one." I believe covering it once with the hostess should suffice. But then the water gal brought two waters and asked again if I was just one. I braved it with poise, but when the server asked yet again, I found myself flaunting my diamond wedding-ring for all in earshot/eye shot. Oh I am so weak.

That is NOT to say, however, that I won't be back again, husband happily in hand, ready to test out my french appetite once more. I cannot wait to go back for Le Diner.

Bottom Line
Bon Appetit!

snootily yours,
-le secret snob

*I passed a friend in the hallway once that couldn't stop to chat because she was too busy fixing up her friend with her estranged husband. He was on his way down from Bellingham to make the "grand gesture" and take my friend's advice by taking her to Le Pichet in the early evening. From then on, I've known I simply must try it.