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

The Broadway Grill, Capitol Hill

Funny thing about The Broadway Grill. When I didn't live on Capitol Hill, I would have no problem showing my face here. I went two or three times and didn't think anything of the overpriced booze and poor service. I would say that I EVEN enjoyed it.

Upon the mister and I relocating to Capitol Hill 1.5 years ago, we have not been back. It was a subconscious omission, however. We only slightly noticed that their music is borderline annoying or that the touristy/hipster clientele is trying too hard. We were just distracted by all the other choices available to our walking feet.

My friend came into town last week. We wanted to have lunch with outdoor dining, and so we just made an excuse to try this place again (I had secretly wanted some confirmation to my elitist avoidance of this silly place). We made the mistake of going to an already lame restaurant during lunch traffic.

We sat at our table for 10 minutes before greeted.
Upon greeting, the totally ditsy boy-stud who waited on us greeted us with "What do you want."
I told him a bottle of rose, and he blankly agreed.
The bottle arrived 9 minutes later.
Upon arrival, he asked me if I wanted to taste it.
Of course.
He then poured me a bit AND my friend a bit.
The rose was completely disgustingly sweet.
This was the only bottle on the menu.
This bottle cost $32.
The server left.
Without taking our order.
We sat for 6 minutes.
He came back.
He didn't write anything down.
He forgot our appetizer.
Our food came 35 minutes later.
I asked him where our appetizer was.
He smiled with vacant eyes..."Oh. Did you order one?"
"Yes."
"Oops."
No offer for recompense.
No check back.
He had 4 tables.

We may as well have eaten at Applebee's.

Truly, the only thing remarkable about this place was my visiting friend and her witty conversation.

Bottom Line
I love my friend. I'll prove it by never taking her to The Broadway Grill again.

the secret snob

VIOS Cafe and Marketplace, Capitol Hill

I drive by VIOS on my way to my hairdresser about 6 times annually. I finally decided to treat my newly colored hair to a lunch and writing date (I am, in fact, IN VIOS as I type this). I had no idea what to expect, as it advertises itself as a Café/Marketplace.

First of all, there is no WIFI. This is really quite unforgivable in Seattle Café. I unsuccessfully tried to access a poor neighbor’s signal, to no avail. I have a feeling this happens a lot to quest387, sad little unsecured network it is. Strike 1.

Secondly, as I walked up to the counter to order, I was expecting the cashier to help me decide or at least explain some of the workings (it’s really not that obvious if you are not familiar with Greek cuisine). I was instead greeted by a very curt female who had no patience whatsoever with my not knowing which sides I wanted with my lamb kabob right away. I didn’t even understand where the sides were listed (again, it’s really not that obvious). Then, instead of helping me by listing off the choices (she should have them memorized, after all), she waited in silence as my confused eyes wandered around looking for anything that said "SIDES." Strike 2.

Ah, but then my entire mood changed. Perhaps my low blood sugar was making me a bit cranky, for when my kabobs arrived…Oh DEAR GOD…I was in Tzatziki heaven. Now that my belly is full and I’ve entered my coffee coma, this place is starting to look better. As I look up at the then-curt cashier, I mark how decidedly friendly she seems. I’m even almost glad that there is no internet to distract my flow of words. The atmosphere is warm and inviting with friends meeting for a late lunch or singles lingering over a newspaper. I admire a mother reading as she holds her chubby baby.

And so I suppose I must give VIOS a thumbs up. And I also suppose I must return post haste for another taste of that addicting Tzatziki, if only in a quest to find strike 3. Oh the sacrifices I am willing to endure for you!

Bottom Line

A lamb kabob covers a multitude of sins

the secret snob

Smith, Capitol Hill

I vowed never to go back to Smith again. It was the great snow storm of 2008, and all the restaurants on Capitol Hill were so busy one could barely secure a table anywhere. Because driving was an equally impossible task, all manner of people were walking to any foodery they could find. When QFC’s shelves started to empty, the panic set in.

This is the general hysteria into which I walked when attempting to go to Smith. Not only was there truly cacophonous clamor evading from the doors, but there was no space to wait for our table inside, out of the snow-covered ground. Granted, we had a group of 6, but even a group of 2 was being quoted a 1.5 hour wait. We went on to 22 Doors and squished into a booth and had a less than amazing time, disgruntled as we were by frostbite and Smith rejection.

I am rather glad that I decided to give Smith another chance. I decided to meet my lovely friend in crime (with whom I’ve gallivanted all over town in a weekly search for an authentic German pub) for happy hour. I opened the doors that once kicked me on the way out and noticed immediately the wonderful din of quiet conversation and beer swigging.

Our bartender was awesome! He managed to keep our lovely Belgians filled and recommend some saucy episodes of South Park…and I don’t even watch South Park. I am the kind of beer drinker that actually likes talking to bartenders, and he knew precisely where to interject in our conversation and when to get lost. I really the underrated the social prowess of a good barkeep, for surely a bartender is just as much a sociologist, psychologist, and philosopher as he is a drink slinger.

Truly one of their most wonderful assets is their menu. The happy hour prices were totally reasonable; I tried the macaroni and peas*. My side-kick ordered the great sweet potato fries with a sage aioli that was dangerously tasty. My mister arrived sometime later and ordered the pork loin…and that was some tasty swine.

First impressions are hard to break. Though I have come around to appreciate what Smith has to offer Capitol Hill, I will never forgive a place that does not attend to the noise-factor in initial design. I was there when Smith was both obnoxiously loud and pleasantly vacant and in either case, the open-room design is their fatal flaw.

Bottom Line
Smith, you are forgiven. Your beer, service, and eats demand respect…but only on Wednesday afternoon at 4:30pm.

the secret snob

*DISCLAIMER: Though I am a self-proclaimed and proud snob, I do not deny my white trash upbringing and consequential subconscious gravitational pull towards said cuisine.