My Mexi-French-Italia Food Fest

Has everyone recovered from turkey and stuffing overload? More imporantly, from "lots of family in close quarters" overload? This year, we did not venture to the wild Midwest but stayed close to home and avoided the airports - talk about being thankful. But I hope everyone enjoyed dining, dishing and debating with family and friends on this lovely pit-stop on the road to Christmas (which is what most retail outlets would have you think is the true meaning of this Autumn holiday) Now Thanksgiving is behind us and advertisers have unabashedly gone full throttle to holiday shopping.

But, oh, what a lovely gastronomic tour de force we had the last 4 days! Before I get to the best which I save for last, let's begin with our quest for some mid-week Mexican love last Tuesday - we found it in La Carta de Oaxaca, a casual joint in Ballard that makes clever use of corn, chiles and chocolate in its homestyle cooking. The restaurant was a plain space, crammed with tables and patrons, but artfully decorated not in pinatas or garish colors, but what seemed like hundreds of poignant and interesting photographs. Varying in size, they seemed to capture the people and architecture of what I have to assume to be Mexico or other South American villages. You couldn't stop staring at the depictions of life gracing the walls.

And I couldn't stop eating my silky smooth chicken mole. This place is known for it's mole (choose pork or chicken), and it delivers. Like a chocolate massage down the throat, the chicken slid off the bone and the mole meandered down to my tummy and settled there warm and wonderful on this chilly fall evening. The portions were sane and satisfying. And the chips and guac were muy delicioso. Definitely on the list of weeknight stops for future Mexican bliss.

Not on the itinerary for the future is Le Pichet. Craving mussels and pommes frites, we ventured to this French bistro in Belltown. While definitely displaying all the accoutrements of the classic bar/cafe - wooden wine label signs, mismatched champagne buckets, bistro tables, small-tiled floors and the Fromage chalkboard displaying featured daily cheeses - the vibe was a bit cold and way too bright in the lighting department. I felt like I was being interrogated in the witness room on Law & Order. Service was spotty - they seemed to act like we were lucky to get a seat without a reservation, even though the place was a ghost town (one amusing note was that they have chalkboard-topped tables so they write "Reserved" on the actual table. As we dined, none of the tables marked "Reserved" ever filled, and even some walk-ins got the supposed "reserved" table next to ours. Methinks this is akin to sending yourself flowers to make the boy you really like jealous, hmmm?)

Boasting a rather long by-the-glass wine selection, you would think they could provide some guidance. But when I asked the waitress which white would go best with my mussels (I was feeling adventurous) I got a very lame, "Well, it depends on what you like" as she listed off about 8 possibilities. No, no, no, people. If you have an extensive wine list AND you masquerade as a French bistro, then get educated and have an opinion. I don't want to be "yessed" to death: I am seeking your expertise. Sigh...

It was not all bad. The bread was crusty, warm and wonderful. My mixed greens with hazelnuts and mustard vinaigrette was fresh and yummy. And my hubbie enjoyed the country-style pork pate, even though that type of pate is a bit more hearty than he prefers. But my mussels were just okay (they seemed a bit understeamed if that is possible) since I am more a fan of the clear wine broths vs. creamy thick mollosk marinades like th bacon, leek and saffron cream in which mine bathed. This is a personal preference, so I would give it a go if I were you. Overall, the bright lights and the sub-par service made me want to get out of there fast. I was saddened by this, since a local French bistro you can count on is a staple for me. The search continues....

And then - joy of joys - we ventured to La Spiga in Capitol Hill on Saturday night. I have been dying to try this spot since our realtor Ron recommended it. And it did not let me down! Stylish ironworks around the bar, high ceilings slatted with pine, and a large front window that upon closer inspection, was revealed to be a glass garage door made this industrial and funky osteria a chic local hotspot for groups, dates and even on our night, a sophisticated bachelor party. According to their site, "in Italy, the osteria is an inviting neighborhood spot where locals savor fresh, seasonal food while enjoying the company of good friends. a sophisticated dining spot." I concur. I enjoyed a tickly and bubbly Kir Royale at the bar. Then we were seated and our dinner fest began: insalata mista with a slightly salty vinagrette was fresh and crisp, and Pere con Pesto di Rucola e Fossa (Bartlette pears topped lightly with arugula walnut and Formaggio di Fossa sheep cheese) was nutty and Fall and wonderful. There is so much on the menu I want to go back and try, but I started with the traditional Tagliatelle al Ragu: a lovely homemade pasta made with rich meat and tomato Bolognese sauce with the right balance (for this Italian gal) of detectable Parmesan. My husband tried the Passatelli al Formaggio di Fossa in Brodo di Carne, which is a free-range chicken and natural beef broth cradling Passatelli dumplings with Fossa aged sheep cheese - the entire dish topped with truffle oil. The prices were reasonable for such a chic spot - entrees ranged from $10 to $15. We also indulged in a side of the most perfectly roasted Yukon potatoes with rosemary that I've ever enjoyed for a mere $6.

Other little treats they offer are specialty condiments of rich oils, vinegars and premiere salts. We tried the Peperoncini nell’Olio - Crushed Arbol Chiles in extra virgin olive oil - and enjoyed the kick in the pants our flatbread received with each dipping.

The wine list offered lots of by the glass options and I partook of a lovely Primitivo (the Italian style of Zinfandel). It was like the good Zinfandels of yesteryear - before they started upping the sugar (and thus, alchohol) percentages. Mmmmm. I had two (hiccup.)

La Spiga rocked. I want to go back weekly to try all the seasonal goodies before the menu changes and also to become a regular. Yes, my dream is to become the "Norm from Cheers" of an Italian trattoria. Call me kooky.

A Scot-Italia Pub Fest

Scotland may indeed be brave, but viva Italia!

Saturday might have been a hangover recovery morning for those attending our housewarming party the night before, but for our Scot-Italia household, it was the Scotland-Italy football (soccer) match for advancement in the European Cup race. Or something. Apparently it has been a big deal that Scotland has advanced this far into the qualifying. All I know is my husband was like a kid in a candy store, bolted out of bed early, forced me to don my Italy jersey while he modeled his Ross County jersey, and ushered me out at 8:00 am to go watch the game.

Married to a Scotsman, I have uncovered a whole other subculture in this country. Like a secret society, this ex-pat or just general fan group graces pubs big and small to watch DirectTV feeds of international soccer games - often at ridiculous morning hours since the games are televised live. This one happily was at a more decent hour.

Tromping through the rain along the silent early morning streets, we hit The George and Dragon, which hails itself as Seattle "only authentic English pub." It seemed deserted - until we stepped inside. We were greeted by a heaving crowd of rowdy Scotsmen and Scotland supporters who has taken over the "English" pub by hanging the Lion Rampart and the Scottish flag strategically throughout the place. The Russia game was on, too, but in a back corner somewhere. Scottish accents, laughter, blue and white jerseys, and kilts filled the room. Yes, my husband must hate me, I thought, as I walked in with my lone Italy jersey. I felt like the stranger walking into a Wild West bar as the saloon goes silent. Now I'm all for rooting for my home country, but talk about stepping into the lion's den. My husband had happily scored a small table and waved me over (someone had to go get the lattes). Glowing and smiling, I think he found his people. Our good friend, Guy, also joined into the fun by meeting us there as well.

The room crackled with excitement and progressively got louder close to 9 am kickoff (or whatever the hell they call it in soccer). A quiet looking man arrived with an odd little suitcase which he opened and pulled out a set of bagpipes. The crowd went nuts as he blasted "Scotland the Brave." Caught up in the super fun excitement, I looked around at all the hopeful happy faces and thought "This is really cool!" I felt like we were back in my in-laws village pub in Evanton or something. We even ordered a Scottish Breakfast of egg, tomato, beans, bacon and sausage. Wasn't great, but it definitely added to the ambiance.

Italy scored first, dampening the spirits a bit, but Scotland rallied and scored as well. Then with about a minute or two to go, a penalty was called and Italy got a corner kick that turned into a goal. And with that, the flame went out, folks finished up their Guinesses, shook hands, and started trickling out into the pouring rain. Piper Guy did one more round for the troops before packing it in as well.

I love examples of the fun little subcultures that abound in our country: groups formed via a shared interest for film or chess or their faraway homeland. It's like there's this undercurrent you never really know about until you tap into the vein and find yourself carried along. My husband was very sad at Scotland's loss, but we are looking forward to spending many more rainy Saturday mornings at The George and Dragon with "his people."

Food and Storytelling

What is it about food that makes it such a great catalyst for storytelling? I have recently dusted off a long-buried memoir idea - a collection of stories about growing up Italian (and not being in the Mob) and I have a whole chapter devoted to food as tradition. But many people can weave an entire night's tale by the fire around a butternut squash recipe.

I wonder why this is. Can it be that food is so universal and representative of different times in our lives? That the aromas and tastes can instantly transport us to another time and place? Maybe it's because food makes use of most of our senses - touch being used most infrequently, but still.....so when we file away a memory of that perfect dinner party or family gathering, it includes the buttery taste on our tongue, the sweet aroma of cumin, the tender meat morsel that melts in your mouth, or the fabulous array of spices and garnish served on the platter.

Of course, food can also be associated with some not-so-fabulous memories. Don't even show me a frozen bag of mixed veggies that include lima beans. I TOLD Mom it would make me sick, but noooooo....she thought I was just whining. I won't go into more detail on that one, gentle readers.

A friend of mine wrote a book that has yet to be published which I just ripped through in less than a day (that's how good it is) and it talks about the European custom of savoring your food, savoring the companionship and enjoying the "event" with all of your senses - from the food itself, to how it is presented to what the table settings look like. I guess my Mediterranean heritage shines through once again, for I love dining in this way. It is an experience meant to be savored and enjoyed.

Too often we look to our meals as "fueling stations" on the highway of life. Something to remember to do when things get crazy. That's sad. Some of the best moments in my life have involved gathering around a table with friends and family to celebrate a holiday, a promotion, or just the fact that we are in each other's lives on a cold Friday evening.

Rather than waiting to sit down to a nice dinner when you have stories to tell and time to tell them, we have to make time for the food - and the memories of that evening will lead to the stories that follow for years to come.

Yum and Ick

We spent the weekend entertaining friends from out of town (as well as friends from in.) This naturally involved lots of eating and drinking, most of it done at sports bars. In summary, we had a wide variety and sucky and good food this weekend, which leaves me feeling a bit bipolar on this rainy Monday.

As for sports bars, thumbs up on Sport by the Seattle Space Needle. They served a Kobe beef burger (what is up with me and the Kobe these days? Must be all the rain driving me to seek comfort in beef) weighing in at 10 ounces, so I smartly shared this with my husband. It was delish, juicy and wonderful. Top it off with perfectly golden crispy onion rings and HDTV screens everywhere you look to watch both the Cowboys and Bears' game, and we were set. Quite a bit more swanky, but less yummy was Fox Grill in downtown Seattle. Large plasma screens, a plush lobby with cushy chairs and panes of glass awash in waterfalls made for nice ambiance but the food was bland and boring. Can everyone just supply their spicy buffalo wings from Bw3 and be done with it, please? Life would taste so much zestier. Although redeeming itself with a Build Your Own Bloody Mary bar sponsored by Pearl Vodka did soften the disappointment a tad. Can't say that simple solution can soothe the broken heart of the Buckeye State, however.

Evening adventures brought us to Wild Ginger, a favorite of one of our guests, a former Tacoma resident. The Pacific Rim meets Northwest inspired menu was full of diverse selections and the decor and service were very upscale. I enjoyed everything I ate, from the Mongolian Noodles to the Princess Prawns (my pick, naturally) to the Seven Flavors Beef to the potstickers. Their signature duck with sticky buns was our guest's favorite, but I'm not a duck fan so I opted out. We also had an excellent Pinot Noir from Dundee Hills, an appellation of Oregon's Willamette Valley.

And then there was Sunday, which was one of the saddest disappointments of my dining experience in a long time. I had been dying to try a local neigborhood trattoria and being Italian, long for good "old country" food within walking distance when I'm too lazy to cook it myself. We took our guests to Sorrentino at the top of Queen Anne. Oh, but how I wanted to love this restaurant. It was festively decorated, we were greeted warmly at the door and they could seat us immediately. This should have been our first sign. The place was deserted. But hey, everyone has bad days. They were even chatting in Italian at the bar! I found my people! But net-net: the Caesar salad was drenched in dressing, the Bufalo Mozzarella pizza was soggy and wet (yes, as the waiter pointed out this is the finest mozzarella and holds more water. But last time I checked, pizza is not supposed to be wet, so here's a hint: USE LESS!) and my friend's ravioli was so much an overly salty, slathering sauce mess that she couldn't eat it. And she had skipped lunch so she was very hungry. Yikes. I have to say my prawn and fettucine entree was very good, but when all your dining companions are unhappy, it is hard to love a place. I was so, so sad this place turned out to be so bad. I hope they can turn things around, I really do. One way they could do this: when a guest takes the care and time to tell you they didn't like something, don't try to justify it. Learn from it. Sigh.....oh, and lose the Italian hip-hop you have playing: it ruins the ambience you've worked so hard to create with the decor. Sigh again.....is Gordon Ramsay free for some tough love? The UK not the US version, FYI.

A Night to Remember

I had a night on Saturday that changes your life. A night so charming, sophisticated and close to perfection as to make you just appreciate being alive, healthy and surrounded by friends and the one you love.

Saturday night, my husband and our friends had dinner at Canlis.

I must admit, I had never heard of the spot and when passing by it in recent weeks, saw the abstract stone signage and thought it was the entrance to a "lifestyle" condo complex. Shame on me. Canlis is well-known in bon vivant circles and has had no shortage of distinctions bestowed on it: Gourmet Magazine Top 50 Restaurants in America - #19; 2006 The Wine Spectator “Grand Award” 1997; 2007 James Beard Foundation “Nomination for Outstanding Service” 2003, 2007....the list goes on and can be found on their site. It's also a haven for celebrities and dignitaries as they breeze through town.

My favorite hotel chain is the Ritz Carlton because when I walk in, I feel equally at home and treated like royalty. And Canlis delivered a similar experience. No detail was spared - each and every staff member worked in concert in a glorious symphony to make your dining experience unforgettable. We were greeted upon entering with stunning views of Seattle at night, over the darkness of Lake Union. It felt a bit like a high-end, sophisticated mountain retreat- only the most urbanly sophisticated touches of wood, rustic decor, and artwork made the place feel like a Northwest hidden getaway of the highest caliber. I hear tale that they have a unique ticketless valet service headed by someone who has worked there for years. They just escort you in and take your car and it miraculously greets you on the way out. And they've never lost a vehicle. Talk about feeling like a regular.

There is way too much perfection on the menu to even attempt to do it justice. I had lamb chops served with Israeli couscous which was "wrapped" in Swiss chard, Oregon blue cheese and bathed in pancetta lamb jus that was done to perfection, the bold flavors coming together as one balanced piece; one of our party dove into the Muscovy Duck Breast served with butternut squash ragout, sage brown butter and aged balsamic and savored every bite, and even the Alaskan Halibut was exquisite. But the tenderloin.....ooooooh, the tenderloin......

Friends....the lot of us have eaten at our share of 5-star restaurants all over the world. One of our companions had just dined at Chicago's Tru a few days before. But this was different. We all concurred this was the BEST piece of meat ever to pass our lips...I mean, EVER....I mean, no, really, "Ever." When we saw it on the menu, I told my husband to go big and order this $70 ticket to paradise. We were out celebrating both my and my friend's birthdays so why not go big?

Here is the description from the menu: "Wagyu Tenderloin - Seattle's most exclusive steak, Kobe-style beef, naturally raised from Japanese sires and Angus cows, a higher quality than prime Tenderloin." It is often said that perfection is simply stated and true regality is carried forth effortlessly. This somewhat effortless description fits that bill. If you ever in your life get the chance to taste true (not imitation) Kobe-style Wagyu, don't ask questions - just do it.

We washed all of these morsels down with a Waters Syrah from Walla Walla, Washington. On a wine list full of delights, this was not only a featured recommendation but insanely reasonably priced. Reason? They had just started carrying it and were trying it out. Next year, we were warned, the prices would most likely increase since it was so good. Versatile and berrylicious, it went with all our different cuts of meat and the seafood entree.

The boys rounded out our gastronomic joy ride with a Whisky club tasting served by none other than Mark Canlis himself. This private club is members only and through some charm and moxie (and the fact that my husband is Scottish) we were allowed to look at the secret club Whisky menu. They chose the Highland Park Lunar Bottling 18 1/2 year old. Mark Canlis graciously chatted at length with us about their Scotches and how his brother is a minister in the Church of Scotland and has lived over there for years. To cap off the evening, we were invited to take a tour of the restaurant and saw their wonderful private party rooms, old photographs and other goodies. By the time we got back to the foyer, our coats were waiting as well as our taxi. Not much more I can say except nights like this are wonderful opportunities to savor all the blessing you have - and the fact that you have the means to enjoy such a wonderful meal, with such a dramatic view, with such laughter and good conversation. When can I go back?!