Clayton

I saw Arisawkadoria here and they were smashing; we had pretty good seats and I can’t say much bad about the Triple Door. Except for one tip: if you show up early-ish to get good seats, stay in your seats and don’t wander down to the Alibi Room if you want to keep those seats.

The paté is delicious, even if like me you’re not really into liver, and they have a fabulous Vacqueyras that is infinitely drinkable. I love this place and must try the Poulet Rôti soon.

... I had the excellent Tarte Belle-Hélène, with pears and almonds and chocolate and who knows what else. I highly recommend it, even for people who don’t like pears quite as much as I do. This place might possibly be the nearest thing to a boulangerie in Seattle, and I wish I lived a little closer.

I have always loved the shark tank here, as well as the belugas. I don’t think I appreciated the otters or the puffins enough before my recent visit, though, and I never even noticed the majestic raven. Or the owl, which was almost as intimidating as the dead-eyed sand tiger shark, horror of horrors.

I walked by here the other day, for the first time in a while. There were freakishly new and shiny condo buildings scattered around, and the Yale Street Deli was empty except for an old refrigerator dragged halfway out of its place and standing there crookedly. The sign was gone and there were no turkey sandwiches, nevermore. I suppose in ten years this whole area will look like the Pearl District.

Seattle has plenty of coffee shops, it’s true. I’ve got my favorite ones for a dry cappucino on the way to work, my favorite for afternoon espresso and chatting with the barista (Hi Trish!), and my favorite for sitting around and reading. But Zeitgeist is the the brightest and warmest and airiest. I love sitting at my favorite table with an americano and the delicious gingerbread biscotti, just soaking in the atmosphere and woolgathering. Their salami sandwich is the best one in town outside of Salumi itself. I am inordinately fond of their clock. Most of all, the design of the place is handsome and coherent and grown-up and subtle and humanistic, making it an institution rather than a coffee shop someone put together; like the best typography, you can easily look right past it.

Walking north in the twilight from the little gelato joint on First, I noticed a glowing red sign over the stairwell by Left Bank Books and exclaimed “has that always been there? What is that? How long has that been there? I’ve never seen it before!” I was slightly disgusted that something as obvious as a glowing red sign could sneak up on me in a place that I’m no stranger to. But I went in to look, of course, and was delighted. It was all a little loud and a little much right then, but the swanky and unapologetically contrived fin-de-siècle atmosphere is just what we could use a little more of in this town. I’ll be back.

I loved the design of this place. It wins the coveted Best Use of Wood and Leather in a Tasteful and Restrained yet Inventive and Modern Way prize, for sure. It wasn’t showy or distracting at all, but a perfectly comfortable environment for a nice long brunch. And the food was good too; I had a very silly breakfast of freshly-made doughnuts. Also the barrel-aged minty feta is remarkable, and comes on pita bread at least as good as Cafe Paloma’s.

I just want an excuse to ride the ferry. So.

There is a neat little room with, I think, leather easy chairs and a fireplace which looks like it belongs in a castle or something. And of course the whole place is pretty neat, and what can I say, they have dozens and dozens of good beers. Too bad it’s all the way up in Fremont…