The ambiance is part Catholic church, a tad Christmas day & a pinch of what I imagine Buckingham Palace may be akin to. Christmas, not in the commercial tinsel/ tree sense but in that its comfortable, elegant and details have been put in place for the sake of a distinctive occasion. I love that feeling…its the embodiment of stepping out of dress shoes and padding around in stocking feet while dressed to the nines, the striking pronouncement of formality and underlying warmth. A consummate reverence echoes- this may very well be where folks come to pay homage…is this a house of culinary worship? Cuisine royalty? The Herbfarm widens my eyes, quiets me immediately. Walking in the door the urge to genuflect is almost compulsory. (more…)

Ray’s Boathouse is a true manifestation of the Northwest. With its unparalleled view of Shilshole Bay, its rich enduring history and an exceptional menu showcasing local food (with an emphasis on stellar NW seafood)- it represents well. Elegant and upscale, it feels special occasion oriented-  an ideal spot for celebration, romance and of course…impressive expense account dinners. While there, I noticed the prevalence of fat cats in the dining room (surely regulars)- they without a doubt take for granted the craft and style of this place. I, however, do not and hopefully never will. Rays should be fully appreciated and acknowledged for its efforts…it is visually and culinarily stunning. (more…)

It has been violently raining off and on in Seattle for days…really raining. The kind of rain that slaps your cheeks and stings your eyes, the type that defies dignity and leaves you sopping and pathetic in sticky clothing. These demeaning random downpours are of course quickly followed with vivid cerulean skies the color of which can only be found in hotel pools. The clearing never lasts long and soon again thick gray clouds return, heavy like a wet blanket. (more…)

This last week has been chaos- interviews, tons of writing and a road trip to boot. Driving for 13 hours is not chaos…nope, that’s the long and steady. Its listening to what ever radio station is available (for the most part its a lot of Christian stations that are at best laughable but mostly astonishingly crazy), eating shitty food (beef jerky, tomato juice and coffee is a terrible idea in such copious amounts) and watching the miles tick away while I try my damnedest to synchronize my bladder and the gas gauge. This, by the way, is a losing battle as well as a painful one. I cannot even begin to tell you how many times I wished for the anatomical ability to pee in a cup. (more…)

It’s one in the afternoon and we’re drinking bourbon. I came here to Cantinetta to have a chat with Chef Brian Cartenuto…5 minutes into the interview, he’s pouring Basil Hayden with a heavy hand.  I am, of course, charmed. This is how interviews should start. Hell, this is how everything should start- grocery runs, walks with the dog, yard work…no matter- pour the bourbon. Based on this action alone, I know that Brian and I are going to get along just fine. (more…)

This appetizer they make- it kills me. Since sampling it, I have actually considered stopping by Enotria and getting a batch for take-out or coming in for a purely Sottocenere based meal. Words like “rich” or “delicious” fail to do it justice. The dish is named after the truffled cows milk cheese it contains- Sottocenere. To create the appetizer, the cheese is wrapped in chard, cooked in butter and then finished with a splash of truffle oil. I shit you not when I tell you that I hesitate to swallow when I have one of those little morsels in my mouth- they are truly truly that good. (more…)

I used to live out in Preston, which is frankly one and the same with Fall City (they share a main road in fact- Preston/Fall City Road). I loved this area…I loved how rural and mountainous it felt. I loved that the land opened up and farm plots quickly replaced business complexes, pick-up trucks outnumbered BMW’s, tobacco was more common than chewing gum. Five or six years back I rented a small house here and in my driveway, I would lay out on the hood of my car at night and cherish how close the sky felt, how dark it was. It felt so remote and backwoods even with Issaquah a short 10 minutes away. Word is that there’s a new restaurant out here, one that consciously sources and puts out some pretty impressive food. So it goes, I set out for the Fall City Roadhouse knowing full well that even if the food doesn’t end up being worthwhile, the drive, the views and the memories that accompany certainly are. Lucky for me, it turns out The Fall City Roadhouse has made Preston/Fall City all the more appealing. (more…)

To be this unobservant in my own neighborhood is shameful. So close to home- how could I have missed this place?  The exterior is wood shingled, I see white curtains in the windows, a sign planted out front. Walking in, I am welcomed by Chef Dustin Ronspies and another gentleman seated in the kitchen, who turns out to be a wine merchant. Dustin is tall, taller than me anyway (I’m 5′11-6′0). A bandanna pushes his curly brown hair away from his face, he’s dressed casually in a blue “Swinery” T-shirt, rolled pants and tennis shoes…no chef jacket- just an apron. He haggles with the wine guy while I check out the space, take some photographs. I can hear them chatting and cant help but smile at Dustin’s curt no bullshit response to the numerous sales pitches being cast his direction. “No, I don’t want that. No…forget it. Yeah, Ill take a case of that one there. Leave me a little bit of that- Ill taste it later.”- he’s pouring through the bottles, tasting, a half dozen stained wine glasses in his wake. From what I hear, it sounds like he’s a straight shooter…blunt and forthright- I like that. (more…)

Its going to crush me breaking this sunflower apart- but I will. On my window sill the light catches it magnificently- the flower is the size of a dinner plate, its seed rows glow like perfect magazine teeth. I want those seeds…oh, but I want that flower just the same. It is a monument to the phenomenon that is food, nature, what we understand and what we never will. When Karissa handed me a bag of goods harvested from her garden the other day, I knew I was in for a treat. The woman can grow anything, anywhere and grow it beautifully. I’m constantly telling her to enter her vegetables in State Fairs…really, the size of her zucchini are shocking- the weight of one is equivalent to that of a toddler. Her tomatoes are as sweet as candy, her chard picturesque, her cucumbers have the ability to outright embarrass those sourced elsewhere. (more…)

Two Xanax + half a bottle of wine= the only way that I would get on that goddamn plane. Awful, awful…I hate flying. Oddly, this is a brand new development – air travel never used to bother me. Up until the last year or so, I boarded planes like an absolute pro. The idea of lounging back en route to a desirable destination and getting a block of uninterrupted reading/writing in sounded like a good ol’ time. Ah, but no more- now I’m a wreck and sedating me like an unruly animal seems to be the only answer. This obviously cramps my style quite a bit- a traveler’s constitution is (or should I say was) as much a part of my identity as tattoo’s or being an avid cook. (more…)