Seattle Spots in Good Company

Somehow I have made it into December without simmering a pot of cloves, anise, citrus peels, and bay leaves down into a sweet syrup and adding a few bottles of red wine to the pot until the liquid is steaming and aromatic, and there is mulled wine for all. It's such a lovely drink to gather around when in the kitchen on a cold evening, and everyone wants a hot mug to hold and a gentle warmth in their bellies. To me, it is the color and the smell of autumn and the Christmas season, and after writing these sentences, I'm quite ready to close my computer and go find myself some wine and spices.



Before I completely open the subject of holiday cookies, puddings, and pies, though, my mind is still on a few memorable restaurant experiences shared with a friend just a month ago.

Seattle is just far enough away to feel like a treat, and any sort of trip down there merits a good meal, but being in the big city and having a friend visiting from out of town, it can become quite hard to select just one (or two) good restaurants to dine at. We managed to eat at four different places in the course of two meals, and I think we were quite wisely restrained in this selection.

We hit our favorite spots, discovered one new one on our way back down to Seattle at the end of her visit, and garnered a lovely collection of photographs and memories our palates will remember for years to come.

First up: An early lunch at 11:30am at Oddfellow's Cafe. I ordered the grilled cheese sandwich with Manchego and a Tomato Onion Jam, and Lauren got the biscuit with scrambled eggs, Gruyere, and ham. Oh yes, and a bottle of Rachel's Ginger Beer to share.







Pre-dinner: This was actually unplanned, but while poking our heads into The Walrus and the Carpenter (just to let Lauren have a peek), we inquired on how long of a wait for two, mostly out of curiosity. When we found out there wasn't one, we couldn't pass up the opportunity to share some cozy space along the wall with a group of men slurping down oysters and tall glasses of beer. We ordered bread and butter, three oysters each, and a fruity but not-too-sweet cocktail to share (the Avenue West, I believe).







Aperitif: Wanting to save plenty of room for the dinner our mouths were already watering for next door, we put our names in at Delancey and then pulled ourselves up to the bar at Essex for Lauren to have her first experience in the whale-wallpaper bar sipping its exquisite cocktails. I had The Flaneur, which had Campari in it and was available on tap, and Lauren had their Autumn Sweater. Both very repeatable (as is the 70th Street Sour, as I know from my last visit, but you simply cannot go wrong with anything created by Essex's bartenders.)





Dinner: By the time dinner came, I was working with incredibly low light in their dining room, so I set aside my camera, and we simply sighed and savored every bite of the white pie we shared (and had topped with roasted delicata squash).

After getting in a lot of walking and a good hike in the following days, we were ready for a few more Seattle treats on the way back to SeaTac airport.

Thanks to Sara and Hugh's recommendation on their blog, The Sprouted Kitchen, we stopped at Revel in Fremont for lunch. My albacore tuna rice bowl with fennel kim chi was utterly satisfying, and I intend to drag my next willing companion there as soon as possible.



And since we hadn't squeezed in Molly Moon's yet, we simply had to make an ice cream stop for Salted Caramel before saying our farewells.



It's times like these that I am so grateful for the means to have these sweet occasions, for my tastebuds and the senses of sight and smell, and for the friends who so greatly enjoy good food, too.

Chronicling Days Off I

I love my job, but, oh, I love my days off. They are not all leisurely, but I certainly try to make them as much so as possible. Capturing their little details through my camera lens helps stretch out their pleasure and remind me of all that was enjoyable when I am in the midst of a tiring week...

[Days off are for] baking bread.





(My latest favorite recipe for everyday bread.)



[Days off are for] admiring the stark lines of bare branches against winter grey.



[Days off are for] eating Red Velvet Cake for an afternoon snack.



[Days off are for] wearing warm fuzzy slippers from New Zealand wool.



[Days off are for] digging into my sister's stash of Lavender Earl Grey tea.

A Great Fit of Wasted Energy

I entered into this fall season dragging my feet. In a sense, I willfully filled the soles of my shoes with lead and resisted the change with a great fit of wasted energy.

Even with all my struggling, the sun's face shied away. I lost my early morning running routine, late evening opportunities for dinner outside in a sun dress, and the satisfaction of a chilled glass of white wine. It had been a peaceful, enjoyable summer, and I did not want to let it go.

I am ashamed to admit that it took me until November to recognize my full resistance. It took this long to release my grudges against 7 a.m. darkness and limited access to fresh flowers. It took being startled by the season's own unique beauty to realize the blindness I had been living in.







In my longing, I had ignored the transitions and gifts of September and October, and all of a sudden, November was here. It came with a strong, striking posture and commanded attention through explosions of color. Even though half the trees had unburdened themselves of brittle leaves by the time my eyes chose to see, there were still mosaics of yellow, brown, pink, and orange across the sidewalks my feet cross daily, and some of the most brilliantly yellow and red trees are holding on. (My favorite scene is bright coral pink leaves reaching up toward a grey sky. I could live in this color combination.)





The season had to change, and just as fall is threatening to call itself winter, I am opening up my palms and willingly receiving. I don't run as much as I did during the summer, but I walk to and from work everyday, and those half hour segments of time in which I simply cannot hurry along slow me down and force me to reflect, think, articulate, and observe.

I'm finding winter ales to an excellent replacement for those glasses of white wine. I don't get as many evening dinners with my roommates, but our household gatherings are all the more precious when they spontaneously come about.

Little by little, I am seeing why I don't want to be anywhere but in this season right now. Some moments, the contentment is pure enough to nestle in -- the enjoyment of one day helping me look forward to tomorrow without wishing myself there too quickly.

So, winter, I anticipate your mittens and mulled wine and snowy pine branches. These are going to be lovely when they arrive, but I'll count and file away each mental and photographic image of autumn until the day to say goodbye comes. I intend to make it swifter, more gratitude-filled, and less selfish than the last transition. Until then, who's up for pumpkin pie?

In the Winter Chill

My shoes crunched their way up the stairs to my front door tonight. Not because of dried leaves or snow but because a strange layer of whiteness has covered the land. It is not snow and it's not hail or sleet. Just fine shavings of ice that are unable to melt in the winter chill.

This very chill kept the temperature in the 20s today and called off all classes.

What better way to embrace winter weather at its truest, than making use of the oven, reading on a couch, and gazing outside through steamy windows at trees branches haloed by their icy encasement? And this is exactly what I did for the better part of the day.





This bread was an adaptation of an old standard. The only thing I did differently was to roll it out before shaping it into a loaf, then I rubbed it with a thin layer of butter and sprinkled cinnamon, cocoa, sugar, and raisins evenly across the top. I just rolled it up and tucked it into its loaf pan for one final rise from there. Delicious.