Tuesdays with Market

For this trip to our friendly Pike Place Market, the quirky culinary epicenter of the Emerald City, we visited Café Campagne for their incomparably affordable happy hour. I've always had an affection for French cuisine, starting back in my first kitchen class in culinary school, Skills Development. I'm sure my face took on a glazed look as the chef, Anthony Natale, began to talk about something called fond de veau. That was over ten years ago, and French cuisine is no less interesting to me today, in spite of the way it is sometimes disparaged as overly fussy or old-fashioned. If you go to France you realize it is the food (maybe not veal stock!) that ordinary citizens, working class folks, eat. One of my favorite stories to tell my students is how fascinated I was by reading the school lunch menus posted outside a grammar school in this or that nameless French city, during the two years I spent abroad in Europe after culinary school, chasing the ghostly dishes I was indoctrinated by in culinary school.. "What kind of food do French schoolchildren eat?" I always ask. The entire class always gets that faraway look that is or should be a message to the teacher that what they are saying is not readily apparent. "French food!" I exclaim, to only slightly more recognition. Oh well. It's still funny to me.

Anyways, Café Campagne's happy hour is the cheapest in town. $1 mini lamburgers exploding with juice and perfectly cooked- unlike the raw-in-the-middle burgers I forced my friends to eat last weekend after misreading their doneness while grilling them in the dark after a beer or two. There are also $1 pate sandwiches. Both are served on gougeres, which are the same thing as a cream puff, minus all the sweet stuff. Fantastic. There are also decent pommes frites served with garlicky aioli. Perhaps the highlight was the tarte flambee, which in this case is a flatbread smothered with a thick layer of melted onions, a dab of crème fraiche and a healthy smattering of crisp bacon strips.

Maybe the best part about this happy hour is that there is a selection of a dozen or so French wines of moderate quality offered for $2/3 oz pour! What a great way to sample several regional wines in one sitting for not much money. Granted these are not the prime examples of French wines, but they are tasty and pretty much as they should be. White Burgundy is a touch flinty and utterly lacking in oakiness. Bordeaux is grapey and tannic. There are also two sparkling wines offered.

Just to put things in perspective, when we went to Il Bistro two weeks ago, the happy hour bill came to $50. This time it was $30 and the food was better, the server infinitely more skilled. Campagne is a fancy, top-notch restaurant. Their happy hour is an absolute steal. Go for it.

Tuesdays with Market

Jasmine bills itself as a Thai Moroccan restaurant, but there are really only two Moroccan dishes on the menu (couscous and something else). Taking our cue from the dearth of offerings, Paul and I ordered Thai, but our intrepid friend got the couscous. She was not rewarded for her bravery. Her first plate came with a hair. Her second was under-seasoned. I got the pad kee mow tofu, which was pleasing to the eye (pictured) but a bit over-seasoned (overly salty, overly spicy, and overly sweet all at the same time). Not inedible or even unpalatable, but not quite right. Actually, it was like the food you get at a lot of chain restaurants - it looks good but it makes up in sauce for what its ingredients lack in true flavor. Paul ordered the green curry salmon, which was the best item of the bunch, but not worth making a return trip for, even at less than $10 a plate.

Happy Birthday Market!

Pike Place Market turns 100 this year and, in honor of this auspicious event, we decided to blow some serious cash and go to the centennial version of the Market's annual Sunset Supper, a fundraiser featuring some of the Northwest's best food and booze to support the Market's many charitable endeavors. It was a perfect Seattle summer night after a gray day that had threatened rain. The cobblestone street was closed off and the main market day-vendor area was filled to the brim with booths offering every manner of culinary delight. There were too many wonderful restaurants represented to list them all, but here is a representative sampling: Canlis serving a perfect braised beef short rib; Chez Shea serving ahi tartare with avocado, cucumber, & wasabi soy vinaigrette; Salish Lodge serving salmon mousse on petite brioche; Andaluca serving a sweet corn risotto; Matt's in the Market serving a smoked trout salad; and Beecher's Cheese serving their famous "World's Best" mac & cheese. We went with a colleague of Paul's from the Art Institute and each of us had our favorites. I was enthralled with the Fish Club's Coco Lopez mussel shooter, though the others thought it a tad too sweet. Bob favored Cascadia's sweet corn panna cotta, corn gelato, and duck bacon salad, served by Kerry Sear himself, though Paul found it a bit too cold for his teeth. And Paul was enamored of Le Pichet's carmelized rice pudding with fresh blueberries and cream about which we all had to agree.

Tuesdays with Market

Place Pigalle is the kind of place you go to celebrate or impress someone. It's classy, from the beautiful polished wood bar, to the black and white checkered floor, to the linens on the tables. And the view! There is nothing so pleasant as snagging a window table for a sunny, quiet, Tuesday lunch, watching the ferries and sailboats glide by and feeling that all is right with the world.
As often happens, I came here by accident. My parents were in town to see me get sworn into the Washington bar and wanted to go out for a celebratory lunch. I knew they'd want a place with a view, but I was expecting to take them for Lowell's rolls or all-day breakfast at the Athenian. So when my mother suggested this little French place they'd discovered behind the fish sellers while awaiting my arrival by Rachel the pig, I was glad I'd arrived a little late.
We'd been dying to try Place Pigalle, but it's a bit out of our typical Tuesdays with Market price range. The menu promises fresh, local ingredients and innovative (if not necessarily French) preparations. We were not disappointed. Given the number of delicious options on the menu and the festive mood, we decided to go all out, and polished off 3 courses and a nice bottle of Sancerre. My father, never one to pass up crab, ordered the chilled Dungeness served in its shell with herbed mayonnaise and cocktail sauce. The portion was bountiful, fresh, and messy. And my father, sheathed in protective bib, clearly enjoyed every last morsel. My mother got the soup of the day, a nice tomato and mushroom, well-seasoned, but nothing fancy. I had the roasted beet salad, which was perfect in its contrasts: bloody red sweet beets, slightly bitter spicy arugula, and creamy goat cheese, in a lemony mustard vinaigrette. I had heard that you have to have the fish at Place Pigalle, so I ordered the halibut in coconut broth, and urged my father to get the copper river salmon special. Both were delicious, but in retrospect, I'm not sure that the Asian style fish really went with the French wine, and the excessive use of cilantro stems marred the presentation without really enhancing the flavor, which was almost too delicate. A little more spice and a little less crunchy green garnish would have improved
the dish. Place Pigalle may be known for its fish, but my mother's spiced duck salad was probably one of the best entrees on the menu. Despite its Asian preparation and citrus and soy vinaigrette, it screamed French bistro, the wilted greens pairing perfectly with the rich, tender duck. We split the three desserts on the menu: a silky chocolate pot de creme, a classic creme brulee, and a dried-apricot-rehydrated-in-brandy tart served with a small pitcher of cream. Watching the sailboats, while licking the last bits of chocolate and custard from our spoons and sipping coffee, was the perfect end to a perfect celebratory lunch.

Tuesdays with Market

Michou- After the last couple disappointing trips to the Market, we weren't looking to pull any punches with this one. And like trouble, we seem to have found what we were looking for. This takeout lunch place rocks. It's incredible. And cheap. Look hard to find it. It's in a windowless, dungeon-like slot right next to Le Panier, a big fancy expensive, empty place full of windows that serves several of the same genres of food. But at Michou, there will be a long, fast-moving line of locals lunching on huge, artisan-looking sandwiches and tons of great salads like gnocci and ratatouille. I had a bacon, turkey and aoili monster on a large, seeded, flat round roll, kind of like some Americanized gargantuan relative of some short Sicilian dude. No, the flavors were not revelatory, but they accomplished our goal; it reasserted that this eat our way through the entire Pike Place Market mission is worthwhile. Helen had the aforementioned ratatouille, elegantly room-temperatured, and a half sandwich that now escapes me ... Alas. We slaked our thirsts with a couple of those fancy flavored Italian sodas-- not that this place evinces a we-are-fancy attitude, at all-- as we ate our lunch outside. God damn that was a good lunch.

Tuesdays with Market

Soul Food Stop- We can now check off another food served at the Market that falls, sadly, below the mark. Soul Food Stop, that cute little counter next door to the mini donut people, is lacking in, well- soul. We sampled the pulled pork sandwich and the black-eyed peas plate. All too often these days, since barbecue has become the regional American flavor du jour, people substitute slow-cooked shredded pork for what it is in the South: slow-cooked, shredded, SMOKED pork. There is a monumental difference between the two, folks. Pork shoulder is a tough cut of meat that requires special attention to become tender. Normally this means a braise or stew, both cooking methods that employ moist heat. But there is a dry-cooking technique, smoking, that accomplishes the same goal through the sustained exposure of the meat to chemical compounds found in smoke. A bi-product of this is a wonderful, singular flavor. At this place they merely braise pork shoulder and slather it with an oversweet sauce from a jar. Big no-no. Very disappointing. The black-eyed peas were merely okay. Does having a "soul food" restaurant add color and personality to Pike Place Market? Probably a little. But not as much as if they were more dedicated to the traditions of genuine soul food.

Tuesdays with Market

Puerco Lloron- Oh, Marron.

When it comes to our cultural and political figures, we often tolerate a great number of character flaws. Think Bill Clinton. Muhammed Ali. Papa Hemingway. If only restaurants were given the same wide berth. And when a restaurant seems to flaunt its faults as egregiously as Puerco Lloron, it makes me want to cry. Does the name of the restaurant, the "weeping pig", seem to taunt you, too? Can they get away with this? It's thus far unclear. What we do know is that this hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant, tucked away in a long-forgotten lower level of the Market, is wonderfully- blissfully- filthy. Even if Samuel Jackson's character in Pulp Fiction were half-correct in his estimation of a pig's hygienic standards, this place wouldn't pass muster as even a stop-through-for-the-night kind of sty. Allow me to digress, to express my Mexican food bona fides, if you will. Many a wonderful weekend afternoon did Helen and I spend, along with my lifelong buddy Adrian, in the Mission District of San Francisco, sampling many a bottle of beer, hunting down this tostada with room temp ceviche, that tongue burrito, often in the type of establishments in which refrigeration as we know it had not yet made landfall. The difference: the food at Puerco Lloron, I'm sorry to say, just ain't doin' it for me. I ordered the carne asada. In the flavor department (Platonic ideal: rich, juicy complexity of lime juice and jalapeno love) it fell short; the insult was that it was also saltier than hell! And this coming from Mr. Just Regained His Palate After Oversalting Every Meal He Prepared. No, that ain't cool. Helen was happy with her stuffed pepper, and the beans and rice estaban bien, pero ... there was crusted salsa funk spread from one corner of the open kitchen/counter/hot line to the other. Nothing looked fresh, nothing was bustling except the cucarachas. Don't give this place a second chance. It appears to have somehow survived, and I understand the complete and utter paucity of good Mexican this far north, but let's either throw the subpars overboard or starve the beast altogether. Seattlans deserve better, damn it!

Tuesdays with Market

Virginia Inn - I think Paul said it best, on a sweltering Southern summer day, as we crossed the Mississippi state line, "When you're trying to see all 50 states, sometimes you have to go to a crappy one." And so it is with the Market, when you're trying to hit every purveyor of ready to eat food, sometimes you will be disappointed. The Virginia Inn is nothing special. But it could be. In many ways it is like Mississippi. So much potential. So much natural beauty. Such poor execution. The Virginia Inn is a lovely old bar, not unlike something you'd find in a long forgotten corner of the South, all tile floors and wood paneling, right down to the old school freezer with heavy wooden doors. The cane chairs and marble tables are trying for Paris, but leaning toward New Orleans. As is the menu, with gumbo and a muffaletta clearly displayed. I got the gumbo and it was serviceable, if not exactly authentic. Paul got the chicken ceasar, which came with a mass of white meat cut by someone who had clearly never been to culinary school. Strange misshapen chicken bits and a hair thrown in for good measure. Citysearch warns you about the service, but we usually take citysearch with a grain of salt. Be forwarned, the service sucks. Our waitress quite literally disappeared after taking our orders. We never saw her again. Luckily, the food came anyway, courtesy of a very polite busboy/foodrunner/only-person-who-gave-a-shit working that night. We got our own second beers, which were the highlight. They have a number of delicious local favorites on tap, and sipping one while admiring the atmosphere almost makes up for this establishment's shortcomings.

Tuesdays with Market

Pan Africa - Tuesdays with Market will actually be taking place on Wednesdays and Saturdays this quarter on account of Paul's teaching schedule, so don't assume this place is open Tuesday around 4. We have never before seen it open, so naturally we jumped at the opportunity. Pan Africa is a dark, sultry restaurant, complete with candles, wood, and draping fabric, that feels somewhat out of place so exposed on 1st Avenue under the Sanitary Market sign. Despite it's claim to be Pan African, most of the dishes are things people familiar with Ethiopian and Eritrean food will recognize, although there was a woman at the bar arguing that what she had been served was not, in fact, doro wat. Which may be true, given that the cook appeared to be latina. Paul had the chicken yassa, stewed with fruit and olives, and served over rice. In the spirit of trying as much as possible, I got the sampler platter (a bargain at $8), which involved red lentil curry, a carrot and green bean curry, stewed greens, something tasty involving chicken, and something yellow possibly made of chickpeas, all served on injera (that spongey sourdough flatbread that can also be used to scoop up tasty stewed goodies). Despite our inability to identify exactly what we were eating, we quite enjoyed ourselves. They were out of Kenyan beer, so nothing to report there, but the Alaskan Amber tasted fine.

Tuesdays with Market

Uli's Famous Sausage - This place is a lunchtime gem. You can order any of Uli's delicious mostly all natural (apparently some preservatives are required by law) sausages on a bun with your choice of condiments for only $4.50. The sausage selection is staggering. I waffled. Perhaps the pork bratwurst with apple? No, I think I want the cajun andouille. Then, on a whim, I ordered the rosemary chicken bratwurst with mustard. It was delicious, but the hot dijon wine mustartd, is pretty spicy and was probably not the right choice for my delicate chicken sausage. Paul, animal lover that he is, ordered the Thuringer Bratwurst (which contains veal) and was quite pleased, although he too questioned the need for such hot mustard and was nonplussed by the fact that Uli serves his sauerkraut cold. Paul was also disappointed at the lack of weisswurst and expressed this to the proprietor. Uli, a handlebar-mustachioed, German, master butcher, affably explained that while he would love to serve weisswurst, he simply does not have the space necessary to make it to his specifications. Alas, Paul will have to go to Bavaria to get his milky veal stuffed casings of animal cruelty. Don't worry, for those who, like me, maintain the compromise position that eating animals is ok, but eating baby cows is mean, Uli's has a wide selection of non-veal based products in a variety of tantalizing combinations.

Tuesdays with Market

Pike Place Bar & Grill - You don't come here for the food. If you are anything like us, you come here when the sausage shop is closed, when the soul food stand is closed, when all the cheaper stalls have locked up for the night and fine dining is not in this week's budget. You come here for happy hour, $3 microbrews and $4 bar food, in an atmosphere both divey and picturesque, looking out over the public market sign bedecked in Christmas finery, it's bright pink neon pigs ablaze. You order 2 Maritime hefeweizens that turn into four. You get the shrimp cocktail that involves a mound of surprisingly small shrimp, but before you can be disappointed you taste the cocktail sauce, redolent of horseradish, and smile. You get the mussels and clams steamed in white wine and butter and pay $1.75 extra for garlic bread to soak up the sauce. You make a rule never to order mussels and clams again if you can't fix a purveyor of the bivalves in your sites; You've been burned before. But not here. Not here staring directly down into Pure Fish, not here, right over Jack's Fish Spot. Here the shellfish are fresh and garlicky and you lap them up. You order mozzarella sticks, because you can. You know they come straight from a box in the freezer, but you don't care as you munch on their deep fried goodness and think of county fairs on the East Coast. You don't come here for the food, but it's still pretty good, and it only costs the two of you $25.

Tuesdays with Market

Jack's Fish Spot- Ever wonder what it feels like to stare out from behind the counter of a fish monger? At Jack's, the stainless steel seafood bar is tucked right in back, with a handy menu overhead. Grab a seat, peruse the multitude of fresh fish and shellfish, and order up some oysters and fish and chips. We went for the 3-piece salmon fish and chips and a dozen Penn Cove Oysters. Our server/shucker dude was nice enough to send us around the corner to buy ourselves two bottles of beer a piece (Pike Place Pale Ale), and the fryer was bubblin by the time we got back with them. He was not the most eloquent shucker, as he failed to severe the muscle that attaches the oysters to their shells, but he was long on heart. A great young guy who was more than friendly. He also tried to open our beers for us the tough guy way, using the corner of his chopping block, but that didn't work either. He settled for using a regular key out of his pocket, which impressed us plenty. Penn Cove oysters rock right now! Between the mussels and the oysters they raise up there, I think I know where I want to retire. The salmon was great, too. It was fried a little dark (as were the chips), but the flesh was so rich and moist it didn't matter. If you want the real deal seafood counter, no muss no fuss (or yuppies), then this is the spot alright.