Restaurant Review: Gaudi Braseria

Here is what you will do to cure your case of the Seattle winter blues. You will travel to 3410 NE 55th Street and enter the pastel-colored world of Gaudi Braseria. You will be greeted and seated by the bubbly, chatty, growley woman that is Jo Luna. She will bring over a wine list filled with off-the-beaten-path Spanish wines.

You will order one from Galicia, a region you know nothing about. This is okay. The main grape varietal will be Prieto Picudo, a grape you know nothing about. This is okay. You swirl, you sniff, you sip. You smile. This is better than okay.

Juan Luna is cooking bacalao fritters tonight? Don’t hesitate. Don’t let doubts about the nature of salt cod creep into your brain. Just order and wait for the ethereally crunchy globes of creamy fish to arrive.

Perfect. You have now held off the wolves of your appetite long enough to wait for the masterpiece: seafood paella. It arrives at the table. You gasp. Jo scoops everyone at your table the perfect first plate: rice, fragrant with saffron, clams, perfect mussels, cuttlefish, hake. You absolutely, absolutely, ask for a few sides of alioli (Spanish garlicky mayo) and you slather your paella. One squeeze of lemon juice; eyes closed; mouth open; shock and awe. Repeat.

Do you have room for dessert? No? Maybe enough room for a light crema catalana. Maybe enough room for a 20-year-old Porto.

Now. You will collect the check. You will be amazed that, even with the bounty of seafood, your paella is less than $20 per person. You will pay. You will leave an excessive tip. You will vow to return to the best Seattle restaurant no one has ever heard of.

Restaurant Review: Canlis

I turned 30 in January, and a group of my friends were generous enough to buy me a gift certificate at Canlis, a Seattle restaurant institution that has been around since 1950. With the inevitability of those friends reading this review, perhaps I should sugarcoat and tell you that our experience was universally positive. But it was not, and I will not, with the hopes that an honest accounting of our time at Canlis in no way diminishes the generosity of the gift.

THE BAD NEWS

Seating: the restaurant is set up in a square, with two-tops lining the outside of the square and larger parties dining in the middle. Instead of seating parties of two facing each other, Canlis seats them next to each other, facing out onto the square. This is awkward on at least three levels:

1. We consistently found ourselves staring at, and being stared at by, our counterparts on the opposite side of the square. And let me say for the record that I do not support make-out sessions at restaurants. I implore my readers to use their mouths for talking and eating and save the tongue-wrestling for home (or at least for the lovely Canlis bathrooms).

2. We both got neck cramps trying to have a conversation during dinner. Especially while eating, it was impossible to carry on a conversation without a) turning our neck hoot-owl style; or b) shouting and thereby informing the inner-square diners of our opinions on the undercooked brussels sprouts.

3. The servers literally trapped us (and other prisoners in the outer square) in our seats by pressing the table in against us. Over the course of a 2+ hour dinner, the occasional restroom trip is going to crop up. Essentially, to make this happen, I needed to catch the eye of a passing server, give a little “I need to pee” shoulder shrug, and wait to have the table pulled out. It reminded me of third grade, when I needed to ask Mrs. Isherwood for permission. Odd.

Service: our service was spotty at best. We were seated at 8 PM and didn’t have a drink on our table until 8:37. We were helped by a veritable fleet of servers but didn’t feel especially connected to any of them, and their attentiveness crossed the border into futziness. I don’t need my wine glass filled every time I take a sip. Also, the couple next to us were nearly combusted when a server knocked a tall, slender candle onto their laps. Yikes.

Main courses: Kelli’s New York steak and my lamb chops were just okay. The doneness was perfect but the seasoning was uneven, and the sides left a lot to be desired. Maybe we should have ordered seafood.

Wine list: I pored over Canlis’ 90-page wine list online for hours this week and had decided on a half-bottle of Champagne and a full bottle of 2005 Cayuse Camaspelo. When we got to the restaurant, the current wine list was missing both bottles. If Canlis is going to include their list online, it absolutely has to be up-to-date.

THE GOOD NEWS

The drinks: When it became clear that we might grow old and die before seeing a sommelier, we decided to order cocktails. Fortunately, they were delicious. My martini was perfect, and Kelli’s combination of Dry Fly gin (kudos for supporting Washington’s only gin-maker!), syrup of violets, Champagne, and lemon juice was floral and delicious.

And while the Camaspelo was gone, we were fortunate to find a bevy of Cayuse Syrahs on their updated wine list, and all for surprisingly reasonable costs. The sommelier, when he did arrive, was friendly, and he helped us pick out the 2004 Cayuse Syrah Cailloux Vineyard. And let me just say that I was predisposed to like this wine since I have been wanting to taste a wine from Cayuse for some time now. With that caveat stated, this wine absolutely melted my face off with its awesomeness. I am pleased to say that this is the first wine to receive Rating: 5. On the nose, initially this was an earthy, mineral-driven, jar of black olives; by far the briniest nose I have ever had the pleasure of smelling. Over time, the black olive shifted to a greener smell (cabbage maybe) and then turned bloody. By the last sniff, this smelled like the best roast-beef sandwich in the world. The palate was fully gorgeous, with minerals and spice and everything nice. Lots of red fruit and acid, and just a hint of smooth, well-integrated tannins. We paid $170 for this, not so bad considering that the average price on Winebid.com has been $110.

With our crème brulee dessert, we shared a glass of 2003 Royal Tokaji Wine Co. Tokaji Aszú 5 Puttonyos. This was amazing juice, with a nose like a candy shop (one that specializes in orange and mango candy) and a palate that was sweet on the attack and beautifully tart and dry in the middle and on the finish. The acidity was utter perfection. Rating: 4.

The apps: escargot under puff pastry was garlicky, buttery, snaily goodness, and red-chili glazed short ribs were lick-the-plate delicious (no, I didn’t lick the plate; not with my across-the-square neighbors staring at me).

The location/décor: the room was grand and gorgeous, with a stone fireplace that I would like in my home. The view was outstanding. This felt like a special-occasion restaurant.

Thanks again to all my friends who went in on the gift certificate. As my words above hopefully convey, it was a fascinating culinary roller coaster, with all the crests and valleys inherent in a good ride.

Restaurant Review: Cafe Campagne

When the maitre d’ approached me and asked: “Are you Paul?” I figured that was a signal that my lunch was not going to go smoothly. As it turned out, my partner for lunch had to cancel at the last minute. At that point, I had two choices: 1) Go home and eat a bowl of cereal for lunch; or 2) Engage in an epic solo lunch mission. Those of you who know me can probably guess how I chose.

On this fateful election day, I decided to say YES WE CAN! Yes we can eat a three course meal, with wine pairings, by ourselves, at lunch.

I don’t want to mince words: Cafe Campagne might be my favorite restaurant in Seattle. It is the brasserie to the more upscale, bistro-style Campagne upstairs, and I almost always tend to favor casual over snooty. The Cafe is half-buried into Post Alley, lending it a cozy feeling that is perfect for this time of year. In hyper-touristy Pike Place Market, this is an oasis of francophile culinary goodness in a sea of, well, other culinary goodness (the Market, culinarily-speaking, is pretty remarkable as urban tourist traps go).

I had previously been there for dinner and have twice conquered their cassoulet, which is the best single dinner dish in Seattle, but I had never tried their lunch. The menu is concise, with a few apps, salads, and sandwiches. They always have a nice selection of wines by the glass, including a rotating band of specials, currently concentrated in Southwest France.

To start, I went with their soup du jour, a cream of mushroom that was autumn in a bowl. For wine, I tried the 2005 Domaine Brana Irouléguy Ilori. This is from Southwest France and made with two grapes I have never tried, Gros Manseng and Petit Courbu. On the nose, I would have guessed New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc if tasting blind. Grassy aromas, along with hints of citrus and seashells. On the palate, wonderfully fresh acidity that blasted its way right through the soup; not much fruit to speak of; and a clean, bright finish (Rating: 4).

The croque madame is a grilled ham-and-cheese sandwich writ awesome. Gruyere is layered liberally on a base of bread and ham, and the whole thing is dropped under the broiler until golden. At that point, you have a croque monsieur. What makes the madame is the brilliant addition of a fried egg, sunnyside up. Cafe Campagne’s version was outstanding, with just the right combination of crunch and ooze, and a vinegary salad of bitter greens on the side. This is a tough course for a wine pairing, and I paired poorly. Because I enjoyed the white from Domaine Brana, I decided to try their red, the 2005 Domaine Brana Irouléguy Ohitza, a blend of Tannat, Cabernet Sauvignon, and Cabernet Franc. While the nose was lovely (redolant of dark cherries and blackberries), the palate was disjointed, with big acidity and bruising tannins bordering on astringency. (Rating: NR).

Feeling unusually Frenchy, I ordered an after-lunch cheese: Chaubier, a 50-50 blend of cow’s and goat’s milk. This was delicious and would be an excellent gateway-drug cheese to bolder chevres. The piquancy of the goat’s milk was beautifully balanced by the milder, nuttier aspects of the cow’s milk. My server suggested a tawny port, a pairing I wouldn’t have considered but one that turned out to be delightful. The caramel aspects of the port were enhanced by the nutty notes in the cheese, and vice versa. I don’t drink enough port to even begin to rate this, but for my palate, the 1987 Kopke Porto Colheita was thoroughly enjoyable.

Even the espresso that I had to finish the meal was reminiscent of what I drank in France this summer: strong, burnt, and mediocre.

All told, this was an excellent lunch, and I highly recommend Cafe Campagne. As our fair city turns dark and rainy, duck into its warm, welcoming confines for a slice of la vie joyeuse.