Basics: $3 well drinks, $3 Washington wines, $1 off other drinks. Daily specials run 4:00 p.m. to 7:00 p.m. Closed Mondays.
Art galleries and alcohol can make the perfect joint venture: booze, more often than not, can fuel the crazy Bohemian spirit within. Many Seattle bars – The Hideout or Grey, for example – mix the paintbrush with a Pisco Sour to mellifluous results. Vermillion, on the other hand, is more akin to a fine Champagne flute brimming with flat Andre Cold Duck.
I chalk most of it up to the architecture: Vermillion is essentially an art gallery – that happens to include a bar. Little, if anything, is done to join the two. They meet only to pass one patron off to the other, neither customer fully realizing what it is they’ve come for.
All is not lost at Vermillion: the drinks were strong enough to warrant a toast at $3 each. The septuplet of uneven rattan lanterns mixed with skylights made for a welcoming and well-stocked bar. A simple, compelling, geometric wine rack cradled an impressive array of whites and reds.
As nice enough a place it was, we never felt Vermillion truly understood what it wanted to be: a gallery, bar, or gallery/bar hybrid. The juxtaposition between the overly bright art space crammed next to – rather than ingratiated in to – the dark bar area was too jarring for us to feel completely at ease while there.
Which probably explains why we only spent 20 minutes before we moved on for more drinks.
Vermillion. 1508 11th Ave (11th and Pike), Seattle’s Capitol Hill. Daily 4:00 p.m.-7:00 p.m.; closed Mondays.
UPDATE: Grey, mentioned above, is now closed. Sad day.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Fado
Basics: Monthly rotating drink specials; $3-5 small plates; Weekday specials run 4:00 p.m. to 7:00 p.m.
Four words for you: Best. French. Fries. Ever.
The APIC’s* uncommon obsession with deep-fried foods rivals his need for oxygen. Sadly, this has led to many late-night hot dog stands and several trips to Dick’s to nosh on the grease-bathed hypocrisy that betrays our health-conscious, gym-going nature.
(Side note: whoever decided to put cream cheese on a hot dog should either be martyred or canonized … I honestly can’t tell which is more appropriate.)
Normally I avoid anything drowned in scalding oil, but these fries! Sweet. Juicy. Plump. Subtly seasoned. If anyone knows their way around a potato, it’s the Irish.
For those unaware, Fado is a small national chain with restaurants in 11 states that specializes in Irish pub fare. Bangers and mash? Yes. Corned beef and cabbage? Fado has it, as well as “the best-poured Guinness I’ve ever had in Seattle,” says my Irish-born college roommate Pat, who lists Fado among his top reasons to move to the Puget Sound after graduating.
Fado mixes the traditional Irish pub with new-fangled technology: it’s one of the few places in the city that broadcasts international soccer games live via satellite regardless of local time, and not just during the World Cup. Die-hard Manchester fans can find themselves cheering at 5:30 a.m. Seattle time if they really need their football fix. Plus, how many bars would pour a brew at that hour?
And while the pub can draw out the inner hooligan, Fado hosts the bookish type too, at one of the city’s most popular trivia nights. (Wednesdays. 6:30. It gets ridiculously crowded.)
Would I go back on a regular basis? Probably not: the drinks weren’t all that strong and the seating became increasingly uncomfortable the longer we stayed. But the next time my dad is in town and asks me what’s a good place to grab a beer? I know exactly where to take him.
Fado. 801 First Ave (First and Columbia), Seattle’s Pioneer Square. Weekdays 4:00-7:00 p.m.
Four words for you: Best. French. Fries. Ever.
The APIC’s* uncommon obsession with deep-fried foods rivals his need for oxygen. Sadly, this has led to many late-night hot dog stands and several trips to Dick’s to nosh on the grease-bathed hypocrisy that betrays our health-conscious, gym-going nature.
(Side note: whoever decided to put cream cheese on a hot dog should either be martyred or canonized … I honestly can’t tell which is more appropriate.)
Normally I avoid anything drowned in scalding oil, but these fries! Sweet. Juicy. Plump. Subtly seasoned. If anyone knows their way around a potato, it’s the Irish.
For those unaware, Fado is a small national chain with restaurants in 11 states that specializes in Irish pub fare. Bangers and mash? Yes. Corned beef and cabbage? Fado has it, as well as “the best-poured Guinness I’ve ever had in Seattle,” says my Irish-born college roommate Pat, who lists Fado among his top reasons to move to the Puget Sound after graduating.
Fado mixes the traditional Irish pub with new-fangled technology: it’s one of the few places in the city that broadcasts international soccer games live via satellite regardless of local time, and not just during the World Cup. Die-hard Manchester fans can find themselves cheering at 5:30 a.m. Seattle time if they really need their football fix. Plus, how many bars would pour a brew at that hour?
And while the pub can draw out the inner hooligan, Fado hosts the bookish type too, at one of the city’s most popular trivia nights. (Wednesdays. 6:30. It gets ridiculously crowded.)
Would I go back on a regular basis? Probably not: the drinks weren’t all that strong and the seating became increasingly uncomfortable the longer we stayed. But the next time my dad is in town and asks me what’s a good place to grab a beer? I know exactly where to take him.
Fado. 801 First Ave (First and Columbia), Seattle’s Pioneer Square. Weekdays 4:00-7:00 p.m.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
C.C.Attle's
Basics: $5 heavy pour double wells. All business hours.
Let’s you and I level a bit: CC’s is one of the gayest of the gay bars Seattle has to offer. If you’re not comfortable around burly homosexual men, you’d probably do better sliding down a razor blade into a pool of salted lemon juice rather than entering the Verandah Room.
(Hell, I remember how uncomfortable I felt my first time walking in. Here I am, this Seattle neophyte, entering behind this beefy man with what looked to be Brillo pads on his shoulders and biceps. He turns and grunts out, “Mm. Fresh meat.” To this day, I’m still haunted by his gut, which pushed the tensile strength of his ribbed cotton tank to its limits. These are not memories one easily forgets.)
But if you are comfortable around the lavender-types – and you happen to enjoy over-the-top drinks – CC’s is worth repeat visits. Happy hour never ends with $5 heavy-pour double wells spilling all afternoon and evening.
Let’s break that down: Happy hour never ends. Five dollar. Heavy-pour. Double wells. All. Day. Long.
That’s the equivalent of a pint glass full of gin with just a dash of tonic and lime, or a shit ton of vodka with a scant amount of Red Bull or orange juice.
While CC’s is a regular hot spot on the gay pub crawl circuit, the bar takes on a vastly different character and tone during daylight hours. People seemed more relaxed. Chill. Conversational. (Though, that may very well be because of a wicked buzz going: "God it's still strong," the APIC* slurred in the middle of his second. "Even after all the ice has melted.") CC's definitely ranks up there as one of Seattle’s friendliest gay bars.
That's not to say a visit here is an uplifting experience: happy hour here is anything but. Gay dive bars have a history of depressing atmospheres. For decades they've acted as gathering spots and watering holes to outcast and downtrodden homosexuals. And while we're living in a much more progressive era, that mentality is in the genetics of queer dive bars. So, no, CC's patrons aren't moping around attempting to slash their wrists - but they certainly aren't acting the height of hilarity, either.
As far as drowning sorrows in a Jack and Coke, one could do a lot worse. These drinks require an iron liver. They're strong enough, in fact, to knock the APIC* and I out after a few. And knock us so far out, actually, that one of us left his debit card after closing out.
(And, no, it wasn’t me.)
C.C. Attle’s. 1501 E Madison St (15th and Madison), Seattle’s Central District. Weekdays noon to 2:00 a.m., weekends 11:00 a.m. to 2:00 a.m.
UPDATE: C.C.'s officially closed it's doors September 30, 2010 due to construction of the forthcoming Cascadia Center, a six-story commercial building. Since then, C.C.'s manager Chris Daw has (semi-officially) announced the bar will take over the space currently occupied by Cafe Metropolitain at 1701 E Olive Way (E Olive Way and Boylston Ave E).
Let’s you and I level a bit: CC’s is one of the gayest of the gay bars Seattle has to offer. If you’re not comfortable around burly homosexual men, you’d probably do better sliding down a razor blade into a pool of salted lemon juice rather than entering the Verandah Room.
(Hell, I remember how uncomfortable I felt my first time walking in. Here I am, this Seattle neophyte, entering behind this beefy man with what looked to be Brillo pads on his shoulders and biceps. He turns and grunts out, “Mm. Fresh meat.” To this day, I’m still haunted by his gut, which pushed the tensile strength of his ribbed cotton tank to its limits. These are not memories one easily forgets.)
But if you are comfortable around the lavender-types – and you happen to enjoy over-the-top drinks – CC’s is worth repeat visits. Happy hour never ends with $5 heavy-pour double wells spilling all afternoon and evening.
Let’s break that down: Happy hour never ends. Five dollar. Heavy-pour. Double wells. All. Day. Long.
That’s the equivalent of a pint glass full of gin with just a dash of tonic and lime, or a shit ton of vodka with a scant amount of Red Bull or orange juice.
While CC’s is a regular hot spot on the gay pub crawl circuit, the bar takes on a vastly different character and tone during daylight hours. People seemed more relaxed. Chill. Conversational. (Though, that may very well be because of a wicked buzz going: "God it's still strong," the APIC* slurred in the middle of his second. "Even after all the ice has melted.") CC's definitely ranks up there as one of Seattle’s friendliest gay bars.
That's not to say a visit here is an uplifting experience: happy hour here is anything but. Gay dive bars have a history of depressing atmospheres. For decades they've acted as gathering spots and watering holes to outcast and downtrodden homosexuals. And while we're living in a much more progressive era, that mentality is in the genetics of queer dive bars. So, no, CC's patrons aren't moping around attempting to slash their wrists - but they certainly aren't acting the height of hilarity, either.
As far as drowning sorrows in a Jack and Coke, one could do a lot worse. These drinks require an iron liver. They're strong enough, in fact, to knock the APIC* and I out after a few. And knock us so far out, actually, that one of us left his debit card after closing out.
(And, no, it wasn’t me.)
UPDATE: C.C.'s officially closed it's doors September 30, 2010 due to construction of the forthcoming Cascadia Center, a six-story commercial building. Since then, C.C.'s manager Chris Daw has (semi-officially) announced the bar will take over the space currently occupied by Cafe Metropolitain at 1701 E Olive Way (E Olive Way and Boylston Ave E).
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Bai Pai
Basics: $3 well drinks and select beer; $3.75 select wine; $4.25 small plates. Specials run Sundays, Wednesdays, Thursdays 4:00 p.m. to 6:00 p.m.; Mondays and Tuesdays 4:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m.
Though I live smack in the middle of Seattle’s Downtown retail core, I work just North of the University District in the Roosevelt neighborhood (named after Teddy, not Franklin Delano). Roosevelt is an interesting little corner of the city, home to hippies, Whole Foods, and countless yoga studios. It's also home to Roosevelt High School, one of Seattle's largest. And not entirely off-topic, it's home to the dry cleaner to whom I took my blazer two years ago after some RHS juniors egged me as I walked home after work.
Grr. As much as that night still ticks me off -- and it does -- it's not germane to happy hour. So I’ll digress.
Lately I've embraced the idea of getting out and exploring some Seattle's other neighborhoods. It's rare my circle of friends leave our Downtown/Capitol Hill boundaries, and I relished the opportunity to spend some time in Roosevelt's neighboring Ravenna to see what it has to offer. What it ended up offering, though, was a sobering reminder of why we should think twice before leaving our urban nest.
First impressions were (and to some extent still are) great: Bai Pai has a large, manicured dining area that maintains a strong intimate feeling and sports a brightly colored decor that doesn't overdo. The waitstaff was extremely friendly (not to mention drool-worthy attractive ... but again, I digress), and the small plates we had certainly did not disappoint.
But (and this is a big one). But the drinks were on-par with vacation Bible school Kool-Aid. The vodka soda I ordered had no trace of alcoholic oomph whatsoever. My three bucks would have been better spent on (shudder) Boone’s Strawberry Hill. Or better yet on a Budweiser Hurricane -- or, as we called it in college, “The Slurricane.”
As a restaurant, Bai Pai has gotten many an accolade for their food, and I should add another: the garlic string beans we had are actually pretty amazing. As a bar, however, I cannot stress this point enough: Skip. This. Happy hour.
You’ll find a better buzz at the Chevron a block away. Just, you know, try to keep it classy.
Bai Pai. 2316 NE 65th St (24th Ave NE and NE 65th St), Seattle’s Ravenna. Sundays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, 4:00-7:00 p.m. Mondays & Tuesdays, 4:00-10:00 p.m.
Though I live smack in the middle of Seattle’s Downtown retail core, I work just North of the University District in the Roosevelt neighborhood (named after Teddy, not Franklin Delano). Roosevelt is an interesting little corner of the city, home to hippies, Whole Foods, and countless yoga studios. It's also home to Roosevelt High School, one of Seattle's largest. And not entirely off-topic, it's home to the dry cleaner to whom I took my blazer two years ago after some RHS juniors egged me as I walked home after work.
Grr. As much as that night still ticks me off -- and it does -- it's not germane to happy hour. So I’ll digress.
Lately I've embraced the idea of getting out and exploring some Seattle's other neighborhoods. It's rare my circle of friends leave our Downtown/Capitol Hill boundaries, and I relished the opportunity to spend some time in Roosevelt's neighboring Ravenna to see what it has to offer. What it ended up offering, though, was a sobering reminder of why we should think twice before leaving our urban nest.
First impressions were (and to some extent still are) great: Bai Pai has a large, manicured dining area that maintains a strong intimate feeling and sports a brightly colored decor that doesn't overdo. The waitstaff was extremely friendly (not to mention drool-worthy attractive ... but again, I digress), and the small plates we had certainly did not disappoint.
But (and this is a big one). But the drinks were on-par with vacation Bible school Kool-Aid. The vodka soda I ordered had no trace of alcoholic oomph whatsoever. My three bucks would have been better spent on (shudder) Boone’s Strawberry Hill. Or better yet on a Budweiser Hurricane -- or, as we called it in college, “The Slurricane.”
As a restaurant, Bai Pai has gotten many an accolade for their food, and I should add another: the garlic string beans we had are actually pretty amazing. As a bar, however, I cannot stress this point enough: Skip. This. Happy hour.
You’ll find a better buzz at the Chevron a block away. Just, you know, try to keep it classy.
Bai Pai. 2316 NE 65th St (24th Ave NE and NE 65th St), Seattle’s Ravenna. Sundays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, 4:00-7:00 p.m. Mondays & Tuesdays, 4:00-10:00 p.m.
Friday, April 9, 2010
The Diller Room
Basics: $5 Grey Goose, Bacardi, or Bombay drinks; $5 select wine and beer; $5 small plates; $8 specialty drinks. Daily specials run 5:00 p.m. to 7:00 p.m. (As with any new bar, specials subject to change.)
If, say, Clark Gable and George Clooney were to open a bar together, The Diller Room might very well be the outcome. There’s a dual air of rustic, old-world charm with heavy doses of no-nonsense, modern-day sensibility that mingle together very nicely: much like the decent-pour gin and tonics I ordered.
The decor takes a cue from this everything-old-is-new-again theme: beveled mirrors and plush wingchairs adorn a sunken bar with exposed brick and piping. Traditional round barstools are placed near Victorian chairs upholstered with unraveling tapestry. Sleek, low mahogany leather sofas dimly reflect light from a chandelier and sconces covered in crystal beads. The contradictory furniture pairings work very much in The Diller Room’s favor, gilded letters and all.
Though the interior comes off especially pleasing, I’m giving the newly opened bar the benefit of the doubt when it comes to drinks. Staff members are still finding their footing, so I can’t completely write them off during these formative weeks. Beverages were so-so as far as toxicity levels, though a clink of the glass to the owners for offering middle-to-top-shelf booze at bottom-shelf prices. The food was hit more than miss -- the BLT sliders garnered raves from Brett and pans from Troy. The Salumi platter had little complaint, nor should it: five bucks for some of the finest locally cured meats Seattle has to offer is an outstanding price.
Anyone choosing to venture into the specialty drink menu should sample the Sapphire Fizz: gin, Chambord, limes, egg white and powdered sugar, shaken and served up. The layered, complex taste of the savory gin with sweet raspberry overtones made for a frothy, delicious drink steeped in booze that kicks hard to the gullet.
(Side note: Worst. Men’s room. I’ve ever seen. And this coming from a guy who frequents many a gay bar, which says something. A deep-sink worthy of high school janitors paired with a non-functioning hot water faucet? Really? Health codes aside, it’s as if Clark and George allowed Pauly Shore to couch surf for a week. And, honestly, who would pay to see that movie?)
The Diller Room. 1224 First Ave (First and Union), Seattle’s Downtown. Daily, 5:00-7:00 p.m. Specials subject to change.
If, say, Clark Gable and George Clooney were to open a bar together, The Diller Room might very well be the outcome. There’s a dual air of rustic, old-world charm with heavy doses of no-nonsense, modern-day sensibility that mingle together very nicely: much like the decent-pour gin and tonics I ordered.
The decor takes a cue from this everything-old-is-new-again theme: beveled mirrors and plush wingchairs adorn a sunken bar with exposed brick and piping. Traditional round barstools are placed near Victorian chairs upholstered with unraveling tapestry. Sleek, low mahogany leather sofas dimly reflect light from a chandelier and sconces covered in crystal beads. The contradictory furniture pairings work very much in The Diller Room’s favor, gilded letters and all.
Though the interior comes off especially pleasing, I’m giving the newly opened bar the benefit of the doubt when it comes to drinks. Staff members are still finding their footing, so I can’t completely write them off during these formative weeks. Beverages were so-so as far as toxicity levels, though a clink of the glass to the owners for offering middle-to-top-shelf booze at bottom-shelf prices. The food was hit more than miss -- the BLT sliders garnered raves from Brett and pans from Troy. The Salumi platter had little complaint, nor should it: five bucks for some of the finest locally cured meats Seattle has to offer is an outstanding price.
Anyone choosing to venture into the specialty drink menu should sample the Sapphire Fizz: gin, Chambord, limes, egg white and powdered sugar, shaken and served up. The layered, complex taste of the savory gin with sweet raspberry overtones made for a frothy, delicious drink steeped in booze that kicks hard to the gullet.
(Side note: Worst. Men’s room. I’ve ever seen. And this coming from a guy who frequents many a gay bar, which says something. A deep-sink worthy of high school janitors paired with a non-functioning hot water faucet? Really? Health codes aside, it’s as if Clark and George allowed Pauly Shore to couch surf for a week. And, honestly, who would pay to see that movie?)
The Diller Room. 1224 First Ave (First and Union), Seattle’s Downtown. Daily, 5:00-7:00 p.m. Specials subject to change.
Jasmine
Basics: $5 well drinks, $4 sake and wine, $5-7 sushi rolls, $1.50-6 small plates. Weekday specials run 4:00 p.m. to 6:00 p.m.
Asian. Alcohol. Adequate.
(Brevity is so underused nowadays. As are alliterations.)
Jasmine. 1100 Fourth Ave (Fourth and Spring), Seattle’s Downtown. Weekdays 4:00-6:00 p.m.
Asian. Alcohol. Adequate.
(Brevity is so underused nowadays. As are alliterations.)
Jasmine. 1100 Fourth Ave (Fourth and Spring), Seattle’s Downtown. Weekdays 4:00-6:00 p.m.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Maharaja Cuisine of India
Basics: $2 well drinks, select $1 appetizers with drink purchase. Daily specials run 4:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. (Don't be confused: there are several different businesses in the greater Seattle area with the same name. This is the one on Capitol Hill.)
A bunch of us had a discussion at brunch a few weeks back about how many drinks it takes for one to feel buzzed. While most agreed that two was the magic number, Arlen and I felt that five was more appropriate.
That said: you could not pay me enough to down five drinks poured at Maharaja.
Tucked away behind faded batik swaths lies one of Seattle’s most potent bars, daily pouring toxic drinks that deliciously burn going down in the most masochistic of fashions. I ordered two positively antiseptic gin and tonics and by some miracle of life was still able to form coherent sentences by the time the check came around.
Don’t misunderstand: these are not good drinks. Connoisseurs would do well walking up the Pike/Pine Corridor in favor of swankier bars with an actual palette for cocktails. But for those people who’ve had it up to here with their boss for the sixth time this week? Slap down $2 and blissfully sip away your frustrations.
Don’t come for the décor, unless you enjoy spending time at Cornish's freshmen dorm. Ignore the music, except if you’re familiar with Bollywood’s greatest hits. But these drinks? Unless you have an 8.0-on-the-Richter-scale hangover (like the APIC did … sorry about last night!), come enjoy the cheap-as-hell fuck-you-up booze that we all dreamt of in college.
On the other hand, you could listen to the advice of co-worker Sara: Maharaja generally sounds like a great idea. It rarely is.
Maharaja Cuisine of India. 720 E Pike St (Pike and Harvard), Seattle's Capitol Hill. Daily 4:00-9:00 p.m.
UPDATE: Maharaja has closed its doors as of the January 2011. As a collective, Seattleites' livers are undoubtedly happy, but their wallets are weeping.
A bunch of us had a discussion at brunch a few weeks back about how many drinks it takes for one to feel buzzed. While most agreed that two was the magic number, Arlen and I felt that five was more appropriate.
That said: you could not pay me enough to down five drinks poured at Maharaja.
Tucked away behind faded batik swaths lies one of Seattle’s most potent bars, daily pouring toxic drinks that deliciously burn going down in the most masochistic of fashions. I ordered two positively antiseptic gin and tonics and by some miracle of life was still able to form coherent sentences by the time the check came around.
Don’t misunderstand: these are not good drinks. Connoisseurs would do well walking up the Pike/Pine Corridor in favor of swankier bars with an actual palette for cocktails. But for those people who’ve had it up to here with their boss for the sixth time this week? Slap down $2 and blissfully sip away your frustrations.
Don’t come for the décor, unless you enjoy spending time at Cornish's freshmen dorm. Ignore the music, except if you’re familiar with Bollywood’s greatest hits. But these drinks? Unless you have an 8.0-on-the-Richter-scale hangover (like the APIC did … sorry about last night!), come enjoy the cheap-as-hell fuck-you-up booze that we all dreamt of in college.
On the other hand, you could listen to the advice of co-worker Sara: Maharaja generally sounds like a great idea. It rarely is.
UPDATE: Maharaja has closed its doors as of the January 2011. As a collective, Seattleites' livers are undoubtedly happy, but their wallets are weeping.
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