And for those whom the good life eludes in spite of all this, there are two dozen therapists in the neighborhood too.
Seattle’s Ballard neighborhood has its own burgeoning gourmet ghetto, located on NW 70th Street a block or so east of 15th Avenue NW (15th is Ballard’s main north-south artery; for Seattleites who don’t venture north of the ship canal, it’s where you end up if you cross the Ballard Bridge heading north.)
Old Town Ballard, shaped by building booms at the turn of the both the 20th and 21st centuries, is Ballard’s designated cool zone; NW 70th Street is decidedly un-cool – just a narrow street without interesting architecture or expensive homes.
An enthusiastic referral to the Honore Artisan Bakery led to the discovery of this easily overlooked half-block slice of heaven. Across from Honore sits A Caprice Kitchen, a small restaurant transformed by owner Anne Catherine Kruger from a greasy breakfast and lunch place into a neighborhood bistro serving dinner and weekend brunch. The third notable eatery is Delancey, which specializes in pizza from a wood-fired oven.
First things first: don’t bother trying to visit any of these three places on Monday or Tuesday – they’re all closed. It’s clear from both reviews and conversations with locals that there is plenty of business to support a full seven days of business, but the owner of each of these establishments has his or her hands in every croissant, every salad, and every pizza their customers eat.
Honore’s owner, Franz Gilbertson, does not make bread, so if you’re one of those Francophiles who believes a baguette just like they make in France is the ultimate baked good, don’t bother. If, on the other hand, you’re not afraid of a little butter, this place is for you. The croissants are flaky and never doughy. If pan au chocolat is your favorite, be warned: Gilbertson’s are great, but contain only a modest amount of chocolate – but it is intensely flavorful and very dark.
Two items keep people coming back to Honore. The first is the kouign (pronounced queen amman,) a crunchy, rich, buttery cake whose top is caramelized and salted. The kouign amman originates in Brittany, which accounts for the odd-looking name, which is Breton (the traditional language of Brittany,) not French. I imagine its creation, in 1865, sprang from the minds of people who found the shape, flavor and pleasure of the croissant to be insufficiently beguiling.
The adage that people buy with their eyes finds credence in Honore’s other signature item, the macaron. To the untrained eye, they look like pastel-colored sandwich cookies. About the circumference of an Oreo, but with a gently rounded top, the “cookie” part of these two-bite gems is actually a mix of egg whites, ground almonds and sugar. Their meringue-like texture is fragile, and combined with its ganache filling, they’re not easy to eat. Thankfully, the fun and pleasure involved in taking a bite and hurriedly passing what’s left to a companion quickly melts any anxiety that a bit of messiness may have aroused.
The beauty of the macaron – both from an eating and a marketing perspective – is that it’s hard to buy just one. Honore usually has ten or so flavors, each with a distinct color and flavor, and each with a complementary (or sometimes matching) filling inside. Pistachio, coconut, passion fruit, lavender, lemon,,,eventually you’ll want to try them all.
Also available at Honore: cheerful service, coffee made with care, and a list of special order desserts.
Also available at Honore: cheerful service, coffee made with care, and a list of special order desserts.
A Caprice Kitchen and Delancey have little in common. One, Delancey, opened in late 2009 after months of anticipation, thanks to co-owner Molly Wizenberg, author of A Homemade Life: Stories and Recipes from My Kitchen Table as well as the blog Orangette. Wizenberg’s husband, Brandon Petit, is the pizza man in the family. The sometimes harrowing process of opening a restaurant was well-chronicled in Wizenberg’s widely-read blog, creating a built-in customer base, which has rewarded the couple with long lines every night. The reviews have been excellent, and Petit seems to have found the perfect intersection of New York style pizza and the modern, local cuisine favored in Seattle. (And Wizenberg’s legendary chocolate chip cookies are a huge hit as well.)
And then there is A Caprice Kitchen. Chef-owner Anne Catherine Kruger (her initials are the same as her bistro’s) took a rather unconventional path to open her restaurant. After studying Physics at the University of North Carolina, Kruger decided that a life in the lab was not for her. So she set out to sea, cooking on large sailing ships and eco-tour boats, with time out to attend cooking school at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris. “I needed an anchor,” she said on a sunny afternoon at the tiny restaurant’s five-seat bar, “so I came back from Alaska and figured I should either get married or buy a house.” Her realtor knew the owner of the restaurant that would become Kruger’s, and suggested she might consider buying a business instead of a home.
The existing business, with the decidedly old-Ballard name “The Neighborhood Café,” served a small but loyal clientele breakfast and lunch basics seven days a week. Kruger’s vision was very much in the spirit of the French bistro. “I wanted to cook good food for people in a comfortable setting, like they were coming to my house,” she said. She gradually flipped the schedule on its head, so that today the restaurant is open for dinner Wednesday through Sunday as well as weekend brunch. (Kruger took over in October of 2008; she cooked every meal for the first year, but has recently turned the brunch service over to a pair of skilled and trusted cooks. She still runs the kitchen solo at each dinner service.)
When asked about the timing of her opening – days before the economic crisis of 2008 came into full bloom– Kruger is sanguine. “I knew what I wanted to do, and sure, it was discouraging to do only six dinners some nights…but the brunch business was steady and I knew I could make it.” Her patience paid off – word of mouth has been kind to her, even if reviews have been a bit mixed.
Kruger has developed a friendly relationship with Delancey’s Brandon Petit – the two often visit after dinner service, sharing food and a beer or glass of wine and talking over the evening’s events. “He came over about a week before they opened and said ‘You better order extra food this week – we’re going to be busy and so will you.’” Petit was right; the months of anticipation fueled by Orangette had local foodies buzzing. A Caprice Kitchen benefited from the overflow, as not everyone in Seattle is apparently keen on waiting two hours for a seat in a pizza joint.
The food at A Caprice Kitchen is both simple and sophisticated. The simplicity arises from thoughtful preparation and an almost militant disregard for trendiness. The sophistication is largely a byproduct of Kruger’s belief in using local ingredients from local purveyors (a list of which is on each table.) This means frequent adjustments to the menu (and using no lemons!) And Kruger is willing to do without staples like tomatoes and onions if they’re not available locally.
All the talk of local ingredients prompted a question about Alice Waters, who has probably had more influence on how Americans eat than any other chef in the last half-century. “Oh, yes, a customer mentioned her when I first opened,” Kruger said. Joining her mailing list is recommended – though she doesn’t send menu updates every week, the restaurant hosts occasional beer- or wine-paring dinners. Having attended one of each, I recommend them highly. They are educational, convivial and delicious.
