Bluefin

Repeatable: Yes Visits: 6+

Bluefin's banchan bar

All-you-can-eat buffets are definitely not for the faint of heart. And in the case of Northgate Mall’s Bluefin, definitely not for the uninitiated either.

 

To fully appreciate this Japanese-Chinese-Korean smorgasbord ($15.99-17.99 lunch; $25.99-27.99 dinner), one needs more than a passing familiarity with these cuisines—which may explain why Bluefin’s devoted clientele is mostly Asian. Depending on what kind of eater you are, Bluefin’s dizzying array of options will either provide a fascinating playground of colorful tastes to explore, or it will simply turn you off.

 

Fussy gourmets who cannot bear eating anything but the most pristine and impeccable of ingredients, cooked to order just for them, should stop reading now. This post is for the fearless culinary explorer–the ones who understand the romance of corn dogs at state fairs and fried dough from street stalls in faraway countries.

 

If you’re a true gourmand, the only problem you’ll encounter at Bluefin is deciding exactly where to start loading up your plate. Most people start at the colorful sushi bar, where the goods are attractively displayed on large platters set atop ice. All the usual suspects are here–California, shrimp, tuna, cucumber, tobiko, etc.–and often of a quality that surpasses what goes around most local sushi conveyor belts. Exercise restraint, because there is much, much more to discover.

 

As you journey counter-clockwise from the sushi, you’ll pass a display of seafood–steamed crab, lobster, chilled shrimp, oysters, and clams, along with various vegetable mixes, like seaweed salad, cucumber and crab, maybe even a Caesar platter. Ebi is always piled high in a bowl next to a heaping tray of soba (Japanese buckwheat noodles) and jap chae (Korean sweet potato “glass” noodles). Congee (rice porridge) is kept in a steaming bowl with a ladle. If you aren’t already pacing yourself, you’ll never make it to the end of the line.

 

Moving away from the large central buffet and towards the perimeter, you’ll find a lineup of tried-and-true Chinese classics: crab in black bean sauce, kung pao chicken, Mongolian beef, wok-fried noodles, fried rice, and more. Sometimes there’s duck or sizzling scallops. These dishes are often as good as or better than their counterparts in many local Chinese restaurants.

 

Then there are the Korean options. This is where Bluefin reveals the ace up its sleeve: A grill that constantly turns out freshly cooked strips of kalbi, teriyaki chicken, and salmon. Next to these wildly popular options are the very pleasant fried gyoza and addictive miniature bin dae duc pancakes—fat savory rounds of crunchy vegetables with little bits of meat, held together by a deliciously savory batter. There’s even a little banchan bar, with four different types of kimchee or pickled vegetable. Help yourself from the huge vat of steamed rice or ladle out a bowl of spicy Korean beef soup.

 

Unbelieveably, there’s more. But I’ll cut the food description short and get to the heart of the matter: How to get the best out of a buffet. Here are a few tips to keep in mind:

 

Go early, when the food is fresh. Buffet-diving is best done when the restaurant opens; you’ll often see lines outside Bluefin at 5pm.

 

Pay attention to what’s running out. Empty platters usually mean the dish is good. It also means that it will be replenished soon, so watch and wait for a fresh serving instead of taking the dregs.

 

Get a seat near the action. You won’t be able to notice when the grill tender is taking freshly cooked kalbi off the flames if you’re sitting in no-man’s land. The best seats go early.

 

Keep exploratory portions small. Don’t heap your plate with that mystery meat until you’ve tasted it first. Avoid waste.

 

Bring your children or grandchildren. All kids adore Bluefin. For parents,  Bluefin is a godsend–instant gratification and something for everyone. Just be warned that there is a soft-serve ice cream machine and a very tempting dessert kiosk. You may have to bargain two bites of broccoli for a chocolate cream puff. Fortunately, the desserts are all cut into diminutive, nibble-friendly portions.

 

One last suggestion: Dig out your fat pants. You will definitely end up overindulging. (If you’ve heard horror stories about people getting sick after a buffet, overeating is most likely the cause. I’ve eaten at Bluefin–and for that matter, buffets on cruise ships and in Vegas–many, many times with my extremely delicate stomach and never had a problem. Just remember to exercise some self-control, and you’ll be fine.)

 

Alexa’s Garden Cafe

Repeatable: Maybe. Visits: 1

Alexa's Garden Cafe

When the sodden gray of a Seattle winter starts dampening my spirits, I look for comfort in food and eat out. Lunch is the best meal to get the most pleasure for your money, especially if you enjoy dining alone with a good book or newspaper in hand. It is rare to find a space one could actually linger in, for hours at a time.  So when I found Alexa’s Garden Cafe, improbably hidden in the far back recesses of Swanson’s Nursery, I blinked, thinking it was an hallucination.

Hidden by lush tropical foliage and several ponds of enormous koi, Alexa’s feels so faraway from Seattle that it might as well be a wavering mirage in the desert. I found it quite by accident, while on a quest to buy houseplants. Trailed by my three young children, I went in search of a ficus and found, instead, food.

“French toast!” shouted my daughter with delight. “Vegan banana bread!” exclaimed my food-allergic son. My youngest just wanted scrambled egg, like always. We had just tried to eat some fried slop from a fast-food restaurant I’m too embarrassed to name. I had gotten rid of the barely bitten evidence in the garbage can outside the store and was hoping we could buy a plant and rush back home for something real. Instead, we ate first, then got our tree.

The French toast was lovely. The thick, chewy slices of bacon perfectly cooked. The egg, gently scrambled. The blueberry muffin was obviously home-made, as was the vegan banana bread. My children ate every bite while I drank black licorice tea and studied the tempting menu, with its list of breakfast items on one side, lunchtime options on the other. I chose to get a Mom’s Plate ($6.50), just a simple egg over easy, with whole wheat toast and a bowl of immaculately fresh melon and grapes. The food was simple, clean, and pleasant–nothing to gush over, but far better than the breakfast places on Queen Anne.

If you have small children, or like the rest of Seattle, suffer from chronic Vitamin D deficiency, Alexa’s Garden is worth whiling away a few hours in, especially for a weekend brunch, when every other place in the city is mobbed. Prices are all well below $10, and the children’s menu is filled with smart, nutritious options.  If Alexa’s offered an Internet connection, the place would probably be filled with writers, sunning themselves while nursing a latte next to their laptops.

Kawon

Repeatable: Yes! Visits: 6+

Where’s the best Korean food OUTSIDE Korea? If you grew up second-generation Korean-American, the most likely answer would be, “At my mom’s house.” (Except for a friend of mine who hated Korean food when he was growing up. It wasn’t until he visited Korea that he realized he loved Korean food and that his mother was a terrible cook. But I digress.)

Typical banchan assortment

 
The second best place for Korean food outside Korea is Los Angeles. After that, most people would guess New York. But having eaten at all the top Korean restaurants in New York, I would have to insist that Kawon, a humble dive in Everett, Washington, kicks the pants off any Korean restaurant in the Big Apple (or Flushing).

A 40-minute drive north of Seattle’s city center, Kawon is hidden in a little strip mall behind an oil-change outlet.  Once you actually find the restaurant, those very same barriers to entry will help you find it again with ease. And, believe me, you’ll be going there again. My two NYC-based sisters make it a point to stop at Kawon every time they visit Seattle. Utter Manhattan snobs, even they concede that the food there is better than anything in New York.  In fact, Kawon is so much better than all the other Korean restaurants in the Puget Sound region that there’s no reason to eat anywhere else.

Here’s why Kawon is so repeatable:

Banchan Assortment: Kawon’s kitchen finesse is readily apparent in the astonishing array of top-notch side dishes  that freely accompany any order of grilled meat. The kimchee is pungent, well-balanced, and superb. The dressed spicy cucumber slices are always fresh and perfectly seasoned, as are the mung bean sprouts, wilted spinach mix, and grated daikon. In addition to these, there might also be a little bowl of daikon cubes in salty brine broth (known as “water kimchee”), crunchy cubes of spicy daikon, brown fish cake slivers sauteed with peppers and onions, and quivering slices of beige acorn jelly, dressed with a spicy soy-sauce mix. If you order kalbi, you’ll also get a free side of spicy, stinky Korean miso stew–recommended only to advanced eaters and served to non-Koreans by request only. All of these dishes are wonderful, but the crowing glory of the banchan selection at Kawon is the fresh Romaine salad platter–torn leaves of Romaine and slivers of green onion tossed with a sweet and savory dressing of soy sauce, sesame, and chili paste. Don’t be alarmed by the heaping size of this salad, because you will finish it.

Grilled Meats: For most people, Korean food means barbecue–and Kawon scores sky-high on this measure. The yang-nyum kalbi here is presented in long strips attached to the bone for table-top grilling. The seasoning is finger-lickingly balanced–not too sweet, not too salty, not too garlicky. A great alternative to beef is the hyuk daeji saeng-gyup sal–or black pig pork belly. These chunky slices of bacon grill up meltingly tender-chewy and are addictive when dipped in the accompanying chili-miso paste. Children love eating “bacon” this way, along with a bowl of kelp soup and strands of sprout and spinach salad.

Kawon has many other dishes of note, including their famous savory pancake (haemul pae-jun), hot pot mixed rice (dolsut bibimbop), and in summer only, the best cold water noodle-soup I’ve ever had (mul naeng myun). There are also hauntingly delicious grilled whole fish dishes, mouth-watering stews, and spicy soups–all worth trying if you have a Korean friend who can help translate some of the specials that are posted on the walls in Korean.

If you don’t have a friend like that, send me an email. I just might be having a craving.

Steelhead Diner

Repeatable: Maybe. Visits: 1

Red Beans & Rice with Chicken Andouille Gumbo

Most Seattleites eventually make it to the Pike Place Market at some point during the year, usually with kids and visitors in tow. During these rare visits, you don’t want to wait forever for a seat at Matt’s in the Market and you don’t really want to walk in the street dripping take-out down the front of your shirt either.

So you go to Steelhead Diner, a large, well-lit space next to the northern entrance to Pike Alley that’s been open for almost two years. The adorable owners, Kevin and Terresa Davis, have spent considerable amounts of time in the same places I’ve spent considerable amounts of time, so maybe that’s why diving into the deep menu felt like plunging into a pool of nostalgia.

Taste of New Orleans: Chef Kevin survived his start in the kitchens of the legendary Arnaud’s, one of the Crescent City’s most storied restaurants (he would fall back on that experience when he opened Sazerac in Seattle). Thankfully, none of Arnaud’s high-falutin’ Creole cooking is found here–just the down-home easy-going goodness of Cajun classics like chicken gumbo ($6.95, real and real good), rice and beans ($4.95, oh, my! properly cooked beans! without cumin! heaven!), and “dressed” po-boy styled sandwiches (means with all the fixin’s, like shredded lettuce, ketchup, mayo, etc.). There’s even junk food, a la “poutine,” french fries with gravy and cheese curds ($7.95). All this stuff really, really made me miss N’awlins.

Fish with Flair: The kitchen’s deft hand with seafood is most likely the result of the chef’s 5-year stint at the helm of Oceanaire, one of Seattle’s most reliable seafood restaurants, despite  (or maybe because of) the fact that it’s  part of a boutique chain. The jumbo lump Dungeness crab cake ($14.95) was a lightly formed patty of crab meat, with a piquant bit of sauce Louis (another Nawlins import; think mayo kicked up a notch). Delicious.  The Totten Inlet mussels in Purgatory ($12.95) were definitely hellish–with salt. The spices and flavors of chorizo, garlic, serrano, basil, and orange zest were tantalizingly promising–but someone had clearly made a mistake and dumped an extra teaspoon of salt into the batch and almost ruined it. I say almost because I still finished it, even though I needed to suck down most of my beer doing so.

California Dreamin’: The couple’s time in Napa–he in the fabulous kitchen of Tra Vigne–is evident in dishes like the crispy pork shank carnitas ($9.95), two tender legs served with a plate of corn tortillas. I think I would have enjoyed this dish a lot more if I hadn’t gorged on rice and beans and gumbo first. In an attempt to inject lightness into the meal, I got a plate of organic lettuce slalad with Chukar cherries, goat cheese, spiced walnuts, and white balsamic vinaigrette ($7.95).  Alas, it was overly dressed, so I didn’t get any respite from all the bold flavors at the table. The plate of pan-roasted brussel sprouts, however, were superb ($7.95).

One of the kids at our table got the so-ubiquitous-it-might-as-well-be-diner-fare kasu black cod ($19.95 for a half-portion), which was flaky, moist, well-flavored, and perfect. The real kid’s meals were impressive: a hand-shaped hamburger on french roll and grilled cheese on thick slices of herbed bread. Beecher’s mac ‘n’ cheese was also an option for the wee ones, but I know from experience that my kids won’t touch it–it’s “too cheesy” for their tastes.

So would I repeat the experience? I think so. I’ve barely skimmed the menu, and I haven’t tried any of the po-boys yet. Be forewarned that despite the moniker, this high-end grub ain’t exactly diner fare. And like all restaurants in the Market, prices here aren’t exactly a bargain. On the other hand, the place is open 11am-10pm ALL DAY every day, in true diner fashion. I just love knowing I can pop in and get a bowl of gumbo at 2pm  if I want to.

Boom Noodle

Repeatable: Maybe. Visits: 1

Boom Bento Box for kids

My first reaction to Boom Noodle was, “Wow, this place reminds me of Blue C Sushi!” Same breezy modern decor, same Japanese urban kitsch, same fetishizing of young Japanese girls wearing knee socks. A bit of googling revealed why: This place was started by the same folks. (When no one sends you press releases anymore, you actually have to do your own background research.) No wonder my 6-year-old immediately announced she wanted a cream puff when she entered the premises (both places offer “Tokyo Sweets,” aka cream puffs, for dessert).

My tasting companions on this trip were all under 4 feet: a 4-year-old, two 6-year-olds, and an 8-year-old. All four kids are child prodigy gourmands who’ve eaten at way too many fancy restaurants, so they make great tasters. The 4-year-old’s first observation was that the space was “too loud.” And indeed it was–the folks at Boom seem to have carried the concept over to the acoustics, but noise is a typical side effect of artsy, high-ceiling, exposed beams decor.

The kid’s menu is one of the best I’ve seen outside Honolulu–bento boxes with a choice of chicken skewers, braised pork loin, gyoza, fried shrimp, or fried tofu ($5.95). The gyoza arrived burnt, but the two hungy kids ate them anyway. There was a bit of char on the chicken, which caused one child to turn her nose up at it, while the other one wolfed it down. Another youngster sitting at our same table had the ramen ($4.50); she seemed to enjoy hers far more than the bowl of shitake soba ($9.50) that I got, which was beautifully presented:

Shiitake Soba at Boom Noodle

The broth–a critical component of any Japanese noodle dish–was actually quite good. But the noodles were overcooked, and I couldn’t find a mushroom to save my life. My friend John’s Tokyo ramen dish ($9.95), was not at all close to what he enjoys in Tokyo on a regular basis. “Too much pork, sliced too thick,” he said. Still, for these prices, we’re willing to compromise.

The curry potato korokke ($4.50)–potato croquettes–would have been lovely had they not been bludgeoned with curry powder. The kids each took a bite and made faces, spitting out the offending mouthful into their napkins. The mizuna salad ($9.95) was composed of the sturdiest, most mature mizuna I have ever encountered–they were mizuna on steroids. I felt like a cow as I munched through these strangely flavorless greens. Grilled chicken was supposed to be garnishing this salad; it must have fallen off in transit. Tori karaage ($5.95), Japanese fried chicken, had a hard time measuring up to my friend Megumi’s home-made version. John tried it and pronounced them just OK. The drumettes were huge; the chunks of chicken small and overcooked.

Regardless of its imperfect cooking, business will most likely Boom here (couldn’t resist). Its approximation of Japanese noodle shop fare and izakaya bar food is adequate enough to fool anyone who’s never actually eaten in Japan. Boom clearly understands its target demographic, which is the same as its sister restaurant Blue C’s: From 5-6:30 the long communal tables are filled with families with young children. After hours, the highly tempting and well-lit bar probably reels in the bar-hoppers and wild young things.

Despite the fact that the food was just OK, I’ll probably go again. The price was right, the kids actually ate something healthy, and it’s not too hard to get to in a minivan (street parking after 5pm, however, is a tough prospect).