Seattle Foodies

Tomato soup cupcake? Think spice cake and you've got it.

Next time you find yourself in Belltown with blood sugar levels needing a boost, high-tail it over to The Yellow Leaf Cupcake Co. I know cupcakes are nauseatingly trendy, but for good reason. They’re cake. They’re gorgeous. And you can taste a wide variety and still get up from the table. At Yellow Leaf, they’re also delicious and inventive, so there’s always something new to try.

Take for instance their signature tomato soup cupcake. More like a moist, rich, spice cake with a chocolate cap, co-owner Mike Hein grew up eating a version of this family recipe. For me, the plain vanilla is always a litmus test, and too often tastes like white. Not here, the vanilla sweet flavor is full without cloying. On the opposite end, their “ultimate chocolate” was rich and deep. And for those dining with a social conscious, Yellow Leaf offers a local charity cupcake. Today, a delicious pomegranate-frosted black cherry cupcake was supporting breast cancer research with its proceeds.

On any give day, you should see a dozen or more flavors, which change constantly (their website lists about sixty examples) and include filled versions such as peanut butter and jelly. Stupid me, I didn’t order one that day, so I’ll be going back soon.

Fighting back SAD at Dahlia Lounge.

It’s 5:30 on a Tuesday night, and the bar at Dahlia Lounge is already bustling. No lonely happy hour tonight. And good thing, we’re here on the Autumnal Equinox to stave off depressing thoughts of the coming winter darkness. A couple sunny cocktails land, and we can tell the strategy is going to work. The Fresca is a stepped up gin and tonic, spiked with yuzu juice (an Asian citrus) and candied ginger garnish. The Lemon Zester is pink with hibiscus syrup and grapefruit juice, sweet with limoncello, and bubbling with Prosecco. Both are wonderfully balanced, delicious, and refreshing. And a giant Huckleberry-Mint Mojito is deep purple with wild huckleberry syrup, lifted with lemon rum, mint, and lime, and deeply satisfying.

Dahlia chef Brock Johnson and executive chef Eric Tanaka.

There’s a dozen Kusshi oysters, with bright and not overpowering sesame mignonette. The oysters are dense and flavorful, unexpectedly excellent for the late, hot summer. We shift barstools to squeeze in new arrivals waiting for friends or a table. More food arrives, and it looks gorgeous. Though Dahlia has a new chef, he’s no stranger to the Tom Douglas family. For the past several years, Brock Johnson has been rocking across the street at Lola as chef, and it doesn’t look like either Brock or the Dahlia have missed a beat in the transition.

Now we’re tearing into rich and crispy Kahlua pig, hoisin sweet playing against chili ketchup, richened with a poached egg. A carrot and fresh coconut salad add color and a refreshing crunch between incredibly rich bites. I order an extra one to go. And a bowl of Penn Cove manila clams, with lardons of spicy pork belly and nectarine relish. We’re sopping the broth with torn chunks of grilled bread. And we’re just getting started.

What'll you have?

Dahlia potstickers on the menu sound innocuous enough. They’re not. Chewy and crunchy at once, undertones of scallion, a terrific Asian dipping sauce, and the pickled cabbage and radish sprouts are ethereal. The curried vegetable samosas are bubbly and golden, and look like they took ten minutes each to hand braid into drumsticks. The dough shatters like your grandma’s best pie crust in your teeth, the curry seasoning is light, just the right touch. Then there’s the chickpeas. Just a simple-looking pile, until you bite them you’d never suspect their deep, herb-infused flavor that reminds me instantly of Jerry Traunfeld’s herbal artistry. Finally, the Tuscan grilled-bread salad, one of my favorites since the Dahlia opened 20 years ago. Croutons oozing applewood smoke, sweet summer cherry tomatoes, rich prosciutto slices, crunchy radicchio and slivers of hearts of palm, salty olives, and covered in shaved parmigiano-reggiano. Forget about the dark Seattle winter. You can always stop by the Dahlia Lounge for a ready plate of Italian summer.

Today is the Autumnal Equinox, but I’m not getting a pagan-themed tattoo, nor am I parading naked in Fremont. Because there is no parade, of course. Who wants to celebrate six months where darkness reigns? Seasonal Affective Disorder does, in fact, suck. Even the Fremonsters are dispirited.

But we can, and should, fight back. And I don’t mean dropping three hundred clams on an ugly full-spectrum light box, because there’s a better solution. Instead of being SAD, be Happy. So today we embark on a rigorous regimen of happy hours, to explore the limits of just how much happiness drinks and snacks can inject into our otherwise dreary winter. At the same time, we’ll terrorize Seattle’s best happy hours, ferret out the finest cheap grub, and compile a happy hour map we can all live by. Plus there’s safety in numbers.

Happiness will occur every other Tuesday night, starting tonight. That will give us about fourteen places to hit this season, and two weeks in between to recover. The first victim: Dahlia Lounge!

Other possibilities include: Brasa, Campagne, Dinette, Etta’s, Licorous, Lola, Luc, Palace Kitchen, Poppy, Sambar, Serious Pie, Tavolàta, Union, Waterfront Seafood Grill, and Zig Zag.

When the Capitol Hill Chamber of Commerce invited Seattle Foodies to attend their Spirit Of The Hill benefit dinner, I stopped listening after the words “Jerry Traunfeld” and “Poppy,” and said I would definitely be there. I’ve long been a big fan of Jerry’s work at the Herbfarm and his books The Herbfarm Cookbook and The Herbal Kitchen. So when a guy with that much culinary magic in his wand takes a year off to travel India researching spices before opening his superstar new Capitol Hill spot Poppy, you don’t even have to eat there to know it will be good. But you owe it to yourself to do so, and soon.

So how lucky that the Chamber of Commerce is holding their benefit dinner at Poppy on October 5th from 6:00 – 8:30pm. You can savor Poppy’s special menu while Jerry shares the story of his hot new restaurant. Enjoy wines selected by manager and sommelier Angela Isaacson and learn her food-pairing tricks. Listen to live music, join the bidding during the auction, and maybe even win the raffle. All while supporting Capitol Hill commerce.

Tickets are just $75 from Brown Paper Tickets. So what are you waiting for?

Den Hoed's viticulturalist tells all.

It was a beautiful day in Eastern Washington’s wine country, seemingly perfect for the Wine Press Club to stage an attack upon Tom Douglas’ Prosser Farm. The mission: locate and destroy a four-course, wine-paired lunch. But Pamela Hinckley (chief military strategist and CEO of Tom Douglas Restaurants), countered with a winery pincer maneuver, surrounding our luncheon with visits to Den Hoed Wine Estates for a chat with their top viticulturalist, and to Chinook Winery for a tasting and to help pick the blend for the Dahlia Lounge 20th anniversary cuvee. Clashes erupted mid-morning, when Pamela’s forward troops met our forces head-on at the Exit 80 truck stop. Needless to say, the Wine Press Club was quickly charmed, then subdued. And in the style of any benevolent conqueror, Tom took us in . . . and promptly put us to work in the kitchen.

Luckily, one of our spies eluded capture to bring you this uncensored footage from the battlefield. Warning: these photos contain graphic images.

More details on the Wine Press Club picnic can be read on the Tom Douglas blog.

If you’ve heard Seattle’s culinary giant Tom Douglas speak, chances are you’ve heard him mention the Three T’s. Not three Toms, but a set of perspectives he trains all his chefs to cultivate: taste, texture, and temperature. The three bases that, when hit, can turn a plain dish into a home run. Or next time you’re eating a disappointing meal, reviewing them will probably tell you exactly why.

To illustrate, say you’re making lamb stew. The recipe says to brown some stew meat, add chicken stock, some carrots, onions, potatoes, slow cook, and serve. Bo-o-o-ring. You’re a foodie. You want more. So let’s fix it using the Three T’s:

Taste

Depth. A fantastic dish has depth and fullness of flavor. Before you say, “Duh,” what exactly does this mean?

The idea is to have a flavor concept for a dish, and then build layers of that flavor, and its complements, to reinforce and broaden the experience of that flavor. This means your dish needs a focus. It means bringing out the central ingredient and its highlighting seasoning (herb and/or spice).

Rather than plunking a couple cubes of “chicken bouillon” into warm water, start with chicken stock you previously made. Instead of pre-cubed stew meat, you bought a half leg, bone in (or boneless leg, because you have lamb bones from a previous dinner). After dicing the meat, set it aside. Then brown the trimmings and the bones in fat you just rendered, and simmer them in chicken stock to enrich the braising liquid with roasted lamb flavor. In more lamb fat, brown, really dark brown, the lamb cubes to bring out a caramelized depth of lamb flavor. And save the last of the lamb fat for browning the vegetables. Wait a minute, what about those carrots, onions, and potatoes?

To answer that, first think about seasoning. Going on a wild riff with oregano, chiles, bacon, sea beans, gruyere, and orange zest may make you feel like Jackson Pollock, but even if the flavors were compatible, there’d be way too much going on in the dish. Breadth without depth. Like blending a cheeseburger and sipping it through a straw, it’s confusing. Instead, you pick fennel as the main flavor, and add some fennel bulb to the braising liquid. Now decide on those other vegetables. Does a carrot go with fennel? Not sure? Nibble a piece of one, then the other. Now both together. Like it? Does the carrot interfere with the fennel or enhance it? Think about why the recipe called for carrot. Earthiness and sweet. Do you want that? Does fennel do that job by itself? What are you missing if you skip the carrots? Do the same with the other recipe ingredients. Keep them if they’re helping.

When serving, instead of drowning the lamb in thin braising liquid, strain out the vegetables (they’ve given all they can) and reduce the liquid down to a concentrated, thick sauce that will stick to the lamb. Now let’s build up that fennel flavor. Maybe grill some sliced fennel bulb for a side vegetable. Perhaps top the sauced lamb with chopped fennel fronds or a sprinkle of fennel pollen. Or both. Now you’ve got layers of lamb and layers of fennel. Adjust the salt, and your dish will go to eleven.

Breadth. Now that you’ve got some depth, it’s time to put on your flavor 3D glasses. Taste opposites excite your tongue along it’s full spectrum of senses, while simultaneously balancing each other. Apply them to your cooking, and you’ll be a kitchen rock star. So what are they?

Sweet balances bitter. Strawberries and rhubarb. Maple syrup and walnuts. Honey and mustard. Magical combinations because they hit this whole spectrum. In your lamb dish, fennel adds sweet. So why not add a side of braised bitter greens or a simple handful of Italian parsley leaves?

Salt balances sour. It’s why vinegar and salt are practically joined at the hip. Like those British potato chips or sour pickles or about half of all vinaigrettes (lemon and salt are in the other half). So dress those flat-leaf parsley leaves with a little lemon and salt and see what a difference it makes. Or add a splash of good wine vinegar to your sauce as you’re adjusting the salt.

Finally, astringency balances richness. Acids versus fats. It’s why wine is wonderful with a rich meal. “Palate cleanser” is just a euphemism for keeping your taste buds awake. Malt vinegar on fish and chips. Pickles on a ham and cheese sandwich. Oil in a vinaigrette. So that splash of vinegar in your sauce will play foil to lamb’s richness, and lets you get away with a swirl of finishing butter in the sauce. A little olive oil tossed with the lemon juice for those parsley leaves might be another good move.

Texture

Compared to taste, texture is much simpler. The name of the game is contrast. Something creamy versus something that snaps. Soft versus shatters on your teeth. Nuts on ice cream. Those pickles on a ham sandwich. Chips ‘n dip. That textural contrast is central. It packs comfort with a satisfying crunch.

Our lamb recipe started with everything slowly cooked with moist heat. A.k.a. mush. That’s why it’s hard to get excited about stew. It’s a slog. But already we’re on the right track. Those grilled fennel wedges should have some good body if not overcooked. That’s good, but cooked vegetables lose crispness the moment they get near heat. So you could swap that for a simple salad of shaved fresh fennel bulb (but still tossed with parsley leaves, olive oil, lemon juice, and salt). Try moving the fennel pollen finish here to dress it up a bit.

And you don’t have to go light with fresh vegetables. Try something baked or fried. Cracklings, crumbs, toasts, or simple breadsticks (with fennel seeds, of course). Some starches can be crunchy too, such as root vegetable chips, or crisp fritters. Even faro has enough snap to add texture. And try giving your cooked meat a finishing sear or roast to put a little crust on it.

Or perhaps the crunch of that coarse-flake finishing salt is all you need.

Temperature

As with texture, with temperature contrast is king. Think about hot coffee with a dish of ice cream. The coffee heats up your mouth, which makes the ice cream melt so you taste it more and it fuses with the coffee flavor. After another bite of ice cream, your taste buds are getting numb, so you wake them up with more hot coffee. The play of hot against cold (and the bitter against sweet) makes the experience fresh with each bite. And the contrast intensifies your experience of the flavors.

Of course, temperature isn’t always about oven heat. There’s spicy heat. And so many dishes succeed by contrasting with it. Jalapeños and sour cream or guacamole. Spicy lamb with cool yogurt. Cool Vietnamese lettuce wraps and spicy dipping sauces. Buffalo-style chicken wings and blue cheese dressing.

So for your hot lamb dish, try serving it with something cold. Like what? Something that reinforces taste and texture, if you can. For our lamb stew, that fennel parsley salad now does quadruple duty by adding coolness as well as building flavor, flavor contrasts, and adding crunch. But temperature doesn’t always need to hit the other T’s, or even be on the same plate. Maybe veer toward rustic with chewy artisan bread and cold cultured butter.

Use your experience and imagination, think about the Three T’s, and you won’t go wrong. And be sure to let us know what you think!

This spooky fall-like weather is a reminder and a warning that Halloween is not far off. But there’s no need to be frightened, not if we seize the opportunity to arrange our own adult-style tricks and treats to ward off evil spirits. So we’re excited to announce the First Annual Poultrygeist!

It’s our last chance to meet and eat before the holiday season kicks in. Think of a mini summer camp, but even more hands-on, and we work to improve each dish with The Three T’s in mind. In other words, lots of experimenting, learning, and fun, culminating in a feathery feast.

Location: TBD

Dates: The weekend before Halloween. The rough plan so far is:

Saturday October 24 – “Mise-ry loves company.” A day of play with:

• Pike Place Market shopping
• whole fresh ducks
• sharp objects
• sundry vegetables
• fire
• red wine, crudité, salumi meats, olives (for the players)

Sunday October 25 – “It don’t taste like chicken.” Draft menu:

• scary sugar-pumpkin-carving contest, five-spice duck, pinch buns, cilantro, plum sauce
• seared foie gras, duck paté, toasts, greens
• duck-egg raviolo, sage butter, magret duck prosciutto
• cranberry orange sorbet intermezzo
• duck meatball sliders
• seared duck breast, red wine reduction, duck-finished kale (duck fat, cracklins), duck-roasted potatoes (duck fat, thyme)
• duck-egg crème brulée, bay, pear

Wine Pairings: TBD

Cost: TBD, depending on who, what, where, about enough to cover costs

Anybody feeling ducky? Check back for updates.

So you’re in Seattle. You’re hungry. And you don’t feel like rolling the dice with your hard-earned dining dollars. No problem. Our handy Seattle Foodies dining guide will hook you up!

If you have a favorite you think should be on the map, let us know!

View Foodies Love Seattle in a larger map

Lunchbox Laboratory's delicious monster.

Ah, delicious, languid Friday afternoons. A late-summer day, warmed by sun streaming through an open window, and pinned down by a humongous, monster burger in your belly. What a beautiful beginning for the Foodies First Friday Lunch Club. Starting today, and every first Friday of the month until the Sun burns out, Tom Douglas Summer Campers are reconnecting to share the previous month’s food exploits and, of course, to eat.

For our inaugural feast, nearly 20 of us “clubbed” the good folks at Lunchbox Laboratory, where we gorged on their burger creations using beef, lamb, buffalo, prime rib, even a duck and pork combo (“dork”), piled with 10-15 daily cheeses, bacon, and other reach-for-the-sky ingredients. Check the menu on their seizure-inducing website for advance build-your-own strategery, or just show up and choose from the innovative daily specials board. Make sure you bring enough friends to order all the sides (onion rings, skinny fries, sweet-potato fries, tater tots) and their assortment of specialty salts (smoked Asian salt, rosemary sea salt, and more) and sauces. And don’t miss their best-in-the-business milk shakes (served in lab beakers, of course). The hardest part of eating at the Lab is choosing, but don’t worry: there’s usually enough of a line to give you time to peruse all the options.

Shown above, the only burger said to be visible from space: my lamb and bacon Frankenstein. And what’s that in the background? The camera caught fellow foodie Bruce in the act of forking his dork! (Personally, I prefer to use my hands.)

Wild huckleberries picked near Snoqualmie Pass.

Is there anything better than playing hooky on a Thursday to forage wild huckleberries in the mountains? Okay, maybe a sunny day foraging. But cold fingers and damp socks aside, hats off to foodie Becky for sharing her secret Snoqualmie Pass berry grounds. Even better, the crew provided great wines, dill-grilled prawns, pumpkin spice bread, Tom Douglas’ Tuscan bread salad, line-caught home-smoked coho salmon spread, lemon orzo, and vanilla bean crème anglaise (with two ice cream machines whirling away). Plus an assortment of children to run and scream in the vicinity to keep the bears away.

Want the inside scoop on the berry patch location? Becky has agreed to divulge the GPS coordinates, but only through a feuding network of centuries-old secret societies. Your clues: One, huckleberries symbolize the feminine (plant fertility). Two, remember the mathematical number that signifies roundness (think huckleberry pie, wink, wink). And three: look for an unscraped goat-skin parchment in Venice. Good luck!