I had dinner last night at Anchovies and Olives, Ethan Stowell’s Italian Seafood place on Capitol Hill. This is the same chef as Tavolata, which had been my favorite Italian restaurant until Spinacce popped up. Anchovies and Olives has gotten a good amount of local and national press and I have been wanting to go there for a while.
I had been posting on Facebook before I got there that I was hoping for an out of body experience. It was not to be had, the astral projection, but the place was OK. Just OK? Just OK.
So first, parking. The last time I was in the neighborhood I was at Spinasse and I don’t remember having to use cash to pay for parking. I don’t use cash. Cash is dirty and very 20th century. Normal people put their debit card into a little machine which kicks out a chit of paper that you place on your dashboard. Cash? Really? I had to park over near the Space Needle to find a parking lot that took debit cards.
Shockingly, even after walking over from the Space Needle, I got to the restaurant a few minutes early. The hostess was very gracious and sat me right away. A quite gorgeous waiter came over. Young, short cropped hair, slight beard, and an ass so tiny you could fit it in a tea cup. I ordered a Vesper (shaken not stirred) and started to look over the menu. I take a sip. Lillet! Hello Lillet. Suddenly I noticed the music. Hotel California. The Eagles. Wow. I hope this is some kind of ironic hipster attempt to be funny. I fear not. I as the evening went on my ears were doused in Stevie Nicks, Journey, Led Zeppelin, and Rod Stewart.
Beth arrived and also ordered a Vesper but she needed to have one made with potato vodka (gluten problems). We started off with oysters. I don’t like oysters. Gross little uncooked slime balls. However, I will eat (and enjoy) oysters at Nobu, so I thought, “Why not?” These were those Petite Kumamoto oysters from Olympia with a little sherry vinaigrette on them. I picked up the little snot ball and dropped it in mouth mouth. "Briney, winey, the essence of the sea." LOL. They were quite yummy. New rule: little oysters = good, big oysters = scary.
I switched to Gavi and Beth switched to potato vodka on the rocks.
We got some Crudo – which is basically Italian sashimi…or maybe a little like ceviche. Raw fish with some olive oil, salt, maybe some lemon juice. First came Hamachi with some prosciutto and avocado. This rocks. Then Escloar with some crispy little fried things sprinkled about. Faro? Cranberries? Again, quite good.
Next we ordered some fried sardines and some more oysters. The sardines never arrived, but the oysters did. Good thing the waiter was so pretty.
I didn’t know Beth could not eat pasta (or we would not have come here). She ordered some mackerel while I was torn between squid ink spaghetti or bucatini tossed with anchovies, chilies, and bread crumbs. Bucatini won. This was good. I did not astrally project, or even fall down and wet my pants, but it was a really solid pasta dish. I think I could make this though.
For dessert we got some panna cotta with pineapple and fennel. Sounds weird but it worked really well. Also got a big chunk of gorgonzola. So good.
So to summarize here:
- The gorgeous little server was better to look at that he was a waiter, but he was OK.
- The music, very annoying.
- The food had its moments, but not enough of them.
After I left I realized that this was kind of a Seattle attempt at that Mario Batali restaurant in New York, Esca. While the food there was amazing, really amazing, that was the worst service I have ever had in my life. Ah flashbacks.
Not sure that I need to come back here. Spinasse is a block away and the food there really does promote astral projection. Tavolata is a more fun to go to.
There you go. My review. Not expecting Food and Wine to ring me up any time soon for some freelance work, but I had a lovely evening.
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