Some friends and I went to Italianissimo in Woodinville, which is currently my favorite Italian restaurant around here. A lot of Italian restaurants are… well, you don’t really need to look at a menu, do you? It’s all the same food, with the ingredients rearranged: sometimes flat, sometimes lumpy, sometimes pounded. That’s not the case at Italianissimo. When my mother-in-law gets homesick for Milan, this is where I’m taking her.

One of my friends, at the end of the meal, said that he was actually hoping they served cannoli. He said he rarely ordered it, because he loved good cannoli, but he only knew a few places that made cannoli worth the calories, and most of those were in New York. I said that if Italianissimo served it, it would be good.

We asked the waitress if they had cannoli, and she said they didn’t. She explained how hard it was to make cannoli — and even harder to make good cannoli — and that since they tried to make everything in the restaurant from scratch, they really didn’t have the bandwidth to tackle it.

It’s weird when you like a place even more because they don’t serve something you want, isn’t it?

With that in mind, I want to remind people that right now the Japanese Botanical Garden is especially gorgeous. In fact, they’re doing a special Maple Viewing event from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. Saturday October 20th. If that sounds too crowded, I enjoyed just driving down Lake Washington Blvd.

Luckily my mind was quickly re-occupied by food (it rarely drifts for long). Because it was a sunday evening and a casual meal that we were in search of, I stuck with two items on the “small bites” section, one from todays special, and one from the back side of the menu (it took me a minute to find), on the everyday menu. The Tuscan style bread came out–Tuscan style means no salt, our waitress explained. So you’d think they’d at least have salt and pepper on the table, but no, I had to ask for it, feeling rather sheepish after the “Tuscan style” explanation. I am a self-proclaimed salt lover, and the bread was certainly quite tasty without it, though I felt a little like eating matzah–its not that it was bad, I just felt like something was missing. This also could have been fixed up with a better olive oil-blasamic ratio. A dipping plate comes with the bread, and our first was all balsamic, no oil, the second was the reverse.

My first small plate was veal sweetbreads topped with cheese and cremini mushrooms. You would be hard pressed to find someone who did not like this dish. Though, if they are squemish, don’t tell them they are eating the gland of a baby cow. But do tell them the price–these beautiful rounds of soft deliciousness were a mere $8. “Damn $8 for sweetbreads?” asked my high ranking chef friend. Oh yeah.

I followed this up with a plate of chard-wrapped truffled pecorino cheese. Chard=my favorite vegetable. Cheese=heaven. Trufflesmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Need I say more? As the waitress put them down she said “let me bring you some bread to mop up the sauce with. You’ll want it” And want it I did. And yes, this rich little treat was also just $8. A pretty cheap meal if you ask me. B went with a main dish, ordering some sort of pig stuffed with pig (wild boar tenderloin stuffed with sausage? Maybe? My memory is failing me). I can’t remember exactly, but I think it involved wild boar, because he said he later had a dream that the wild boar was chasing him. The tenderloin was perfectly done, no dryness at all, and the best part was the fall vegetable medley under it, all pork drippings flavored and filled with kale and zucchini. I believe this dish was cheap as well, under $20, if I recall correctly.

Where lies the problem? Well, the restaurant is a very dark color scheme, and the waitresses (who all appeared a little on the manly side of female anyways) were dressed in drab, oversized off-white colored coats, such that I mistook one for a chef at first. I do not understand why you would want to put your waitstaff in such an unpleasently ugly outfit. The service itself left a little too be desired. I never got a bread plate, resulting in a crumb-y table, and the previously mentioned olive oil inconsistency, but they got the necessaries done and were quite pleasant about it. Even more pleasant when I called in to ask if B’s credit card was still there (it was).

A terrific overall experience, that could be even more improved with a little more color in the room, a new outfit for the waitstaff and a little training on consistency. As long as they keep serving up the kind of food I ate at the prices I paid, I hope that they will be able to last as long as Union Bay Cafe did in that space. They’ve been open for two months now, so look for the reviews coming out in the papers soon.

I wanted to make a paper lantern for the Luminata Lantern Walk, but I didn’t. I ran out of time, I didn’t know how to do it, I forgot. I wanted to go, though. I’ve been looking forward to it, so I (and husband and our two dogs) went down to Green Lake planning to eat a burger and watch the procession pass by. I expected to see some fun, creative lanterns.

What I didn’t expect was for the people to be so welcoming and inclusive. The organizers had a few extra lanterns ready, plus they were extremely liberal about what counted as a “luminata.” We wound up putting a couple of glow-sticks on the dogs and joining the parade. (See what I mean? Gotta love it when they’re all about the fun. My dogs were pretty popular lanterns, too, judging by the pets they got.)

Several people had store bought paper lanterns. One woman had an umbrella with a flashlight duct taped to the handle — pointing upward — so the fabric glowed. Two guys had white plastic grocery bags holding battery-operated flashy Christmas lights. One techno-geek came in a t-shirt that lit up, sound-board style, when you talked to him. There was a giant with glowing wings. One man had a multi-hinged iron crook/staff live flame thingie that looked amazingly dramatic in the dark. Then there were the dozens of kids with glow sticks. And my dogs with their glow-stick collars. The rule seemed to be: Does it glow? Then you’re good.

But most people had actually had made real lanterns. And they were — every one of them — great.

Lots of people had round lanterns made from by painting a balloon with watered Elmer’s glue and pasting tissue paper on it. (I got the tip that you should spray the balloon with Pam so you can get it out easily after the glue has dried.) Then they hung it from a stick by a string. Tada.

Some were just outstanding or extra-fun: One guy had a giant eyeball, complete with optical nerve/vein squiggle. (It was the nerve that made it super special). Several people had amazing fish that looked like they were swimming through the dark. My husband said his favorite lanterns were the realistic salmon ones. One fellow had punched holes in a can and inserted Lite-Brite pegs. (That was my personal fave.) Two people carried actual brown-bag luminarias. Some people had mason jars with tissue paper glued on it. There was one especially nice bird (the holder floated it over my head for a while on the walk), there were at least two mouse heads, lots of stars, a few moons, a dragon, a few lanterns worn like hats, a donut, and a lot of freeform unrecognizable shapes. Lots of lanterns incorporated autumn leaves, and the candlelight brought out the colors nicely.

After twilight, we started walking around the lake. Green Lake doesn’t have a lot of streetlights, so there was a long procession of softly glowing colored lanterns — fish, spheres, random shapes, all through the black tree shadows and under the silver moonlight. I kept stepping off the path so we could look up and down the dark parade. It was lovely.

Next year, I am DEFINITELY going to have a special lantern. It was too much fun not to.

How good is this? I remember, as a seven year old girl, saving my pennies (and here you know I was a foodie in the making) so that I could afford what was then about a $1.07 ( I think they are now $2.25) baked hum bao. These things are like heaven wrapped in bread. For those who have never been, the current Mee Sum is located in the Pike Place Market, on the east side of the street, next to the Juice Plant. In addition to their specialty, many varieties of baked and steamed baos, they also have decent potstickers, the creamiest crab rangoons (unsure if that is a plus) and various other types of Chinese baked goods.

Were it not for the phone call asking me to bike home faster as my man was locked out of my house, I was going to bike by and check out the space, as Eating Seattle doesn’t specify if it looks like it will just be a take out counter a la the market location, or if it looks like they might have seating, or (god forbid) in the future, a possible true dim sum service.

Either way, given my knowledge of their baked goods and the eating habits of college kids (cheap, hot, bread filled with meat) I can’t imagine this place failing if they keep up their excellent quality and keep down their excellent prices. Especially if they take a hint from other cheap foods on the Ave (Aladdin’s, I’m talking to you) and stay open late. What drunk college boy would not stop on the way home for $0.50 potstickers?

Teddy Bear’s BBQ is currently holding the award for Best Barbecue I’ve Had in Washington. The beef barbecue sandwich was pulled (which I’ve never experienced in a beef sandwich) and it didn’t have a strong smoky taste, but nonetheless, it was flavorful, I could tell that it was the right cut of meat, and it had the pink edge of quality. Moreover, Konrad and Phyllis understood the concept of no sauce! They had three different kinds of sauces at the table — sweet, medium, and hot — but they didn’t automatically mask the meat’s natural flavor. The meat didn’t need it.

I also tried a piece of their barbecued chicken and it was flavorful and moist. All the locals ordered ribs, and they looked happy, but I judge a place by the beef sandwich, so I just took their word for it. My sides were excellent, too, and not out of some industrial tub. Cornbread with butter and honey made a perfect dessert.

Disclaimer #2: I’m not promising you’ll love it. Everyone has their own taste in barbecue. I’ll still be trying other barbecue places in Seattle and nearby towns … but when I was in Texas, I’d drive to Lockhart for barbecue. In Washington, I’ll be driving to Duvall.

Seattle police and firefighters are investigating a fatal crash in the Eastlake neighborhood.

A bicyclist was struck by a dump truck at Eastlake Avenue East and Fuhrman Avenue East, near the University Bridge, according to firefighters. The bicyclist died at the scene, said a Seattle fire spokeswoman.

photo by our own denny trimble [flickr]

When I first met my boyfriend, he canceled our second date to attend the Dead Baby Bike Races. So now, a year later, when he invited me to attend with him, I was both apprehensive and quite curious what might be so great that it would eclipse a friday night date with me. We arrived at a pub around 645, brought our bikes into the coral and paid our $20. In exchange we got individually numbered t-shirts and a water bottle. T-shirts went to the car, water bottles on to the bikes.

The crowd inched forward, a gun went off, and everyone started biking down the hill from West Seattle into Georgetown. Cars, unknowingly caught up in the crowd of bikers, waited patiently, stuck like pictures of a flood scene. In a scene that would bring tears to the eyes of bike commuters everywhere, traffic was put on hold as the cyclists were given free reign, not by law, but by strength in numbers. Bikes of all kinds flew by, tall bikes, mini bikes, homemade bikes, $6000 bikes, you name it, it was there. People of every age, from the 4 year old in a ninja turtle costume, to the old man on a bike at least as old as he was, clamored down the hill to industrial georgetown.

Once there, the same water bottles as we were given at the start were available for $10, as these were the tickets for the all you could drink beer. Olympia, Fat Tire, Skinny Dip, it was all there. The line was more of a smushing of people, and at one point, frustrated with the lack of effort to get to the beer by the man in front of me, I told him he had to push. Ok, he said, and using me as a battering ram, pushed me to the front of the line. It worked quite well. In addition to the free beer, the finish was equipped with food ($1/$2 hot dogs and hamburgers), bands, and crazy bike toys. Crazy bike toys include a ferris wheel that operated on pedal power, a bike which, when peddaled, went in a little three wheeled circle, and a bike which went the opposite way that you steered it (harder than it looks), on which my boyfriend incurred himself a bloody knee. I watched Santa bike himself in circles till he hit the ground trying to get up. Another Santa said ‘ho ho ho’ as he threw us a mini of Bacardi.

But the real show began with the evenings contests. See after the jump for those.

The first contest was the relatively benign ‘bunny hop’ contest, however, after a few rounds of actually bunny hopping over the limbo pole, the contest then deteriorated in to a tricks competition, which was an exercise in self sacrifice, won by rider Sean Desai, riding a bike that he thinks is very cool because it has no brakes.

As the night went on, things got fuzzier but among the contests I remember were a game of ‘footdown’ in which riders ride in circles enclosed by the crowd, which gets increasingly smaller as the game goes on, until all but one rider is eliminated by touching a foot to the ground. Drag racing, which involved drinking a beer while riding a bike, seemed like the only contest I would willingly enter, though the girls were getting their asses kicked by the guys. Seems unfair, really since guys both bike and drink at a much faster speed.

At this point, I had located the nearby ‘Hallava Falafel”. Please stay tuned on the best-not-that-good-falafel ever post coming up shortly.

Post falafel, morning our lack of money for a second one, we watched the pinata: a pinata of a dead baby was dangled, as riders rode by with a bike lock in their hand to try to smash it.

Then came the jousting. Armed with about 15 foot long jousting rods, with boxing gloves taped on to the ends, the riders rode towards each other, attempting to knock the other off. It seemed cute, though still not fun when done on mini bikes. Then they moved on to the tall bikes (two bikes on top of each other, and I worried, given that most of the contestants were so drunk they couldn’t actually get on to the bike, but it seemed ok. Then somebody let wasted girl on. She was really wasted. They let her try 3 times, before finally declaring her opponent the winner. Nevermind that wasted girl never actually managed to stay on the bike until the opponent even hit her.

All in all this was a night rich in both debauchery and douchebaggery, and I reccomend not missing it next year. Though I’m unsure of the legality of anything that went on, and am convinced that you should go while you can, before the police get their grubby paws on this event.

A few months ago, I was in the mood for a novel that was set in modern Seattle. You know, I wanted “writer’s eye” view of the city so I could get a better understanding of the town’s time and place, plus maybe some poetical metaphors for “tarmac.” A friend recommended a newly released book: Always by local author Nicola Griffith. As a bonus, I discovered there was going to be a reading at the local bookstore.

I went to the reading, chatted very briefly with the Nicola Griffith, got my copy, and wound up arranging a brief interview at a pub mentioned in her book, a place in Wallingford called Murphy’s.

Before we talked, of course, I’d read the book and thoroughly enjoyed it. Not only did I like the action and the main character – a confident ex-cop named Aud – but it was exactly what I was looking for as far as a literary introduction to the city of Seattle. Aud arrives in Seattle as a stranger, and as a Norwegian. Griffith uses this combination to introduce the reader to the sights, sounds, and character of the city. It was especially fun getting a Norwegian’s view of the lingering impact of the Scandinavian fishermen.

Later, when I spoke to Griffith at Murphy’s – and it was very odd being in a place that I’d just read about in a fiction novel, let me tell you! – she said that she’s lived in Seattle since 1995, but she discovered that she can’t really write about places until she’s left it. With Seattle, that’s manifested in that she couldn’t really write about the flavor of Wallingford (which plays a strong role in Always) until she’d moved from her home in Wallingford to another neighborhood.

She pointed out, though, that Wallingford had already gone through huge changes even while she was living there. From the nineties to now, she talked about how Wallingford had grown dramatically. Griffith talked about how even the quality of the neighborhood’s awareness of itself has changed as it became less small. I liked that phrase, because that’s something Seattle has — with its neighborhood culture — more than any other city I’ve lived in: “an awareness of itself.” I think it would be interesting to watch a neighborhood become even more aware of itself.

Now that I’ve actually spent time in Seattle, I’m going to reread the book and see what all was there that I’d missed by not being familiar enough with the town my first time through!