The power of twitter, for those not in the know, is that I can send out an innocuous tweet at 11:30, “good places for lunch in the university district?” and in 5 minutes have 5 replies.

@gastrognome led me to Guanaco’s, an unassuming el salvadoran place just off the ave.

And believe me, it’s REALLY unassuming. Plastic covered tablecloths, specials written on a white board. I almost left when I saw the women in the back scooping mounds of refried beans.

But thank god I didn’t because these pupusas ROCK. You can have any kind you want, and they come out crusty hot with the filling spewing out like volcanic lava. I got pork and cheese and zucchini and I can’t rember what else, just that it was awesome and made me want more.

The tamale I got was only so-so, but that’s likely because I got young corn. What was I thinking? Plain corn when I could have smothered pork?

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Guanaco’s Tacos Pupuseria

(206) 547-2369

4106 Brooklyn Ave NE
Seattle, WA 98105
guanacostacos.webs.com

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The entrance to the Corson Building feels like something out of a storybook, as if inside the heavy door you might find a huge feast, mid-stride.

Instead when we arrived at 6pm on Wednesday the dining room was empty, the lights just starting to glow in the late summer evening. It was like an old French farmhouse, with thick boards, exposed brick, and a stone fireplace.

The place was built in 1910 as someone’s home. In the 1920s it was taken over by an architecture firm who expanded it and dubbed it “The Corson Building,” etching the name in stone. Then last year Matt Dillon and his partner Wylie Bush (of Joe Bar) decided to make it their new restaurant, adding on a kitchen. The renovations and the idyllic gardens give it a rustic feel that almost makes you forget you’re in the middle of industrial Georgetown, until the trains come rumbling past a few feet away.

Unlike Matt Dillon’s other restaurant (Sitka & Spruce), the Corson Building initially offered only a set menu at a fairly steep price ($90 without wine, $120 with). They’ve recently expanded their offerings, now serving an a la carte menu on Wednesdays, brunch on Sundays ($23), and a cheaper set menu on Sunday evenings ($60 with wine). We picked a Wednesday and found the a la carte menu so approachably small we almost ordered the whole thing.

Highlights were a warm plum salad (with plums picked fresh from the garden), some beautiful treviso greens tossed with chanterelles, and an impressively cooked squid entree– perfectly seared and yet surprisingly tender. A dessert of huckleberry clafoutis was the peak of the meal, steaming hot and custardy, like something your grandmother would make. It was a bit long in coming (we waited half in hour) but our server brought out a few glasses of a leafy sweet dessert wine to tide us over.

There were a few stumbles—beautiful local lobster mushrooms that were just shy of perfectly cooked and thus not ringing in flavor, and beet greens that came out in a mushy pile that would embarrass even the most casual home cook. I also didn’t quite understand the point of potted rabbit, which tasted like the canned chicken my mother used to buy.

But overall it was a wonderful meal. The place felt magical. While we sat the room filled up, ringing with voices and flickering candles at the long communal tables.

On our way out we wandered through the gardens, discovering a terrace on one side with an outdoor oven that would be perfect for evening wine tastings, perhaps with a few grilled pizzas.

I hope we’ll be back. Maybe for brunch.

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The Corson Building

5609 Corson Ave S
Seattle, WA 98108
www.thecorsonbuilding.com

(206) 762-3330

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Soft opening, but all seemed calm in the kitchen, with Molly Wizenberg (of Orangette fame) in a long apron and her husband Brandon Pettit slaving in front of the Italian-imported hand-built pizza oven.

Three words: Billy’s padron chiles. Like the best roasted green chiles from New Mexico. With a bit of Grana Padano, and an amazingly crisp yet tender charred crust. Cobe says, “best pizza ever.”

Official opening August 12th.

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Delancey

Ballard
1415 NW 70th St
Seattle, WA 98117
www.delanceyseattle.com

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The décor at Poppy is a bit Ikea showroom-esque: light colored wood with bursts of orange and red that call to mind poppies in full bloom. I had to twist Cobe’s arm to get him to go. He was worried his Sunday I-can’t-stand-shaving-on-the-weekend-look would be out of place, but we fit in just fine. There were people in shorts and flipflops.

The mood was light, with most tables ordering flights of wine and from where we sat we could see the bar was in full swing.

If you’ve seen Jerry Traunfeld’s cookbooks, or went to the Herbfarm when he was in residence, you’re already familiar with his style—simple and seasonal with an abundance of herbs. At Poppy he offers a series of tastes on a circular plate called a “thali.” It’s a play on a traditional Indian presentation, but the cooking is more west-coast small plates style, with the exception of the suspiciously naan-looking bread in the middle (sadly without the char). There are already signs he’s had to bend his will to a public not prepared for something so different, as he also offers “smallies”—similar to the thalis, but with less dishes and bigger entrée sizes.

We started with the Dungeness shiso appetizer but it was sadly disappointing. Hard to top the fresh Dungeness crab we had just a few days ago, plucked from the sound by one of our friends who has a diving rig. It was a bit light on the shiso as well.

Despite the name, the “smallies” were the perfect size. I was worried the copper river salmon would be ragged this late in the season, but it melted on the tongue and was paired with a pinot noir cream sauce. I never think to pair cream and fish, but it worked beautifully. The seabeans didn’t add much for me, except for a dash of color. Cobe’s wagyu beef was grilled a tender medium rare and served over meaty farro and porcinis. This was deep flavored meaty beef, well played off with some onions and stock.

Small plates were a bit of a blur. The roasted fingerlings with whole spices (mustard seeds, cumin and cardamom) were a standout, the spices so well toasted they popped in your mouth. I also loved the roasted beet, purslane and currant salad, rustic earthy flavors that really worked together. There was so much fresh local produce, it was like eating on a farm.

We wanted something sweet to end the meal, but couldn’t bring ourselves to fit in anything other than a scoop of ice cream, so we went with the mint chip. It was impressively minty, clearly made from the leaf not the extract. Did wish for a bit chunkier chocolate, but that’s my ben and jerry’s upbringing. Would love to try a dessert thali one of these days. I hear Dana Cree’s quite the pastry chef.

Pleasant night, good food, and all be-flipflopped.

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Poppy

(206) 324-1108

Capitol Hill
622 Broadway E
Seattle, WA 98102
www.poppyseattle.com

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Barbecue has never quite fit in Seattle. It needs a dirty sweaty slowness, big slabs of pork cooked over smoky hickory for hours tended by a soot-covered pitmaster. The northwest just isn’t dirty enough. Instead it rings with clean flavors: salmon with a lemon wedge, ice cold oysters, hoppy IPAs.

I had high hopes for the Maximus/Minimus truck, the new pig-shaped pulled pork van from Kurt Dammeier of Beecher Cheese. It reminded me of the tank from animal house, it looked like a big sweaty animal.

My first sampling left me optimistic, the pork not the most tender or the most luscious, but the mix of pulled pork with northwest flavors (cilantro, fennel, tamarind, good cheddar cheese) seemed to work, it made something new.

My recent visit was less successful. This time the sauce was cloyingly sweet, trumping all other flavors. It needed more smoke, more spice, the taste of pig fat. Hibiscus nectar was the most gorgeous red, but its sweetness was too much for the already sweet sauce. The vegetarian sandwich just left me confused, as it seemed to consist mostly of barley and barbecue sauce with little else.

The side of homemade chips, on the other hand, were impressive and sparked a few passerbys to ogle my lunch.

“Where’d you get that?” a construction worker asked, his eyes wide.

The mix of thinly sliced vegetables, hot peppers, and green beans had been fried till crispy and coated with Kurt’s own fennel-laced spice mix. They were addictive. I finished them all despite barely touching my two sandwiches.

The pig has only been open a few weeks now and they’re just finding their way. Even the location is tough, with few benches nearby to plant oneself when trying to down a barbecue sandwich. I think if they dial up the smoke and the spice and cut back on the sugar, they might find their niche. If we can’t do southern style barbecue in Seattle, maybe we can find our own style– barbecue with a northwest flair.

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Maximus/Minimus

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