Agenda: Great SANE food, great company, relaxing couple of hours.
Location: Hollywood Tavern, Woodinville – an American roadside tavern.
Weather: Sunshine! A tad chilly and a few clouds, but…sunshine! I’ll take it.
Cuisine: Upscale American diner fare with a focus on fresh, local ingredients.
Famous for: Fried Cauliflower. No, seriously. It’s what got them a spot in 425 Magazine.
Server: A tall, lanky lass with intricately braided black hair that had us all fascinated.
Breakfast Buddies: Wendi the hilarious and excitable lawyer, and her daughter, Olivia. Wendi is one of the kindest people I have ever met. Shirt off her back kinda gal.
Menu: Almost entirely inSANE, and apart from a few interesting vegetable sides just about everything needed substitutions. Luckily, they were totally down with substitutions. I should mention that this is the only place to date that has charged me to sub out a salad for the fries. That was disappointing.
Food: Fried Cauliflower (but of course!) followed by The Hollywood Burger (sans bun), plus bacon, sautéed mushrooms, and with a Tavern Caesar salad instead of the fries. Beverage: Peppermint tea.
Seating: Cute little table for four right underneath a window overlooking fields of green. It’s in the country, and the view was delightful.
Decor: Distressed wooden tables, a collection of antique thermos flasks, more lampshades than a lighting store hanging from the ceiling , eclectic mis-matched china, fire-pit in the courtyard. Easy-going, unpretentious style. Get’s real busy on a Sunday lunchtime.
Summary: Relaxing atmosphere, good service, and great food if you can get past all the ginormous plates of *inSANEity on the menu without faltering. Just looking at the vat of Mac ‘n’ Cheese made me think I was going to have a coronary. And not because of the cheese.
The After Party: Home to meet Harley and Rosie the cats before heading off to Redmond for a trough of sugar-free hazelnut latte that while completely delicious I started to regret about an hour after I had chugged it all down. The less I drink cows milk the more it affects me when I do. I am rapidly coming to the conclusion that the joy of drinking it just isn’t worth the 4 hours of bloating misery and other unmentionable side effects. Darn.
After a considerable time putting the world to rights nestled in a cozy corner at Victors Celtic Coffee Co., Wendi inveigled me to take a trip down to Bellevue Square – oh holy heck of a mall – to avail her of some equipment so that she could commence production of her very own scrumptious SANE ice cream. It’s been 2 ½ years since I have been to Bellevue Square. A churner and 3 melamine pouring bowls later, we wandered around Williams-Sonoma and Pottery Barn ooohing and ahhhing at all the ridiculous prettiness and Easter pastels. The milk in that latte made me want to take a long nap on one of Pottery Barn’s massive, squishy, cushion-ladened sofas. I am so not a shopper. Once the impromptu shopping expedition was over we wended our way back to Redmond for a lovely stroll down the river, being dodged by a stream of runners, roller-bladers, and dog walkers. We admired the ducks as they splashed in the mud puddles on the waters edge. Despite all the human activity it was a truly tranquil hour.
It was a lovely, relaxing, nurturing day. The two-hour agenda turned into an almost all-day affair as we allowed it to just unfolded as we went along. And it was awesome.
Whatever makes you feel good, do more of that.