March 29: 7-Eleven

One of my guilty pleasures is heat lamp chicken strips. Something about letting the chicken sit under the lamp for hours often crisps up the exterior, infuses the meat with the spices in the breading, and just taste delicious. Maybe it's the extra flavor from the risk I know I'm taking, but, yeah, that's a comfort food for me. Safeway's deli does it particularly good. A gas station near Longview did it particularly bad.

Today, I'm craving food so bad it's good. I almost grabbed a Car2Go to drive down to Jack In The Box to get some of their nasty, greasy tacos, but decided to search for chicken strips instead.

So, internet, where's the best chicken strips in town? Ezell's gets great word of mouth. But many blocks from the Link station? Too far. Nate's Wings and Waffles on Capitol Hill? Too sit-down, and if I want pub grub, there's closer. Chicken Valley Farm at Pike Place? Maybe. I'll head that way if I can't find anything closer.

Instead, I head south, vaguely thinking that I remember a deli with chicken strips between here and the stadiums. I poked my head into the Kingdome Deli, but with the undercooked tuna melt they served me a few months ago, I was kinda glad they didn't have fried foods. The King Street Kafé next door also didn't look like a heat lamp chicken strip kind of joint.

I eventually wandered into McCoy's Firehouse, enticed by the chicken strips on their menu, but there weren't any open seats. Fine. I'm headed towards Pike Place, though I'm hoping to find something on the way.

And there it is. 7-Eleven. I get in line behind three down on their luck folks flowing chili onto their hot dogs, and ask the clerk for three chicken strips. "Two?" "No, three please." "I'll give you three, but just charge you for two." Sweet. I grab a drink from the fountain and check out. $3.70, the cheapest meal I've had to date.

Back in the office, I chow down. The breading is thin and soggy. The meat is dry and mostly flavorless. I didn't grab any sauces to go with it, which would have helped. But it's heat lamp chicken strips. Judging by some of the other folks in line, literal beggars can't be choosers. Maybe I should have gone for the Jack In The Box taco bombs. Guess I'll find out in a few hours.

7-Eleven
621 1st Ave.
Chicken strips and a Diet Dr. Pepper, $3.70

March 28: Din Tai Fung

When I first heard we were moving the office to Seattle, one of the highlights, in my mind, was the proximity to the International District and the potential of dim sum for lunch every week.

TThose expectations escalated in December 2015 when I learned that Din Tai Fung was due to open last summer. My expectations were tempered somewhat by a Las Vegas discussion forum, when I'd mentioned that the only dim sum I'd had was at Din Tai Fung in Bellevue and the U District, and at Yong Kang Street at the Paris hotel in Vegas. "You've had the best in the country," I was told, meaning all other dim sum would be lesser quality.

Din Tai Fung missed their opening date, and for my first meal in town, I instead made the mistake of eating at Ping's Dumpling House. Gritty pork is bad pork.

DTF was supposed to open for the holiday, and then got pushed out to early January. I'd given up on them, but was surprised at lunch on Monday (Shanghai Garden, same great food as last time) by a co-worker's statement that they were finally open. Apparently, they opened in early March.

I expected to encounter a long line, and I did, but as a solo diner, I was able to get on their special "bar seating" list and got a seat almost immediately. There were other parties of two and three on that list, so there's a hack for you.

It's the best dim sum in the country, and the price reflects it. As always, I ordered the pork xiao long bao: outstanding soup dumplings that literally spout scalding broth into your mouth. Paired with a side of rice and a pot of tea, it was again the best Chinese food I've had.

Din Tai Fung
600 Pine Street (Pacific Place)
Pork xiao long bao, rice, tea, $24.00

Zócalo? Todos Santos? Opening in early April.

[Edit: Zocálo opened May 5; I reviewed it May 8.]

A job posting this morning on the window of the soon-to-be-open Mexican restaurant downstairs asks for applicants to send e-mail to "zocaloseattle@gmail.com". Zócalo?

I expect that'll be the name of the place. Last November, the liquor license application listed "Todos Santos" as the name. Last month, I dug a little deeper, and found job postings for a general manager position and a chef position at Todos Santos, along with what looked like a placeholder beach logo.

I also pointed out that "Todos Santos," is the name of a coastal Mexican town, and that the name and the beach logo were at odds with the job posting description of "modern Mexican as is currently being executed in Mexico City (not Tex-Mex rice & Beans)." Mexico City is 170 miles from the coast, and the town of Todos Santos is 800 miles away. That would be like opening a Chicago-style pizza place in Washington DC and naming it "Memphis." The name just doesn't work.

Despite that, I was pretty sure that Todos Santos was the name. The next week, I deliberately ignored a Seattle Times article with a one-line preview of the place: "Zocalo will open late March or early April in Pioneer Square, a 7,000-square-foot restaurant in Occidental Square that will focus on the kind of modern cuisine found in Mexico City, the owner said." What does the Times know? They don't even spell it with the accent on the "ó".

The Zócalo in Babylon 5

My first thought, because I'm a nerd, is that the Zócalo was the central marketplace on the cult favorite show Babylon 5, and denotes a plaza for commerce. I guess it works.

But then I checked for job postings again, and on Monster.com, see two positions at "Todos Santos Restaurant & Bar":
- Bartenders for a "Mexican Restaurant in Pioneer Square [for] a large, high-volume scratch cocktail bar"; and
- Cooks and dishwashers for "Mexican cuisine with a focus on local and sustainable ingredients. We will be open seven days a week, for lunch and dinner."

(The bartender job posting also states that it's set to open the first week of April. That's just over a week away!)

Then, finally, on a whim, I decided to see if zocaloseattle.com was a thing. It's a registered domain, but there's nothing there yet. But looking at the domain registration information, I see that Joseph Bisacca is the name of the person who registered it. If you remember, he's one of the founders of Elyssian Brewery, and was one of the names listed on the liquor license application.

The Times was right. Zócalo it is. Or Zocalo, without the accent, but that would be wrong. Todos Santos LLC is likely the name of the parent company. And it's opening next month.

Bring on the tamales. And the ó.

March Nibbles:

Nibbles: quick reviews of new places for which I didn't take time to write a full review.

Blue Water Taco: Ordered the chicken burrito, enchilada style. Tasted OK, but they counted on the heat of the steamed tortilla to melt the cheese on top of it. Just as good as Taco Del Mar, which isn't a high bar to reach. 1000 Second Ave, with a Diet Pepsi, $12.28

Nosh: Had the fish and chips again. That's still a huge piece of fish. Tasty, despite the floppy French fries. Food truck on Occidental Park, with a Diet Coke, $14.25.

Thai Taste: I've walked past here dozens of times. Fast, generic thai food, but big portions. I ordered combo #1: cashew chicken, a spring roll, soup, phad Thai, and rice. Served in a cafeteria tray, but not as bad as that sounds. 601 Second Ave., with tea, $12.50

Samurai Noodle (International District): Smaller than their location on The Ave that I ate at last fall, the menu's just as complete and the ramen is just as good. Seating's tight. 606 Fifth Ave. S., some earthy hearty ramen and tea, $14.18.

Metropolitan Grill: Happy hour here might be one of the best deals in town. The sirloin skewers were wrapped in bacon, a tangy sauce, and a meat coma. 820 Second Ave; meat, two Old Fashioneds, one beer, one mild headache the next morning, $41.77.

March 13: The People's Burger

It's a heavy drizzle today, and I'm avoiding the cafeteria because I hear in the news that the microwaves are spying on us. I want somewhere close, and I'm strongly considering hitting up Pioneer Square Market for something greasy. I'm in that sweet spot of time between the day I get my annual blood draw for checking my cholesterol and the day my doctor says "hey, don't eat that." Hitting the elevator, I consider Asia Ginger Teriyaki instead. It might be a little bit healthier, but I had teriyaki chicken a few nights ago. Grand Central Bakery would probably be a better choice still, but those lines, though. Maybe there's a food truck out there worthwhile.

I step out into the rain, and -- what's that, comrade? -- there's a food truck I haven't seen out here before. The People's Burger? Da svidahnia, other options. The line's short and there's about a dozen others milling around waiting for their order. The guy in the window tells the customer in front of me that it'll take about 10 minutes. I'm getting wet, but decide to order the Drive-In Burger and fries anyway. No vodka nor caviar on the menu.

The sign in the window says their Angus burger is "NW prairie raised", which means something, I guess. Maybe my burger was raised by the farmer 10 miles north of Quincy who yelled at several of us in 2015 for geocaching on the road near his fenceposts. I hope so, because I'm sure yelling makes the beef more tender, but perhaps armed defense of privately-owned prairielands isn't in line with the truck's communist theme. But I digress.

I grabbed an umbrella from the lobby and waited only about five minutes for my order. Rainwater mixed with the ketchup as I pumped it into a cup, and I carried the whole tray back into the office.

It's pretty good. The burger was cooked all the way, no pink, but not overdone and far from tough. It sat in a very thin layer of grease, just enough to make the bun glisten, my keyboard discolor, and my doctor cringe. The fries were floppy, and a few didn't separate from their frozen pals in the oil, so they were a bit underdone. On the plus side, they're tossed with seasoning salt, something that isn't done enough around here. The web site description mentioned a tomato, I found pickle slices instead, which is a huge win. Stupid tomatoes.

If you're young, or you're otherwise healthy, or you don't care what your doctor or babushka says, then this should be on your short list of food trucks. I hope I don't see it again, because I might order another burger.

The People's Burger
Drive-In Burger, fries, Diet Coke, $12.99 (dollars, not rubles)
Food truck in Occidental Park

March 6: Jack's Fish Spot

In search of daffodils and postage stamps, I wandered up to Pike Place during a sunbreak after the morning's light snow. After wandering the stalls of the main market, seeing no daffodils, I decided I wanted a quick lunch. The seafood stands gave me a craving for fish and chips, and I considered Pike Place Chowder, but the line there is always so long. I spotted Jack's Fish Spot on my way out and figured I'd give it a shot.

I've never been to the UK, and I haven't tried Gordon Ramsey's new joint in Vegas, but the fish and chips here are my idea of what authentic British fish and chips ought to be. It may be the best I've ever had. Sorry, Ivar's.

I ordered the 3-piece cod, which was served as six smaller pieces over a bed of floppy skin-on French fries. It's hot enough to burn my mouth, flavorful yet mild, flaky, crispy, tasty goodness. I'm writing this review two days later, and I'm craving it again.

Seating is tight, with round diner stools pressed up against each other at the stainless steel counter, but on this chilly afternoon, I didn't have to rub elbows with the tourists next to me. In the summer, I'm sure this place is packed.

So good. So cheap. I so plan on going there again very, very soon.

(Postage stamps acquired. Daffodils won't be out until next week.)

Jack's Fish Spot
1514 Pike Place (facing the pig; it's behind your right shoulder, corner of Pike Place and Post Alley)
Cod, fries, Diet Coke, $9.90