Bye, Joe. Hello, Bad Bishop?

A note from Jesse's Facebook page

I was walking back to the office from Ferry Noodle House yesterday, and was shocked: Easy Joe's is closed. It was my favorite lunch bar at one point, but Angel, the cute and super friendly bartender, recently left. At my last visit in late July, a roach ran across the bar while I ate, and my first diet Coke after the city's no-straw policy went into effect smelled like a dishwasher.

Angel's replacement, Jesse, was a great guy, and provided excellent service. My first thought when I saw that Easy Joe's is becoming Bad Bishop Bar was "I hope he ended up somewhere great."

See you later, Joe.

From a few snippets of things I've found on the internet (here and here and here), my best guess is that Jesse Spring (same guy? I think so.) bought the bar -- his first! --and began renovations in early August. He seems to be as enamored with the space and classic Pioneer Square brickwork as anyone. According to Yelp it's scheduled to open October 7, but as with all restaurant openings, treat that as tentative and optimistic.

The windows are currently papered over with pages from a chess book (bad bishop -- get it?), but I might poke my head in next week to see what more I can find out. Good luck, Jesse! I am so looking forward to finding out what you do with this neat, fun spot.

August 17: Dominos

Voice of experience :-(

I've long said that the best pizza is whatever one is nearest. Domino's isn't great pizza, it's not fancy, it's not even above average. It's the McDonald's of pizza: you know what to expect whether you're ordering from a Seattle storefront or sadly eating it in a dim hotel room in a small New Jersey town because it's late, you forgot to eat dinner, you're tired, and everything else is closed.

That said, RPM Pizza is still the best, because it's close, and the pepperoni does that little grease cup thing. But Domino's just opened, which created an exception to my rule.

Free!

The best pizza is free pizza.

I'd banked up a couple of free pizzas with Domino's rewards program over the last few years, so when the Domino's on 1st Avenue opened last week, I knew I'd be eating here soon. Medium, pepperoni and bacon, yum.

Now open

Online ordering was quick and painless as always; they've really put a lot of focus into the user interface, even for edge cases like mine when the grand total is $0.00. I placed the order, waited a few minutes, and headed over.

The store, to my surprise, has a few booth-tables for small groups and a counter for individual seating. On one wall, a monitor displays the wait time for orders in the system. Mine was in the oven with 7 minutes to go.

Eight minutes later, I was out the door with my pizza. No hassle, no receipt, no nothing. I grabbed a Diet Coke from the Apple-pay enabled vending machine and ate at my desk.

What did you expect? It's a pizza.

It's Domino's. What else can I say? It looked good, it greased up a few paper towels, it's sitting heavy, and will probably be even better when I have another slice for a snack late this afternoon.

Domino's
112 1st Ave. S.
Medium 2-topping pizza, Free* plus $1.50 vending machine soda

* Allegedly $16.97 at normal price but something's always available for under $10 with discounts

August 9: Cheese Wizards

This is the droid you're looking for.

What sorcery is this?

A challenger appears!

The Lady of the Lake placed me on a quest to seek out the best grilled cheese sandwich in the area. In April 2017, The Great Northwest Soup Company emerged victorious, throwing Beecher's into the Pit of Despair, and designating Grand Central Bakery as a wretched hive of scum, villainy, and eternal lines.

During that quest, I encountered many a traveler who spoke kindly of a stout yellow truck housing two legendary Cheese Wizards, sons of Ballard but native to the wilds of Bellevue, on the dark side of the pond. Alas, the journey would be too lengthy, the conveyances too treacherous, the rewards too meager.

That'll be a dozen Zorkmids, sir.

But yesterday, I learned from a member of my party that a wormhole had opened: the wizards have made the journey.  When the stars align every Thursday, they appear where the paths of 2nd and Columbia meet, across from an ale house known as the Metropolitan Grill.

It's not a far walk -- up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, start, according to one ancient map. We assembled a party of five adventurers for the quarter mile journey to sample their wares.

I ordered the Goblin King: three cheeses, chicken, peppers, and a mild sriracha aoli. I was achin' (yup, yup, yup) for some bacon (yup, yup, up), so added that, too. It came with a side salad and not cake. I added a cup of BBQ sauce from the Arc of the Condiments. (It's sacdelicious.)

If Great Northwest Soup's grilled cheese was good, well, they just took an arrow to the knee.

You are over encumbered and cannot run.

The Wizards' salad was as fresh as if ET himself had brought it to life. The elements of the sandwich -- cheeses, sauces, ever so slightly greasy bread -- combined to make a single, unified Voltron of flavor. I also chowed down on their large cookie, which was nearly as chewy and melty as their sandwiches. Om nom nom nom.

Now you know, and knowing is half the battle. The other half was already won -- by Cheese Wizards.

I'll be back.

Cheese Wizards
Food truck at 801 2nd Ave on Thursdays
Goblin King with bacon, cookie, Diet Coke, $15.24