NFT Radar: Toi

X-Posted from Not For Tourists.

Joining the ranks of tiny Belltown Asian bistros is the red-and-black festooned Toi, which boasts “traditional Thai tastes with modern flavors.” From what I could tell, the only thing modern about the food was the presentation. This isn’t a negative if you’re a fan of Thai in general, but if you’re looking for Thai with a twist, you’ll be disappointed. Their signature cocktail menu is fairly original, but a bit of a bummer if you aren’t into flavored vodkas. The star of the show is the Ginger Martini, which is not too sweet or spicy. You definitely couldn’t make a night of any of these drinks without suffering a major sugar hangover. If you’re just having dinner, you can eat in the crimson-lit loft, but the awkward floor plan (a row of booths for diners only on the left, a standing bar on the right and a row of two-person tables down the middle) makes it a little hard for the happy hour guest to get comfortable.

NFT Radar: Solo Bar

X-Posted from Not For Tourists.

The menu at Solo Bar is like one of those games in Highlights Magazine. How many nationalities can you spot? Italian, French, Spanish, Ethiopian, Brazilian and Bulgarian…to name a few. Solo calls itself a tapas bar, which means just that: fancy food in small portions. Not that I’m complaining. With reasonable prices and daily happy hours from 5-8 (plus all day on Sunday and Monday), the punk rock owners (local Balkan band Kulture Shock and ex-Faith No More) provide numerous ways to fill my vast American stomach with outstanding fare. At Sunday brunch, wash down their historical figure-themed crepes (let them eat The Antionette) with Guinness infused (trust them) bloody marys and the biggest mimosa you’ve seen outside my kitchen. For dinner, share a Mediterranean plate or eat that entire gourmet hot sandwich yourself. Their specialty cocktail menu includes Brazilian favorite, caipirinha, and a drink named after Deadwood’s beloved badass Al Swearengen. On the weekends, chase your old timey libation with a rock show.

Sunset Finally Sets

This time there really is a wolf. It has been confirmed that the Sunset Bowl and Lounge in Ballard has been sold and will close in April. This is, of course, HORRIBLE news. I will miss their eccentric staff, their 24-hour bowling madness, their DDR machine, their wacky drink specials and, most of all, their 40,000 song, 5 night/week karaoke. In the meantime, I plan to visit as much as possible over the next 3 months. I suggest you do the same. If you've never been to this amazing Ballard staple, now is your chance. Your last chance.

I don't know what stupid plans the new owners have for the space but even if it's not more effing condos, it's still not going to be a suitable substitute. Of all the Old Seattle businesses that have been closing of late, this is definitely the most tragic.

Be Careful Out There

I am pretty disturbed by this story in the Slog about a woman my age who was stabbed in my old neighborhood on New Years Eve for seemingly no reason.

Few new details have emerged yet in the sad story of Shannon Harps’ death, except a rather scary-looking sketch of a “person of interest” in the murder, released by police earlier today. (The sketch of the “person of interest” matches the description of the suspect police released yesterday). Representatives from the Sierra Club, where Harps worked as an associate regional representative promoting the Cascade Chapter’s Cool State campaign, have not returned calls for comment.

Friends and coworkers we have talked to, however, describe Harps as a quiet, mild-mannered young woman who was a little shy but who had a great sense of humor once you drew her out. Harps worked for the Sierra Club for at least eight years—first in Columbus, Ohio, and then in Seattle, where much of her job involved signing cities up for the Mayors’ Climate Protection Agreement, in which cities agree to voluntarily reduce their greenhouse-gas emissions. “It’ll be a terrible loss,” says Sierra Club Cascade Chapter chair Mike O’Brien, who worked closely with Harps. O’Brien describes Harps as thoughtful and helpful—always the first person to show up at events to help out and the last person to leave after cleaning up. “She was just a really good person… just very positive and uplifting,” O’Brien says.

Marc Conte, a friend of Harps who worked with her in the Club’s Columbus office, says Harps was always supportive and positive, even when victories were few and far between (as they frequently were in Ohio.) She never got mad or raised her voice, he says, even during heated debates. “Some take an adversarial approach but Shannon rose above it. People on ‘the other side’ of an issue were her opponents, not enemies. She might have disagreements with those folks but never arguments…”

Harps moved to Seattle about four years ago to work at the Sierra Club. She was stabbed by a bearded, “scruffy-looking” man, according to witnesses, outside a condo building on 15th and Howell, where she had lived for two years, and died of injuries to her upper chest and abdomen before paramedics could get her to a hospital. She had planned to meet up with friends for a New Year’s Eve party, and was just heading back from Madison Market with groceries when she was attacked. Police haven’t yet said whether they believe the killer was someone Harps knew, but an SPD spokesman did confirm to the Stranger that police are interviewing co-workers to determine whether the man was connected to the Sierra Club. Meanwhile, police have increased patrols in the area around 15th and Howell. O’Brien says he can’t imagine anyone targeting someone like Harps for a random attack; however, the alternative is equally unimaginable. “It doesn’t make sense,” O’Brien says. “If it’s not random, then who the hell would want to target someone like that?”

I still know quite a few people who live on Capitol Hill, some of them RIGHT IN THAT AREA. Ladies (and gents too, for that matter), if you don't already own some pepper spray, please buy some. A friend of ours has been giving us girls nice sharp butterfly knives for our birthdays over the past year. I'm thinking now might be a good time to learn how to use it.

NFT Radar: Tap House Grill

X-Posted from Not For Tourists.

The Tap House has a bit of an identity crisis. The red walls and black furniture, as well as the 160 beers on tap suggest upscale happy hour and late-night dining destination. The numerous TVs depicting sports matches and the late 80s rock soundtrack, however, are Sports Bar all the way. The black-clad wait staff seems as uncomfortable with this dichotomy as I am. Still, the service is Johnny-On-The-Spot, allowing you to take utmost advantage of the under $3 fancy-pants happy hour menu. (Get the Santa Fe Beef Won Tons and the Volcano Goat Cheese.). The wine selection is overpriced and copied from the Safeway drink cooler, but this is not a wine bar. The beers are where the Tap House excels. If you’re feeling overwhelmed by all the choices, try one of their 5 samplers. But unless we’re about to be ushered into a new era where sports fans and foodies unite, the Tap House needs to pick a genre.

NFT Radar: Moon Temple

X-Posted from Not For Tourists

Despite a few regular bar flies, It’s basically Build-Your-Own-Atmosphere at Moon Temple. This definitively divey Chinese restaurant and bar in Wallingford is prone to falling eerily silent when the electronic juke box runs out of customer plays. But if you’re with a lively crowd, on their way to somewhere else, (pub crawl? movie at the Guild?) none of this really matters. Enjoy lethally strong drinks whilst shooting a couple rounds of electronic darts before scarfing down Chinese food of sufficient quality and then heading off into the Wallingford night. The place isn’t completely devoid of character, though. The walls of the dart room are curiously muraled and the furniture hasn’t been updated (or repaired…look out for that sinkhole!) since the place opened in the 70s. Neither has the delightfully antiquated coasters featuring black and yellow cartoons depicting drinking-related jokes. Like a barfly telling a mermaid on a bar stool that she should hear his fish tale. Whaaaa? Look out, Andy Cap!

2108 N 45th St 98103
206-633-4280

NFT Feature: A (Karaoke) Place to Call Home

This is a pretty long article about karaoke X-Posted (with pictures and nice formatting) from Not For Tourists.

The Seattle karaoke scene is a far cry from the stereotypical scenes of geeks or Japanese business men (not that they’re the same thing) poorly belting pop songs to half-empty bars. This is a city in which one has their pick of karaoke venues on literally any given day. But just because karaoke is rampant, doesn’t mean it’s all worth doing. Here’s where things gets really subjective. Allow me to provide some context:

I knew I was going to love karaoke well before I had the opportunity to try it. I’ve always been compelled to sing anyplace, anytime. It’s not because I have the voice of an angel. While my voice isn’t unpleasant to the ears, my range is extremely limited. But what I lack in talent, I make up for in enthusiasm.

In college, my slightly older boyfriend frequented karaoke bars with his friends. Being under 21, I was left to tend the hearth. They would return from the bars, invigorated by their performances, and regale me with hilarious tales about the audience and other singers. They were rock stars for 3 minutes at a time. My god, did I want a piece of that action.

When I finally came of age, I accompanied them to one of their favorite joints (a now defunct Tacoma dive which may or may not have been a mafia front) and signed myself up for my first moment of glory. I chose “Daydream Believer” by the Monkees. It was sort of a disaster. I quickly learned that just because you like a song doesn’t mean it’s in your range.
The bar was virtually empty, but “singing” in front of 3 friends and 6 weird, wasted, possibly dangerous strangers was still a huge rush. I wanted more.

Eight years and countless songs later, I fancy myself somewhat of an aficionado; a connoisseur, of the karaoke arts. I’m still not the most talented singer, but I know my way around a mic and monitor. I’ve noted patterns amongst fellow karaoke-ers. Some of these patterns are amusing to me (everyone will always sing along to Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing”). Others annoy the poop out of me. Go on, sing “Love Shack” again. I double dare you. The prevalence of these patterns figures heavily into my criterion for rating a karaoke venue.

Like in any performance, a karaoke audience plays a significant role. From this, one might conclude that a packed bar is ideal. The 3 busiest karaoke destinations in Seattle offer it 7 days a week. At Ozzie’s in Lower Queen Anne, there are often lines to get in. Should you be lucky (or early) enough to get your number in, you will be singing to a packed house. The downside to Ozzie’s… Well if you ask me, it’s ALL downsides. For starters, good luck making the cut with the DJ. My friend actually bribes the DJ so that he doesn’t have to wait till last call, only to learn he’s not singing. If you DO manage to get called up, and you sing anything other than Bon Jovi, Britney Spears, or effing “Love Shack”, the seas of White Hats will meet you with blank stares. These people don’t know about the other Elvis (surname Costello). My fiancé’s performance of the White Stripes’ “Fell in Love with a Girl” was too obscure for this crowd. And he practically does the White Stripes better than the Goth Albino Wondertwins themselves.

There is rarely a lull on the mic at the International District’s Bush Garden. But again, steady business does not good karaoke make. It is more difficult to get called up here than at Ozzie’s. Though the DJ actually REQUESTS bribes here, they don’t seem to work. The DJ simply looks at all his slips and decides which songs he wants to hear. Apparently what he wants to hear is 5 frighteningly inebriated girls shrieking “Take My Breath Away” into one microphone. He also wants to hear himself sing. A lot. I’ve been to Bush Garden 4 times and have only gotten to sing once. What’s more, the place is a magnet for bachelorette parties. I don’t have anything against bachelorettes per se, but one does tire of hearing a chorus of “Whooooo!” every 5 minutes.

Not every nightly karaoke smacks of Date Rape Nightmare. Though The Crescent on Capitol Hill is frat free, it is still not idyllic. The mic competition is fiercer in such a diminutive space. It’s also incredible how out of 5000 song choices, the same ones seem to come up over and over again. Friends who live nearby testify that they hear someone belting “What’s Up” by 4 Non Blondes almost every single night. They also say it’s never done well.

On the other hand, The Crescent has a fun, inclusive party vibe. Even if you don’t get to sing, you will still enjoy yourself. It’s a fine place to attempt a conversion of conscientious objectors to the practice.

Not all Seattle karaoke spots are hopping. You can arrive half an hour late to Mandarin Gate, a Chinese restaurant in a strip mall off Aurora, and still be able to get your kumbaya-yas out. On the other hand, it’s in a strip mall. Off of Aurora. Moreover, if there’s no one there to listen, you may as well be at home with your Fisher Price boom box.

The same goes for Mondays at the U-District’s Dante’s and Tuesdays at Purr on Capitol Hill. You do NOT want to be the only hope for the DJs as they hover over you while you pick songs. And you REALLY don’t want to see the dismayed look in their eyes when you head for the door leaving them with 2 hours of begging a smattering of disaffected bar patrons to sing.

The upside to places like this is that every once in a while, there ARE other singers. Some of these people are eccentric gems and my life is richer for having shared a room with them. There is a man who brings his OWN AC/DC karaoke CD to Mandarin Gate and positively brings the house down. I’ve never seen him sing any other music. At Dante’s, I once witnessed an adorably awkward performance of “Cracklin’ Rosie” by a bespectacled nebbish man in a Cosby sweater. Once he finished his song, he disappeared into the night. These are the treasured moments you just won’t find at an Ozzie’s.

While there are many adequate places in Seattle to scratch one’s singing itch, I’ve found it very difficult to find a place that meets all of my karaoke needs. Still, there are a few places that have come pretty close. The Rickshaw in Greenwood is one such place, offering karaoke 7 days a week, 365 days of the year. I spent Christmas here last year and I dare say it was my best one yet. The place was packed with holiday orphans enjoying delicious Chinese food and warming each other with the gift of rock.

Sunday night karaoke at The Twilight Exit on Capitol Hill can be hit or miss in terms of attendance, but when it hits, it’s a blast. There’s no stage as such, but there’s plenty of prancing room. The crowd is very supportive and really gets into it. In the divey atmosphere, you will feel like a rock star playing a secret show to your most loyal fans.

But my personal favorite is The Sunset Bowl Lounge in Ballard that offers karaoke Wednesday through Sunday. There are a million reasons to love this little bit of heaven in a 24-hour bowling alley (like the friendly, quirky staff and the wacky drink specials), but the 40,000 song state-of-the-art computerized system is a big one. Yes, that’s right. Forty THOUSAND songs. If they don’t have the song you wanted to sing, you didn’t really need to sing it. Wednesday, Thursday, and Sunday, DJing is in the capable hands of the delightful Michele who has quite a set of pipes herself. And here’s the best part: The bar is always crowded during karaoke times, but most of the people there are just waiting for an available bowling lane. That means you have a captive audience with NO mic competition. Order a round of Speedy Gonzaleses from Nick and your crooning crew will be rocking on full throttle till last call.

Last but not least is Seattle’s Best Karaoke. This downtown karaoke company rents private rooms for small groups (just like in Lost in Translation). You can bring in food and liquor (with purchase of a banquet license) or have an all ages party. This is a great way to bring your mic-shy friends out of their shell. But that’s not all. They also rent their system out for larger parties and will deliver and set it up anywhere in town! For twenty-four hours of bliss, it’s very affordable, especially if party guests kick in a few bucks. My beau and I have rented the machine several times, including, but not limited to, our annual Scaraoke Halloween party. If our overflowing recycling bins are any indication, these parties are a raging success.
Undeniably, there is no shortage of karaoke in Seattle and, like anything; one person’s gold is another’s guano. Enough people have bewilderingly professed their love of Ozzie’s and Bush Garden to me to prove this idiom. I hope that you can use the very subjective information I have provided to find the perfect home for you and all your karaoke needs.

Happy singing.

THESE ARE THE PEOPLE IN YOUR KARAOKEHOOD:

The Perpetual Grecian: Identifiable by their baseball caps (men) and halter-tops (women) and their penchant for shouting “Whooooo!“ in response to any and everything. The males will sing “Total Eclipse of the Heart” a-la “Old School”, Bon Jovi or “Sweet Caroline“. Every once in a while, they will surprise you with an ear-splitting rendition of Radiohead’s “Creep”. The women will sing “Love Shack” or turn any numbers of solo songs into a group sing along. Popular song choices for the females include “I Love Rock and Roll” and “Pour Some Sugar On Me.”

The Eccentric: Anyone from the nebbish man in the coke bottle glasses and Cosby sweater to the ambiguously gendered. Their song choices are impossible to predict and this, among more obvious qualities, makes them the most interesting karaoke attendees. They are usually just here to do one song and then leave.

The Veteran: These are mostly men, upwards of 65, sharply dressed and who, more often than not have fantastic voices. They won’t sing anything written after 1965.

The Country Crooner: Country might be one of the most popular genres of music in the United States. Who knew Kenney Chesney had SO MANY SONGS? If you’re not into country, these can become lost moments in your evening. Country Crooners stick around till last call and sing as many times as they are allowed.

The Hipster: Identifiable by their perfectly coiffed, died hair and ironic t-shirt, the Hipster will either sing a new wave song from the 80’s (theme to their very favorite John Hughes movie, perhaps?) or some Johnny Cash. If a songbook carries any Radiohead song other than “Creep”, they will be ecstatic.

The Theatre Geek: They sing show tunes.

The Left Fielder: I place myself and many of my singing companions in this category. We sing against type. Though I’ve spent much of my adult life arguing against the Goth label, I do wear an awful lot of black. So it must come as a surprise to the crowd when I pull out the Carpenters. If the crowd is more mainstream, I will do a surefire pleaser like Pat Benatar‘s “Heartbreaker” or some Billy Joel. My fiancé is tremendous with his renditions of David Bowie songs. My tall, slender white-girl friend is all about the 80’s rap songs. My emo musician friend sings Foreigner songs better than Foreigner.

NFT Radar: Greenlake Pitch n' Putt

X-Posted from Not For Tourists

This ain’t your daddy’s golf course. The atmosphere of this 9-hole course is somewhere between that of a mini-golf course and the country club, but without the windmills of the former and the expensive stuffiness of the latter. If you’re like me, and you can’t drive a golf ball to save your stylish checkered pants, you’re in luck. The longest drive is 105 yards and the average is 65 yards. Putting alongside breezy Greenlake is the perfect way to spend an afternoon outside. Bring your own driver and putter or rent a set (only $2) and fill a backpack with beer for an extra special time. At $5 per game, you will have plenty of money left over to make a friendly wager with your buddies, or have a nice, affordable day out with the family. Just don’t bring any serious golfers with you. They will lose patience quickly with the easy-going amateur atmosphere and the snug course layout. Don’t forget to yell “Fore!”

5701 E Green Lake Way N 98103
206-632-2280
http://www.seattle.gov/parks/Athletics/golfcrse.htm#green

NFT Radar: Maximillien in the Market

X-Posted from Not For Tourists.

I’m not an expert on what it means to be French, but I imagine it’s a little bit like Maximilien in the Market. Tucked away down a neon-lit hallway past the famous fish stand, it boasts “All the old world charm of any hide-away in Paris.” Indeed, the low-lighting and white tablecloths feel very French, but the most French thing about it is the wait staff–inattentive, patronizing and uncooperative. Ask a simple question about a menu item, and you get a simple, vague, derisive answer. Still, the breathtaking panoramic view of the Sound and the large outdoor patio make it easy to relax and take the poor service in stride. The food, when it arrives, isn’t half bad either. The French know their cheese and it is incorporated into many of their dishes. But I’d stick with traditional French menu items. If you’re wondering about the “dipping sauces” for the Belgian fries, I’m sorry to inform you that it’s just mayo.

81 Pike St 98101
206-682-7270
http://www.maximilienrestaurant.com

Fun Has an Expiration Date

This just in: The Seattle Fun Forest is no longer fun.

Actually, everyone who lives here already knew that, but it seemed like (much like the monorail) it would remain a neglected, sorry part of Seattle forever. However, it would appear that on Labor Day 2009, the haunted amusement park in Seattle Center is being dismantled. You have a little less than two years to needlessly risk your personal safety on the rickety roller coaster or place your life into the hands of apathetic teenagers on the log ride.

I want dibs on their mini golf course. That colorful burro would look fantastic in our back yard.