The sign over the sidewalk may portray a sheep, but Quinn's newly opened restaurant at 10th Avenue and East Pike Street is, as the menu quickly reveals, anything but a follower. Such items as rabbit pate and duck rillette are not your standard Seattle restaurant fare.
A sibling to Restaurant Zoe in Belltown, Quinn's took over the space of the La Puerta Mexican restaurant and gave it a complete makeover. Such re-imagining required lowering false ceilings to reveal original 18-foot ceilings, unblocking the top four feet of window space above already spacious plate glass windows to give an amazingly generous splash of sunlight and room for mezzanine dining.
For incoming patrons, the first thing to catch your eye is a 30-foot stainless steel counter. Although it is where the hard liquor is ensconced behind the pulls for more than a dozen draft beers (Pabst Blue Ribbon, the retro-trendy workin' man's brew is dead center), it is a counter, not a bar. It has a far more generous overhang than traditional bars, and it is possible to dine comfortably from atop one of the backless stools that can tuck completely under the counter's overhang.
If counter dining is not your thing, the rest of the floor is laid out with 10 dark-finished wooden tables accommodating two to six sturdy, wooden chairs. Another dozen tables fill out the mezzanine with both chairs and a long banquette.
The Capitol Hill Times dinner squad opted for a mezzanine table next to the railing above the counter. From there we could not only keep an eye on the groundlings, but, thanks to the huge windows, we were able to monitor all the pedestrian and vehicle action surrounding the busy intersection at just outside the door.
The restaurant is plainly and sparsely decorated, letting the architecture make the statements of purpose. The purpose, of course, is food - unless you happen to be distracted by the fashion-plate lusciousness of the waiters, as was one member of the dinner squad.
Perusing the menu can be a bit bewildering. It's a "gastropub" afterall. What, I asked, is duck rillette? Neither of us knew. How about deconstructed clam chowder? Nope. Luckily I had just been reading about beef, so I knew that wagyu beef is the famous Japanese Kobe beef that is raised in the United States. We both struck out on deciphering brandade.
Luckily our waiter was not just another pretty face. He knew the menu and answered all of our questions happily and knowledgeably.
Rillette is like pate, but coarser, and spread on crackers or bread. Brandade, it turns out, is a Spanish fishcake traditionally made from salt cod. Deconstructed clam chowder is pureed and then chunks of clam are added to the center of the bowl. Simple, non?
We regaled each other with witty comments (well, we thought they were witty; we were in a very good mood) about the unusual menu items: Rabbit pate with pickled vegetables and grain mustard ($9); cumin scented black lentils, curry-roasted cauliflower and raw mango ($9); and smoked hanger steak, romesco, caberales and fries ($17).
Okay, that last one confused us again. The waiter told us that hanger steak is named for the cut, not its location, and it is a cut renowned for its flavor rather than its tenderness. Romescu is a Spanish sauce made from almonds and/or hazelnuts. Caberales is a Spansih artisan cheese. We were pretty sure we knew what fries were.
My companion chose the wild boar sloppy Joe with crispy sage leaves ($10). I chose the fish and chips ($10).
The fish and chips came beautifully displayed on a rectangular plate. It was ling cod, perfectly cooked to be tender and flaky. The chips were hand-cut potato fries, perfectly prepared, not greasy, and subtly herbed.
The wild boar sloppy Joe was also beautifully presented with the sage leaves and a small battered pepper perched atop the open sandwich.
"It's really good meat," my companion said as he made a futile attempt to be both understood and keep the sauce from getting on his face. My own taste of it confirmed his approbation (fancy words just seem to go with fancy menus) and the tomato goodness of the sauce.
"This is really, really good," he said, his usual skepticism deserting him entirely. "I don't know if it is really the meat or just the concept of eating wild boar in a sloppy Joe, but I love it!"
As we looked around the restaurant we were struck by the uniformity of age among the diners; they all seemed to be in their mid- to late-30s. Of course, that may just be prevailing demographic in the area of Pike-Pine where the clubs and cabarets are clustered.
The waiter came with our bill.
"The sloppy Joe was soooo rocking!" gushed my friend. The waiter chuckled indulgently.
"It is good, isn't it?"
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