The Pacific Northwest prides itself on its horticulture and after one day in Seattle, I can confirm: they're justified. I'm staying at the Warwick Hotel (which is underwhelming) but right next door, their parking garage is fronted by three not-bad-at-all mixed planters. Seriously. Parking garage planters? Mad props.
After checking in at the Flower Show and making sure my laptop could talk to their projector, I wandered down to the Pike Place Market. Turns out I wasn't in the mood for huge crowds moving at the speed of slugs, and I quickly became annoyed. I left the market, feeling quite surly, and half a block away I saw:
You may remember, a few days ago I put out a call for Seattle restaurant recommendations. Friend Cayce (in Tokyo) told me I should make an effort to get to Le Pichet. Since I trust her taste in food without question, I didn't even look at the menu, just headed in and took a seat at the counter.
After one sip of a cold, white Bordeaux, my shoulders relaxed. When I dipped into the brandade de morue nimoise (warm salt cod, garlic and olive oil puree w/grilled bread), I smiled. By the time I finished my green salad with mustard vinaigrette and hazelnuts, I wasn't entirely convinced I'd been cranky in the first place.
Thanks Cayce. You saved the day from across the Pacific.