carmelita

Despite having recently embraced my penchant for the carnivorous after abnegating for nearly a decade, I still turn frequently and with great fondness towards the leafier side of eats.  I’m sure you’ll scoff, but I honestly don’t slake my thirst on the blood of the innocents at every meal.  For all the hype, Michael Pollan’s overly simplistic aphorism does contain a kernel of truth: “Eat food.  Not too much.  Mostly plants.”  It’s just that well, how exciting is it to write about that big salad I had for lunch?  And tofu is tofu.

Even worse, it seems to me that the majority of dedicated vegetarian or vegan restaurants in town just try too hard.  I don’t want “fake meat”.  I can’t stand “fake meat”.  And the pretension, my god the preening, self-righteous crowds at these places can be completely insufferable.  But there is one restaurant, a farm-to-table mainstay on Phinney Ridge that aspires to nothing more than artful, well-cooked vegetarian cuisine.  It’s Carmelita, and it’s worth a visit by even the most dedicated kitten killer.

Carmelita has had quite a procession of chefs over the years, most notably Ericka Burke of Volunteer Park Café fame (and Oddfellows infamy).  The latest chef, Carlos Caula, came on board last year, shortly before the restaurant was renovated to add a small bar in the front.  The décor is funky, an eclectic mix of bright oil paintings and cedar and the most bizarre molded ceiling I’ve seen.  To wit:

Leafy!  Carmelita also features one of the most attractive garden patio decks in town during the spring and summer – a highly coveted oasis of bright flowers, climbing vines and colored glass lanterns.  Be sure to request it in your reservation.

I had the pleasure of dining with friends at Carmelita a few weeks ago, and found the restaurant to be packed and lively, warm and comfortable.  Service was relaxed, and we enjoyed a round of bright red Negroni from the new “Carma-bar”.  As with most locavore establishments in town, the menu provided a lengthy list of purveyors – from Foraged and Found to Full Circle Farm.  Additionally, an enlightening side bar detailed all the fruits and vegetables that were currently in season and featured in the dishes for the evening.  Vegan dishes are also highlighted, and most everything can be requested as such if you’re totally extreme, man.

We started with a simple roasted beet carpaccio, thinly sliced with playful scalloped edges.  The sweet red and yellow beets were interspersed with juicy slices of blood orange on a bed of peppery arugula tossed with a pomegranate vinaigrette.  An order of raviolo with truffled parsnip and warm, gooey egg vanished in a flash of forks.  For the main course, I was immediately drawn to the Autumn root vegetable pot pie.  I freaking love pot pie.  The crust was flaky, the medley of sweet potato and rutabaga warm and firm.  There was a sweetness from fresh cooked pears that I found pleasantly surprising, and a pervasive, savory smokiness throughout the filling.

In fact, Chef Carlos loves him some smoke.  Nearly every dish we tried had a deep, smoky flavor base.  Most notably, a wild rice flour crepe, filled with cauliflower and red wine braised cabbage.  The crepe was quite hearty, and stuffed with tiny florets of smoked purple and white cauliflower, mixed with mascarpone and green olives.  A lemon thyme buerre blanc was almost completely overwhelmed by the intense smokiness, but the crepe was still better than Portobello Wellington.  In fact, I’m happy to report that there is neither Portobello mushroom nor eggplant anywhere to be found on the menu at Carmelita.  How I genuinely loathe these standards of generic vegetarian cuisine.

But that’s the thing.  While there may be the occasional missed dish, or some under-seasoning, at least they’re taking risks.  I much prefer my vegetarian cuisine to appeal to the inherent strengths of the vegetable.  Carmelita is not going to doctor up a shiitake mushroom and call it Mongolian Beef.  And for that reason alone, it’s the best vegetarian restaurant in town.

oddfellows café and bar

UPDATE:  April 13

Well that was short-lived.  It seems Ericka Burke has quietly parted ways with Oddfellows, choosing instead to return to her post at Volunteer Park Café.  It appears to be amicable, and it’s not terribly surprising given the relatively outspoken criticism of the food (including by Derschang herself).  Brendan Kiley breaks it down over here.

Best news yet?  Apparently culinary rock star Matt Dillon of Sitka & Spruce and Corson Building fame will be on board during the interim, although I can’t tell if he’s actually cooking or just consulting on a menu redesign.  Only one way to find out!

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Last month, in the midst of the snowstorms and giftwrap, local coolhunting impresario Linda Derschang quietly opened her latest venture on Capitol Hill – Oddfellows Café and Bar.  Established in the century-old Oddfellows building on 10^th and Pine and promoted as a collaboration with chef Ericka Burke (of Volunteer Park Café and Carmelita fame), I was immediately intrigued by the concept.  Would the place succeed as both hipster mecca and soccer mom sanctuary?  I strapped on my snowshoes and set forth to find out, that friggin’ R.E.M. song stuck on permanent repeat in my head (you know the one).

Speaking of music, Derschang has always focused on the significance of music at her establishments, and Oddfellows is no different.  There is no jukebox here, but the music is loud and notable and the playlist is meticulously crafted.  There is nary a dead animal in sight.  I guess Linda has finally gotten over the taxidermy chic so prominent at Smith and King’s Hardware.  Instead, the décor is all vintage sepia photographs and antique kitchen wares.  There is an enormous, faded American flag hanging on the wall by the front door.  The space is cavernous and rustic, all brick and worn hardwood.  The sheer size of the airy room is shocking in comparison to Derschang’s other places around town.  It reminds me of an old-school dining hall, with long tables and benches and a constant low level roar.

The menu is equally thoughtful, and highlights Ericka Burke’s straightforward approach to food preparation.  Lots of grilled sandwiches and baked goods and other comfort foods.  A postage stamp on the printed menu says “We love… we love… SHEPHERDS PIE”.  As it turns out, so do I.  Creamy florets of buttery mashed potatoes are delicately piped over savory ground beef, diced celery, carrots and onions.  Simple and warm and good.  Perfect with a pint of Rogue Dead Guy Ale, one of my very favorite winter beers.  The café menu during the day is not substantially different from the bar menu at night, with the most obvious distinction being that the deep fryer is not functional while the sun is out.  So in the evening, when the baby strollers have been replaced by laughably tight jeans, you can order french fries served in a great big silver coffee tin and a side of special sauce to go along with your Oddfellow sandwich (apparently ketchup and curry powder equals special).  During the day you must place your order at the bar and take a number to your table, but traditional wait service is offered at night.

That signature Oddfellow panini is really quite exceptional – a trio of meats (salami, coppa and ham) grilled up with tangy, pickled red onions and melted gruyere on toasty slabs of dark wheat bread.  A perfect harmony of bold flavors.  Those fries however, were not so good.  Mealy, underdone, bland.  On the other hand, the pork rillettes served on crostini with cornichons, dijon mustard and more of those outstanding pickled onions ranks with some of the best I’ve ever had.  Rich and lush and served in a cute glass jar, slather the shredded pork over the crispy hunks of bread and try not to drool on yourself.  Enjoy with the signature Oddfellow cocktail – bourbon and cointreau and blood orange bitters.  In general, the drinks are strong and served in quaint, old-fashioned cocktail glasses (check out the Elder Fashion No. 2 – gin and campari and grapefruit).

I think my only real complaint with Oddfellows has to be the ridiculous amount of energy spent on branding.  I know Derschang is an incredibly successful businesswoman, but from the sandwiches to the cocktails to the cookies (chocolate chips, walnuts, molasses), nearly everything seems to be appended with the Oddfellow^TM name.  There’s even Oddfellow swag for sale – tote bags, t-shirts, postcards, etc.  I know name recognition is important, but this seems like overkill to me.  Of course, maybe I’m just annoyed because I still can’t get that frickin’ song out of my head.  Why do the heathens rage behind the firehouse…?