As I emerged through my escape hatch, which takes me down 1st Avenue in Belltown, I decided to decompress at one of my favorite classic Seattle hideouts. The court proceeding at the King County courthouse was exhausting, so I made a beeline down 4th Avenue and dropped down Seneca to 1st. I was just in time for happy hour at Queen City Grill, where I could collect myself and gird my loins for the next battle. This has long been one of my favorite spots in the city, and it remains so. Perfect for decompression after a harrowing court appearance.
Queen City Grill makes some of the drop-dead best salmon and mussels in the city, and that's saying a lot because there is quite a bit of competition, especially in the Pike Place Market area. They almost always have some wild mushrooms on the menu, which are locally sourced because there is no shortage of wild mushrooms around these parts, especially on the Olympic Peninsula. And now it's chanterelles. Could there be a better tonic with which to decompress? That and the amazing northern Italian wines they offer. They have some amazing Barolos and Barbarescos (not by the glass), which is the perfect complement to those chanterelles.
Once, about 26 years ago, I camped out on Slumgullion Pass in the San Juan National Forest in Colorado, elevation 11,530 ft. My campsite was in a spruce-fir grove just off the summit of the pass, which straddles the Continental Divide. It was October so the campgrounds in the area were already closed, so I was off in the woods in my tent. I woke up in the morning and there was a heavy frost on my tent and everywhere else in the vicinity. The sun was coming up but it hadn't hit the forest yet, and even when it did, there wasn't much sunlight to warm things up because of the heavy forest cover. I clambered out of the tent and started piling up tinder and kindling to get a fire going. As I was walking around the woods looking on the forest floor for the perfect sticks, I stumbled upon a small patch of chanterelles. I couldn't believe it. There was a delicious breakfast staring me in the face. And I thought I was going to just make some dense coffee and pack up and go. No, I was afforded the luxury of having sauteéd chanterelles for breakfast at 11,530 ft., 35ºF, in a spruce-fir campsite in October, while the aspens were still golden. This is my fond chanterelle experience, and I've revered them as a religion ever since.
So with my fondness for chanterelles, I was drawn like a magnet to the dark den that is Queen City Grill in search of the Holy Chanterelles. And I was not disappointed. The ones in Washington are much larger and a paler orange color than the ones on Slumgullion Pass, which were smaller and bright orange. But the flavor remains the same - savory and tender. After finding my religion, the court hearing that day was almost a distant memory. If you can't be eating chanterelles in October on the Continental Divide, eating them with an Italian wine at Queen City Grill in Seattle is the next best thing.
Queen City Grill makes some of the drop-dead best salmon and mussels in the city, and that's saying a lot because there is quite a bit of competition, especially in the Pike Place Market area. They almost always have some wild mushrooms on the menu, which are locally sourced because there is no shortage of wild mushrooms around these parts, especially on the Olympic Peninsula. And now it's chanterelles. Could there be a better tonic with which to decompress? That and the amazing northern Italian wines they offer. They have some amazing Barolos and Barbarescos (not by the glass), which is the perfect complement to those chanterelles.
Once, about 26 years ago, I camped out on Slumgullion Pass in the San Juan National Forest in Colorado, elevation 11,530 ft. My campsite was in a spruce-fir grove just off the summit of the pass, which straddles the Continental Divide. It was October so the campgrounds in the area were already closed, so I was off in the woods in my tent. I woke up in the morning and there was a heavy frost on my tent and everywhere else in the vicinity. The sun was coming up but it hadn't hit the forest yet, and even when it did, there wasn't much sunlight to warm things up because of the heavy forest cover. I clambered out of the tent and started piling up tinder and kindling to get a fire going. As I was walking around the woods looking on the forest floor for the perfect sticks, I stumbled upon a small patch of chanterelles. I couldn't believe it. There was a delicious breakfast staring me in the face. And I thought I was going to just make some dense coffee and pack up and go. No, I was afforded the luxury of having sauteéd chanterelles for breakfast at 11,530 ft., 35ºF, in a spruce-fir campsite in October, while the aspens were still golden. This is my fond chanterelle experience, and I've revered them as a religion ever since.
So with my fondness for chanterelles, I was drawn like a magnet to the dark den that is Queen City Grill in search of the Holy Chanterelles. And I was not disappointed. The ones in Washington are much larger and a paler orange color than the ones on Slumgullion Pass, which were smaller and bright orange. But the flavor remains the same - savory and tender. After finding my religion, the court hearing that day was almost a distant memory. If you can't be eating chanterelles in October on the Continental Divide, eating them with an Italian wine at Queen City Grill in Seattle is the next best thing.
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