Damn the Weather in Pioneer Square. Photo by Morgen Schuler
Damn the Weather in Pioneer Square opened early this summer to maximum buzz from local media—unsurprisingly, since former The Walrus and the Carpenter chef Eli Dahlin helms the kitchen and Jay Kuehner (Sambar) and Bryn Lumsden (Rob Roy) crafted the expansive drink menu. As a result, this ultra-hip cocktail bar, serving small plates in an airy room with exposed brick befitting the neighborhood, is slammed on Thursday and Friday nights. As in: Get there by 5 or expect to wait at least 15 minutes. Since it bills itself first as a bar, table seating is limited to about six tables (with just a couple two-toppers, one of which is a cozy, romantic loveseat that I’ve coveted on both my visits). Given that cocktails are paramount to the experience, my drink columnist, Zach Geballe, and I decided to tag-team this one. Here’s what Zach has to say about that cocktail menu:
Pairing food with cocktails is surprisingly difficult. As the great Kingsley Amis once wrote, “Food is the curse of the drinking class,” and given his clear preference for spirits, it’s easy to understand what he meant. Cocktails have strong and complex flavors, not to mention a much higher level of alcohol than wine or beer, and as a result they tend to do best when consumed on their own. Yet with the current craze for craft cocktails not showing any signs of slowing, bars throughout Seattle are struggling with how to offer creative and interesting food while maintaining the level of cocktail complexity drinkers have come to expect.
Damn the Weather is no different. The menu is heavily slanted toward spirits, so it’s clear they expect you to head in that direction. The limited beer and wine selections only reinforce that this is a cocktail bar first and foremost.
It’s a well-built list, to be sure. The drinks are unique and diverse, with thoughtful choices within each category of spirit. I was excited to see calvados and genever (Dutch gin) get top billing, two spirits that I particularly like, and in each case the drink built around that base highlighted it well. I’m a fan of gin Old Fashioneds, but you definitely need a sturdier gin to stand up to the bitters and sugar, and Bols Genever is perfect for that application. Meanwhile, my calvados cocktail, the Yellow Daze, also used gin to draw out the natural apple flavors in the fruit brandy; it remained respectful of that base while complementing it nicely. Both cocktails, enjoyed on their own, were expertly made and discerningly constructed.
The problems arose on the third drink, as they often do. I was curious to try a dish I’d heard about from a few friends, the beef-heart tartare. I asked my bartender, the very experienced Kuehner, to make me a drink to pair with it. I ended up with a blend of rye whiskey and an Italian amaro (Sibilla, if you’re keeping track at home). While it was very good, it underscored the struggle I mentioned above: both the cocktail and the dish were respectable, but they absolutely didn’t work together. The salty elements of the tartare (the sea beans and the crackers) clashed violently with the sweetness of the cocktail. Truthfully, the dish made we want a beer, which is exactly what Kuehner wisely brought me midway through, and I saved the rest of the cocktail for afterward. A decent compromise, but not what I wanted.
While I didn’t try any other food, I’d imagine that problem arises with more than just the tartare. Flavors like sea urchin, octopus, and escargot don’t exactly have natural pairings in the cocktail world, yet the paltry wine and beer options do tend to steer you right back to spirits. It’s a challenge that stumped one of Seattle’s best bartenders, and it’s one that might need some serious thought before Damn the Weather proves that it has successfully married craft cocktails and contemporary cuisine. And speaking of cuisine, I’m going to hand the keyboard back over to Nicole for a focus on the food…
While I’m not as conscious of cocktail and food pairings as Zach—I choose my cocktail with little to no thought about what I’m going to eat—I do think that the ambitious snacks and small plates that are the conceit of the kitchen here beg for more beer and wine selections. But, as Zach has pointed out, this is ultimately a cocktail bar. So about that food. First of all, don’t come here expecting to leave full without dropping at least $80 (including a couple drinks). All things are created equal on this menu of small plates, which are either $10 or $12—whether a simple spaghetti with beef Bolognese or a sea-urchin omelet. Sizes are uniform too, so while you might infer that, say, a pasta dish or a pastrami burger will fill you up, think again. In a nutshell, two people need at least five to six dishes to make it a dinner. But that’s OK: This menu is designed either to help you soak up some of the alcohol or have a few bites before heading on to a proper meal.
The tuna merguez sausage plate. Photo by Morgen Schuler
The bites I had ranged wildly from ho-hum to pretty good. Expect to see all the buzzy verbiage of cool menus: lots of poached eggs, raw stuff, sea urchin, beef heart, oxtail, chanterelles, mostarda, and so on. However, the dishes often suffer from too much pomp and too little circumstance. Melons with speck, nasturtium, and 30-year balsamic, while refreshing and pleasant, have only three pieces of speck, little perceivable taste of the lauded balsamic, and a throwaway nasturtium garnish. Sweet-potato dumplings—essentially gnocchi—with brown butter, marjoram, and pecorino are good, but didn’t bring the sweet-potato forwardness I wanted. (Though anything drowned in enough brown butter and cheese is going to be tasty.) The pastrami burger, which I was particularly excited about, didn’t taste at all like pastrami (I’m not sure what it actually tasted like; a turkey burger, maybe?), and the “thousand island” dressing was also oddly bland. The worst offense: the stale brioche bun it was served on. I did like the pickled celery on top, though. The split-pea orecchiette with Italian sausage, rapini, tomato, chili, and parmesan is literally pasta (gluten-free and terribly textured) made from split peas. (I found that out by asking my waiter, who had to go and ask someone else, which happened two other times). Fortunately, however, the flavorful sauce helped make the pasta edible.
What I did like: the tuna merguez sausage, literally tuna meat stuffed in a sausage casing and served over a zesty bulgur salad with roasted pepper, apricot (wish I could have found more than one tiny piece of it), and parsley; I loved the red-meat look and slight fishiness of the tuna. The sea-urchin omelet? Hands down my favorite item on the menu. It’s cooked in that wonderful rolled French style; ultra-thin and light as air. The uni flavor comes through beautifully, and the side of diced baby squash and squash blossoms is a fine touch. I saw no evidence of the squid-ink butter, though, until I got home and found a speck of it under my nail. The zucchini carbonara is admirable in concept and works on one level. Ribbons of zucchini cut to resemble a tagliatelle-like pasta are wonderfully sauced with ham, mint, onion, chili, and parmesan. The problem is that the raw egg, a hallmark of carbonara, combined with the very slippery, smooth zucchini makes for a too-slimy texture.
Dessert? I couldn’t pass up the chance to try a crab-apple tart. Crab apples are bracingly sour—but even for a girl whose mother constantly reprimanded her for sucking on lemons, it was just too much. The chocolate crust is obviously chosen to mitigate that tartness, but doesn’t quite do the job. The choice to pair it with plain Greek yogurt (even sourer) is incomprehensible.
Still, there’s plenty to like here, if not love, so I’ll be back again to try other items—like the Caesar-salad sandwich and the crab risotto—and see if things that weren’t particularly successful get tweaked. If not, I imagine I’ll return for the ambience, a superior cocktail, and—I’ve saved the best for last—some of the most delicious fries you’ll find in Seattle. I’m pretty sure they’ll pair well with just about any drink. Damn the Weather 116 First Ave. S., 946-1283, damntheweather.com. 4 p.m.–2 a.m. daily.
nsprinkle@seattleweekly.com
