SMACK IN THE MIDDLE of Madrona, Dulces had always struck me as a neighborhood restaurant—until I visited. Now I think of it as more of a destination restaurant masquerading as a neighborhood one.
Dulces Latin Bistro 1430 34th, 322-5453 dinner Tue-Thu 5-9:30pm, Fri-Sat 5-10pm, Sun 5-9pm MC, V; full bar
For starters, it’s unexpectedly formal. In this room, white linens and crumb scoops are only the beginning; waiters whip out pocket flashlights in the candlelit darkness to note the finer points of the dessert tray or pages-long wine list. Service is leagues more polished than usual outside of downtown. Off at one end of the restaurant is the cigar bar, a clubby enclave that is (mercifully) completely enclosable. The place is fully licensed, and prices cling to the highest edge of moderate.
What’s more, the menu aims high. Despite the Spanish name (meaning “sweets”), preparations here are just as likely to borrow from Italy or France as from other Latin countries. Thus you have beef bourguignonne and calf’s liver appearing beside chiles rellenos and paella. It’s a menu of classic preparations, reminiscent of restaurants that used to be called “Continental.”
Nine years ago, chef Julie Guerrero, who was trained in those classics at South Seattle Community College, opened the original Dulces in West Seattle. Along with husband and frontman Carlos Kainz, Guerrero purveyed a full day’s worth of meals, concentrating mostly on weekend brunches. In 1995, they found the more central Madrona space, concentrated their efforts on dinner, and began to aim higher. Would their reach exceed their grasp?
To find out, we consulted first with a smattering of appetizers. Saut饤 calamari ($7.95) were chewy but swam in a first-rate sauce of tomatoes, herbs, and balsamic vinegar. It packed a feisty little wallop; we liked it. Red pepper ravioli ($7.75) wasn’t as successful; the pasta had gone chewy and pasty, the way homemade pasta can. Inside was a serviceable chorizo-cheese mixture; outside, a cilantro-tomatillo cream sauce.
Dungeness crab cakes ($9.95), more crabby than bready, had a lemony red pepper coulis alongside that lent them considerable interest. That evening’s appetizer special was best: mussels ($7.95), simply steamed in a briny, minimalist broth. As pure seafood, it was respectfully treated, bathing in a winy first cousin to seawater itself—lovely.
Entr饳 come with your choice of soup or salad, of which the latter—a wee toss of lettuce and tomato in a beguiling cilantro pesto dressing—was the better. The soup, a brilliant orange puree of ginger and carrot, ended up giving those two ingredients an unfortunately rather lifeless name.
The chiles rellenos ($16.95), poblanos encrusted with cornmeal to unusual textural effect, were stuffed with Montrachet and manchego cheeses. Over the top went walnut cream sauce and pomegranate seeds. Sounds pretty; it wasn’t. It was tasty enough, though.
THE DISAPPOINTMENT of the evening was the much talked up paella ($19.50). Though loaded with shellfish (which always makes a diner feel well taken care of), it was light on the saffron, alas, light on anything to lend much flavor. It was a lackluster, one-note paella—a significant pity, particularly for the $20 price tag.
The blackened salmon ($20.95) was absolutely adequate, encrusted flavorfully, slightly overcooked on the outside, a little raw within, and served with straightforward steamed rice and steamed veggies—just fine. Thankfully a couple of other entr饳 won us over more completely, including a bowl of the rich and complex beef bourguignonne ($18.50), which hit the ball right out of the park.
The breast of duck ($19.50) was even better; succulent pieces of the moist bird had been marinated in a honey-lavender glac鬠then pan-seared and fanned out across the plate with elegant vegetables and a halved potato. The resulting meat was sweet, almost caramely, and just stunning with its accompaniments.
So what’s good at Dulces is terrific, it seems. But not everything is good. The exception is dessert, which scored a solid three for three: a dish of can’t-miss Procopio gelatos ($5), the pistachio version of which may very well be the meaning of life; a creamy berry tart ($5); and a chocolate-draped cr譥 brl饠($5).
Would I return for these and Dulces’ other successes? I would. It offers the substance of a destination restaurant, making a diner feel well served even if the food isn’t consistent. The space itself is a lovely place to be, and the staff is adept at the art of welcome. Apparently live music shakes up the joint on weekends. Heck, the cigar bar even makes me rethink my relationship with stogies. No ordinary neighborhood restaurant, this.
