OF LATE, A COUPLE of neighborhood joints have landed in neighborhoods panting for them. Lakewood, that wedge of shore between Mt. Baker and Seward Park, is now bookended by the En Route Bistro, at Genesee and 50th, and the Laughing Dog Cafe, at Dawson and 51st. Each serves dinner Wednesday through Saturday and pack-’em-in weekend brunches. And they’re both delighting the neighborhood—for different reasons.

En Route Bistro 4922 S Genesee, 722-5799 Wed-Sat 5-9pm, Sat-Sun 9am-2pm AE, MC, V; beer and wine

Laughing Dog Cafe 5100 S Dawson, 760-2717 Mon-Tue 6am-3pm, Wed-Fri 6am-10pm, Sat 7am-3pm and 6pm-10pm, Sun 7am-3pm V; beer and wine

Owner Sala Thomas has been trying to make a go of the En Route location for years, first as a hot-wings house of questionable quality called the Genesee, then, under its present name, as a glorified espresso stand. When it became clear she’d have to enter the bigger-ticket dinner market, Thomas found Lori Potter, a chef whose resume included stints at Rosellini’s Other Place and Bailey Boushay House (as food services director). Potter crafted a menu of international comfort foods—gnocchi pomodoro, enchiladas Vera Cruz, beef burgundy, chicken stroganoff, Indonesian prawns—and began opening evenings. That was last October.

When we tried it last week, we began with a Proven硬 pizzeta ($5.25) and a bowl of the day’s special corn chowder ($3.95). The little pizza was nice, speckled with basil and great roma tomatoes and creamy pools of Montrachet and not quite enough oil, but the soup was very nice, all thick with the corn and chunks of potato and affable chilies and their attending mild kick. After licking the bowl, we looked to dinner with real anticipation.

Beef burgundy ($9.95), featuring plump chunks of meat and mushrooms and pearl onions over egg noodles in a robust wine sauce, was just right. Crab cakes ($11.25), densely crabby and encrusted with almonds, were plenty fine, but outright inspired alongside a dish of dilly homemade tartar sauce, a refreshing wowie of an apple slaw, and a fistful of sweet-potato fries. Great conception; had these fries been less thoroughly cooked, the plate would have been a thoroughgoing winner. Dessert was a simple round of home-baked gingerbread crowned with home-whipped cream ($5).

When we returned for brunch, we sampled a solid eggs benedict ($6.95) served with En Route’s terrific crunchy red potato home fries. My three-egg “Kickin’ Country Omelette” ($6.25) was appropriately light, stuffed with bacon and sausage and charred onions and peppers. It was served with those red potatoes and a creamy homemade biscuit.

It was the French toast ($6.50), however, that none of us could keep our forks out of. A pretty landscape of French bread stepping-stones crossing a river of orange-honey butter sauce, this was plain edible decadence, particularly since the bread had been soaked and sizzled in vanilla spice custard.

It was surehanded, as was most of the food we sampled at En Route; a testimonial to a seasoned chef who knows her stuff and keeps it simple. Servers are casual and josh around with the regulars, as servers in a neighborhood joint will.

As for the place, it isn’t much, comfy in the homely fashion of someone’s second-hand dining room, its brightly painted walls hung with amateur art. Now, if you were to saunter up the street a dozen blocks you’d encounter another sort of place altogether.

INSIDE THE CRESCENT-SHAPED dining room of the spanking new Laughing Dog Cafe, things are as shiny and designed as a sharkskin suit: the walls all fashionably eggplant, olive, and pumpkin, the equipment in the open kitchen all gleaming copper and chrome, the prevailing decorative theme a whimsically hip homage to dogs. (And boy is it prevailing—you’ve never seen so much canine art in your life.) “Come, Sit, Stay,” beckons the Laughing Dog’s sign. People obey.

By the time the Laughing Dog opened last December, the neighborhood that had overseen its construction was abuzz with rumors. Wasn’t it owned by Pearl Jam? (Not exactly: Owner Peggy Curtis is married to the band’s manager.) Didn’t the antique chandelier above the espresso machine cost a half a million? (Not exactly, but it was a lot.) And wasn’t Mike Meyers coming to the opening? (Well, actually, yeah. Showbiz connections.)

But how do regular folks fare at the Laughing Dog? Until they realize there’s no host—you’re supposed to sit, remember?—they might languish haplessly at the door, and they’ll definitely wait (and wait) for their food. But in the end, if their expectations aren’t too high, they’ll probably enjoy themselves.

On a recent breakfast visit, we sampled buttermilk pancakes with tropical fruit compote ($5.50), which was unremarkably fine, along with a breakfast panini ($5.95) stuffed with eggs, cheese, green onions, and Italian sausage, also unremarkably fine. The ingredients of this last seemed haphazardly paired, not particularly harmoniously so, rendering it more fuel than cuisine. With it I had ordered a side of rosemary-roasted potatoes ($2.50), which were bright with rosemary and garlic but in dire need of, dare I say it, salt.

Returning for lunch, we sampled a mozzarella, Canadian bacon, and pineapple mini-pizza ($7.25) which was—oh dear—unremarkably fine. I am happy to report that its accompanying salad, groovy wild greens with a terrific balsamic vinaigrette, was outstanding. Alas, this turned out to be the high point of the meal. A turkey panini ($5.95) with jack cheese, lettuce, and tomato, was fine. Neither did a serving of pesto pasta salad ($5.50) ring my bell: The chicken was rather overcooked and the pesto dressing bland.

Things improved at dinner. A filet of Alaskan King salmon ($10.95) was moist and intelligently prepared, wrapped in a crackling packet of thin-sliced potatoes and served with grilled asparagus. Linguine with clam sauce ($8.95) was solid and satisfying, though slightly wanting in the shellfish-flavor department.

Some of its desserts and breakfast pastries Laughing Dog buys, and some of them it makes; none struck me as noteworthy. I did, however, enjoy a good latte made beneath that spendy light fixture; a lot of folks are using the Dog as an espresso stand—provided they’re not in a big hurry.

A lot more are sitting and staying, however. A friend said it best: “Laughing Dog doesn’t need to have great food; everyone’s going to go there anyway.” It’s a nice place to be. And En Route is a nice place to eat. Together they add up to a pretty good neighborhood joint.