Trying to mail a cancelled stamp is punishable by up to a year in the brig, according to the 1923 U.S. maritime code. Cussing is good for three months. Propositioning a Negro? Don’t ask.
The tome doesn’t spell out a specific penalty for skipping out on a meal without paying, but the other stuff is sobering enough to quash thoughts of doing so at Doc Waters Pub. The antique book, one of many on the shelves at the wood-lined nautical entryway, is a suitable diversion during a quiet weekend brunch at a window table overlooking the waterfront. Only a few hours ago the soon-to-be-hungover, seeking nourishment to slow the pain, staggered out. A few minutes from now cruise ship passengers will ask if Docs has grits and biscuits as an unlisted menu item and if they can sit outside despite the rain since they don’t like the smell inside.
If there’s a lingering odor from the party it isn’t noticeable to our literary freak, who by now has abandoned yardarm justice for a thick text expounding on the wonders of the pocket calculator. More people come in wondering if they can have some item or other removed from the breakfast burritos (no, they’re made ahead of time). The coffee isn’t up to what can be found in to-go cups at several places a couple blocks away. But all in all, it’s an agreeable setting.
Docs is something of a Rorschach test, offering nearly any nosher what they might hope for in an experience. Pricey cuisine with light jazz, burgers and beer while watching the big screen (even if the Mideast conflict on CNN is a less than appetizing choice), Bloody Marys for breakfast, wasabi oysters at 3 a.m. There’s even a variety of catering from trays of deviled eggs with crab to sit-down plated meals. As a Jack-In-The-Box of all trades it usually meets and sometimes exceeds expectations, but isn’t really top-of-the-line in any particular area.
“Made for a good, but average, night out with friend,” one of us remarked after our initial night there. “Not an impressive date destination.”
He thought a table in the “Velvet Room” might change that last bit, which was full when we wandered in on a weeknight without reservations. So we got a booth in the Pub where the windows offer a first-class view of the parking lot across the street and the big-screen TV was showing non-stop carnage from the Middle East conflict on CNN. It wasn’t as intellectually stimulating as those yellowing pages on how to conduct a court marshal, but it helped fuel conversational topics such as establishing, no, Hezbollah guerillas aren’t the type to wear the intimidating uniforms we saw marching in formation.
Docs has its fans: one person called it her favorite restaurant and another rated it higher than Zen, the Asian eatery across the street that got three stars in our cumulative ratings (she was less impressed). It got positive scuttlebutt from some co-workers, including one happy to have a decent dining option during graveyard hours and another rightfully praising new chef Brady Deal as a noteworthy local talent. It’s a pub, so the booze selection is definitely good.
The setting is less appealing if you’re not bar hopping, with a general agreement it doesn’t match what Docs is trying to achieve on the higher end in the kitchen. One person said they have avoided it since last year due to poor service that seemed to assume it could survive on once-only visits from tourists, but there appears to be improvement in that area. You can say the setting is a letdown given the menu or praise the food as better than expected for the setting; they’re the pessimistic/optimistic sides of the same argument.
Perhaps the best thing about Doc’s cuisine is its consistency. During our first night there it was the only place in our short time of doing these reviews where every dish got remarks leaning toward the positive. The weakest entry was the 16-ounce gorgonzola ribeye ($27), topped with a savory combination of gorgonzola butter, shallots and ginger, but an ordinary piece of meat cooked to the ordered medium rare. The accompanying fettuccini with parmesan was undercooked and the grilled onions/peppers/mushroom side unremarkable (we might have thought it was meant as a topping if it didn’t come on other plates). Not a bad steak, but nowhere near as satisfying as the one we had at Zen last week.
A better meat choice was the daily special of bacon-wrapped caribou (we don’t remember the price, but it was in the steak’s range), two round pieces of flavorful meat that arrived rare (our server didn’t ask how we wanted it prepared). The bacon didn’t add much unless it played a role keeping the meat’s natural juices in during cooking.
Seafood dishes also went over well. The grilled halibut in adobo ($22) was an excellent example of making good use of a flexible fish. The halibut was fresh and grilled to the right degree of doneness. The menu lists it as prepared coconut adobo sauce, avacados, bell peppers, onions and tomatoes. But the key: “The sauce it came with was just the right thing,” said the diner behind that particular plate. “It was a mix of seasonings I could not identify.” Considering this person’s taste buds can identify flavors the way a musician with perfect pitch can identify notes, this is quite an achievement. The Sanso Ahi ($22), pan-seared with a crust of black sesame seeds and sansho, was pleasing and delicate in flavor and texture. The fettuccini underneath was OK but — like the saffron rice with the halibut and other sides — was mostly filler that didn’t enhance or detract.
Classic bar food, which takes up half the menu, is about half as expensive and satisfies in the way one would expect. The most positive feedback was for the beer-battered halibut and chips ($13), which uses Alaska Breaking Co. suds to lend further local credentials to a local fish. Burgers and sandwiches ($9-$13) offer various assemblys of beef, chicken, halibut and salmon, while salads with a Costco-quality base (that’s not a bad thing, really) include a caesar ($12, with chicken, salmon or halibut for $4 more, or ahi for $5), a pico chicken green salsa ($13) and a gorgonzola steak ($15).
Breakfast is much the same - pretty good with no real disappointments - as long as you’re in the mood for heavy grub. Two egg/lettuce/tomato breakfast burgers ($9 with bacon and cheese; $13 for halibut or salmon) were more than we were in the mood to stomach. But the saffron breakfast prawns ($13) are a worthy standout among the pedestrian selection, with the poached shrimp, eggs and saffron caper cream sauce over a baguette making for sort of an Alaskan eggs benedict. The country fries are fine wedges of real potatoes but not memorable, which is too bad since they come with every dish on the breakfast menu.
Still, for early grub there’s a few other places we’d hit first, depending on the mood. Same goes for post-midnight munchies, when stepping across the hall to get a takeout container of greasy Russian dumplings from Pel’ Meni is often more fitting for the mood. And that’s sort of the feeling about Docs overall: We can go there and count on having a good meal and a good time, but if we’re in the mood for something in particular there’s almost certainly going to be someplace else we’d prefer to get it. Given the prices of their entries, that’s not a great thing.
But there’d be no hesitation about making dinner plans there when a band is playing there we like or bringing relative there early in the evening if we wanted to show off the waterfront. Docs gets credit for being able to please many without resorting to Cheesecake Factory-like stunts of offering dozen or hundreds of mediocre dishes in an attempt to cover every possible mood and taste. And the potential meter is pointing up, a definite plus at a time when a number of nearby former favorites are in a noticeable decline.
Showing posts with label breakfast. Show all posts
Showing posts with label breakfast. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Review: Southeast Waffle Company (♦1/2)
To see this place as a simple kitchen serving coffee and a few varieties of Belgian waffles overlooks its role as a purveyor of 13th century Greek cuisine.
The same Mediterraneans responsible for homework nightmares and sponsor-driven sports were cooking savory obleios flavored with cheese and herbs back when Aunt Jemima was feeling the marketing blues due to a shortage of plastic bottles.
History purists might argue real waffles arrived in 1953 when Eggo invaded supermarket freezers. But the Pilgrims also deserve credit for bringing them to the U.S. back in 1620, even if they probably got our relations with the Natives off to a bad start by ruining their appetites for Thanksgiving Dinner. Exotics might want to make a trip to Japan for their fish-shaped waffles filled with bean paste, but leave it to the British to screw up yet another dish by making them from reconstituted potatoes.
The kind sold at the Southeast Waffle Company made their public debut at the 1964 World’s Fair in New York when Brussels restaurateur Maurice Vermersch used his wife’s recipe to make the fluffy yeast- and egg-infused cakes. Wikipedia notes since “most Americans didn’t know where Brussels actually was, he decided to change the name from ‘Brussels Waffle’ to the ‘Belgian Waffle.’”
These days one can order or find recipes for as many varieties as any bread-like substance. It’s easy to be tempted by them as a dessert with strawberries and whipped cream, but loyalists also swear by pairing them with fried chicken (”pry off a bite of chicken with your fork, sprinkle on hot sauce, spear a syrup-drenched bit of waffle with that same chicken-laden fork,” advises the trendy Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles in L.A.). But they’re still the upscale and less popular alternative to the mighty pancake - especially when feeding multiple people - since they’re harder to prepare and must be eaten quickly before they become limp.
As such, the business model for the SWC doesn’t compute in theory and sometimes - such as long waits when there’s a backlog of orders - this spills over into reality. But in practical terms, they seem to have a large and growing fan base because even when things are rough they do so many vital little things well it’s hard not to enjoy the experience.
First, this isn’t just a breakfast place, since it stays open until midnight every day but Sunday, when it closes at 10 p.m. You can read, play chess or use the free wi-fi for hours while looking at the boats across the road in Auke Bay and never feel a bit of guilt, unless it’s a weekend morning and there’s a beyond-capacity crowd. The decor in what’s a fairly Spartan dining area has improved since they first opened thanks to touches such as a better paint job. One of ours who has an eye for such things comments “I’d encourage them to continue down that road, enhancing the feel with more and funkier paint, a bookshelf of trade-in paperback books and magazines, and maybe an old guitar (note: at least some of that is there already, although they could definitely use more). On the other hand, while that might make it even more of a gathering place, it won’t really help the bottom line.”
There’s a laundromat with broken change and detergent machines a couple of doors down, making the illusion of productivity possible. Speaking of which, they could use more electric outlets, especially within reach of the tables by the windows - and some cushions for those planning to occupy the hard seats for a while.
The young staff is perfect for a mellow hangout, pleasant and devoid of Starbucks-like snobbery. If they lived in a dorm up the road at UAS and invited a bunch of friends over for breakfast in the hypothetical communal kitchen, it might not be a lot different than this.
That holds true in both a good and bad sense. They cook their waffles on three irons and when things got busy on a recent weekend we ended up waiting for nearly an hour, getting our order only after reminding them about it. They also forgot the syrup, necessitating another quick trip to the counter. They were nearly empty during a weekday lunch, making it a good choice then for those in the mood or unhappy with the out-the-door line next door at Chan’s Thai Kitchen.
But by that rough weekend morning SWC had built up enough collective good will not to wreck the mood. They deliver on coffee stuff, balancing flavorings, foam and other inevitable extra requests better than a lot of coffee shops in town. Things like smoothies and spiced hot chocolate are worthy beverages for those needing a sugar jolt to wash down all that syrup.
The waffles are the heart of the menu, of course, and the only food option unless one is in the mood for plastic-wrapped Costco muffins. This is where the SWC both shines and suffers from things that seem easily fixed. The batter for the basic waffle ($4.50) is smooth and mildly sweet, a nice one-size-fits-all choice even if lacking the character of a good sourdough or buttermilk recipe. The biggest problem is even fresh they’re more soft than crisp. Some of us weren’t bothered; for others it’s a cardinal sin (asking them to cook it a bit longer is an easy fix if they’re not swarmed). We did see the kitchen doing a couple of takeout orders, by the way, but it’s hardly something we’d recommend unless you’re just going across the street to dine on the beach.
The standard syrup is that Log Cabin/Golden Griddle stuff that’s absolute Heaven for kids and best ignored by anyone old enough to afford the extra 75 cents for real maple. The inevitable strawberry-topped waffle ($6) is the inevitable pie-filling stuff instead of fresh berries, hard enough to get at classy joints Down South. Other default menu options include a chocolate chip waffle topped with peanut butter ($6) and a spelt waffle ($5.50).
The most interesting choice is the omelet waffle ($6.75), a source of confusion for a lot of customers since the chalkboard menu simply calls it an “omelet” (the staff says they make sure those ordering it know what they’re getting). It’s traditional batter on the bottom half, egg on the top half, with ham, cheese and peppers baked in, and topped with salsa and sour cream. It’s satisfying for the pallet and appetite, proving more than we could finish.
A ham and cheddar waffle served with syrup ($5.50) isn’t a bad balance of flavors, although one person thought it’d be better with the omelet toppings. Or maybe just cheese and sour cream. Or why not add turkey and swiss cheese (or even Gruyere) and call it a Monte Cristo?
And that’s maybe the quickest and easiest thing SWC could do to knock their appeal up a notch. Adding a few simple ingredients to the kitchen could vastly expand menu possibilities without making things much harder on the staff. One of our diners wanted yogurt, for instance, favoring it instead of whipped cream. Throw some canned pintos on one of these cheese/meat/salsa concoctions and you have a griddle variation of the Navajo taco. Heck, buy crab across the street, put cream in a side dish and call it Waffle Newberg (OK, maybe that’s stretching things).
The point is a little imagination and a build-your-own approach from those few extra staples might give SWC enough extra oomph to sway our few (and mildly) displeased critics. The bagels at the Breeze Inn are a travesty to their namesake, but they’ve been successful selling them all these years because they come in a bunch of wacky and wonderful flavors. SWC has a much higher quality product to start with; it doesn’t take much to visualize them being a special “find” tucked away in an obscure corner.
Then again, if it’s as crowded on all weekends as we saw, maybe they don’t need the extra boost. The last thing needed next to Chan’s is another place with a “we’ll feed you when we’re able to” attitude. Besides, the kitchen staff is so nice you can probably bring your own fruit and yogurt and they won’t say a word if you keep it on the table.
The same Mediterraneans responsible for homework nightmares and sponsor-driven sports were cooking savory obleios flavored with cheese and herbs back when Aunt Jemima was feeling the marketing blues due to a shortage of plastic bottles.
History purists might argue real waffles arrived in 1953 when Eggo invaded supermarket freezers. But the Pilgrims also deserve credit for bringing them to the U.S. back in 1620, even if they probably got our relations with the Natives off to a bad start by ruining their appetites for Thanksgiving Dinner. Exotics might want to make a trip to Japan for their fish-shaped waffles filled with bean paste, but leave it to the British to screw up yet another dish by making them from reconstituted potatoes.
The kind sold at the Southeast Waffle Company made their public debut at the 1964 World’s Fair in New York when Brussels restaurateur Maurice Vermersch used his wife’s recipe to make the fluffy yeast- and egg-infused cakes. Wikipedia notes since “most Americans didn’t know where Brussels actually was, he decided to change the name from ‘Brussels Waffle’ to the ‘Belgian Waffle.’”
These days one can order or find recipes for as many varieties as any bread-like substance. It’s easy to be tempted by them as a dessert with strawberries and whipped cream, but loyalists also swear by pairing them with fried chicken (”pry off a bite of chicken with your fork, sprinkle on hot sauce, spear a syrup-drenched bit of waffle with that same chicken-laden fork,” advises the trendy Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles in L.A.). But they’re still the upscale and less popular alternative to the mighty pancake - especially when feeding multiple people - since they’re harder to prepare and must be eaten quickly before they become limp.
As such, the business model for the SWC doesn’t compute in theory and sometimes - such as long waits when there’s a backlog of orders - this spills over into reality. But in practical terms, they seem to have a large and growing fan base because even when things are rough they do so many vital little things well it’s hard not to enjoy the experience.
First, this isn’t just a breakfast place, since it stays open until midnight every day but Sunday, when it closes at 10 p.m. You can read, play chess or use the free wi-fi for hours while looking at the boats across the road in Auke Bay and never feel a bit of guilt, unless it’s a weekend morning and there’s a beyond-capacity crowd. The decor in what’s a fairly Spartan dining area has improved since they first opened thanks to touches such as a better paint job. One of ours who has an eye for such things comments “I’d encourage them to continue down that road, enhancing the feel with more and funkier paint, a bookshelf of trade-in paperback books and magazines, and maybe an old guitar (note: at least some of that is there already, although they could definitely use more). On the other hand, while that might make it even more of a gathering place, it won’t really help the bottom line.”
There’s a laundromat with broken change and detergent machines a couple of doors down, making the illusion of productivity possible. Speaking of which, they could use more electric outlets, especially within reach of the tables by the windows - and some cushions for those planning to occupy the hard seats for a while.
The young staff is perfect for a mellow hangout, pleasant and devoid of Starbucks-like snobbery. If they lived in a dorm up the road at UAS and invited a bunch of friends over for breakfast in the hypothetical communal kitchen, it might not be a lot different than this.
That holds true in both a good and bad sense. They cook their waffles on three irons and when things got busy on a recent weekend we ended up waiting for nearly an hour, getting our order only after reminding them about it. They also forgot the syrup, necessitating another quick trip to the counter. They were nearly empty during a weekday lunch, making it a good choice then for those in the mood or unhappy with the out-the-door line next door at Chan’s Thai Kitchen.
But by that rough weekend morning SWC had built up enough collective good will not to wreck the mood. They deliver on coffee stuff, balancing flavorings, foam and other inevitable extra requests better than a lot of coffee shops in town. Things like smoothies and spiced hot chocolate are worthy beverages for those needing a sugar jolt to wash down all that syrup.
The waffles are the heart of the menu, of course, and the only food option unless one is in the mood for plastic-wrapped Costco muffins. This is where the SWC both shines and suffers from things that seem easily fixed. The batter for the basic waffle ($4.50) is smooth and mildly sweet, a nice one-size-fits-all choice even if lacking the character of a good sourdough or buttermilk recipe. The biggest problem is even fresh they’re more soft than crisp. Some of us weren’t bothered; for others it’s a cardinal sin (asking them to cook it a bit longer is an easy fix if they’re not swarmed). We did see the kitchen doing a couple of takeout orders, by the way, but it’s hardly something we’d recommend unless you’re just going across the street to dine on the beach.
The standard syrup is that Log Cabin/Golden Griddle stuff that’s absolute Heaven for kids and best ignored by anyone old enough to afford the extra 75 cents for real maple. The inevitable strawberry-topped waffle ($6) is the inevitable pie-filling stuff instead of fresh berries, hard enough to get at classy joints Down South. Other default menu options include a chocolate chip waffle topped with peanut butter ($6) and a spelt waffle ($5.50).
The most interesting choice is the omelet waffle ($6.75), a source of confusion for a lot of customers since the chalkboard menu simply calls it an “omelet” (the staff says they make sure those ordering it know what they’re getting). It’s traditional batter on the bottom half, egg on the top half, with ham, cheese and peppers baked in, and topped with salsa and sour cream. It’s satisfying for the pallet and appetite, proving more than we could finish.
A ham and cheddar waffle served with syrup ($5.50) isn’t a bad balance of flavors, although one person thought it’d be better with the omelet toppings. Or maybe just cheese and sour cream. Or why not add turkey and swiss cheese (or even Gruyere) and call it a Monte Cristo?
And that’s maybe the quickest and easiest thing SWC could do to knock their appeal up a notch. Adding a few simple ingredients to the kitchen could vastly expand menu possibilities without making things much harder on the staff. One of our diners wanted yogurt, for instance, favoring it instead of whipped cream. Throw some canned pintos on one of these cheese/meat/salsa concoctions and you have a griddle variation of the Navajo taco. Heck, buy crab across the street, put cream in a side dish and call it Waffle Newberg (OK, maybe that’s stretching things).
The point is a little imagination and a build-your-own approach from those few extra staples might give SWC enough extra oomph to sway our few (and mildly) displeased critics. The bagels at the Breeze Inn are a travesty to their namesake, but they’ve been successful selling them all these years because they come in a bunch of wacky and wonderful flavors. SWC has a much higher quality product to start with; it doesn’t take much to visualize them being a special “find” tucked away in an obscure corner.
Then again, if it’s as crowded on all weekends as we saw, maybe they don’t need the extra boost. The last thing needed next to Chan’s is another place with a “we’ll feed you when we’re able to” attitude. Besides, the kitchen staff is so nice you can probably bring your own fruit and yogurt and they won’t say a word if you keep it on the table.
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