Single Shot Kitchen & Saloon
Address: 611 Summit Ave E. Phone: 206.420.2238 Cuisine: New American Price: $$-$$$ Rating: 3.5/5
If you’ve ever had the chance to cruise around Seattle’s Capitol Hill neighborhood, you know very well that there’s no shortage of places to eat.
On any given day of the week, the Pike/Pine corridor, crowded with pizza joints, sushi spots, ice cream parlors and 24-hour diners, is cranking — starting waitlists and estimating wait times. Along Broadway- burger counters, brunch spots, coffee shops, bowls of pho.
Predictable eats in predictable places.
So right off the bat I’m drawn to Single Shot, not only by its menu, but by its location.
Located at 611 Summit Ave., Single Shot is situated on an unsuspectingly cool block of dive bars and coffee shops in a sleepier, residential pocket of the Capitol Hill neighborhood. I like that if you want to find this place then you’re going to have to walk a couple of blocks off of Broadway to do so. Here’s a spot that’s a little less visible and a little more exclusive filled with people that are determined to walk a little farther to eat a little better. My kind of crowd.
Still, even though the place sits on a quieter part of the Hill, if you’re thinking about driving to dinner, then just forget about it. The skinny streets are full of resident cars and trying to find parking on that North end of Capitol Hill any time after 4:15 p.m. is enough to make you want to scream and give up. Try taking the light rail instead. When my boyfriend Tim and I made the commute to Capitol Hill, we opted for public transportation, not only to spare ourselves from a predictable argument about not being able to find parking, but also, so that we could hit up some of the dive bars close by and really have ourselves a night out after dinner (Tim made fun of me later for ordering a French 75 at the pool table dive bar next door).
Ever since Single Shot opened in late 2014, the narrow 40-seater has been known to fill up nightly for dinner, bodies gathering in the doorway, fogging up the windows, and so, even for dinner on a Tuesday evening we had made reservations. Despite our booking, however, we were happy to find two open stools at the glowing marble bar when we arrived and so we helped ourselves to a seat and forfeited our table to another hungry looking couple who didn’t get the memo about making reservations. Plus, God damn, Tim and I love us a good bar top. When we can, we like to sit next to each other, not across from each other.
At 7:30 on this drizzly Tuesday night the small and dimly lit kitchen and saloon is still only half-full — crowds to come. I like that the place is called a “saloon”. In my mind the word conjures up images of an olde timey bar with frosty glass mugs that are spilling over with foamy ale and served by wenches wearing push-up braziers and corset dresses. Wooden doors that swing and organs that moan. Here, at Single Shot, there’s a nod to my yee-haw saloon fantasy with a big, wooden shotgun hanging over the candle lit bar.
We were welcomed by a friendly, and oh god, so handsome, bartender. Could he offer us a drink while we read the menu?
Beer. Wine. Spirit.
They’ve got it all.
The Pear Tree ($11), a potion of vodka, St. George’s Spiced Pear, Lime and Lovo moscato reads rather like a list of ingredients for dessert rather than a cocktail and the Peaceful Protest ($11), a mixing of house-infused green tea vodka, grapefruit, Aperol, and Gifford Menthe Pastille had me contemplating sunnier, summerier days.
In my extensive research about the place, I had heard raves about the drink menu, and was tempted to order a cocktail as the list read deliciously. But I had also heard about their wines on tap -a trend that I’m LOVING these days and one that I’m seeing in more and more restaurants around the city. Considering that I had pregamed dinner with a glass of Vino Verde, I decided to stick with wine for dinner and so I ordered the Proletariat Sauvignon Blanc ($9), a glass of citrusy notes wrapped around a core of stony minerality that was crisp and light.
Cheers.
Single Shot by night is romantic and cozy. The starkly decorated interior of the restaurant
glows golden by the soft light of some bulbous glass chandeliers. The white marble bar, framed by muted grey-white walls that, save for an antique, gold-framed mirror hanging in the back, stand blank. From the small, open kitchen situated next to the bar sound fire cracklings from oven-roasted meats that drift a garlicky steam over the dining room.
The plainness and lack of clutter in the Single Shot space is a good thing, I think. In my experience, simplicity in decoration is a thoughtful and deliberate decision made owners who want their food to be the focus of the dining experience, not the wall art. For the dishes to speak louder than the decor.
Broken up into three sections based on plate size (Small, Medium, Large) the short dinner menu comprised of only 10 items reads easily and elegantly, and, if budget were no option, I’d have one of each, please.
I like restaurants with small menus.
For me, it inspires a confidence that the chef has mastered these dishes. That the ingredients have been thoughtfully considered, the preparation contemplated and the plating perfected.
Drinks poured, and tummies rumbling, the first dish we ordered off of chef James Sherrill’s menu (former chef of Seattle restaurants Re:public, Crush and Restaurant Zoe) was a small plate of Delice du Jura ashes rind cheese with huckleberry jam and baguette ($10).
I’d say it’s hard to mess up a cheese plate.
Maybe that’s because I love any cheese.
Every cheese.
And the Delice du Jura was no exception.
This silky cows milk from France was nutty and had an almost herbal aroma. Velvety and earthy, I liked that it was paired with a berry jam that was full and tart and not too sweet. The marriage of flavors and textures was simply special.
The baguette, however, was where the dish failed to succeed. Chewy, dry and day-old tasting, Tim and I both found it served as a disappointingly clunky vehicle for the creamy cheese that was buttery, smooth and mild.
Hungry for more, for our second course we ordered the Anderson Ranch Lamb Tartar ($16) with anchovies, capers and salted egg yolk. Garnished with freshly grated lemon zest, this dish truly was the star of our evening. The plate of cubed, raw meat was melty, fragrant and luscious and even though lamb can be a heavy protein, this preparation was light, airy and delicate. For what they consider to be a “medium” sized plate at Single Shot, I’d actually call a small portion, but the delightfully pink tartar was so wonderfully rich and it only took a few bites to feel satisfyingly full. The incorporated anchovies introduced a most subtle briny flavor, reminiscent of summer’s Cape Cod oysters and lobster tails in Maine. The salty fried capers, over the top and also stirred into the tartar, contributed a necessary textural component to the meat dish. The crunch of the caper broke up the monotony of an otherwise all soft bite and also added a complexity in flavor with a slight, vinegary snap. Served with a crispy, herbed bread cracker (that I wish had also been served with the cheese course), the plate was a harmonious marriage of complimentary flavors and fresh ingredients that resulted in a plate of sophisticated yet comfortable food.
Tim and I fought over the last bite.
For our main course, I let Tim order for us. He so rarely gets to choose. He ordered us the Neah Bay Albacore ($28) served with sautéed dandelion greens, salsify, cara cara orange. In front of us, the plate was visually stunning. Four pieces of meaty, rosy tuna rested over a bed of bright, steamy wilted greens. Electric orange suprèmes and pearly salsify pieces (a skinnier parsnip-like root vegetable that’s a member of the dandelion family with a faintly oystery flavor) were scooped on the plate and drizzled with a deep, green dill oil and a dash of cream. Over top, a shave a fresh horseradish promised a bite of heat that I was craving after our subtle second course.
I wish so dearly that the dish had tasted as good as it had looked.
Breaking into the tuna with his fork, Tim explained to me that he thought it was a tad overcooked. That he preferred his fish to be cooked a little more rare. I agreed. I thought that the chewy, medium-temperature of the fish was reminiscent of my days as a manager at The Boathouse Restaurant in Santa Barbara where in my amateur, early-twenty-something-year-old days I used the prefer to order the Seared Ahi Club with the tuna “cooked thu”.
Had it only been for a slight over-cooking of the tuna, the dish might have been more successful. Unfortunately, however, the flavors of this dish seemed muddled and one-note.
The kick of heat that the horseradish promised and that I was so looking forward to? The grated garnish provided virtually no heat. What’s more is the sautéed greens were too oily and definitely over-salted. The orange slices on the plate, that were perfectly ripe and deliciously tart, provided a necessary bite of sweetness to counter the extreme saltiness of the greens (I feel I should mention here for reference that it takes a lot for me to admit that something TOO salty, as I have a tendency to over-salt everything I cook and eat. I even eat salt plain sometimes, and even by THAT standard, I thought this dish was too aggressively seasoned).
The salsify was cooked to a nice doneness though modestly seasoned and crudely and chunkily chopped, I thought it lacked a personality on the plate as an ingredient. Though the drizzle of emerald dill oil did add a bright, herbal freshness and the dash of cream provided a touch of fat that the lean fish and vegetable accoutrements really called for, I think adding more of the silky cream could have improved the dish by breaking through some of the nagging saltiness and, perhaps, could have made it a richer and more indulgent plate overall.
Still, we cleaned our plate.
If we both hadn’t been so full, we would have ordered more. We both agreed that the Roasted Mushroom Flatbread ($16) with pancetta and Cantal cheese that the couple next to us at the bar was chewing on looked so yummy.
And we only politely declined dessert only because we didn’t have any room left. But I’ll tell you, that Apple Bouchon ($9) with vanilla apple butter, frangipane and cider caramel was hard to refuse. Had my jeans been a little looser, I probably would have indulged.
Besides. Despite some minor disappointments, I’ll be back to Single Shot for more. The restaurant, a perfect place for both a cozy winter dinner and also a bright, summer happy hour cocktail, has a menu that rotates with the fresh ingredients of the season.
Next time I order, I’ll remember that the restrained dishes as Single Shot are the ones that really impress, and so, I’ll keep it simple.
We paid the tab, an unsurprising total of $78 dollars for three plates and two drinks, and by the time we were on our way out the place was cranking. As expected, the tables were full and a small crowd had gathered at the door.
The staff, warm and informed, thanked us goodnight and invited us to join them for another meal again soon. Maybe they would be seeing us for brunch sometime?
Sure thing.
I’ll make sure to hit them up on the invitation for another meal.
If only to treat myself to another plate of tartar.
And maybe a nice glass of wine on tap, too.
Comments