Sweet and Savory
You may remember that a short time ago I kidnapped Chris to take him off for a day of fun. One part of the day that didn't go as planned was our attempt to visit Sweet and Savory. As it happens, Sweet and Savory is just a short drive straight down the hill (and back up the next one) from where I pick up my alternate Flexcar when the one nearest me is reserved. Yesterday, I decided to make the drive at lunchtime and finally check the place out. Chris came along, excited about the French-style hot chocolate he'd heard so much about.
We arrived shortly before 1:00pm. Sweet and Savory is only open until 2:00pm, but we still figured we would have time for something lunch-like. There are only a couple of small tables and a row of seats at the bar, behind which a woman was cooking up something in a small frying pan. We looked around for any printed menu or sign of any sort that listed food. There was nothing, only a chalkboard featuring a selection of coffee drinks and other beverages. Chris gestured to the single, small pastry display and asked, "Is this what you have for food?" Yes, we were told, that was it. As an afterthought, she did say they had what sounded like a salad wrap sandwich... this came to mind only as she was plating up soup and sandwiches for the three or four elderly folks at the table by the window. (No mention of the soup: no soup for us!)
Chris ordered up a hot chocolate right off of the bat, but neglected to specify he wanted the French-style hot chocolate and so did not receive the specialty of the house. I was warm, so scanned the menu for any cool option. Italian Soda, $2.25 caught my eye. I spied a bottle of vanilla syrup near the espresso machine. Ah, yeah, Italian Soda! That would be great! "I'd like a vanilla Italian soda, please." The woman gave me an exasperated look. "We don't make Italian sodas. We have the syrup, but we don't actually have any soda water." "Oh," I said. "I only ordered it because it's on the menu..." The woman rummaged around in the fridge for a while, saying, "Oh, is that up there? They probably mean...sometimes they get these large pelligrinos...that's probably...I mean, it's more of a summer drink...." I ended up having a can of Limonata, since they did have those, but my hopes for the experience were faltering.
Chris ordered a ham and cheese croissant from the pastry case. I ordered a lemon bundt cake filled with tropical fruit, which sounded light and refreshing. In the end, Chris said his plain old hot chocolate was pretty good, but his pastry was nothing special. Exactly the kind of thing he could (and has) picked up at an Au Bon Pain. My cake, on the other hand, was dreadful. So dry and stale it was nearly crisp and fell to crumbs when I cut into it, with the consistency and flavor of an overdone corn muffin. I ran out of Limonata to wash it down with and ended up leaving a good quarter of it on the plate. Even a dollop of whipped cream would have done wonders to mask the texture.
Disappointed, we finished up and left after a mere 15 or 20 minutes. On my way out the door, I heard the elderly woman asking about the cakes and all I could think was "Don't do it!" On the upside, it was a beautiful day yesterday and we were out in a very scenic part of the city, overlooking Lake Washington and the snowcapped mountains.
We arrived shortly before 1:00pm. Sweet and Savory is only open until 2:00pm, but we still figured we would have time for something lunch-like. There are only a couple of small tables and a row of seats at the bar, behind which a woman was cooking up something in a small frying pan. We looked around for any printed menu or sign of any sort that listed food. There was nothing, only a chalkboard featuring a selection of coffee drinks and other beverages. Chris gestured to the single, small pastry display and asked, "Is this what you have for food?" Yes, we were told, that was it. As an afterthought, she did say they had what sounded like a salad wrap sandwich... this came to mind only as she was plating up soup and sandwiches for the three or four elderly folks at the table by the window. (No mention of the soup: no soup for us!)
Chris ordered up a hot chocolate right off of the bat, but neglected to specify he wanted the French-style hot chocolate and so did not receive the specialty of the house. I was warm, so scanned the menu for any cool option. Italian Soda, $2.25 caught my eye. I spied a bottle of vanilla syrup near the espresso machine. Ah, yeah, Italian Soda! That would be great! "I'd like a vanilla Italian soda, please." The woman gave me an exasperated look. "We don't make Italian sodas. We have the syrup, but we don't actually have any soda water." "Oh," I said. "I only ordered it because it's on the menu..." The woman rummaged around in the fridge for a while, saying, "Oh, is that up there? They probably mean...sometimes they get these large pelligrinos...that's probably...I mean, it's more of a summer drink...." I ended up having a can of Limonata, since they did have those, but my hopes for the experience were faltering.
Chris ordered a ham and cheese croissant from the pastry case. I ordered a lemon bundt cake filled with tropical fruit, which sounded light and refreshing. In the end, Chris said his plain old hot chocolate was pretty good, but his pastry was nothing special. Exactly the kind of thing he could (and has) picked up at an Au Bon Pain. My cake, on the other hand, was dreadful. So dry and stale it was nearly crisp and fell to crumbs when I cut into it, with the consistency and flavor of an overdone corn muffin. I ran out of Limonata to wash it down with and ended up leaving a good quarter of it on the plate. Even a dollop of whipped cream would have done wonders to mask the texture.
Disappointed, we finished up and left after a mere 15 or 20 minutes. On my way out the door, I heard the elderly woman asking about the cakes and all I could think was "Don't do it!" On the upside, it was a beautiful day yesterday and we were out in a very scenic part of the city, overlooking Lake Washington and the snowcapped mountains.