Honeymoon Road Trip - Day 1: Seattle

Kinda. We flew in yesterday, which was more like a Day 0. So sure, this is Day 1.

Day 1 of our joint birthday/vacation/honeymoon on the West Coast! We landed in Seattle on Sunday morning. After picking up our rental car, the first stop was Value Village for some winter apparel. I had the hardest time choosing a sweatshirt. I went with a navy Team USA London hoodie, as well as a plain black full-zip sweatshirt. The combo of the two really did the trick yesterday in this deep, windy, rainy weather. I also got a new sling and a beanie.

We made our way to the hotel and discovered, for the millionth time, the unfortunate reality of urban parking. Eventually, we checked in, deposited our bags, and headed over to Pike Street. Finding Pike Street Coffee was an adventure. We passed it in every direction before finally climbing the stairs and discovering the cafe nestled cozily between a print shop and a bakery. I got some sort of seasonal apple cinnamon whatnot. Camille got a cortado with a maple syrup shot. That was some good coffee.

Pike Place Market was overwhelming in all the ways I like. Busy. Bustling. Loud. Diverse. Eclectic. There was quite literally a little bit of everything. What I liked most was the architecture. Not necessarily the visual style, but more so the floor plan. It's a place that's easy to get lost in, which excited me. We sampled teas, ate pupusas & naan, and searched high and low for Daily Dozen. And we found it. I could spend a week there just walking around sampling the food.

Admittedly, got a bit swindled into buying $36 worth of artisanal popcorn. This does not surprise me. Thankfully, it was as delicious as advertised. We snacked on it the entire trip.

By the time we drove over to Gas Works Park, it had begun to rain heavily. Thankfully, Camille spotted a Brooks store around the corner. She got a new pair of white sneakers to make the miles of walking ahead of us a great deal more bearable. The rain soon stopped, and we made our way back to the park to take some of the most incredible photos of Seattle and the bay. It was frigid, breezy, and constantly drizzling. I couldn't feel my hands, which apparently is not a prerequisite to feeling joy.

It was finally time for dinner at Tavolata, a premier Italian spot known for its handcrafted pasta dishes. I was not impressed. I was disappointed by the lack of bold flavors. As a native son of the South, I am used to a more pronounced palate. That said, those noodles were supremely well-made. I had a gnocchi dish with braised pork and other seasonal fare, and I genuinely really enjoyed it. It needed a bit of salt and pepper, but the concept was solid and the execution was remarkable.

Camille's dish is where my concerns lie. She ordered the carbonara. Again, noodles prepped to perfection. Very clearly made in-house by people who know what they're doing. However, it lacked the depth of flavor I had anticipated from a highly regarded establishment. To be fair and transparent, our server did articulate to us quickly and clearly that their preparation is very "traditional," which in this instance means simple. And that is not a problem, so much as it is a challenge. In a culinary sense, the fewer ingredients you have to work with, the more critical each of those ingredients becomes. Very straightforward. Tavolata delivered in this regard. But it simply needed salt. And a little pepper. And... I don't know what else. "Need" is a strong choice of words, I admit, but it reflects how I honestly feel.

I hold these minor critiques against the establishment in this instance - whereas usually I do not, as acclimating to my personal tastes is not the kitchen's responsibility - because there was no salt and pepper on the table. That's it. I am perfectly fine with seasoning my food to my liking after it arrives at my table. Extremely standard. But when I have to ask for salt, and the pepper shaker is depleted, I wish things were different. I am challenged to enjoy my meal as is without alteration, and I did not.

Most importantly, however, the service was good and our server was very polite, informative, and helpful. The atmosphere was stellar, somewhere between a speakeasy and a tavern with the smell of an Italian bistro. The price reflects this. They were running a "Tastes of Seattle" special at the time, which included one appetizer, one pasta, and one dessert for $50. After getting two pastas, one app, and no drinks, TAKE THE DEAL, especially if eating in groups. It's a real bargain. Overall score for Tavolata: 7.2/10*.

We decided to call it a night instead of searching for dessert because it was a blistering 48 degrees (which is like 22 for a couple of Floridians) with heavy winds and drizzle. A hot shower at the end of the day was all the sweet treat we needed.

Also, look at these ducks:

Find the day's full album of photos here. Check back tomorrow for Seattle Day 2 📕

*Explanation of my philosophy re: seasoning: many restaurants include seasoning additions with their dishes. The most common in the US is salt + pepper. Condiments are also commonly used, such as ketchup, mustard, and hot sauce. The idea here is that regardless of how a dish is prepared or conceptualized, each guest likes their food finished to their own distinct taste, so minor edits are both customary and expected. When these elements are not included, or are only included upon request, what the restaurant is communicating is an expectation that these changes are not required, or at least not anticipated. Neither approach is better or worse than the other in my estimation. The point here is that if you present your food as needing no edits or alterations, it must be judged very precisely for what it is and how it exists when it arrives at the table.

Pho, for example, has a distinct taste and flavor that is often enhanced by each customer when they add their own accouterments, such as lime, jalapenos, bean sprouts, hoisin, chili paste, and fish sauce. Two people can place an identical order, yet have entirely distinct bowls of noodle soup because of how they have customized it to their own liking. In that instance, there is only so much of the final product that can be attributed to people in the kitchen. The quality of the broth, noodles, and ingredients can still be judged, but my brother in Christ, you built the soup.

When you hand me a bowl of pasta with no cheese, oil, pepper, salt, herbs, etc., you're telling me that this pasta dish is complete and needs no alterations. That's an entirely valid approach. But that means that if I don't like it, it is altogether the "fault" of the restaurant and their recipe + preparation. They'd also get full credit if I loved it. The bottom line is that the degree to which you allow and expect personalization is directly correlated to how responsible you are for the enjoyment of your food.