Civilized Repast, and A Walk On the Wild Side
I’ve been working east of Lake Washington this week, in Redmond. For me, that means I have to cross the 520 bridge eastbound in the morning and westbound in the evening. This used to be what they called an unfettered ”reverse commute”: at one time, communities on the eastside were “bedroom communities” whose inhabitants worked in downtown Seattle or at Boeing. This concept was turned on its ear in the late 80s and 90s as Microsoft and other major employers located campuses on the eastside and started sucking westside inhabitants eastward to work.
So, last night found me in a massive traffic jam trying to beat my way back to the city. Even for a Friday night, it was worse than usual, especially considering that the Mariners were out of town. The ultimate cause of the jam, it appears, was nothing more than drivers slowing down at the west end of the bridge to rubberneck the flotilla of boats that has been rafting together in anticipation of the Opening Day of boating season this weekend. It took me an hour to go 10 miles - I wanted to mine Portage Bay when I got there.
When I arrived home, Mrs. Perils indicated a desire to walk out for a bite. We spun our compass and decided to head for Fremont, thinking that we’d be able to get into at least one of our favorites down there. Our route to Fremont, however, takes us past the Persimmon Cafe. It’s been there 2 or 3 years and we’ve been curious about it, but never quite got the brakes on in time to turn in. Last night as we passed the place was open but empty, and we opted to make it our private dining room.
(Click on any picture to enlarge)
The burnt orange color scheme had always attracted our eye as we walked past, and last night the setting sun intensified the colors nicely.
We ordered a starter of potato pancakes garnished with smoked salmon and dill mascarpone. Our entrees later were tasty enough, but we could have ordered a platter of these and died ecstatically right there.
Sun sets over Ballard as we stroll home.
Our route home often takes us along the perimeter of the Woodland Park Zoo. Last night, we heard the blood-curdling screech of a peacock in a tree above us, and stopped to observe.
I set my camera to take a video, in the hope that he/she would cut loose again. Here’s the amazing result (4.2 mb, not work-safe (language)). If you like the photo above, you really should play the video.
We know we’re nearing home when the front yards start sprouting monsters.
