Jen "I don't write here anymore (OK, sometimes I do)" G.'s Profile

I could make a convincing case for moving to Portland based solely on Papa Haydn's dessert menu selection. Puts Seattle's dessert mainstay B&O on serious notice.

$56 for a Signature French pedicure, one would think this seemingly posh spa would offer its patrons a comfy massaging chair to sit in whilst getting their toes done, but no. I had to sit in an office rolly chair for my spendy pedicure, the whole time clenching my butt cheeks and flexing my supposed-to-be-relaxed calf muscles, desperately hoping that I wouldn't roll away, or worse, fall off the chair altogether.

Additionally, there was no where for me to put my coat and purse, save for the floor. Not cool. I've had better, more relaxing pedicure experiences for half the cost at way less posh places, so I guess I've learned my lesson that you don't always get what you pay for. In this case, I paid to feel even more stressed than when I came in. Thanks for that, InSpa! Good thing about that no tipping policy, because I wouldn't have anyway.

One of the necessities for living in the Pacific Northwest is a decent rain jacket. I have a decent rain jacket. My husband has a decent rain jacket. Scratch that, he HAD one, that is, until he lost it, like an elementary school-aged kid, somewhere on the playground of life. And thus began our frustrating search for a new one.

Something I just don't get, and I went through this two years ago when I was in need of one, is why do rain jackets cost so much? Essentially, in most cases, they are made of nylon. Thin swatches of nylon fabric, without any sort of lining, and yet, they cost upwards of $100. I was shocked, but somehow I managed to find a jacket for under $50. Probably not the best quality, but it gets the job done, keeps me dry.

Imagine my horror when we walked into The North Face store and discovered jackets costing more than $100. In fact, most of them were in the $200 range. I thought we'd hit the price plateau until on our way out, we noticed a jacket - a simple, unassuming waterproof jacket, mind you - for $499.

Excuse me?

Of course, there was no way in hell we'd ever buy such an expensive jacket, but that didn't stop us from speculating about all the things this jacket must be capable of doing. I mean, why else would someone buy a rain slicker with such a ridiculous price tag?

The North Face "Modulus Jacket" surely must:

--include electric hand warmers and a built-in mp3 player and GPS system.
--become its own parachute.
--desalinate, deionize AND purify water.
--become a cloak of invisibility.
--be able to mint money.
--cure world hunger.

Upon further inspection, this jacket does not, in fact, do any of these things. Rather, it just seems to include a whole lot of pockets and zippers. Not that impressive at all. There are so many better things to do with $499 than spend it on a North Face jacket.

And so the search continues ...

The owner of Senor Moose recommended we try Snappy Dragon. Happy to have a qualified suggestion for good Chinese food after going nearly two years without finding a decent place in Seattle, our hopes of adding Snappy Dragon to our list of regular haunts were quickly dashed, as the ambiance was lacking and the food was just blech.

We started with the pot stickers - half pork, half veggie. The pork pot stickers were OK, but the veggie pot stickers were nasty piles of mushroomy mush. Then I had the Kung Pao Chicken, which was so salty, I had to stop eating it after a few bites. My husband had some sort of noodle dish, which was completely bland, without any flavor at all.

Our experience at Snappy Dragon makes me wonder two things. One, maybe I've gone my whole life so far without having really good Chinese food, as it never seems to excite me, wherever we go. Or two, maybe that's what Chinese food is supposed to taste like, kind of bland and uninspired, and I just don't like it.

At any rate, I was disappointed we wasted a Friday dinner out on such a lackluster meal. I'm even more disillusioned that this place was recommended by the guy behind Senor Moose, where we had a fantastic meal. We just assumed his recommendation would be spot-on.

Hmm. Perhaps being an expert in Mexican cuisine does not make one an expert in other cuisines, I guess. So sad.

Tucked away in a building that more closely resembles a dental office, Ciao Bella is actually quite lovely on the inside. With room for about 20 or so tables, the decor is sleek and modern, with sheer fabric draped across the ceiling. Instantly, I felt at ease as we were seated within seconds of walking through the door.

We were quickly served warm bread with olive oil and balsamic vinegar on the side. Drinks came fast, too. I ordered a glass of house merlot, while my husband had a Moretti. But then we waited. And waited some more. Until finally our server came by to take our orders. No worries, though. We weren't in a hurry.

We started with the caprese salad, a classic we almost never pass up. And their version was good - lightly dressed with balsamic vinaigrette, rather than the traditional oil and vinegar. Next, I tried the minestrone soup, which was fine, though it seemed a little too "everything but the kitchen sink" for my taste. My husband had the Caesar salad, noting that it was dressed in "real" Caesar dressing, a rarity these days.

For our entrees, I had the rigatoni with spicy sausage and red sauce. My husband had the penne with chicken and prosciutto. Both dishes were tasty and plentiful. Afterward, I looked at my husband who said, "I could've made these dishes at home."

And it's true. There was nothing extraordinary about Ciao Bella's food, but it filled the void, satisfied the craving. Not sure it's a destination place, but overall it was decent. 3.5 stars is a more accurate rating.

Similar to Dick's, without the inevitable hurgly-gurgly feeling afterward.

http://www.yelp.com/bi...

Cheap, tasty. Not at all conveniently located or with nearby parking. I'd say, stick with Dick's if you're in the mood for a greasy burger.

When I was a kid, my dad was the manager of an Olive Garden. This was pretty much the coolest thing in my 13-year-old world, as one of his managerial perks included bringing his family in for dinner on the house about once a month. I remember ordering Tours of Italy and Chocolate Lasagna for dessert, just because we could have whatever we wanted. We feasted like kings, and we were treated like celebrities because we were the manager's kids. Obviously, it didn't take much to impress me back then.

Despite the inevitable maturation of my palate, I still hold a special place in my heart for Olive Garden's endless baskets of breadsticks and deep, plastic bowls of iceberg salad dripping in tangy Italian dressing. But it's not likely I'd ever think about going there for dinner nowadays, what with a plethora of amazing local restaurants beckoning me to spend hundreds of dollars on dinners out.

The thing is, someone gave us a $50 gift card for Olive Garden, which sort of cracked me up, because there aren't any Olive Gardens in Seattle anymore, which meant in order to use it, we'd have to drive up to, God forbid, Lynnwood, or down to some scary place like Tukwila. But I'm not above lowering my gastronomical standards for free food. $50 is still $50.

We ended up going on a Friday night, all the while I kept joking that my husband was taking me to eat somewhere real fancy, with Tuscany-trained chefs, because that's gotta be true. When we got there around 6, there was already a long wait! I couldn't believe it. But then I looked around at the people waiting, and it all made sense.

These were not snobby Seattleites such as my husband and me. These were people who think a special night out IS dinner at the Olive Garden. In fact, as we were being seated, I overheard the hostess and manager discussing a marriage proposal that was to happen at a nearby table. I joked that the receiver of the proposal was one lucky girl to be asked for her hand at an Olive Garden, of all places.

But you know, there's really nothing wrong with that. Olive Gardens and other similar chain restaurants exist for a reason. They appeal to a lower common denominator, and if I was going to give Olive Garden a fair review, I would have to take that into consideration and lower my standards a little bit.

Relatively speaking, our experience at Olive Garden was on par with our experiences at fine dining restaurants in Seattle. Our server was prompt, offering us a taste of one of their signature wines, which happened to be Sutter Home White Zinfandel. I tried my hardest not to smirk, because like I said, we're thinking in relative terms here. It took all of me to not say to her, "Why yes, pour me a splash of that fine vintage you call White Zin, because I really have no idea what that tastes like."

It was comforting to know the breadsticks and salad have not changed at all since I was a kid. But the menu has matured a bit, with items such as gnocchi and seafood portofino, which I imagine is part of their "culinary inspiration," as they call it. Oh! I get it! The food is INSPIRED by Tuscany. The chefs are not actually from Italy as the commercials would have you believe. Or are they?

In any case, I opted for the grilled shrimp caprese over angel hair while my husband ordered the chicken con broccoli over orecchiette. We were both impressed by the size of the entrees, if nothing else. Mine featured 10 grilled shrimp, something you'd rarely get at a fine dining restaurant. Both dishes tasted good, too.

After two baskets of breadsticks and half my dish, I was stuffed. Couldn't possibly have anything else. But when we calculated the bill, we realized we were still under $50, even with a glass of wine and a tall beer! For the sake of being able to use our credit card so we could tip our server, we ordered dessert to go, which put our bill in the $60 range.

Overall, I was pleasantly surprised by our dinner at the Olive Garden. For what it is - a mass-produced chain restaurant you'll find in every major city - it's really not that bad. An hour's wait for dinner must mean something. Lynnwoodites can't all be wrong.

In all fairness, I have never actually BEEN to Georgetown Brewing Company, but I feel completely justified in giving them five stars, as my husband often comes home with $5 growlers filled with Manny's and Chopper's, and subsequently, good times are definitely had by all, if you know what I mean.

And I think you do.

Seriously, though, we heart Georgetown. When the father-in-law is in town, he stocks up on Manny's gear, because he loves beer AND his name is Manny! And we recently procured a pony keg for a party, which provided more than enough beer for days and days to follow as well.

Even if I wanted to go to Georgetown myself, my husband says I would never, ever make it there, as it's pretty hard to find the first time, and I still get lost on the way to ... pretty much anywhere. But that's fine by me. In this case, as long as the husband keeps coming home with beer, I'm a happy camper. And so is the husband, if you know what I mean.

And I think you do.

There seems to be two camps when it comes to the Baguette Box. There are those who think the sandwiches and truffle fries are the second coming of whomever it is you kids are worshiping these days, and there are those who think the sandwiches and truffle fries are completely overrated.

I think I fall somewhere in the middle, as I can appreciate the Baguette Box's unique menu offerings, but I'm not so much a fan of hot sandwiches, which is pretty much all they serve. I knew that going in, yet I still wanted to try the Crispy Drunken Chicken. I just HAD to see what all the fuss was about.

My sandwich was just OK. It was like eating sweet and sour chicken on crispy, chewy bread, which was an odd pairing, the juxtaposition of Asian and French cuisines. The baguette itself was delightful, and it held up against sogginess on our way to Bumbershoot, which was a nice bonus. Though, I did not enjoy the mess of saucy onions, most of which ended up outside the sandwich.

My husband had the Roast Leg of Lamb sandwich, which he said was just alright, too. Granted, he's not easily impressed, but he's never met a hot sandwich he didn't love, and this one didn't excite him much. Overall, he gave the sandwich a shoulder shrug, which is actually code for: eh.

On the other hand, however, the truffle fries were really good, though for the sake of being picky, I would've liked just a few more at nearly $5 a pop. But it's a smart upsell item, for sure, as we couldn't pass them up. We also experienced amiable service from the cashier, despite our being there on a holiday. He was surprisingly pleasant, and we got our food relatively fast.

The Baguette Box is not your typical cold cuts deli. Perhaps the great divide between those who love the place and those who hate it is just a matter of personal preference. For me, it's not quite worth the trek for something I'm just not a fan of to begin with.

After an exhaustive search of the Seattle/Bellevue/Lynnwood area for a new couch and loveseat combo, we wearily wandered into Reclinerland, thinking that perhaps, we might find a set that didn't recline. Stranger things have happened.

"Hello, welcome to Reclinerland, where everything we sell reclines!"

"Alright then, we'll see you later!"

And out we walked. Three stars for cutting to the chase and saving us the misery of walking around yet another furniture store that day.

I'm sure if you're into couches that recline, Reclinerland is THE place for you. If only we'd heeded their warning, right in their name! Duh.