Traveling Feast

While I should probably reserve judgment until after downing an Ichiroll, my second visit to Safeco Field was marked by the discovery of a new personal favorite:  the Ivardog.

In honor of my Grandpa Peterson, I am working hard to develop a deeper appreciation for baseball strategy and statistics.  But the honest truth is that my orientation toward all things edible insured that the most memorable part of both recent trips to Safeco was the hunt for the best stadium food.  On my first visit earlier this year we knocked off the Garlic Fries, the deep fried mushrooms, and a monsterous plate of nachos.  The verdict: (1) overrated, (2) decent, (3)  too many colors not found in the natural world.

This trip my daughter Megan opted for the clam chowder and I spotted a relatively-reasonably-priced menu item called the Ivardog ($5.75).  In a departure from ballpark norms, it promised actual shredded cabbage in addition to something deep-fried on the bun.  Perfect: I could count it as a salad for the day.

It also turned out to be quite good.  Visit three to Mariner World will require some sushi sampling, but chances are I’ll also find some flimsy excuse like a double play to celebrate with another Ivardog.

Food Service Typos #3 and #4

I almost hate to post these for fear that the next printing of Ginger’s menu will remove them, and a great typo can be such a source of delight.  I should also add that there is no correlation at Ginger between the food and the occasional menu hiccups.  All the food to date has been excellent, but even the best food rarely makes me chuckle.  Certain typos do.

“Ceviche” isn’t the easiest word to spell, and an internet search suggests that “cevice” has almost become an alternate spelling.   But those dang collective singulars like “shrimp” will kill you.  Then there is the “slice baby vegetable” and the random exclamation points included throughout! the menu with no! discernible pattern.

“Chom Mein” sounds like it could be a soft noodle dish designed for anyone who forgot to bring their dentures.

Yet rather than face the accusation that all I documented photographically at Ginger were typos, let me also include a shot of a stellar roll: the Black Jack ($12).  Inside is spicy tuna and crab.  On top is  it albacore and (as you might observe) quite a bit of creativity that included shaved radish, slivered scallions, and sesame seeds.  The light vinaigrette on the plate added another unexpected and welcome note to the dish.

Cravings can get out of hand.  I don’t smoke, so a hit of nicotine isn’t the the stuff of fantasy for me.  Food is, and in a surprising number of cases, that food is raw fish.  This might sound a bit odd for a Montana boy raised on meat (well-done) and potatoes (mostly mashed).  Yet within weeks of my first taste of sushi at a Belltown sushi bar in Seattle, I wanted more… and wanted it in a bad way.

This past Friday it wasn’t technically a sushi craving, but an overwhelming need for a close Hawaiian relative: poké.  Poké (pronounced po-KHAY) is made up of bite-sized pieces of raw fish served with a variety of simple seasonings or a light sauce.  Okané up on the South Hill in Spokane has decent version, but the one that I couldn’t get out of my mind Friday was Ian Wingate’s rendition at Moxie.  It is sweeter than some and unusual in that Wingate adds with Macadamia nuts.  It is worth trying even if you are extremely suspicious of raw fish.

Served with a scallion oil, a balsamic reduction, wasabi mayo, and pickled ginger on the side, Moxie’s poké is addictive.  I phoned a friend just before I caved in, and asked if he could join me.  He groaned: “I’m in Moses Lake all day.  Can you wait?”  I couldn’t.

But I’ll be ready for another hit as soon as he is back in town.