Next to me at the stop light. A flatbed filled with crushed cars…

Lysdexic signmakers at the local Snoqualmie Gas Station…

Live Blogging:

At the new Woodman Lodge in Snoqualmie. It appears they are trying for Aspen chic… Not sure it’s really working….

Aftermath:

That term is very apropos.  This wasn’t a meal, this was a Disaster. More to follow after I finish eating my microwave dinner.

Done with my horrible microwave dinner.  Still, it was better than what we got from the Woodman Lodge.

First, we noticed there was no actual parking lot.  I guess you could park at the train museum and walk over though.  Many people were parking in the residential neighborhood behind the restaurant and walking.

We entered to find a rustic/chic lodge style restaurant featuring two levels with a large bar and player piano downstairs.  On a whim, we chose upstairs.  We were rewarded with views of the dilapidated houses that are within feet of the building.

We were seated in the middle of a large open room with stuffed game animals hanging on the walls and jammed into every corner.  I counted at least 10 waiters shoehorned into the corner of the room completely blocking every single patron that was attempting to go to (and return from) the washroom strangely located directly behind their station.

The menu was printed on the paper placemats, and a winelist was nowhere to be found.  We ordered an appetizer that was described as grilled artichoke served with sauce.  We also ordered the Buffalo burgers - the main reason we decided to go.

The waitress showed up 15 minutes later to say the restaurant was all out of buffalo burgers and would we like regular beef.  We grudgingly accepted.  About 10 minutes later our appetizer arrived.  It was half of an anemic artichoke (nowhere on the menu did it say half), so poorly cooked that most of the leaf was rubbery leaving only the very tips soft enough to even scrape off and eat.

And then the wait began.  We waited.  And waited. Little things started to catch our attention.  The waitress brought out condiments in small china bowls - a nice touch.  Except the mustard was plain generic Frenches.  How hard would it of been to get a textured stone ground mustard to go nicely with that 40 dollar dinner entree?  The plain yellow mustard already had a hard dry cap on it from sitting around what we guessed for was most of the day.

Finally, our waitress stopped by to say our order was coming up shortly.  But then we waited some more.  We flagged her down and asked her about the order.  Her reply was, “It went so smoothly last night.”  We waited again, even longer.

Sarah started noticing people who showed up after us getting their orders, including burgers.  I finally asked our waitress to please find out when our order will be ready.  I saw her go down the back stairs to what I assumed was the kitchen.  She popped up five minutes later but appeared to hide in the hallway that led to the washrooms.  I walked up to her and asked her what she found out.  She replied that she couldn’t get the cooks attention.

Well, she had my full attention.  I informed her we were leaving and asked for the check for the artichoke.  She at least offered to let the house handle the appetizer and apologized.  I gave her a quick thank you and Sarah and I left.

We were expecting so much more.  Especially after Sarah bumped into a waitress in training a couple weeks back that told us the owner had flown in a professional trainer from California to train the staff.  In the end the staff came off as very well dressed, if not overdressed, but their performance was extremely amateur and unpracticed.  The menu was very light, with outrageous prices for generic non-standout steakhouse items.  Although the interior was trying for something like Northwest chic, and the gorgeous bar certainly did help, the upstairs with the over abundance of stuffed animals approached a near parody of itself.

We may give the Lodge a try again in a couple months, but it’s definitely at the bottom of our list for places to eat in the area.

All of these objects are held in the same curio.  The violin on display, admired but never played. (Sarah, at least, attempted).  The lighters hidden away in the place I call my tobacco drawer.  My owning them a slight embarrassment. My fascination with them I’ve only seen shared by white trash trailer types.

My urge to tell you about each one only strengthens my embarrassment.  From left to right: Brass, hand aged by myself bearing the engraving “Fitzwilliam Darcy”.  Second, brushed metal, hastily bought on impulse.  Third, antique brass scrollwork, found on eBay, being sold by a christian youth organization.  Fourth, a Zippo armor model, chromed, heavier than the others. Lastly, one lost, then found several times, age unsure- started out as a normal zippo, but several accidental washes left it with a unique aged look.

I line them up.  Admire them.  Take a picture…

Today, I had a brief flash of concern when I left the book I was reading cracked open and went into the other room….

I was worried I would drain the battery…