Warning: The Surgeon General has determined that cigarette smoking does some bad shit. But the great thing about this place is that it’s just a short hop on I-90 from either direction, an easy rendezvous point for lunch, dinner, or brews with your pals from the other side of the lake. Oh yes, and great comfort food, from burgers and pizza to nacho platters and house dinner specials every weeknight. The Roanoke Inn on Mercer Island (1825 72nd SE, 232-0800) has it all: historic digs nestled into a quiet suburban enclave that give it that hideaway feel a cozy barroom filled with beer memorabilia and locals who defy the Mercedes Island stereotype tables on the covered porch or outside for sunny days, a fireplace inside for chilly ones. And the happy-hour pitcher prices can’t be beat. Weekends tend to draw a more rowdy collegiate crowd, but school nights limit the clientele to a motley mix of mods, rockers, and mockers of varying degrees.
Linda’s jukebox plays a solid selection, and a DJ may show up and spin anything from punk to classic rock to nouveau chic.
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If you’re not of a microbrew persuasion, Rainier flows from the tap, and there’s a full bar if you fancy the hard stuff. Thanks to an awning and a coupla well-placed heat lamps, you and yours can enjoy a jovial pitcher no matter how nasty it is outside. The Capitol Hill equivalent of Old Faithful, Linda’s Tavern (707 E Pine, 325-1220) can’t be beat when the weather turns sour. The Bukowski barfly in all of us lives more vibrantly than our inner child and begs more insistently to be let out. The bleached blonde cocktail waitress and the Chinese bartender argue over the only piece of literature in the vicinity: a Little Nickel paper. May is sporting a horrible green and pink bikini. The calendar is open, mysteriously, to May, and Ms. The lights from passing cars cast shadows across the crowd’s bloodshot eyes. At the corner table a pair of transvestites, glorious and in their element, chain-smoke Capris. The drinks come stiff and strong the OJ in the screwdrivers is so minimal that the drink is nearly colorless. The jukebox offers familiar hits from the ’80s-Journey, Cheap Trick, Foreigner, and some Asia if you’re lucky. Shoddily stapled corkboard passes for wall treatments, seriously ambiguous deities reduced to papier m⣨頲enderings adorn the yellow-lit walls, a hipster is passed out in the corner.
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Although the theater’s location, in a converted parking garage, does lack atmosphere, and the bar staff are occasionally a bit haphazard, the Capitol Hill fringe theater wins hands-down for its playful decor along with two bar specialties unavailable at any other theater bar (or perhaps any other bar in the Western hemisphere): frozen Snicker bars and the infamous “Zone Cocktail,” a delicious, glowing blue drink named after the Schmee’s popular late-night series “Twilight Zone Live on Stage.” Two or three of these, and you may indeed feel like Rod Serling is narrating your life circumstances.īehold the wonder of the Mandarin Room (Moon Temple Restaurant, 2108 N 45th, 633-4280). But it’s to small scrappy Theater Schmeater (1500 Summit, 324-5801) that the prize must go.
Other larger theaters have hopelessly crowded bars (the Paramount and Rep) or, even worse, feature scattered little “drink kiosks,” like ACT and the 5th Avenue. Of the Equity mainstages, Intiman wins hands down, with courteous (and generous!) bar staff and lots of padded couches on both the balcony and lower stories.
While Washington’s arcane liquor laws mean that it’s not always possible to get a real drink at all venues and some spaces are limited to wine and beer, all of the major theaters (with the reasonable exception of the Seattle Children’s Theater) sport some kind of bar.
The wise audience member knows that alcohol makes good theater better and bad theater bearable.
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The windows have velvet curtains that can be pulled in the event of the reinstatement of Prohibition, the menu includes good tapas to soak up the martinis, and a lovely little outdoor seating area steps-side can make a sunny happy hour (with drink specials from 5 to 7) pretty damn happy. It’s intimate and dim, with the bar glowing ever so invitingly and dapper, sweet bartenders at your service (other restaurant people hang out here, so you know they make good drinks). The Zig Zag is tucked in the zig of the Pike Place Hillclimb, right by El Puerco Lloron (another place you should know about if you don’t already), and thus suffers no irritating car traffic noise. The Zig Zag Caf頨1501 Western, 625-1146) is the spot to slink into after (or during) work to ease your occupational and/or existential pain with a few strong and perfectly mixed cocktails.
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