Fish Wednesday: Perfect Seattle Thursday Edition

I tell people that when Seattle is nice, there is no place on the planet I would rather be. I am not lying, exaggerating, or using hyperbole, it is 100% true. When the days get long, when the sky gets that backlit blue in the evenings, when the cold edge comes off the air and is replaced by something salty and floral and earthy all that the same time, that is when you realize that Seattle is, at that perfect moment, the best place in the world.

This afternoon, I had a lunch date downtown at the Four Seasons because really, I am a very lucky person. Because the day was bright and breezy, J’s suggestion that I take the water taxi was spot on.  It’s three dollars for the 15 minute buzz across Elliott Bay — the views are splendid, to the south you see Mt. Rainier, to the west, the Olympics, and to the northeast, the downtown skyline. The bay is full of barges and ferries and tour boats and big industrial tankers and container ships and day trippers on pleasure craft. I stood at the rail snapping photos while little kids squealed and made their moms nervous, while couples smooched on the benches, while a Japanese tourist shot lots of video of herself and everything around her.

I arrived a little early so I stopped in at the Tully’s on the Harbor Steps. The nice folks there were having a spirited conversation about transit, which I joined — about our lack of trolleys and streetcars, to be specific. “How long have you been in Seattle?” I asked the young man with the dyed black hair. His response: Five years. “Ah, you still have optimism about our transportation issues!” I said, in my jaded, old timer’s voice. I went back to minding my own business. The cafe filled up with Israeli women carrying shopping bags. They were knockouts, the women, not the shopping bags, bare arms and boots, they looked like they’d kick your ass and you’d thank them for it. They chattered in bossy Hebrew; I regretted that I’ve forgotten all of mine — Hebrew, not bossiness, that’s totally in tact.

Caffeinated, I walked around the corner to the Four Seasons where I met my date at ART, the swank new(ish) restaurant in the hotel. Meg does PR for the place, she’s invited me to come in before but for various reasons (including an unfortunate incident involving house keys and pouring rain) I’ve been unable to take her up on it.

Today was no consolation prize, the chef is rolling out their copper river salmon menu and I got to take it for a test drive. On my plate? Four kinds of salmony goodness. First, salmon chowder, rich with whole cream. Yum. Next, a salmon pastrami, heavily smoked with a little bit of a spicy bite. Also yum. Next to that, a simply cooked piece of salmon on top of a corn pancake. I cook a lot of fish, as you might know, I thought this was a little overdone. Finally, a sweet Copper River cheesecake. This made my brain seize a little, cheesecake sounds like a dessert and the topping was sweet, but the “cake” was not, it was mild and fluffy, more of a mousse than a dense cheesecake. I rather liked it, but I wanted to spread it on a water cracker or a bit of bread to cut the richness.

The room was lovely, we watched the ferry traffic come and go, some lunching ladies exchanged gifts at their window table, and the staff gave me all the right answers when I badgered asked about whether they bought their seafood from sustainable sources. (Those answers are, in case you’re wondering, “I don’t know but I can ask the chef.” and “Absolutely.”) ART is a splurge, the lunch I had is 22 dollars, but that’s not a surprise, it’s the Four Seasons and it’s a special event kind of place. FYI, Copper River salmon is seasonal, expensive, and worth it, it’s delicious stuff, so if you’re feeling splashy, make tracks, the season won’t last.

Feeling full and more than a little bit spoiled, I headed back to the waterfront to catch the ferry. With about 20 minutes to wait, I stopped in the souvenir shops to look at the Washington State Ferry salt and pepper shakers, the Obama nesting dolls, shot glasses with a little model of the Space Needle inside them, and T-shirts that reference pop culture — Gray’s Anatomy and Twilight and huh, that’s a big cutout of Dwight from The Office, he’s a Seattle boy, I guess. A young family with tattoos, piercings, and three kids weaved inbetween different flavored tourists, Chinese couples taking pictures, retired guys in windbreakers commenting on the shipping traffic, and school bus loads of field tripping fourth graders.

As we pulled away from the pier, a Washington State car ferry and an Argosy tour boat waited for us to clear the way. I watched the downtown skyline widen, the Space Needle to the north, the stadiums to the south. Behind the loading cranes, the great white dome of Mt. Rainier was even more sharp against the sky then it had been earlier that day. “What a great day!” said the guy next to me on the boat, unhooking his bike helmet and stowing it in his backpack. “You said it.” I replied.