Every once in a while all of the forces of the universe come together to allow for a perfect day. They don't come around too often so they are to be savored. The trick is to recognize the perfect day before it gets by you undetected. I recently experienced such a day.
C.J. and I finally had a day off together and we decided to do something we hadn't done in several weeks. We were going into that urban environment known as the city of Seattle. We agreed to get up fairly early and get into the Ballard area to have breakfast. But where to go? To answer this question I got online and looked for a place that served "Seattle's best breakfast". As you might expect, several choices were quickly displayed but only a few were located in Ballard. After reading the descriptions and reviews we decided on a place called "Hattie's Hat" that was said to have pancakes to die for.
We got into Ballard and quickly found the object of our quest but it was soon clear that it was not going to be that easy. There was no place to park. We drove around for about 20 minutes looking for an empty space but there just was none. So, calling upon our sailor days, we commenced an expanding square search pattern for the elusive parking spot. We found one several blocks away, parked and headed out for Hattie's, both with hearty appetites in tow. About a block from where we parked we saw a place called "Senor Moose" and I remembered that it too was on the best of list. Ten minutes later found us standing in front of Hatie's. It was closed and would not open for a couple of hours. Remembering "Senor Moose" I asked C.J. how she felt about Mexican food for breakfast. She said sounded good to her so we retraced our steps and were soon standing outside "Senor Moose" looking at the menu posted in the window. One last look at each other and in we went.
We opted to sit at the counter instead of a booth. The booths were located in a separate room away from the kitchen. We both enjoy watching the grill action. After sitting down on my stool I took a look around. The window immediately above the front door was broken. The business license was hanging at an angle from a nail in the wall. There were 3 clocks on the same wall, only one of which was ticking. A large garish painting of the Madonna was placed on the wall to the right of the grill. A tee-shirt was hanging to the right of the Madonna. The shirt had a picture of 5 moose sitting at a cafe counter. The center moose had fallen off on his stool and was laying on his back on the floor. The caption read "moose dropping". This was definitely my kind of place.
We were immediately approached by an employee asking if we would like coffee. Si, cafe negra para mi e por mi esposa, cafe con leche por favor. That's what I said in my mind, but to the waiter, I said, yes please. We looked at the menu for a few minutes while continuing to take in the ambiance of the place. C.J. asked the only female employee (the supervisor I think) what she would recommend. Then I made my choice and as it turns out we choose the same thing. Divine intervention or just coincidence, you decide. The food was excellent and very much authentic Mexican, not Mexican-American. The coffee was hot, strong and flavorful. Plus we had great fun watching the 4 cooks, none of which could speak English. Two of them we think were brothers and it was clear that all of them enjoyed what they were doing. We lingered over coffee for quite awhile not really wanting to leave and have the experience end. But of course it did have to end and we left both looking forward to a return visit.
C.J. and I finally had a day off together and we decided to do something we hadn't done in several weeks. We were going into that urban environment known as the city of Seattle. We agreed to get up fairly early and get into the Ballard area to have breakfast. But where to go? To answer this question I got online and looked for a place that served "Seattle's best breakfast". As you might expect, several choices were quickly displayed but only a few were located in Ballard. After reading the descriptions and reviews we decided on a place called "Hattie's Hat" that was said to have pancakes to die for.
We got into Ballard and quickly found the object of our quest but it was soon clear that it was not going to be that easy. There was no place to park. We drove around for about 20 minutes looking for an empty space but there just was none. So, calling upon our sailor days, we commenced an expanding square search pattern for the elusive parking spot. We found one several blocks away, parked and headed out for Hattie's, both with hearty appetites in tow. About a block from where we parked we saw a place called "Senor Moose" and I remembered that it too was on the best of list. Ten minutes later found us standing in front of Hatie's. It was closed and would not open for a couple of hours. Remembering "Senor Moose" I asked C.J. how she felt about Mexican food for breakfast. She said sounded good to her so we retraced our steps and were soon standing outside "Senor Moose" looking at the menu posted in the window. One last look at each other and in we went.
We opted to sit at the counter instead of a booth. The booths were located in a separate room away from the kitchen. We both enjoy watching the grill action. After sitting down on my stool I took a look around. The window immediately above the front door was broken. The business license was hanging at an angle from a nail in the wall. There were 3 clocks on the same wall, only one of which was ticking. A large garish painting of the Madonna was placed on the wall to the right of the grill. A tee-shirt was hanging to the right of the Madonna. The shirt had a picture of 5 moose sitting at a cafe counter. The center moose had fallen off on his stool and was laying on his back on the floor. The caption read "moose dropping". This was definitely my kind of place.
We were immediately approached by an employee asking if we would like coffee. Si, cafe negra para mi e por mi esposa, cafe con leche por favor. That's what I said in my mind, but to the waiter, I said, yes please. We looked at the menu for a few minutes while continuing to take in the ambiance of the place. C.J. asked the only female employee (the supervisor I think) what she would recommend. Then I made my choice and as it turns out we choose the same thing. Divine intervention or just coincidence, you decide. The food was excellent and very much authentic Mexican, not Mexican-American. The coffee was hot, strong and flavorful. Plus we had great fun watching the 4 cooks, none of which could speak English. Two of them we think were brothers and it was clear that all of them enjoyed what they were doing. We lingered over coffee for quite awhile not really wanting to leave and have the experience end. But of course it did have to end and we left both looking forward to a return visit.
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