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The 10 Most Confusing Restaurants in Seattle

If you’ve been confounded in these joints, you’re so not alone.

See all the pretty rooms at MistralKitchen? Some are more expensive than others…

Image: Facebook

Hey—they’re chefs, not logistics phD’s. Just make us dinner and all is forgiven.

TanakaSan/Assembly Hall/Home Remedy Triangle: I’ve been to this delish one-stop grocery-restaurant-coffee-shop-juice-bar-florist a dozen times and still can’t tell the waiting areas from the lobbies from the café seats from the chairs for sale…and do I have to check in with a host? And what goes on in that loft?

Macrina: Stunning pastries; super chaotic line setup—is this the line for paying? For ordering? Is this a line at all? And why am I giving my order twice?

Canlis: Mysteries abound. How do I enter the parking lot without getting rear-ended on Aurora? And how did that valet remember my car without a claim ticket?   

The Pink Door: So it’s behind a door. A pink one.

The Staple and Fancy/Walrus and Carpenter/Chippy’s Triangle: The most visible signs in front of this high-profile trifecta read “Kolstrand Mfg. Co.” and “Marine Hardware.” OK…right…there’s the sign for Walrus and Carpenter—right in front of Chippy’s. Whose most visible sign just says FISH.

Tsukushinbo: The Japantown hole-in-the-wall has no sign at all. (Hint: It’s on Main, between a design shop and the Kubota Building.) Makes the Pink Door look lit up with flashing strobes.

MistralKitchen: Many’s the diner who thought they were going for a normal dinner at this beautiful multi-chambered restaurant—and somehow wound up with the ka-ching special in the prix-fixe Jewel Box or, gaaaaah, Chef’s Table. Know where you’re agreeing to sit.

 

 











Kathryn Robinson
Kathryn Robinson
Senior Writer Seattle native Kathryn Robinson, award-winning restaurant critic and senior writer at Seattle Met, has been anonymously reviewing restaurants for over 30 years—first as editor of the Best Places guidebook series, then as staff critic at Seattle Weekly and contributing critic at The Seattle Times and Seattle magazine.  Midcareer she spent a year-long sabbatical studying comparative religion as a Knight Fellow at Stanford University where she had been an undergrad 10 years earlier, gaining a knowledge base she now calls upon for her monthly “Back Fence” column on our collective urban existence and the meaning it holds for our personal lives. In her off hours she is a partner and a parent—which means she has no off hours.