Poppy Blooms

Despite the saying, Poppy charmed me the fourth time. My friends and I had long-awaited Poppy's opening, from the first false rumors that it would take over Jade Pagoda's spot on Broadway. A good friend works at Kerf, the Ballard store that designed and installed Poppy's controversial cabinetry, tables and chairs. My furniture designing friend came into work on a Saturday to make herself a chair. Jerry Traunfeld, who came in for a consultation that Tuesday, saw and fell in love with her chair, commissioning 100 on the spot. The weeks preceding Poppy's opening were busy times for Kerf. A few months later, I remember giddily texted her news that her chair played a starring role on the cover of Metropolitan Magazine. 

I first walked through Poppy's tall door and sat in those delightful chairs shortly after the September opening. Bugs, his parents and I snacked on the eggplant fries and each ordered the nightly thali. The fries were tasty and coated with sweet honey, but they lacked the crunch and rigidity the name "fry" implies. Biting into them was a soggy experience the first time around, but don't fret; Poppy solved this problem a few months in. Kitchen staff now coat the cut eggplant in a chickpea concoction before cooking. One used to order a thali by selecting two of four main tasting items. Two were vegetarian and two meaty, with one of the meaty options almost invariably seafood. The remaining 8 tastes were the chef's choice, but all vegetarian. Other than a few a la carte items, the only other choice was a "smalli," consisting of one main tasting portion of your choice, and five or six smaller ones.

On a large circular tray, we were each presented with tastes of 10 items in 10 differently sized and shaped earthenware pots. Some were hot, some cold, some hits, some misses. I remember particularly loving a vegetarian fritter of sorts and a melon-mint gaspacho that acted as a palate cleanser. The restaurant was fun in its novelty, but the full thali was overkill. Stuffed to the seams, I told myself I'd get a smalli next time. 

In December of 2008, Lacy and Betty, a vegetarian friend visiting from New York, and I made reservations for a Saturday night with the intent to fill ourselves on Jerry Traunfeld's Indian-inspired food and then hit up a few bars in Ballard. We each ordered a cocktail and dove right into the thalis. Everything on the menu looked so good, but of course it was too much food. Again. I spooned up a delicious pea soup, biting into moist chunks of ham. The same ham floated in Betty's vegetarian thali. Gasp! I stopped our server and asked him if all the side dishes were vegetarian. "Yes, of course," he said brusquely and hurried off before we could point out the obvious presence of meat in the soup. A young man came by to fill up our water, and we pointed out the pork to him as well. He was gracious enough to explain that there was a meaty version and a vegetarian version, apologize for the mix-up, and replace Betty's soup. The water boy saved the day, but Poppy dropped the ball on both vegetarian-friendly cuisine and plain old friendly service.

Though unimpressed with dinner, Lacy desperately wanted to return for a sampling of Dana Cree's desserts. After a girls night at Anchovies and Olives (mediocre with the exception of amazing oysters and geoduck ceviche), we hit up Poppy, snuggling into two seats at the bar. We had both fallen head over heels for St. Germain elderflower liqueur over the holidays and ordered The Elite, a tartly fruity and floral concoction perfect for warming up two thirsty girls on a cold March night. Chowing down on the eggplant fries, we rejoiced in their vastly improved texture. I eagerly ordered the gulab jamun, a staple Indian dessert similar to a round doughnut, something I frequently indulged in during my study-abroad trip to India. Poppy's version sadly disappointed me with its overly dense, cloyingly sweet dough. Sigh. I tasted Lacy's hot dake cake, a vastly better dessert, but nothing I craved in the cold nights to follow. So Leah and I stumbled back to my apartment after a few rounds of overpriced cocktails to snuggle into my couch, put on a movie, and revive our long tradition of sleep-overs, and Poppy and I fell out of touch.

"I need a break," I thought, not sure I'd ever return. I didn't even look her way when Bugs and I walked to his parents' place. I had been there, done that, eaten it and enjoyed it for what it was. I couldn't change her or make her something she wasn't.

Then in the summer, rumors of an expanded menu piqued my interest. It's like I lifted up my eyes to look around me, and there she was, arms open, ready to take me back. Just last week, I dragged Bugs back to Poppy for the most fun Wednesday night I've had in a while. Really, all I had to do was resist my own temptations to order the full thali and secretly compare Traunfeld's dishes to Indian ones. I'd heard from a couple sources that Poppy had expanded their smalli menu, but the website didn't reveal anything of the sort. I finally decided to see for myself, and made a same-day reservation for two. 

The menu now consists of two full thali options: one meaty and one vegetarian. No more of that confusing "pick one of these and pick one of those." Even better, I had the choice of five smallies. I chose one featuring goat cheese stuffed squash blossoms. Bugs commented that their wine list had improved, and I ordered the nightly wine flight to check it out. 

The service was friendly and attentive, but it took us 30 minutes to receive food from the time we sat down, a little long in my book. In the meantime, I slowly sipped on my Paul Ginglinger Wahlenbourg Gewurztraminer, a 2005 Alsatian number, careful to save at least half my glass to pair with food. Since it was actually served at the right temperature (!), the fragrant floral nose bloomed in my glass. I loved the thick syrupy mouth feel and the oxidative nuttiness made me think of a good sherry. Next in the flight, Les Pallieres, a 2008 pinot noir rosé from the Rhone Valey, was served perfectly chilled, had a tart gooseberry nose, a watermelon Jolly Rancher palate, and a deliciously juicy finish. The 2006 Domaines Barons de Rothschild Aussieres Rouge finished out the flight. 

Our smallies arrived just as my stomach started to grumble, and my whole body feasted on the sight of the seven beautiful bites before me. The squash blossoms were amply stuffed, and paired deliciously with the gewurz, but I wished the squash flavor could have shone through a little more. I slurped up a seductively textured carrot lemon-thyme soup, occasionally dipping my potato coriander naan, and devoured a great green rice and ricotta fritter. Poppy definitely knows what to do with fritters. Span peas seasoned with peppermint and sesame were bight and crisp, acting as a palate cleanser between dishes. Though a fancier restaurant would have provided this dish at a specific point between two courses, Poppy lets you choose your pace, nibbling and comparing as you please. It's like breaking an ice pick into the formality of multi-course meals. Though Bugs ate them up early, I saved the pickled cherries with sage and lavender for last, pairing them with the rosé and loving the combined fruit acidity. I sat satisfied and happy in those proud chairs, admiring the airy yellow curtains, exposed brick walls, the way the door cast a shadow of the Poppy logo on the wood entrance. 

And for the meat-lovers out there, Bugs' grilled Wagyu denver steak, the feature of his smalli, was perfect. With all the new options, I'm convinced Poppy has something for everyone.