This place is not in Madison Park, it's right on the edge of the Central District, Madison Valley, and Capitol Hill. It's really lame that places in this area (such as the condos -- the Summit at Madison Park -- at 22nd and Madison, right near this place) feel the need to identify with Madison Park, which is actually about fifteen blocks away to the east. I say this as someone who's lived in this area for about eight years, and have seen this happen over and over again.

My husband and I celebrated a late valentine's day at Crush. It is one of the most remarkable restaurants in Seattle. The staff was kind and made amazing recommendations. The food was a solid A from our Hamachi appetizer to the losbter gnocchi. Their 5 course chocolate dessert was incredible!

... but the 3 days of gastro-intestinal hell that my dining companion and I endured after not-all-the-way-cooked ribs pretty much means that I shan't be returning to Crush. The doctor confirms it was eColi. Ew! A call to them to let them know about our situation did not even solicit an apology. The food was beautifully presented and the wine list was fab, so it's a shame that the heavy dose of food poisoning hit at such a seemingly great place.

A solid and adequate meal/experience with some pesky details that always seem to dog such establishments. Beautifully prepared sweetbreads with a salad that seemed intriguing on the menu. But, really, does shave celeriac need cold, crumbled bits of bacon that overwhelm the delicacy of the root and recall the charm and sophistication of Bac-Os? Second course was eyebrow-raising in a sort of “why did I bother kind of way.” Just a couple of thoughts. First, is it okay that a plate is warmer than the food? Secondly, when will the fashion for a "pile o' food" stop? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, if I would have wanted to eat some kind of proto-stew I would have ordered the stuff. Please, would someone start reconsidering this distasteful practice? Yet, in a generous moment, I suppose such presentations might be in some folk's best interest. For example, one could imagine that a bland (and cold) paste of some indeterminate starch might be camouflaged as an elegant and thoughtful accompaniment, covered in the dripping blood of a duck breast that was supposed to be pink and NOT BLOODY. As long as I'm asking questions, is it too much to ask that a delightful restaurant experience include someone pouring wine into the guests’ goblet? Seriously. I have this odd notion that if I spend more than a $100 for a bottle of wine, somebody ought to pour the stuff for me and my dining companions. Please? Hmmm…maybe it wasn’t such a good meal afterall.

seriously - every bite was a sorry-i-must-check-out-for-a-minute-and-have-a-moment-of-swooning-joy-to-myself moment. unbelievable. Braised ribs. Braised ribs. Braised ribs. hmmmmmm

It takes real vision to take a nearly century-old dilapidated house in a sketchy neighborhood, gut it to the studs, remodel it with a stunningly modern interior, and open a very high end restaurant across the street from a cheese steak shop and a dive bar. That's exactly what the owners of Crush did, and their vision has become an amazing reality. Now moneyed movers and shakers from Seattle, the east side and beyond converge nightly on this hip little house in this unlikely location. It is simply impossible not to feel sexy in the dining room at Crush. Think Austin Powers crossed with Dwell magazine, with the color saturation dialed down a few notches. Meticulous attention to detail is evident throughout the entire place even before you see the menu. And when the menus arrive, you immediately see that the same vision has been unleashed in the kitchen. The food effortlessly melds timeless classics with utterly contemporary ingredients, techniques and presentations. Prices are high, but the quality and generous portions justify it. Cocktails, like everything, are superb. The service is top notch. Spendy, but worth it.