Mon-Fri noon-2 am; Sat-Sun 1 pm-2 pm.

What's become of Seattle? This used to be a wilderness town, out on the fringes of civilization. Now look at us: conveyor-belt sushi, fondue restaurants, lounges with dual grand pianos. Really? Is that all we get from this "world class" business our city leaders keep yammering about? Sure, if Justin or Britney or any number of millionaire rock stars come swinging through Seattle, it looks like we've got things covered. But what about real people? What if your cousin from Spokane came to town, where would you go then? Or somebody from the Midwest? What if a God-fearing, critter-shooting Michigan patriot like Ted Nugent happened to pay a visit--would you really want to take the Motor City Madman down to the local Cheesecake Factory?

Last year, starving, I stopped at a joint on Phinney Ridge to get a burger and a beer, and while looking up from my newspaper had the weird feeling I'd been there before. It took awhile, but I finally realized why--it reminded me of every scrappy podunk restaurant/tavern my dad and I had stopped at when he took me hunting in Eastern Washington as a kid. The neon beer lights, the pull-tabs, the 1,000-board feet of dark wood paneling... whether you were in Conconully or Kettle Falls--or Seattle--it all said "hunter tavern." As it happened, I'd stumbled upon Ed's Kort Haus Eatery (originally called the Kort Haus Tavern, until the twin forces of an ex-spouse and the state liquor board prompted a name revision), and when you added the Kort Haus' pool tables, the "These colors don't run" postcard behind the bar, and the gun sign in the corner ("Join our pistol club--drink till 12; pistol 2"), it became clear. This is where I'd take a real person in Seattle. This is where Ted Nugent would go.

I envisioned our meeting. I'd be hanging out, reading my paper--no wait, playing pool, yeah, that's it--and in would walk Ted Nugent, the Ten Fingers of Doom, and I'd be like, "Hey Nuge, how's it hanging?" and he'd be like, "Just a little to the left," or something funny like that. I'd buy him a drink, and we'd be talking about hunting and stuff, and I'd say, "Hey Nuge, what sorta gun did you use to bag that one bull elk?" Nuge would get all serious and look at me with those steely hunter eyes and say, "Rifles are for pussies, man. I took it down with my Renegade NugeBow, like God intended." Sweet.

The Nuge is serious about hunting, and he's serious about eating game, to the point that he and his wife, Shemane, wrote a cookbook a couple years back called Kill It and Grill It: A Guide to Preparing and Cooking Wild Game and Fish. Which is why I know he'd be all about going to the Kort Haus. See, in addition to those standard pussy burgers you see everywhere, the Kort Haus has hamburgers made from real animals, like antelope, buffalo, elk, reindeer... they've even got the Nuge's favorite meat, venison ("There's no better, more delicious protein in the world than venison," he told the National Review). The burgers run from $9 to $12, and they definitely aren't fast food, but, to quote my Uncle Bob, another hardcore hunter, "they ain't too shabby." One word of advice: If you want to see what all the fuss is about taste-wise, don't load too many condiments onto your fine fried friend, as the meat's real lean and the flavor is easily overwhelmed with too much ketchup.

To be sure, the Seattle-dwelling Kort Haus has softer edges than your average hunter tavern: It's well lit, it's clean, the menu has plenty of vegetarian options, and the closest thing to taxidermy you'll find is a J...germeister stuffed toy deer trophy hanging over the bar. And while it's true that the Nuge is an outspoken critic of smoking and drinking, two popular Kort Haus activities, I'll bet if he were somehow captured, tagged with a transponder, and released in Seattle, he'd eventually migrate up to Phinney Ridge. After all, with the Kort Haus' venison and elk burgers, and 116 Ted Nugent songs on the jukebox, it's practically his natural habitat.