Walking into the Bear and the Bee (2211 Second Ave, 441-7255) is a little like taking a day trip to Portland. The decor is unmistakably Portlandish: reclaimed wood from front to back, gallons of retro beige paint, and artwork so quaint it's a merry-go-round of intent. Are those framed collages supposed to be so-bad-it's-good? Is that giant mural of a Dagwood sandwich topped by a Seahawks "12" flag sincere or kitschy or, in some quantum state of possibility, living in a simultaneous state of sincere kitschery? Hell, on the rainy afternoon I visited, two young bearded white dudes wearing plaid flannel sat in the window seats. I had to gawk at them for a moment to ensure they were living beings and not mannequins amping up the vibe.

Nothing about the Bear and the Bee seemed Seattle-y. The counter service, for example, was almost impossibly friendly; I didn't once question whether my cashier loathed me for simply existing. And not to belabor this, but one cannot overemphasize all the burnished wood, up to and including the adorable little wooden trash can in the bathroom. It's a termite's wet dream.

Perhaps my natural discomfort with all the whimsy is what inspired me to go conservative with my order. I went with a Milan-Torino ($9.50), a mix of soppressata and capocollo from Zoe's Meats topped with provolone, peperoncini, and oil and vinegar. This is about as basic a sandwich as you can get, and on the side I got Kettle chips ($2) and a mud cookie ($1.50).

The sandwich was fine, stacked thickly with good meat. I liked the vinegary kick of the peperoncini, and there was just enough oil and vinegar to balance the flavors out (the goal with dressing on a sandwich is lubrication, not domination). But the toasty warm bread from Grand Central Bakery just seemed wrong, somehow; the roll was light and fluffy when it should have been denser and more distinguished. That mud cookie, though, is exactly right: chocolate, cocoa powder, and caramel combined to jazz up a traditional chocolate chip cookie into something lively and complex.

The cookie was so delicious, in fact, that it convinced me I screwed up my entire order. Rather than sticking with the traditional, I should've leaned into the Bear and the Bee's whimsy and ordered the carb-tastic open-faced smashed potato sandwich with gouda, leeks, and chives ($8.50) and the shaved brussels sprouts salad with roasted carrots, walnuts, and poppy seed dressing ($7). Like the end of any trip to Portland, I left the Bear and the Bee realizing I spent too much time focusing on the inherent ridiculousness of it all, and not enough time enjoying its distinctive pleasures. recommended