With its plum-stained walls, soft velvet couches, candle-lit bar, occasional live piano performances, lazy ceiling fan, and smart downbeat electronic dub humming in the overhead speakers, the opium-den-vibed Capitol Club is for sure the grown-up destination on Pine Street's row of rock-kid haunts. So it's not exactly the place you'd expect to find the ultimate kid's meal.

For those who scoff at the idea that an urban elitist joint like the Capitol Club--menu items here include braised lamb shank and butternut ravioli--could possibly outdo such Joe Public places as Red Mill, Red Robin, and Dick's as Seattle's burger mecca, I challenge you to give up your pseudo-populist pretensions and spend the money ($12) on this standard treat.

The Capitol Club's hefty organic Kobe beef burger--secreted away near the bottom of the menu--comes with a huge dollop of roasted-pepper relish and a colorful array of vegetable-root chips, and is served perfectly charred: Enticing charcoal scalds flavor the first bites, with treasure chests of juice warming you as you go. Plus, fresh roma tomato slices, onions, and lettuce, all on a toasted sesame bun. I like to savor the light bun, which ends up lightly doused in burger grease. It's not a messy affair, though. You remain a certified adult as you eat it up amidst the fancy setting (well-groomed waiters, model-tall waitresses in lovely dresses) with the secret knowledge that you may as well be a kid wolfing down a piece of pizza. (I use the relish for the chips, but I think it's intended for the burger.)

The Capitol Club should acknowledge what they've got going and add a malted vanilla milkshake to the menu--to be served exclusively with the burger--but, in the meantime, a Johnny Walker Black, with its charcoal bite, is a perfect finish to the charred flavors of the Capitol Club's divine kid's meal.