“The steak was Platonic perfection, tender and melty and red in the middle, dissolving magically at the merest intimation of masticatory pressure.” Jaya Nicely
Every single person I talked to before my first trip to Dimitriou’s Jazz Alley had two responses:
1. “How can a music lover who has lived in Seattle for 25 years have never been to Jazz Alley before? What the hell is wrong with you?”
I have no excuse. I’ve always meant to go, even planned to go several times, but somehow always found a way to blow it. Yes, it’s expensive, and, no, I’m not a jazz aficionado, but those aren’t the real issue. If my quarter century as a Seattleite has taught me anything, it’s how to bail on plans with no good excuse.
