Aspirational Vegetarian

Cafe Flora was born of a utopian dream. It was to be—according
to the harmonious views of three Madison
Valley friends—the
perfect restaurant: community based, using local and organic
ingredients whenever possible, and fully, ambitiously vegetarian. Upon
opening in October 1991, Cafe Flora quickly established itself as the
Seattle destination for upscale meat-free cuisine—not haute, but
a dining experience offering the culinary refinement and light
extravagance of, say, a Tom Douglas restaurant.

For the next 17 years, Flora stuck to its winning formula, a key
component of which was an eagerness to please all who entered. For
vegetarians, Flora aspired to be heaven on earth, presenting rigorously
ethical, ecofriendly cuisine that was good enough to inspire lust.
(Flora harnesses the power of salt, cheese, cream sauces, and the deep
fryer in ways more pious vegetarian joints—Carmelita,
Sutra—do not, while also maintaining a roster of vegan and
gluten-free items.) For carnivores, Flora aimed for much the same,
typically achieving something less than lust and more like willingness
to join vegetarian friends on their Flora adventures (which is more
than
99 percent of vegetarian restaurants can claim). The end
result: a one-of-a-kind experience for vegetarians and those who love
them, repeated daily with no major changes for a decade and a half.

This stasis was given a kick in the pants last August, when Cafe
Flora ownership passed from the departing David Foecke to
then–general manager Nat Stratton-Clarke, who announced the
forthcoming renovation of the dining room (the garden atrium would
remain as-is) and Flora’s recommitment to vegetarian cuisine “Our
Guests Will Rave About” (per the menu).

The Flora 2.0 dining room is an improvement, with the early-’90s
time capsule (clunky banquettes, bad upholstery, and a general feeling
of being trapped in a Nagel print) replaced by a tidy new simplicity.
But it isn’t quite simple enough. Scattered around the otherwise
stripped-down room is a wealth of rustic/rural chic—a decor trend
that’s already seen its 16th minute—including a stretch of
white-picket fence, a metal farm-gate cordoning off the bar, the rusty
head of a pickax, and a weathered watering can. It’s meant to symbolize
Flora’s intimate relations with a host of Northwest farms, but it looks
cluttered and goofy, like the set of a farm-themed children’s
television show. It wouldn’t be difficult to fix, requiring just a
purge of knickknacks to leave the clean essentials: simple wooden
chairs and tables, a concrete floor, a bright wall of windows.

The menu, meanwhile, looks much as it always has, featuring Flora’s
never-say-die standards (the famous Oaxaca tacos and portobello
Wellington) along with a variety of seasonally inspired vegetable
raviolis, farros, and risottos conceived by executive chef Janine Doran. At dinner in the garden atrium
(which, as you can guess, is awash in literal flora), I started with
the fried avocado ($7), sliced and battered in a crispy spiced
cornmeal, served with cayenne aioli and papaya chutney. It was, in
essence, a high-concept vegan spin on fried cheese, and it was
delicious, in that
totally-vegetarian-but-that-doesn’t-mean-it’s-good-for-you way that’s
one of Flora’s best strengths. For an entrée, I ordered the
spring mint pea and porcini risotto ($17.50), a seasonal dish and a
typical Flora experiment, wherein inspired components (a grilled
portabellini mushroom stuffed with a dazzling fresh-mint-pea mash)
rubbed up against the mundane or worse (the risotto itself, a bland,
uncreamy Arborio-rice concoction that was thoroughly dull). My friend
fared better with the tried-and-true Oaxaca tacos ($15). These roasted
corn tortillas filled with
cheddar-and-smoky-mozzarella-
cheese-infused mashed potatoes and
drizzled with lime crème fraîche achieve a state of full
indulgence that’s blown the minds of vegetarians for nearly two
decades, and they had a similar effect on my carnivorous partner, who
also praised the fresh pico de gallo and
feta-spiked black-bean
stew that’s forever accompanied the dish.

A couple of lunch visits played out in much the same manner: some
fresh awesomeness, another less-than-completely-successful seasonal
excursion, more reliable standards. I’d never had Flora’s French dip
($12) before: The meat is played by strips of portobello mushroom
(garnished with caramelized onion and Swiss cheese), the jus is
a roasted garlic–mushroom broth, and the results are amazing. The
mushroom is smoky, the jus is appropriately salty, and the bread is
perfect—an herbed baguette from Columbia City Bakery with a dense
layer of poppy seeds on its crust and the sturdiness to withstand a
good soaking and still offer a fight. It’s the finest veggie
French dip I’ve ever had, with its broth-soaked roll exploding with
flavor in that perfectly narcotic French-dip way. But artichoke
croquettes ($14 for two) were ultimately unrewarding. While they did a
good job of approximating crab cakes, everything on the plate
(including some sadly overcooked Dykstra Farm asparagus spears)
ultimately sunk into mushiness. Two other dishes were just fine, just
like they’re just fine at almost any Mexican or Thai restaurant: huevos
Francisco (corn tortillas, black-bean stew, over-medium eggs, and more
of that excellent pico de gallo, $10) and deep-fried coconut tofu with
sweet chili sauce ($8).

My most recent lunch visit was marked by unfortunately lousy
service, with starters and entrées landing at the same time from
a waiter we had to bug for basics. The prices are not cheap, and
sometimes-unspectacular food and occasional poor service can tip the
scales from “worth it” to “maybe not.” Cafe Flora remains a worthy
laboratory for ambitious vegetarian cuisine, but no one will blame you
if you use this Seattle landmark only as an upscale Oaxaca-taco
stand.

This story has been updated since its original publication.