The Tin Table is up the creaky, wide, wooden stairs in Odd Fellows
Hall on Capitol Hill. (The door is by Molly Moon’s; to get there,
follow the waffle-cone fumes.) At the top of the stairs, on the left,
is the tatty grandeur of the Century Ballroom, where couples teleported
from the past salsa or swing dance with varying degrees of assurance.
If you can watch this for a few moments without being seized by a
powerful emotion—a chest-compressing nostalgia, regardless of
your own ballroom history—you, my friend, have a heart of
stone.
People in the hall carry sneakers by their tied-together laces,
having put on their dancing shoes. To the right, on the way to the Tin
Table, is another doorway, different music, more couples moving in and
out of view. And inside the Tin Table, frequent flurries of rhythmic
clomping may be heard overhead; there’s dancing upstairs, too. The
barkeep says patrons sometimes complain. Such people should go
somewhere silent and stay there. They would not be missed.
The Tin Table has a sparkling, see-through wall of antique stemware
lined up on shelves, glassed in and glowing; on the other side is a
lounge with room for two pairs, one threesome, and a few tiny tables to
cram with food and drinks. The rest of the place—it’s not
large—uses a wooden-joist ceiling and exposed brick to good
effect. It has the dim, private appeal of the Alibi Room (though that’s
underneath Pike Place Market, whereas this is hidden on a second
floor). The bar, where people tend to eat as well as drink, is topped
with weathered steel salvaged from one of the building’s old fire
doors, and so is the nominal table: a big square one for parties or
communal seating. A few more tables hide around a corner. Then candles,
a couple pieces of art, and there you have it.
The chef is Bo Maisano, who cooked at 1200 Bistro (a great dinner
there lodged his name in my mind), then has been at the Madison Park
Cafe (mostly known for brunch). The menu has a little bit of
everything: pasta, fish tacos, a pulled-pork sandwich with fennel slaw
(the latter as yet untested, but a good bet: Maisano’s from New
Orleans, and a few more Southern dishes would not be at all amiss). The
uniting principle: extremely noteworthy value, with snacks and
vegetable selections averaging around $7, and entrée-sized “Sea”
and “Range” dishes from $7 to $15. These prices are akin to
neighborhood favorites Cafe Presse, Boom Noodle, and (downstairs
neighbor) Oddfellows Cafe, but those feel like cafeterias—albeit
extrastylish ones. The Tin Table feels like a hideaway for a really
good date (with well-made cocktail classics and a thoughtful wine list
there to help).
The first couple dishes I tried at the Tin Table when it first
opened in March were not at all compelling: pasty, bland salt-cod
fritters (only $5, but still) and gnocchi with mealy roast chestnuts,
bits of venison, and sage ($12)—gummy texture, underwhelming
flavor. Disappointment kept me from returning until recently, and I am
now kicking myself; almost everything’s been a delight. For instance,
last night, roasted baby carrots ($8) were slender,
almost-still-snappy, and of different colors, with a restrained amount
of oil, melting bits of goat cheese, and a scattering of halved grapes:
simple goodness. A skewer of toasty hunks of house-made bread and
chunks of fresh mozzarella doused in an unrestrained amount of olive
oil with anchovy-herb bits ($7) was extremely rich, yet undeniably
delicious. (Share it or you may end up preemptively full.) Halibut
($13) was pan-seared to a lemony crust, then laid over a springtime bed
of fava beans, peas, asparagus tips, and bits of beet green: again,
simple goodness. And Thai pork ribs ($12) were stacked like a
not-that-small log cabin of meat, smoky with chilies, gingery sweet,
and covered in a confetti of chopped fresh cilantro. The meat was
tender, the serving was enough for two.
Other very pleasing dishes: octopus confit and garbanzo salad (all
smoky-tasting courtesy of quite a bit of bacon, though the beans were
just shy of creaminess, $12), a special of two seared scallops with a
hint of truffle oil (a subtle surf-and-turf on a lemony fava-bean
puree, $9), a very creditable burger (with sweet roasted onions, bacon,
and cheddar, $12). The standout so far might be the steak frites ($15):
two thick pieces of hanger steak with a plummy wine reduction, a glob
of bacon–blue cheese butter (arguably overkill), arugula salad,
and supercrisp, truffle-scented shoestring fries. It’s a screaming
deal. One failure: a dish of past-prime asparagus with soggy morels, a
poached egg, Reggiano, and a lot of liquid standing on the plate
($12).
Maisano’s beignets ($5) seemed a little chewy, as did the pastry for
a profiterole ($5), but either would hit any sweet-tooth spot, as would
an extracreamy espresso-flavored crème brûlée ($7).
Selections from a dozen or so cheeses ($4 per ounce) from near and far
would also make a fine conclusion.
Service can slow down when the place is full (which is regularly the
case), but it’s graceful nonetheless. Several of the staff are modern
dancers, holdovers from when the Tin Table’s room housed Stranger
Genius Award–winning company Velocity. Landlord Ted Schroth
bought the building in 2007 to renovate it and rent to higher-end
tenants, forcing Velocity out. The company has a new space a few blocks
away, and where the dancers used to make art, now they make money
waiting tables. It’s an arrangement that must feel bittersweet; the
building’s history is all around, closer than you think. 
uh, I just looked at the menu .pdf to tell you what I had there that I loved, and it looks like they took it off.
It was the spicy shrimp, now replaced by a shrimp fettuccine dish apparently.
It reminded me of the shrimp that I ate endless amounts of when I would visit relatives on the Florida gulf coast. That kind of spoiled my subsequent shrimp encounters , until I dug into the dish at Tin Table.
Had a very disappointing meal at Tin Table. The risotto was bland and pasty, and the asian chicken salad was stuffed full of fried crispies – maybe to mask the lack of any other flavors or real lettuce (read: iceburg heaven here). Yes, its cheap, but there is a reason.
Hmm went there the first month it opened and was not too impressed (not terribly disappointed either, just a lot of bland or oversalted dishes). I had a horrible drink (something with ‘ginger infused vodka’ which tasted of lysol mixed with cough syrup) they were gracious enough to take it back and let me order another drink though. I’ll have to give it another shot, if only for the great ambiance and good service.