Bar Exam

List is the name of a new lounge/restaurant in Belltown. The name angles for, presumably, connotations of exclusivity rather than grocery shopping, though the menus say matter-of-factly “The Food List,” “The Wine List,” and “The Cocktail List.”

List used to be the lounge/restaurant the Apartment. The space is on
the small side, and the ’60s movie The Apartment would sometimes
play on the flat-screen TV above the bar, but that was as apartmenty
as it got. The Apartment was sleek and white: white squishy
barstools from a marshmallow future, white upholstered booths, a blank
slate for party-people to scrawl on. List is very mirrored, with the
bar glowing red: Red makes people look good, and mirrors let
them look at themselves. The entire back wall is mirrored, then
mod-baroque wallpaper goes down the back hall, which also ends in a
mirror. The improbably handsome host says people have come in and asked
to be seated “back there,” gesturing down the hall toward their own
reflection.

The owners of List also own Barolo—similar look, larger
Italian menu that has met with mixed reviews. A sampling of The Food
List (octopus salad, eggplant parmigiana) was, if not
destination-worthy, solidly above average, and at happy hour, it’s all
half-price. In front, a glass garage door can be rolled up in sunny
weather for access to a tiny deck built around a stranded tree.
Quitting time at List is bound to be bananas, if it’s not already.

No one at List last Saturday night around nine o’clock was on a
date, though List is the precise place for a certain kind of
date—a date involving two much-better-than-average-looking
people who would prefer to be on their date in Palm Springs or Miami.
There are candles, the napkins are snowy white cloth, the soundtrack is
pulsey. Bonus: It’s not even expensive, with not-that-small small
plates ranging from $6 to $14. What is expensive: three rococo
red-glass chandeliers, made by Murano of Venice; and, in all
likelihood, the foot-tall, precariously narrow reinterpretation of a
flute that champagne cocktails are served in. The First Ave—Grey
Goose, black raspberry, OJ, prosecco, $9—is a generous
reinterpretation of the flavor of the street itself, given that it is
not served in a paper bag.

The bartender is also implausibly beautiful, with conspicuous
cheekbones and perfect brown hair. She smiles a camera-ready, very
white smile while she pours shots. Going by List, brunette is the new
blond; the girls’ night out in the corner is all dark haired, and the
trio of blondes that walks in immediately walks back out. Of the
gentlemen customers, one contingent wears ball caps frontward and
obsessively attends to phones, while another does the
dress-shirt-with-unique-diagonal-pattern-and-flipped-contrasting-cuffs
and watches everyone of possible interest like a collective hawk.

List, 2226 First Ave, 441-1000.