Bar Exam

The people of Seattle have been romancing one another at Dilettante
on Broadway for decades, but since the chocolatier/cafe moved one block
north, hopeful pants-getters-into have an extra advantage:
Dilettante’s Chocolate Martini Bar.

One night last weekend, a man and a woman sat as close to each other
as legally possible, drinking the bar’s namesake drinks and staring
into each other’s eyes from a distance of approximately four inches.
(The signature Ephemere Martini is the house chocolate-truffle sauce
and “a generous portion of vodka,” served up with a bittersweet
cocoa rim. While it’s a little lacking in deep richness, it’s not at
all too sweet, and it’s likely to be the quickest $10 you’ll ever
drink.) At another table, two gentlemen gave each other slightly more
personal space while having milk shakes, presumably from the
“Fortified” section of the milk-shake menu. (The version made with
vanilla ice cream, chocolate truffle sauce, and port [$8] is another
test of self-discipline—the port adds a winey-raisin hint, but it
also thins the shake, which is served with a straw and easily
vacuumed up in a matter of moments.) At the third
table—the bar is small—the bartender conferred with two
women about the five choices of hot cocoa, from 41 percent (milk) to 72
percent (extra dark) with a white-chocolate option (shudder). One
ordered extra dark, no liquor, saying to her friend, “Have I mentioned
how much of a lush I’ve been lately?” When the cocoa came, she said she
loved it. They also ate one of Dilettante’s dozen kinds of cake.

At the bar, two more men discussed wainscoting while looking at the
menu with a tiny flashlight. The bar has wainscoting of dark-stained
wood, and while it’s appropriately dim for nuzzling lovers, bringing
your own illumination isn’t strictly necessary. The decor nods to a
certain classic European style—tile floor, marble accents, an
inlaid square of pressed-tin ceiling, light fixtures with beads and
crystals and metal leaves. (Framed photographs of a cocktail and a milk
shake, so close-up they’re two feet tall, stray from this theme.)
Etched on the mirror above the liquor bottles is a crest with a
griffin, a rose, and “1898,” the year the owner’s great-uncle began
a confectionery apprenticeship that led to a position as the pastry
chef and chocolatier to Hapsburg Emperor Franz Josef I.

When it comes to nonsweet edibles, the menu reflects this Eastern
European heritage with varying degrees of novelty. There’s
traditional borscht ($8), and then there’s Romanian pork sliders ($7),
like big pork meatballs (without much evidence of promised paprika and
garlic) with pickled onions, lettuce, and tomato on pieces of seeded
baguette. It’s better than it needs to be, considering everyone comes
to Dilettante with things other than food on their minds.

Dilettante, 538 Broadway E, 329-6463