There is no write-in option for the question “How did you like the
atmosphere?” on the comment card at Cayenne Bar and Grill. The choices
available are “Excellent,” “Good,” “Average,” and “Poor.” Setting
grammatical concerns aside, these adjectives do not even approach
adequacy in capturing the Cayenne environment. The riot of interior
design—the shapes, the colors, the surfaces shiny and glowing
and matte and swirly—is stunning. “Like” doesn’t apply. The
mind boggles; the eyeball reels.
Cayenne is lodged in the ground floor of the Silver Cloud on
Broadway and Madison Street. (The unvarying response to this
information is confusion, followed by “Oh, THAT place.” No one’s
ever been there.) Cayenne has the feeling of replication, but the only
other restaurant in its Pacific Northwest hotel chain is Jimmy’s on
First. Jimmy’s carries out an “upscale-but-casual” mission in a more
sedate manner right across from Safeco Field; the Y in the Jimmy’s
logo is a martini with an olive in it.
But: Cayenne. To try to impose the English language upon it is
folly—the sheer volume of its ambience is staggering.
Zebra-striped, two-tiered hanging lampshades. Stacked flagstone.
Venetian-esque spotted fixtures. Cherry-red vinyl. Amber underlit glass
with scattered scarlet squares. A painting of a figure playing the
saxophone while standing on a dog. You would not want to be on hallucinogenic drugs at Cayenne.
If any of the many design elements could be considered central, it
would be the giant red ceiling-star, which radiates out from a
square column paved in tiny opalescent purple tiles. This red star has
abstract faces depicted on it in darker red curlicues of paint. Is the
red star symbolic of communism? Are the faces the visage of the Worker?
Businesspeople still in the grips of their capitalist workdays
congregate here at happy hour. One woman—pearl necklace,
tan-colored hose with sneakers, wheeled luggage meant for the overhead
bin—looks over a lengthy spreadsheet. Another man clicks a
retractable pen incessantly, perusing more paperwork, surreptitiously
popping a pill with his draft beer. At a 5:00 p.m. meeting,
discussion is of “stress levels” and “the cash-flow thing.”
The half-price, happy-hour appetizers—with “Northwest and
South of the Border flavors”—teeter on the border of
appetizing, achieving averageness at very best, but their delivery is
excellent. The Cayenne staff is united by their all-black outfits and
exemplary fulfillment of their roles. They greet some of the
businesspeople by name, bringing their favorite drinks. The service is
timely, friendly with some, and flirtatious with others: a coup
of atmosphere.
Cayenne, 1100 Broadway, 204-1188.