The matronly lady at the Bohemian seems piqued. Can she help us? she
inquires pointedly, heading us off near the bar. Her glasses are
gold-tone with deluxe ornamentation at the temples; her bangs are
prodigiously puffy; she’s got disapproving great-aunt down pat. A
little stammering softens her, and she offers a choice of tables: the
one by the piano or “the cute one by the window.” The one by the
piano blocks any potential piano-players entirely; it’s in a stretch of
the room with a lot of bare floor and an island of one Oriental carpet,
upon which it is marooned. Also, while the Bohemian’s light fixtures
are reproduction period pieces—amber upside-down bowls with
scalloped detail—other bulbs provide extra illumination, and one
is trained on this table in the manner of an interrogation.
The-cute-one-by-the-window has a view of the entire long room,
including a slender wrought-iron table facing the door. On it: an
ornate frame holding the calligraphied instruction “Please wait to be
seated.” Hence the matronly pique. (Also calligraphied: an admonishment
in the bathroom to “Please wash your hands with soap and hot water!”)
In the defense of buffoons who fail to wait to be seated, the sign is
small, and the Bohemian looks like a cafe with a bar in the back,
which, during the day, it is. Augmenting this impression: a highly
egalitarian collection of art, including an exploration of abstract
floral themes in a vivid aquamarine palette and multiple canvases
overlapping
assemblage-style (known according to their labels as
Jetscapes®).
The Bohemian is brand new in West Seattle, and it feels like a stage
set: freshly applied wainscoting, beams that don’t appear to support
anything with brackets that don’t appear to support the beams, the
odd lighting and obstructed piano. The candles in the candelabra atop
the piano have never been lit. But if the art nouveau ambitions are
achieved only obliquely, the potted palms are pleasing, as are the
cut-glass decanters and cocktail shakers lined up above the liquor
bottles. Most pleasing of all: multiple choices of wine-by-the-glass
for $4 or $5. (That a number of these were apparently chosen by
name—Bohemian Highway, a California vineyard—is
suspect, but at least they’re inexpensive.) Most popular on the
Bohemian’s menu: the raclette, a little cast-iron pan of cheese melted
in the European fashion over potatoes and sausage, or veggies and
bacon, or ham and etc. It’s hard to go wrong with melted cheese, but
the “artisan” breads provided include tragically squishy baguette
slices and what appear to be prepackaged store-bought wheat rolls.
The Bohemian also lacks a beer selection befitting its
namesake. But if it’s beer you want, opening soon right next door is an
outpost of Seattle’s German pub Prost!. 