Cafe Juanita

Cafe Juanita

9702 NE 120th Pl (Kirkland), 425-823-1505.

Dinner Tues-Sat 5-10 pm, Sun 5-9 pm.

When I grow up, I want to be Holly Smith.

As the chef/owner of Kirkland’s Cafe Juanita, Smith has successfully pulled off what most chefs only fantasize about: She’s got her own restaurant (located in a lovely spot with trees everywhere, on a quiet patch above Juanita Creek), and she’s doing exactly what she wants to do in the kitchen, without a hint of compromise or preciousness. In Smith’s case, exactly what she wants is Northern Italian cuisine–with, of course, local seasonal ingredients in mind (go now for springtime favorites: fava beans, ramps, morels, English peas).

The story of Cafe Juanita is well known among local foodies. For about 20 years, it was an upscale-ish neighborhood place, serving rustic Italian fare to faithful regulars; Smith took over in early 2000, after sous-chef stints at Dahlia Lounge and Brasa. She gave the place a facelift, made her menu changes, received rave reviews, and earned a rep as a talented businesswoman… all without having to offer happy-hour half-off appetizers, or trendy salad towers squirted with squeeze-bottle nonsense. There is no “Juanita-tini.” There is no cigar bar. You will not be greeted at the door by a slightly condescending but extremely foxy 19-year-old. In short, there is nothing clichéd about Cafe Juanita, nothing reminiscent of yet another urban dining hotspot. (I apologize for using the word “hot- spot.” Eew.) There’s a kitchen garden out back, for crying out loud. This is where restaurants go when they lose their downtown leases and go to heaven.

I got excited just reading the menu–a menu that, despite unmistakable regional guidelines, is smart, imaginative, specific. You won’t find a stitch of red sauce: We’re talking lots of good olive oil and aged balsamic, various beans all over the place (pasta isn’t the first priority in Northern Italy–this is the land of rice, polenta, and legumes), and fresh sheep cheese, fontina, or Parmigiano-Reggiano. Notice treats such as seared foie gras with sour cherries ($17–I know, the foie gras surprised me too, but apparently there are often French or Austrian influences in recipes from Liguria, Lombardia, Piemonte, and the Veneto); a delicious smear of squab liver on thin crostini ($9), enhanced by a spot of fresh thyme and vin santo (sweet wine) syrup, served with a refreshing glass of Lillet Blanc; baccalà, AKA salt cod, with Taggia olives and a poached potato ($12–okay, so Sicily’s representin’ a little bit, too); guinea fowl ($22) with savoy cabbage; or scallops with Toscanello beans and wild ramps ($25). Somebody needs to try the braised rabbit with pancetta, greens, and a chickpea crepe ($21) and tell me how it is–it sounds fabulous, but on account of Fluffy Liao (R.I.P.), who I owned from age six through nine, I refuse to discuss this any further.

Excellent house-smoked trout ($9) is served warm and only slightly salty, so as not to overwhelm the fish; the accompanying pickled ramps, briny and cool, are an elegant surprise. Grilled octopus ($10) with fresh fennel, chickpea purée, capers, and a gorgeous green sauce brightened with lemon juice was by far my favorite–creamy textures and layers of flavors, all of them loosely bound together with Primolio olive oil. Tiny rectangles of goat cheese gnocchi ($10/$19) require no chewing: Just let them dissolve on your tongue, so the soft tang of goat cheese goes up against crisp bits of pancetta and tender fava beans, all of it commingling in a shallow bath of butter and flavorful stock.

Saddle of lamb ($26) is served with sliced Jerusalem artichokes and pine nuts, hearty and simple–my lamb was a bit dry and more cooked than I usually like it, but was fine when paired with the Jerusalems, which have a pleasant, nutty, sweet finish. Whole roasted fish (market price) changes frequently, but try the branzino if you can–Italian striped sea bass, freshly FedExed to Cafe Juanita: crackly skin dusted with coarse salt, and firm white flesh with a mild flavor, moist and tasting like the ocean. There was a pink sunset in Kirkland, and I was eating Mediterranean fish, still jetlagged from a long journey; somehow I felt as if I was in exactly the right place.