The block of Summit Avenue between Mercer and Roy has long been one of my favorites in town, with its perfect mix of eating and dining establishments: There’s the unfussy Summit Tavern and its next-door neighbor Toscana Pizzeria (which have an arrangement that allows you to eat your pizza at the bar), the doughnuts-and-coffee dispenser Top Pot, and the tiki-inspired-cocktail purveyor Sun Liquor Lounge, whose tropical drinks instantly transport you to warmer weather. In October, the micro-neighborhood landed a new restaurant—Single Shot.
Until I visited, I didn’t realize how much this quiet corner of Capitol Hill actually needed a place like Single Shot: a restaurant and bar that feels as upscale as it does casual, serving good food and equally good cocktails. Single Shot isn’t cheap, but it’s reasonable. And while it’s shiny and very pretty, it seems to slide right into the neighborhood rather than disrupt it. It feels built to last, poised to create a loyal base of customers from nearby and, perhaps, afar (if they can find parking).
Single Shot walks a fine line between sterile and warm. Its austere white-and-gray color scheme, slate tabletops, polished white subway tiles, and heavy marble bar top are balanced by vintage, Sputnik-style light fixtures that cast a golden light and a giant wooden shotgun that hangs above mirrored shelves of liquor. At night, the windows steam up and, from any seat in the restaurant, you can catch a glimpse of the cramped kitchen through a small window, where beautifully composed dishes are dispatched on slabs of wood.
The first dish I sampled from chef James Sherrill’s kitchen—roasted cauliflower and Romanesco tossed in romesco sauce, then topped with pickled kohlrabi and toasted hazelnuts—captures everything I love about Single Shot’s food, as well as everything that leaves me unsure. The dish is deceptively simple and rustic, but big on flavor and complexity. While I loved the bracing vinegar, roasted nuts, and brassicas blessed with an oven’s char, it felt as if someone in the kitchen went a little wild with the sherry vinegar. Rather than given a finishing drizzle, the plate was hit with a downpour.
Which leads me to my biggest issue with Single Shot’s food. As Coco Chanel famously said of getting dressed: “Before you leave the house, look in the mirror and remove one accessory.” Often, it’s no different with food. Many of the dishes at Single Shot could use a few less things on the plate.
The first bite of a berbere-spiced chicken-liver mousse was promising: The mousse had a novel spiciness to it, and was warm and fragrant with spices like cumin and cinnamon. Its gel topping, traditionally made from cognac, added a welcome sweetness. But a smear of Dijon mustard was too strong, and a Madeira-shallot reduction was aggressively cloying. All together, the flavors were scattered and discordant.
The hanger steak entrée suffered from a similar problem. The meat was fantastic—tender and cooked to a perfect, purple-centered medium rare. Accompanying roasted baby turnips were earthy, sweet, and soft, and the sautéed wild mushrooms—slightly caramelized chanterelles and black trumpets—were well-salted. But while thin wisps of assertively nutty Tête de Moine cheese made for a bold, unexpected addition, the sweet ham mostarda, turnip puree, and wilted escarole were too distracting to my tongue. There were far too many elements in the dish to be successful.
When Single Shot holds back, the dishes soar, and Sherrill’s creativity can shine rather than be buried under ingredients. The black rice porridge with uni sauce, crispy pork belly, and mussels was pure comfort food, despite its unexpected mix of ingredients. It called to mind the Filipino breakfast dish champorado, rice cooked in unsweetened chocolate. My dining companion stated simply: “This is what I want to come home and eat on my couch every night until winter is over.” A fennel-citrus-chive slaw was a lovely counterpoint, the sudden burst of brightness that would enable you to get off the couch to pour yourself a glass of wine.
Baked pasta with curried goat—a fancy mac ‘n’ cheese, essentially—was also profoundly satisfying. The rich cream sauce was complemented nicely by spicy, shredded goat meat. Melted leeks lent sweetness, and a buttery breadcrumb topping provided a much-needed textural contrast.
The most straightforward entrée, a thick pork chop served atop a buttery mountain of spaghetti squash, provided a relief from the assault of flavors. Unfortunately, on my visit, it was overcooked—the center pale and putty-colored, rather than rosy pink, and the meat tough. It was especially unfortunate because the pork arrives on the plate pre-sliced, which means whomever cooked it was aware of the flaw but decided to overlook it.
When I review a restaurant, I’m typically willing to forgive service flaws if the food is excellent. But it’s not often that I’m reminded of the opposite—how much great service can lend the kitchen credibility.
The kitchen may still be finding its footing, but service at Single Shot is assured. Much of the media coverage of the restaurant’s opening focused on personnel: bar manager Adam Fream, who worked at Belltown’s Bathtub Gin, and front-of-house and wine director Guy Kugel, whose previous tenure was at Capitol Hill’s fine-dining restaurant Altura. Two nights a week, longtime Walrus and the Carpenter bartender Anna Wallace can be found behind the bar. (On a related note, Single Shot features Wallace’s excellent celery soda, made under the name Seattle Seltzer Company, on tap. Will every other restaurant in Seattle please follow suit?)
Both times I visited, the servers were confident and informed, warm but not intrusive. When they were busy, Kugel and Fream stepped in, clearing a table, filling water, taking drink orders, and offering a dessert menu. Service was so seamless that it inspired a confidence in the back of the house that I was having trouble finding on my own. If service pros are on board with what the kitchen at Single Shot is doing, well, I’m willing to try the place a few more times. 
