Same Food, Less Attitude

If you’ve ever been to Elemental@Gasworks and been

cold-shouldered at the door by
co-owner/sommelier/waiter/
bossypants Phred Westfall, you’ve
thought to yourself, “Well, self, here I am literally at a dead end,
and I’m thirsty and hungry and I’ve nowhere to go.”¹ Then you’ve cursed
Phred’s (irritatingly spelled) name and slunk off into the evening,
maybe going for fish and chips at the Pacific Inn, which is the
opposite of Elemental’s generally excellent, rather expensive
globe-spanning cuisine. (There’s absolutely nothing wrong with the
Pacific Inn’s fish and chips, by the way; they’re just the antithesis
of the dinner that your mind already got your stomach in the mood
for.)

What you would truly like right then is a place, say, right next
door, with lovely food, and tons of wine, and (why not?) the same kind
of loftlike but not hyperdesigned atmosphere as Elemental, and (while
you’re at it) a man who’s the opposite of Phred to hand you a
complimentary glass of sparkling wine and then proceed to be as sweet
as humanly possible for the remainder of your time with him.²

Voilà: Elemental Next Door, the wine bar/restaurant
next
door to Elemental. Same owners (Phred and his partner/
chef Laurie
Riedeman); different staff (Allyss Dillon, formerly of Vessel and
Mona’s, cooks, using just a few burners and no real oven)³; similar,
pleasantly spare decor; simple, lovely food; and a free glass of
bubbles graciously offered the minute you walk in. (This is the single
smartest thing any restaurant can do, even smarter than an
amuse-bouche; it’s a tiny expenditure that launches the diner on a
pretty much inescapable trajectory of happiness.) The food menu, on a
pulled-down roll of butcher paper, bears the inked message “SAME FOOD,
LESS ATTITUDE.” Well played, Phred.

E.N.D.’s wine list is in the form of bottles, approximately 100 of
them, on shelves along one wall. It’s $15 for any half-bottle, which
makes for a great game of Try to Get the Best Value. On one visit,
rosé sounded right; about a dozen were on the shelf. I
eliminated anything I recognized (more fun that way), then entreated
the soft-spoken anti-Phred for assistance. He narrowed further, to
three; I went with the French one, which also had the best-looking
label (no, you don’t drink with your eyes, but terrible labels should
not be rewarded). The internet says this 2006 Domaine Maby Tavel
rosé retails for around $18 a bottle; given restaurants’
(massive) markups, it was a deal. More importantly, it tasted perfect,
and the service is proper—sleek glass carafe in matching ice
bucket (though for rosés and whites, the delay in attaining
correct chill can be a bit excruciating).

While the menu overstates the case in saying the food is the
same—Elemental has more entrée-type dishes, and the
overlap between the two menus is not huge—it is good in the same
way. Both are mainly local/seasonal/
organic, and both feature
preparations that stop short of fussy, letting flavors do their work.
At E.N.D. recently, one of the best things to eat was a spring onion
vichyssoise ($7), the creamy potato soup usually made with leeks,
served cold. Vichyssoise is the definition of uncomplicated and an apex
of summertime food; getting the texture exactly right makes it a
miracle, and E.N.D. did. A frog-leg terrine ($15) was another exercise
in French restraint, made classically with (the server said) just
butter, garlic, and parsley. It tasted almost sweet, just faintly
aquatic, and precisely right with its peppery frisée (which
itself had tiny, salty croutons as a further foil). A “simple salad
with pastis” ($7/$10) had no detectable anise taste, but did not suffer
for it—there were thin slices of radish underneath the greens,
thin slices of pecorino on top, cucumber, vinaigrette. Well played,
salad.

In the hot-food department, tagliatelle with asparagus and cream
($14) had the virtues of barely any cream at all—more of a
coating than a sauce—and generous Parmesan. It was not an
exciting dish, just well executed and, thus, fought over. (At E.N.D.,
it makes sense, though it can be difficult, to share.) Risotto cakes
with wild mushrooms ($12/$22) were crisp-browned on the outside, warm
and smooth within: good indeed. But the chorizo-stuffed calamari
($12/$22) was fantastic. The thin, tender squid performed almost like a
pasta casing; the chorizo was a pretty pink, fine textured, and not too
spicy-hot; the fava and garbanzo puree underneath would’ve been a hit
on its own; and the reduced saffron sauce had a lemony white-wine taste
that was a stellar complement.

The signature dessert at E.N.D. is chocolate truffles rolled in
bacon ($6), an experiment I was open to but found truly terrible: The
bacon had a powerful smokehouse smell and was lardy and soft instead of
crisp, doing all the wrong things with the flavor and texture of the
chocolate. Other desserts were far better—E.N.D. makes
surprisingly wonderful rice pudding with different fruit accompaniments
($8), for instance, and there’s a creditable
almond-flour
chocolate torte ($8). The very end of the evening at E.N.D. holds an
extra treat: As at Elemental, the tax and tip are included, which is
almost as nice on the way out as the sparkling wine on the way in.

1. Elemental is in a condo complex north of Gasworks Park. The
cold-shouldering is not out of the ordinary; reservations are not
accepted, there is no list, and you’re liable to be told in an
extremely perfunctory, if not outright rude, manner to come back in an
unspecified number of hours. Elemental is known for this, as well as
for Phred’s quasi-jocular, bullying style of service if you do get a
seat. Some love it (Stockholm syndrome!), some don’t.

2. On one occasion this delightful man got overwhelmed, though the
place wasn’t full. He remained delightful, but everything took a looong
time. They ought to add another server; meanwhile, consider yourself
warned.

3. On one occasion another person was cooking, and the risotto cakes
were mushy, salmon was overcooked, etc. Riedeman said by phone that, in
a happy coincidence, this person just gave notice.