This is not a review of Tavern Law. Tavern Law opened less than a
month ago. It is barely a place at all, and it wouldn’t be fair,
according to convention, to review it at this juncture. I have eaten
only three things at Tavern Law (a summer squash/Parmesan/basil
risotto, which tasted lemony and was very fine; fried oysters, which
could’ve used another moment of communion with hot oil to achieve
optimal goldenness, but were good with their horseradish aioli and
irrefutably delicious end-of-summer beefsteak tomato; and a small dish
of some-are-hot-some-are-not grilled padrón peppers, of which I
got a hot one, which was really, truly hot). I’ve had only two drinks:
an Old Cuban, credited to Audrey Saunders of Pegu Club in New York,
containing “Rum. Lime. Sugar. Angostura bitters. Mint. Champagne. $10,”
which was much more lively and refreshing than you might imagine an old
Cuban to be; and a Morning Glory Fizz, Modern American Drinks, 1895,
“Scotch. Lemon juice. Sugar. Absinthe. Egg white. Soda. $8,” which,
given all the strong flavors involved, turned out curiously (and
perhaps fortuitously) neutral.
But while Tavern Law is barely a place, its place-ness is its most
salient feature. It is such a place that it’s nearly an abstraction;
it’s a place entirely based on other places, which are based (largely
inaccurately) on yet other places, from yet another time. Tavern Law is
distilled. Tavern Law is fiction. Tavern Law is theater. Tavern Law is
trend incarnate.
Tavern Law is not a speakeasy, because a speakeasy does not have a
liquor license; the two are mutually exclusive. And while Tavern Law,
like the rash of other bars around the country (and here, e.g., Knee
High Stocking Co. and Bathtub Gin & Co.) like it, aspires to be a
speakeasy, even within this artifice is more artifice. As a June
article (“Bar? What Bar?”) in the New York Times by William
Grimes pointed out, speakeasies were, more often than not, filthy dives
serving terrible rotgut that sometimes killed the customers. (Cocktails
of this era arose from desperation, to make the undrinkable into the
chokable-down.) Tavern Law is mentioned in this article as not yet
open, but about to join the crowd (including a bar called the Raines
Law Room in New York; both Laws are references to actual old-timey
liquor laws). Among Grimes’s trenchant observations:
Obtrusively furtive, they represent one of the strangest exercises
in nostalgia ever to grip the public, an infatuation with the good old
days of Prohibition… In an age when virtually nothing is hidden or
forbidden, the idea of a secret hideaway takes on an undeniable
allure… Make it illegal, and they will come. If the authorities will
not oblige, make it feel illegal. Nothing quite hits the spot like a
martini in a ceramic mug.
At Tavern Law, the high-concept quote-speakeasy-unquote
cocktail-culture fad has been taken to a mighty extreme: dapper
barkeeps outfitted in suit vests and ties, many complicated and/or
historic cocktails with house-made thises and thatses, effortful menu
verbiage about the Volstead prohibition act and “the spirits of the
night dancing on our tongues and in our hearts,” specially made and
especially slow-melting ice cubes, faux old-library decor, access
granted to a “secret” door taken from an old safe by speaking into a
telephone, a stairwell with sepia vintage nudie photos climbing the
walls, a “secret” grandma’s-whorehouse-den-of-iniquity-old-fashionedy
lounge. (There’s a “secret” bar—PDT, or Please Don’t
Tell—likewise accessed via a telephone-and-door setup in a phone
booth in the back of a hot-dog place in the East Village.)
Tavern Law’s owners are the gentlemen of Belltown’s well-reputed,
extremely popular Spur Gastropub, an upscale food-and-cocktail temple
without such a vigorous theme. While the money they poured into Tavern
Law is palpable, the production values vary. Downstairs, some
knickknacks seem like a joke: duck decoys, collections on shelves that
seem hastily assembled instead of covetously—how to put
this—collected. When you look up, the illusion is entirely
shattered; it is exactly a stage set, the room (the urge to use
quotation marks is almost irresistible) imposed in the bottom of the
space, then vents and pipes and lights high up above. The upstairs
lounge more closely approximates authenticity, perhaps because of the
odd-shaped layout, the ostentatious furnishings, the embrace of a low
ceiling. Throughout, the only people with the correct costumes are the
employees, which creates a reverberating dissonance: The patrons look
ridiculous, whether they’re in T-shirts or what passes for modern
finery, while the workers
look qualitatively better but still like
actors in a period-piece murder-mystery dinner show. Above it all: the
condominiums of the newly renovated 1919 Trace Lofts building, the
dwellers-in of which were to have their own private entrance before
fire code intervened. Tavern Law is still an amenity. One of the
employees said that late on the night Tavern Law opened, a
cocktail-replete Trace resident ceased being upright in the Trace Lofts
lobby and remained that way for a rest. Tavern Law is end-stage
capitalism.
Tavern Law has a roulette wheel on the wall behind the bar. It is
nonoperational, being mounted at a jaunty, high-visibility angle such
that a marble spun on it would be ejected into space. Once upon a time
there was real gambling on Capitol Hill at a real speakeasy. It was one
block away from where Tavern Law is now; when the heat was applied, it
moved a few blocks another direction; when that building was torn down,
it moved back. Everyone dressed up, in tuxedos or gowns or in louche,
old-fashionedy, semi-punk ways. There was a password. There were
careless drinks. There was money on green felt tables. There were lit
cigarettes and guns and drugs. This past June, eight days after the
New York Times article, there were cops and a bust and handcuffs
for the man who ran the speakeasy, Rick Wilson, who is now awaiting
trial. By all accounts, the real speakeasy was really, truly fun. 
You really do a disservice to Mr. Wilson by stating quite publicly that there were “lit cigarettes and guns and drugs.”
Don’t you think he’s in enough trouble, already?
If Seattle’s theaters served such divine cocktails as Tavern Law during their shows then the theater business would be booming. Food and drink should have a flair for the dramatic. Thankfully the chefs of Seattle do not play it safe and we are all better for it.
Dick’s has a picture of a steer…shame on them!
Does Tavern Law feature the same over-sweetened, overly-juicy drinks as Spur? Will I still feel like I’m taking part in the same boozed-up-sugar-and-juice-in-a-cocktail-glass craze that’s been sweeping college bars since the 90s, with St. Germain taking the place of simple syrup? Will I be subjected to the same smirky, smarmy, nearly disdainful lack of customer service when I sit at the bar and watch some asshole veeerrrryyy caaaarrreefully stir my dessert-sweet drink until it’s nice and tepid and then set it in front of me without a word? That sounds great.
I’m going to Zig Zag.
When will people start to realize, especially bar owners, that paying $12 for a gin fizz is completely outrageous? I liked Tavern Law but what happened to the days where a “specialty cocktail” was made with ingredients that didn’t push the price past $10? David and the rest of the crew behind the bar at Tavern Law know there crap but I still don’t see the point in paying over $10 for a classic cocktail.
As the previous person noted, I too am going to Zig Zag as I have the past five years. Thank you Murray for keeping the $12 cocktails off of the menu at Zig Zag.
Sounds crappy.
I hate that place already.
When walking into a place like Tavern Law, no one actually thinks “wow, this is just like a real speakeasy”. Its a theme, and a kitschy one…although it does provide a cool atmosphere to drink great cocktails.
Which is what this place is all about, and what the Clement completely failed to discuss in this “review”. The cocktails. For people who dig really well-balanced, well-made, tasty cocktails, this is already one of the best places in town. I dont care where Im drinking it, and I actually think Tavern Law has a pretty cool room to drink in upstairs. But I would never go there if it wasnt for the cocktails.
This place (like many others in town: ZigZag, Licorous, Sambar, Vessel) is all about celebrating classic cocktails that enhance the taste of the liquor, not mask it. Its worth the extra money if youre in the mood for a really good drink. I usually go to my local dive and drink whiskey and beer…but its nice to have options like this around town when one is in the mood.
Overall, I cant believe this would pass for a review. Its misinformed and spends most of its time focusing on a (pointless) tangent, instead of reviewing, or even describing the establishment in question and what it offers!
Um, did james1345 read the title?
I loved this slog…as I love returning to the root of things, (crafting drinks vs. slinging them), but “Classic cocktails” are just another bar trend, sorry to say it folks. Soon (thanks to copycat theme bars like this one) we will loathe them like flavored vodkas, says the barkeep.
I’ve only had drinks upstairs several times….more on those another time…but the music SUCKS
You and the NY Times has mistaken the neo-speakeasy as being an futile exercise in nostalgia. The speakeasy lives today as a hospitality experience with crafted food and drink, free from the “trendy tax”, where anyone who is brave enough to open the door can find a low-key atmosphere to socialize.
Does pretense always have to be a bad thing with you killjoys?
So let me get this straight…
You like the food (that you’ve had).
You like the drinks (that you’ve had).
But you don’t like the decorating job so you pan the whole place as superficial?…
Pot. Meet Kettle. I think you’ll find you have much in common.
Amen “You Gotta Be Kidding Me.” Clement, I need to take a moment to review the facts of your piece:
1.You recognize it’s inappropriate to review a restaurant so soon after an opening.
2. The food was tasty – all of it (the oysters weren’t perfect but delicious)
3. The drinks were good, interesting but not frighteningly weird
4. The place has referenced itself as a speakeasy and you do NOT like that
This last fact was the catalyst for you to bash the place anyway you know how. My personal favorite was the bash via duck decoy. “Downstairs, some knickknacks seem like a joke: duck decoys, collections on shelves that seem hastily assembled instead of covetously—how to put this—collected.” If the duck decoy’s had been covetously collected would you have mentioned it in reverence? The way you present this argument it makes it sound like there duck decoy collection was particularly offensive.
“Tavern Law has a roulette wheel on the wall behind the bar. It is nonoperational, being mounted at a jaunty, high-visibility angle such that a marble spun on it would be ejected into space.” What have your wall hangings done for you lately? When my friend has ANYTHING affixed to a wall ever served its original purpose? Did your New Kids on the Block poster actually kiss back when you were 12? Does your hipster tree wall tattoo actually provide shade?
You hate the fact that Tavern Law is capitalizing on the concept of the speakeasy because it romanticizes something that was in fact not romantic – something that came to be out of desperation. End-Stage Capitalism.
Based on the parameters of your argument you must also hate Mickey Mouse. Walt Disney created our worlds most beloved character out of One of Mans mortal enemies; The rodent. An animal that carried disease destroyed crops and dried food. We have evolved to fear and hate rodents but somehow Walt won us over. Is he just a fad too?
It is true. If you go to Tavern Law you will not get shot at. You will not die from alcohol poisoning. You will not get arrested for drinking illegally. That would be a bad business plan. No matter how volatile the time we live in is there are always optimists, there are always people who laugh, and party and drink. Speakeasies were a haven for those people as much as they were for gangsters and n’ere-do-wells. Modern day cocktail enthusiasts are use the word speakeasy as a nod to a craft, a love of complex cocktail flavors and a time when drinking didn’t mean as much as fast as possible. Its nostalgia and NONE of us were there. We don’t know.
I don’t go to Tavern Law for the duck decoys. I don’t go for the décor at all. I go for those good looking bartenders and those delicious cocktails and because I can hear inside. I would challenge you to try again. I challenge you to let go of the semantics of the word “speakeasy” and realize, you live in Seattle, a place full of not so well dressed, often soggy Seattle types and this place is as you’ve said yourself actually quite good.