Mon-Sat 5 pm-midnight.
We tend not to sympathize with those who have fallen from wealth. Maybe we believe they've gotten what they deserve, those virtually rich who, with that great POP! at the end of the '90s, have entered a more harsh reality. But it would be too easy to mock those Seattle techies who once tossed their cash about with abandon. A far more interesting stance may be to empathize with them. Indeed, perhaps we should borrow from a cliché and try to spend a moment walking in their scuffed $500 shoes.
Which is precisely what I did--or attempted to do--when I went to Canlis. Perched high over Lake Union on the lip of the Aurora Bridge, Canlis is Seattle's "luxurious" restaurant, home of $70 steaks and $30 pork tenderloins. It is, to be sure, a swank joint--puffed and polished and elegant--and having grown up here, I have memories of my parents speaking of the restaurant with a certain reverence. It is, and has always been, where the rich of our hamlet cram their pieholes, and as such it exists far beyond not just my means, but my desires as well.
And yet, there I was: sitting in the bar, an Original Canlis Salad ($10) before me. Would this be how a fallen millionaire would relive his past flush glory? I dunno, but the idea seemed proper enough; extravagance would certainly be a hard thing to leave behind, especially once you've become accustomed to it, so the thought of a fallen millionaire putting on a suit and slipping into the Canlis lounge in an attempt to re-experience happier (i.e., more lucrative) times, although scaled down, seemed like a right one. And sitting there, pretending to be one of those poor saps (complete in a Brooks Brothers suit, which I purchased for $40 at a Portland used clothing store), it fully hit me just how depressing a sudden loss of funds would be. The Original Canlis Salad was good eats, to be sure--romaine lettuce and bacon, a hint of lemon in the dressing--but its lightness as a meal, along with its double-digit price tag, made me think that those trying to grasp the exuberance of the boom years on a post-boom budget would find themselves thoroughly demolished.
