When it comes to eating, I'm kind of like my dog, Mamie. I'm not saying I gobble dried-up chunks of lamb and rice twice a day from the same metal bowl. But I might as well, considering how much thought I put into what and where I eat. Aside from pet food, my pantry is almost always nearly bare. Dining at my apartment means only that I stopped off at one of the two take-out joints on my block on the way home. Ask me where I want to go to dinner, and I'll say I don't care, you decide, or Mexican. I may not dance around in anticipation of a meal like Mamie does; but honestly, do I care any more than she does about what actually ends up in my belly? Probably not.

So one night my friend Liza, a trained chef and caterer, took me to Kaspar's after a Sonics game. We'd had excellent seats, and I'd spent most of the playtime alternately spying on the players' wives and girlfriends and on that cute, sidelined, Yugoslavian hottie, Vladimir Radmanovic. I love basketball, but I also love checking out the Versace, Von Furstenburg, and Jimmy Choo, as well as tall-dark-and-handsome-with-an-accent. All the while, though, I was grossed out by the beer-guzzling, chili-dog-gobbling men surrounding us on all sides. Immediately after the game, we sought retreat at Kaspar's, where Liza happens to work.

Kaspar's is one of those older upscale Seattle dining establishments no one really thinks about anymore, stuck in among all the trendy Queen Anne restaurants. I'd never even heard of it before Liza got a job there. You can get dinner from a fine Northwest-cuisine menu, but the wine bar is where the action is.

That's where I found out about the Tower. The Tower is a three-tiered offering of appetizers chosen by the chef, and on that night, it was anchored by a mound of pasta heavily studded with shrimp and drenched in a delicious cream sauce. Above that sat a plate of lettuce-wrapped fish tacos with chunky citrus salsa. And above that, perched on top, was a steaming bowl of shellfish and salmon. All this was accompanied by a basket of at least four different kinds of baguettes and flatbreads. An amazing spread, for a measly nine dollars per person.

Now when someone asks me where I want to go for dinner, I have a ready answer. (It's the same answer every time, but as long as the person asking varies, no one's the wiser.) I've been back--without Liza-- several times now. Last week the Tower featured a plate of broad noodles tossed with smoked ham, teeny, tender asparagus, and cauliflower pesto; a heap of dolmas stuffed with chicken, rice, and feta and nestled in a delicious Greek salad; and a bowl of Asian glass noodles, which served as a bed for house-smoked Penn Cove mussels and grilled wild Alaskan king salmon. My dining partner was impressed.

Then there's the Dessert Sampler plate ($15), which gets you a little bit of everything. In the middle of a huge platter stood a martini glass brimming with a Floating Island (light vanilla meringues and fresh strawberries in a Marionberry crème anglaise). There was also a decadent chocolate truffle torte; "triple chocolate ice cream indulgence" made up of dark, milk, and white chocolate ice cream and topped with a shot of espresso and orange; and biscotti, lemon crème brêlée, and three scoops of house-made sorbet. Because I do not believe that vegetables belong in a dessert, I let my partner eat all of the rhubarb-and-cinnamon tart, while I hogged the entire delectable banana Betty because bananas send him to the emergency room. Together we polished off the platter like Jack Sprat and his wife.

So I've found a place to eat that makes all my decisions for me, just like I do for Mamie, so technically I guess you could still say I eat much like a dog would. Ah well, at least I'm out of the neighborhood.

Kaspar's Wine Bar
19 W Harrison St, 298-0123
Tues-Thurs 4:30-10 pm, Fri-Sat 5-11 pm.
Closed Sun & Mon.