Manolin
You can wander into Manolin in shorts and sandals (after, say, paddleboarding on Lake Union a few blocks away) and you won’t feel out of place. Maybe it’s the sea-blue tiled walls, maybe it’s the excellence of the savory tequila cocktails, or perhaps it’s the salty-crunchy snap of the plantain chips you can graze on while debating the menu, but Manolin brings tropical atmosphere to town without making it too much of a theme. The kitchen bar, where regulars chat like it’s the local pub, is built around a fire-breathing hearth. In truth, though, it’s the texturally thrilling cold food that will linger in your mind. Think albacore ceviche with tiny pops of puffed quinoa; complex seasonal slaws with layers of herbs and spicy almonds; or silky, barely smoked salmon with a small puddle of sour cream and salty bursts of roe.
PRO TIP: Manolin has a lovely all-season courtyard and fire pit, where you can wait in campfire comfort.
THE DETAILS: Dinner only. No reservations.
