As twilight sets, the crisp chilled air cuts through my layers and walking through the industrial sector of Old Ballard has me wondering if I’ve taken a wrong turn despite diligently mapping my route. As a brief moment of regret in not accepting the ride my friend offered, I turn the bend and see my destination.
Once on an Open Table search for a restaurant, I came across The Walrus and the Carpenter but was unable to make a reservation. Why, I asked. With irritable curiosity, I investigated. One review had me craving the opportunity to dine there and as I recanted the details to my friend, she was just as intrigued and happy to join me .
Betwixt and between an excessively early arrival and opening arrival, we agreed she would reserve a spot in line for the metro bus route, I was on, arrived in the later. Upon arrival and with relief of spotting her up front I made the politely awkward cutting in line, through the narrow corridor, to meet up. As we stood in line awaiting the door to open, we exchanged a relaxed laugh while taking note of the crowd behind us.
Nearing the open door and peaking beyond, we anxiously shuffled about as if a kid in line hoping to make the cut off for the ride. The setting sun drenches the room in warmth and bounces off the white walls as hungry chatter fills the air in volume and excitement while the remaining waiting folk are directed to wait at the sister restaurant next door or lounge in a chair as an onlooker.
After perusing the menu, I opt for sampling an assortment of delectables with good intentions of returning, in the future, strictly to delve into oysters. Platter after platter, I find myself being swept out from all cognitive functions as each bite melts away and my palette questions me of when the next bite will be.
Dinner in the House of Ballard was full of adventure, discoveries and flavors of happiness.
The Walrus and the Carpenter
(click on each image to take a closer look)