An Eva Restaurant Interpretive Dance

Eva Restaurant and Wine Bar
2227 North 56th St
Seattle, WA 98103
206 633-3538



"Is that the chocolate torte?"

"Yes," was the response.  "Would you like to try it?"
(it never ceases to amaze and delight me how readily people offer me their food!)

"Sure!" I said, with enthusiasm. And it was all over at that point. I was sassying.
I borrowed a clean fork off their table cloth, and dug right in.  I tasted. And I tasted...the dark chocolate cassis torte with plum caramel... again and again. I tried more than I wanted to try, because Andrea kept offering. So, I kept taking those little bites. It was fine - good, in fact, but I couldn't detect anything in the way of plum caramel or cassis. Sure, that sauce was plum-y. But the cake was the standard, dense, flourless, variety. Nothing I hadn't tasted before...so I didn't get too excited. However, it was nice wedge of chocolate, don't get me wrong.   

"Would you like to sit down?" said the slightly touseled man to her right.
"OK." I said.

So I shared a seat with Rainier (above). He poured me some red wine from their communal bottle, and I drank. 

Two of the men at the table, including Rainier, had accents. I asked where they were from. Playful group that they were, they made me guess. So I played along and hazarded a few - "Denmark," I blurted out first.

"Nope...close," someone said.

Finally, I guessed Germany. Yes, Eckhart was from Germany.

"But Rainier, you have an accent too," I said, as he filled the glass again.

"But I'm from Brooklyn. I'm the Baryshnykov from Brooklyn. I'm an interpretive dancer, " said Rainier. I think he had had already had a few glasses. For all I know he could be an etymologist, or a deep sea diver, or an obstetrician, and just messing with me.

Soon thereafter, a plate of apple cobbler made its way in front of me.

"Here. Try this too. The cinnamon ice cream is amazing!" said Brent, the husband of kind Andrea, who had given me the initial chocolate bite (both above). The two were visiting Seattle from California, and everyone at the table somehow knew Rainier the "dancer."

Well, warm apple crisp is usually pretty good. This one had lots of crumbly brown crunchy topping. The apples were delicate. The ice cream? Yes. It was also good, as Brent said, although I have a cinnamon problem.  I am really not a fan, and it sometimes makes me feel a little queezy, so I'm not the best judge of anything cinnamon flavored.

Rainier kept pouring the red wine.

Finally, they started settling up, so I ambled back to my table and shamefully greeted H and W. H seemed to forgive me, and realized that, at least this time around, my sassying was welcomed and encouraged by strangers at other tables, rather than shunned.She realized that I wasn't harassing people, but rather, the exchange was mutual, and mostly social.

Thanks Rainier, for the wine! Perhaps one day I'll run into you on the L train.