Hi. My name's Carol, and I love food. No, you don't understand. I love food. If I were on the Titanic, I'd be in the galley (kitchen) eating up the chocolate pudding and the roasted quail. I go to most events, activities and parties just for the food. The company and the conversation are secondary. Here, I'll try to document everything that goes into my mouth. Aren't we excited? Oh, hey, are you gonna eat that?
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Crystal Creek Cafe Pie
I haven't been interested in pies since I overindulged as a youngster at a picnic in Kentucky. I ate so many different pies, to this day I can't look at cherry pie without feeling my gag reflex. But all that changed last night.
We were staying at a Hilton Garden Inn in Bothell-Seattle for spring break when it was time for dinner. Just nearby is this intriguing diner called Crystal Creek Cafe. Only it looks new (open for awhile now, since 2002?), clean and empty. We walked into a restaurant set back in the 1950s with a glass inset selection of homemade pies and cinnamon rolls the size of my head, Coca-Cola memorabilia and replicas of old warplanes on the ceiling.
With only one other couple, older, sitting in a booth, we were seated and got to ordering. My husband was craving a hot turkey sandwich before he even knew he would come here, saw it, and was loving himself. It's one of the best I've ever shared. The turkey's real, sliced off a real roasted bird, with comforting golden gravy and thick -- I want to almost say challah -- golden bread. We wondered why we never did this the day after Thanksgiving. (Oh that will change.)
I had huevos rancheros, beefed up with refried beans, but served in two sizes. My smaller size wasn't substantial enough; hence, the sharing of my husband's hot turkey sandwich. Our son quizzed the waiter on whether his mac and cheese was Kraft (it was), otherwise forget it. Instead of a fruit bowl, he wanted French Fries. The crinkly kind! We wanted some too.
But I knew no matter what I ate for dinner, I'd have pie. They looked so good on the counter. The crusts nice and thick, sparkling with thick sanding sugar, brimming over with juicy colorful berries and fruit. My husband wavered on the fruit pie when he heard they had chocolate cream. Me, I went for the strawberry-rhubarb, ala mode, heated slightly. The strawberry's sweetness (it's not in season, so it must've been artificially sugared up to get that sweet) nicely offset the rhubarb's tartness.
It was only when we left that I noticed they also had peach-raspberry, a fact the helpful waiter forgot.