A pink door. No sign. No address. No frills. Just a pink door along an alleyway. That’s how you know you’ve found The Pink Door restaurant. Inside that pink door is a dimly lit cellar, with cathedral ceilings (where a few times a week an aerialist hangs off them & entertains diners), a set of dark stairs & intimate candlelit tables.
My husband & I stumbled across the Pink Door during our visit to Seattle. We had read about it on the Internet, but weren’t really sure what to expect. When we stopped in there, without reservations, on a Sunday evening, we were told there was a 90 minute wait. ‘Well, this must be one heck of a place,’ I thought.We made reservations for the following evening & had an uninspiring meal elsewhere.
Returning on Monday evening, we were treated to one of the best Italian meals I’ve ever had. There was nothing about this restaurant that wasn’t fantastic: The service was spot on. The food was homemade, Italian comfort food the way my great-grandmother used to make it. The wine was served in tumblers, the way it ought to be served. The aerialist was great.
We felt like we had stumbled into our own secret restaurant – which clearly we hadn’t, since the place was packed – a magic pink door that only we knew about. It’s a secret I hold dear to my heart & makes me yearn for our next trip to the emerald city.
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