On Edible Art, an Introduction, Part the Second
by The Phantom
You may recall, dear reader, that when last we spoke the Phantom proffered that it be resolved that of all the many forms artistic expression may take, it is the culinary that is held in the highest esteem. Others may hold diverse opinions, but in the view of the Phantom it is culinary art, synthesizing as it does the stimulation of all of one’s senses, nourishing not only our souls but our very corporal existences as well, that is most glorious.
The question arose at the closing of our last missive as to where one might begin to seek out exemplars of the culinary arts locally, and the Phantom suggested that a world of edible art lay just beyond one’s doorstep. Today we shall embark together on such an expedition.
On Saturday last, as the morning sun approached its vertex in the crisp blue sky to the south, a soupçon lower than it had peaked the day prior, indicating to those who pay attention to such matters that the summer season is slipping inexorably toward autumn, the Phantom decided that it was a fine day to enjoy a perambulation into town.
Winding block to block, this way then that, observing the turning of the leaves, sampling the sweetness of the blackberries and Italian plums and pears and apples that offered themselves to passersby, the Phantom arrived in due course at that harsh landscape of Brutalist soviet architecture that is the East Plaza of the Capitol Campus. Yet even here, in this urban wasteland, the Phantom was pleased to find life: flowers still in bloom, children at play, youthful rabbits busily scurrying about in their first summer of life. Traversing the plaza, the Phantom recalled fondly attending performances where once were performed, within that stark monument to statist functionality, selected works of the great Bard himself. The bear exited stage left.
From there, moving down the hill toward the village, the Phantom encountered first our lovely new-ish Cuban establishment, the sunny and musical and oh so pleasant Mi Luna Cafe. Next, it took a measure of great will to resist entering Wagner’s European Bakery, where cases full of pastries colorful and tasty threaten to overpower all resistance.
On the next block the Phantom peered briefly through the windows of the tidy Streets of Singapore. Having not sampled their offerings but having heard very good reports, the Phantom made a silent vow to return. Future down the hill came the very clever Bus Stop (“The Modern Way to Travel”), and the enticing adobo aromas wafting from the doors of Don de la Colombiana.
The next block, from 5th Avenue to Legion Way, is the chock-o’-block block at the heart of Olympia’s restaurant scene. Restaurant Row. The Phantom was delighted to find there, offering warm greetings to all, as he does, the always exuberant David Huyng. He stood proudly in front of his wonderful bánh mì store, the Nom Nom Deli, home of both excellent Vietnamese sandwiches, as well as the blue-ribbon winner of every best motto contest ever: “I got this belly at the Nom Nom Deli!”
On the same block is the quietly excellent Italian Basillico Ristorante, the energetic Uptown Grill with its creative menu items, and Pizzeria La Gitana, where the simple workman’s staple of Neapolitan pizza is elevated to an experience approaching fine dining.
Two blocks further is the 222 Market, a building exclusively occupied by culinary creatives, anchored by companion eminences of Olympia restaurants: Chelsea Farms Oyster Bar and The Bread Peddler. Of these establishments the Phantom has much to say, but this is a discourse that must wait for another day, because on this lovely blue day we have yet to reach our intended destination.
At the foot of Capitol Way awaits the venerable Olympia Farmers Market. Setting aside the wonderful dining establishments, where guests are immersed in a sensory totality of the culinary experience, we find here in the market dedicated creators of food products, presented with little theatrics or embellishment. Of these we enjoy an abundance, offered mere pennies. Hundreds of pennies, perhaps, but pennies nonetheless.
Once within le marche’ we begin, as human history perhaps does, with bread. (Or was it beer?) At the heart of les halles the visitor finds the jewel in the cultural crown of the upper Eastside, the San Franciso Street Bakery. Nearby is the warm hearth of the Westside, the healthy Blue Heron. A short walk away are the baked offerings of the aforementioned Bread Peddler, home of perhaps the finest baguettes in the region. Wagner’s brings down a selection of its pastries to tempt those who stroll by. Also to be found, while not a baked good per se, is the lovely creations of Kawaii Donut House. There is even a baker who caters exclusively to our canine friends, the Crossed Paws Bakery.
Wandering among the stalls, we find alchemists of the mysterious art of fermentation, as we find in the Olympia Pickling Company, offering pickles and relishes found nowhere else, as well as Wild Hearth Sipping Vinegars. (Of note: the fermenting family of OlyKraut is fondly remembered and hoped to return.)
Around the corner there are makers of jams, preserves and jellies, like Burnt Ridge Nursery and Orchards, and of course Johnson’s Berry Farm, where in addition to bringing daily crops of fresh-picked seasonal berries, the mad jelly genius Jim Johnson has created upwards of a hundred varieties of jams, jellies and syrups. (The Phantom confesses a weakness for the Raspberry Lemon Tart Jam.)
And finally, we are most blessed to have among us the cheesemakers, whom it must be noted produce as well all manner of dairy products. Among these we have the excellent products of TUNaWERTH Creamery, of Oakville, and Domina Dairy, of Onalaska.
There is of course much more in this cornucopia of culinary art to be found at the farmers market, as there is throughout our lovely province, nestled here between the sea and the great mountain ranges. On this little stroll — barely a mile along a single road — we have not even scratched the surface.
We shall continue our explorations, you and I, when next we meet, and we shall bring our examination much closer to the object of our shared interest. Until then, dear reader, enjoy every bite, because every day is a holiday in this life.
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Did you miss the first part of The Phantom’s introduction? Read it here:
The Phantom of the Diner — On Edible Art, an Introduction, Part the First