Mike N.
Google
Just inside the Other Coast Cafe, the west wall is covered with event posters, the mood informal, people doing what they do on a drizzly day. Having memorized the menu and made our decisions on what we all wanted, my crew of six walked in and headed to the back. We piled into one of the booths, which had just been vacated and politely bused by the former occupants. My wife, Peggy, made the orders, including something special and bland for my picky first-grader grandson. We had parked just opposite Seattle University and went for a walking tour of Seattle's Capitol Hill to see how it had changed over the years. My son was the instigator. He had attended Seattle U. and loved the area. He kept pointing out the cranes and new construction. From my perspective, the entire district had undergone a pretty intensive transformation. The IHOP was there. My dad, sister and I went there for breakfast after church a number of times. I had attended St. James Cathedral's elementary school back in the 1960s. The church spires remain but not the school. Then I attended Seattle Central Community College. My wife attended, and graduated from the University of Washington, just a bus ride away. She had us take a picture of her in front of Neighbors. I remembered it. She had gone there to dance with friends during her college years. As we recounted these ancient memories, the boredom proved evident on the faces of our daughter and son. The grandkids thought we may have been speaking another language. Then the food arrived. It was marvelous. I got a soda, lemonade flavor, to accompany the Turkey Reuben. I'd never had one. I now forget what everybody had. But I do recall my string bean granddaughter, a third-grader, finishing all of her sandwich even though she said she was full. And the grandson voiced not a single complaint. My wife was happy. My son and daughter, too. I bit into the Reuben and felt like Guy Fieri on "Diner, Drive-Ins and Dives," which I occasionally watch on the Food Network and daydream of eating whatever massive meal he's got on the agenda. This was like that. So good. And I made a pig of myself eating the whole thing. A half would have been sufficient. My wife saved half of hers for the flight home to Fresno, Calif. We live in adjoining Clovis. We had spent five days hanging with family, hiking and wondering if the girl my son Calvin is pursuing will wind up a daughter in law. I snapped some photos with my Canon and asked the guy behind the counter about the name, Other Coast. He said something about it being opened in the tradition of an East Coast deli. I had very little experience with such things but did go to a Jewish deli in New York and treasure the memory. For more detail, I emailed the company and got connected to Emily Mabus, who owns the three Other Coast restaurants with husband, Dean Frazier. Their operation is truly worthy of its own story, full of comments from them and their customers and better pictures than the one I took. It has character. And original art on the walls. The works I saw looked to be inspired by the late Arturo Vega, Ramones artist and tour set builder and designer. Mabus said the original owner opened the original Ballard location in about 1999. She said Ballard "was not nearly as well healed as it appears now, and his approach to blue-collar type sandwiches fit in nicely." That original owner sold his business to another person who sold it to Mabus and Frazier in 2007. "Yes, right when the recession hit, but that's another story," Mabus wrote in an email. "We opened our Capitol Hill location on Nov. 4, 2010 -- just one days after National Sandwich Day. We took a former art gallery space and turned it into the restaurant you visited in just three months. Several of the employees that you may have seen this past weekend have been with us since we opened, and I do consider myself extremely fortunate to have such loyal employees."
