People of Olympic Provisions
I have what might be called a restaurant crush on Olympic Provisions. Except that it's not just their restaurant, which I've only been to three times in the past two years. It's their farmers market stand, and their amazing salumi and chorizo, and their emulsified sausages and bacon. The restaurant is the place where it all comes together, though, and you can get a frosty cold expertly mixed cocktail and a variety of fresh, innovative vegetable based dishes, along with the aforementioned (and highly touted) (and brightly emblazoned) MEAT.
Speaking of crushes, though, what a pack are these three? The fellow on the right is Tyler, one of the owners. On this day it was Tyler's birthday and I have the distinct impression that he'd been holding on to that bottle (or one like it) for a little while. The fellow on the left is a master barman with a beard and hairstyle fit for a five dollar bill. Eminently commemoratable. He made us a pair of Wrong Negronis cold enough to bite my tongue. I would like to apologize to the very nice woman in the middle, who later explained all of their grappae to us. If I had a photo of you with your eyes open I would have run it. But this is a rangefinder, I was tired, and it's not like you all could stand around and wait for the amateur photographer to do his thing; you have a restaurant to run. And for that, I am eternally grateful.
People of Olympic Provisions
I have what might be called a restaurant crush on Olympic Provisions. Except that it's not just their restaurant, which I've only been to three times in the past two years. It's their farmers market stand, and their amazing salumi and chorizo, and their emulsified sausages and bacon. The restaurant is the place where it all comes together, though, and you can get a frosty cold expertly mixed cocktail and a variety of fresh, innovative vegetable based dishes, along with the aforementioned (and highly touted) (and brightly emblazoned) MEAT.
Speaking of crushes, though, what a pack are these three? The fellow on the right is Tyler, one of the owners. On this day it was Tyler's birthday and I have the distinct impression that he'd been holding on to that bottle (or one like it) for a little while. The fellow on the left is a master barman with a beard and hairstyle fit for a five dollar bill. Eminently commemoratable. He made us a pair of Wrong Negronis cold enough to bite my tongue. I would like to apologize to the very nice woman in the middle, who later explained all of their grappae to us. If I had a photo of you with your eyes open I would have run it. But this is a rangefinder, I was tired, and it's not like you all could stand around and wait for the amateur photographer to do his thing; you have a restaurant to run. And for that, I am eternally grateful.