New-generation Ballardites indulge in Scandinavian culture at Copper Gate

I didn't visit the Copper Gate back when it was a smoky, Viking-packed, beer-only tavern. I didn't have the courage. I imagined it to be the kind of place where you could have any kind of beer you wanted, as long as it was Budweiser or Rainier. I imagined it the kind of place you wouldn't dare enter without a couple of "hunting the white whale" stories under your belt. I imagined a floor covered with cigarette butts and peanut shells, and a TV showing cross-country skiing competitions. And I believed, whole-heartedly, that if I dared to step foot inside the tavern, the regulars would detect the lack of Old Spice on my person or see the telltale cellular phone bulge in my coat pocket and I'd receive a friendly, "welcome to Ballard, matey" keel-haul.

Now, let's contrast my preconception of Copper Gate with my most recent visit to the revamped establishment, now owned by the local concern that runs Thaiku and La Carta de Oaxaca, two of Ballard's most popular (and least Ballard-like) establishments. The place didn't look too much different on approach – the new owners thankfully kept the bar's beautifully-maintained vintage neon sign – but I couldn't have imagined Copper Gate's new interior in my wildest dreams.

The bar is shaped like a Viking ship, with a sail composed entirely of vintage photos of nude women. The air is smoke-free, and the white tile floor is clean and bright. The barstools are arranged in such a way as to encourage small groups to sit at the bar and socialize. And the clientele is mostly young nightclubbers, gabbing on cell phones. Imagine Ahab coming home after a year before the mast, only to find that his favorite bar has been taken over by white whales.

That being said, there's a method to Copper Gate's madness: This odd little bar is striving to bring Ballard's Scandinavian roots to a new generation of Ballardites who don't know aquavit from Aquaman. (One is a Scandinavian grain spirit with a sweet caraway seed taste, kind of similar to a slice of rye bread; the other is a comic-book superhero who summons fish through telepathy.) Here you can nibble on tender Swedish meatballs -- a hundred times better than the gooey junk at IKEA – and wash them down with beers from Holland, Finland, Sweden and Denmark. Or, you can order a "Tyttebar" (pronounced tee-ET-ah-bar, buddy), a blend of lingonberry soda and sparkling wine, with a plate of honest-to-Olaf pickled herring, served with pumpernickel.

Some fusions don't quite work. The Tyrkish Peber – vodka infused with licorice candy – can be politely described as an acquired taste. The menu of specialty cocktails is hit-and-miss: For every deliciously challenging Alskling (vodka, Curacao, cranberry and rhubarb bitters), there's a drink as unremarkable as the Fjellbek (basically a vodka tonic). But the kitchen more than makes up for Copper Gate's weaknesses, and besides, you'll seldom get past the aquavit. Once you've had a sip of that stuff, you'll be ready to take up residence at Copper Gate and to make up a few compelling fish stories.

Copyright © The Seattle Times Company