I'm doing things a little differently today. Usually I write reviews of places after I've left them, but doggone it, Ballard's KISS Cafe [0] is just so danged accommodating that I'm doing this one live.
Before I began typing, I took a bit of my awesome sammich, the "Thanksgiving Hangover" -- turkey, sprouts, cream cheese and cranberry -- and chased it with a sip of my latte, which is made with Zoka's [0] roast, has a delicious foam on it and is basically exceptional in every way. There's a small but boisterous lunchtime crowd, a soccer game on ESPN2 and a big dog lounging next to its owner's barstool, and AC/DC just gave way to Al Green on the stereo. It's paradise.
The only drawback to this place -- and I mean the only drawback -- is that unless you live or work in Ballard, you'll probably never come here for lunch. It's on the far western end of Market, next door to Habitude [0] and maybe six boat lengths from the Chittenden Locks [0]. The 17 and 44 buses stop out front, but if you're anything like me you avoid the 44 like the plague, and the 17 is too unreliable for a lunchtime dash. Basically, unless you can drive or walk here, you're unlikely to receive this cafe's hospitality.
It's too bad, because this place rocks on oh-so-many levels. The sandwiches, served cold and hot, are basic, unassuming (according to the menu, the "KISS" stands for "keep it simple, sucka") and just plain freaking great. I recommend the "Hangover" because, to my mind, a turkey sandwich and a cup of coffee is a perfect meal, but the kitchen turns out BLTs, Cubans, French dips, veggie sandwiches, Dagwoods and more, and there's also a tempting selection of salads, homemade baked goods, cheese platters and jambalaya. Jambalaya! I'm so having that next time.
Look, I know I'm laying it on too thick. But even if you were to take away everything that makes this place useful to the neighborhood -- the banana-nut bread, the huge selection of bottled beer, the breakfast tacos and (heh heh) the free Wi-Fi -- you'd still have a place that's worth hanging out in.
Every detail of KISS Cafe's operation is fastidiously and even lovingly attended to. The basic glass o' water is cucumber-flavored; the pickle that comes with your sandwich arrives at the table in its own jar of brine; the napkins are black bandanas; and the "retail wine" sign is a Lite-Brite. There's nothing so small or seemingly insignificant that KISS Cafe doesn't feel the need to somehow tweak for the better.
I could go on for another several hundred words about KISS Cafe's funky-warehouse decor and attentive, genuine crew (also, I just noticed that they stay open until 10 p.m. and have a sign advertising live music), but I've been here nearly an hour, and even though I know the KISS staff would gladly accommodate me for another hour, I don't want to overstay my welcome.
That's the kind of place this is -- you don't patronize it; you visit with it, just as you'd visit with a good friend. Even if that friend lives on the 44 bus route.
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