The suburban critique of an urban anniversary

I must take a break in the current travelogue to try my hand at a bit of blog moonlighting. I've decided that I should marry my intense love of food with my intense love of free stuff and become a part time restaurant critic. The catalyst spurring this on was tonight's dinner at Seattle's Palisades to celebrate Sara and I's 5th wedding anniversary. Five years and I still love the daylights out of my little wife. Getting married was so awesome, I'd do it every week if I could get all those relatives to show up so often. Now here we are, 1,826 evenings later, still making great memories together, and never regretting a single moment. Anyhow, on we go to the suburbanite's critique of some urbanite cuisine:

As you drive home after an evening of fine dining at Seattle's Palisades restaurant, you will look down your nose at the diners leaving your once beloved Outback Steakhouse as though they were hogs leaving the trough and grunting their way back to the pen. Yes, even the bloomin' onions and the smothered chickens that you once considered the culmination of culinary quality will seem as mere trifles after the truffles and tarragon of this waterfront upper-class eatery.

After several minutes of harrowing inner arguments I ordered the crab-stuffed mahi mahi, and Sara cut her way through the fillet mignon, which ended up being far more than the cute meat it's name suggests. The mahi mahi was ideal for mehi mehi, with the perfect texture in the slightly fried crust, and the crab stuffing laced with just enough spinach to hold it all together, but not so much to transform the dish from surf to salad. I can't answer to the quality of Sara's food, as she slid the plate away, leaving my invading fork empty. She did, however, say that the mashed potatoes were far better than those served at Applebee's, which is a soaring compliment since we suburbanites consider potatoes "in the neighborhood" the Cadillac of starchy tubers.

I could go on an on for hours about the dessert. When asked which type of creme brulee I'd like I couldn't decide between the Grand Marnier, Chocolate, or Vanilla Bean. I eventually answered, "yes", and got exactly what I requested. I consider myself a connoisseur of burnt cream, and this was certainly a treat to be remembered...dare I say better than that of Paris? At least to this American with an untrained pallet it was. The waiter was very kind and in no way snooty when he found out we don't drink, very unlike the waiters in the mid-west, New York, and Europe. It was touching to see our waiter take the neighboring prom-goers under his wing as he patiently explained to them how to read the menu. The stream flowing through the restaurant, and even the perfectly arranged bathrooms, made the non-dining portion of the evening a delight. I also loved the vibrant view of the city and the marina to my right, the dark ambiance of the lobby to my left, and my beautiful wife of five years ahead of me. Palisades created for us the perfect setting for a romantic evening, providing the perfect return on the risky investment of trying out a new place. Will I ever eat at the Super Mall again? No, at least not this week while that exquisite taste it still on my mouth. I wonder how long I can go without brushing my teeth.