I've got writer's disease, that insidious little bug that works on my brain like a jackhammer, telling me to observe.  In silence.  Just observe.  And remember.  And listen.  Watch people.  Snoop.  Yep, I’ve got writer’s disease, and I'm one sick puppy.

Take tonight for instance. Another business trip, another meal by myself, just me, a collection of short stories, and some food and wine.  I’ve taken the name for this post from the Steve Martin movie The Lonely Guy, with the classic scene where he, as the lonely guy, enters a restaurant solo, and all eyes are upon him as the maitre' de seats him at a table in the middle of the restaurant, the other patrons whispering and pointing and generally enjoying his discomfort of a long, solo dining experience.  Since I constantly travel by my lonesome I thought the name appropriate.

So what I would like to do is patronize local restaurants where ever I travel (which I do anyway), critique them, examine their ability to cater to the lonely guy, the single diner (because as this guy I can tell you this is a necessity), and also look at the ability of the restaurant to satisfy the writer, the snoop, in all of us (that’s probably all of you OSers).  I’ll provide a food review, what I call the Food Vibe of a restaurant.  I will provide an evaluation of its merits in the realm of accommodating the single diner, e.g., was it a welcoming atmosphere for one dining solo? Was the single diner ignored in favor of bigger and supposedly more lucrative tables? (I say supposedly because I am a very generous tipper, and because there's a reason restaurants add an automatic tip for tables 5 and larger as it is usually the waiter who ends up losing out).  This is the Lonely Guy vibe.  And lastly, for all you writers, was there enough in house goings on to satisfy diner’s (okay, mine) intellectual curiosity, you know, things to observe and remember and listen to, the sickness?  This would be the Authorial Vibe.

The first restaurant on the chopping block, Crow, is in the Lower Queen Anne neighborhood of Seattle on 5^th Avenue.  I'm no stranger to Seattle, or to Crow for that matter.  In fact, for purposes of full disclosure I often eat there when I'm in town.  Ate there tonight, going there tomorrow night.  Still, I will strive for objectivity.

At Crow, I always order the same thing, a house specialty, Pan roasted Chicken wrapped in Procsciutto with Green Beans.  The reason?  It’s fantastic. The chicken is roasted to where the prosciutto is just the most delicate degree of crispy, the crunch perfectly complementing the moist, tender chicken wrapped within. It is gently laid upon long tender strands of green beans, cooked to perfection, snappy in the mouth, both then set in a delectable jus words cannot do justice to.  I had a couple of glasses of the La Carrala Sangiovese, as reds are my preference. I’m not a wine expert, but I know what I like, and though Sangiovese is not as sweet as I generally like, the La Carrala hit the spot, deep and bold color, a little bitter but fruity.  I skipped dessert.

On the lonely guy scale, Crow is actually better than most.  There is the main dining room, which any self-respecting solo traveler avoids like the plague.  They also have a dining bar separate from the liquor bar that is set right in front of where the cooks do their magic, though these are treated as regular tables.  My preference is the liquor bar, where you can also order off the full menu, and it’s located right at the entrance.  Yup, no trudging through the dining room like a slave into the colosseum, head held low avoiding the stares of the impossibly hip Seattleites, their hybrid bikes parked outside as they raise their wine glasses and laugh at each other’s clever little yarns about life in the coolest city north of Portland.  Just a smile and a glance to the hostess as I enter and point myself to the bar.  She smiles but little else in the way of communication.

I take a seat by a couple near enough to me that I can take in pretty much all of their witty banter, which after five minutes I realize is very, very little.  But they’re drinking plenty and I realize that tonight this place has the potential to satisfy my authorial needs.  She’s downing glasses of white wine like it’s water.  He’s drinking cold drafts like he’s auditioning for a Budweiser commercial.  She’s an attractive woman, low-cut blouse, spaghetti straps stressed to the breaking point, a practiced laugh straight out of an F. Scott Fitzgerald dinner party, and flirty in a hair-flipping, smile-as-she-looks-over-her-wine-glass kind of way.  Not that her friend/boyfriend would notice.  He’s not unattractive I guess, but I have to say she seems well out of his league.  I’m thinking maybe co-workers.

Since I’ve been seated he’s been fascinated with his new iphone, or more specifically all the available apps.  He looks at her excitedly to point out what seem to be all of his new downloads. And this is a built-in level, yep, the bar’s off a couple degrees…And I can check out Seattle real estate with this one. Christ! You believe this house is four hundred k?…This one keeps track of my workouts (don’t think he uses that one too much)…I can play five-hundred different games of solitaire with this…And this one gives me blowjobs!  Okay I made that last one up.  She feigns interest, but I’m mesmerized by the two of them.

At one point he says, kind of bored like, Well I guess this is a date then, and up ‘til that point I was thinking maybe he’s gay, only because she is practically laying down on the bar to get his attention away from that iphone/cock blocking device superglued to his hands. She’s doing all this flirty shit, touching his arm, laughing at his moronic small talk.  At one point she even leans back a little and grabs her neck and says Oh I must have twisted it a little and proceeds to arch her back just so and lean her head toward him and I can practically hear the little voice in her head purring Wouldn’t you like to press your geeky little fingers into my fine ass neck?  And as he taps the buttons on the evil anti-sex machine he actually moves away from her like he's anoyed and says And this app kicks me in the nuts (well he might as well have).  I’m stumped.

But as in life all good things must come to an end including my own little Days of Our Lives, and he excuses himself to go to the restroom (now you got manners?).  After he leaves she calls for the bill.  She whips out a gold card, pays, doesn’t even wait for him and walks outside to enjoy the (rare) good Seattle weather.  It’s almost like she’s saying to him Fine, I’ve got my toys at home, your loss.  Then clueless comes back to a couple of empty bar stools and looks like a confused dog.  The bartender informs him that the woman paid, and now he looks surprised, like that’s an impossibility.  He sees her waiting outside, and without even using an app he suddenly realizes he’s fucked, and not in the good way.

Crow   823 5^th Ave. North, Seattle, WA 98109

Food: 3 (out of 4)  Lonely Guy Vibe: 2.5  Authorial Vibe: 4