Madklubben

Those of us who were dining out in early '70s Seattle remember Brasserie Pittsbourg—when it closed then it was the oldest operating restaurant in Seattle. A few doors north of Yesler, it was down a flight of stairs from Pioneer Square. The large room was bright with white walls, white and blue tile floors and butcher paper spread on the tables—its windows at street level, sunlight flowed down between the legs and scurrying feet of tourists, nightlifers and residents.

Copenhagen's Madklubben is very similar...cut of crisp white walls and dark wood, it's Danish Modern rather than late pioneer Seattle. Nestled below street-level as it is, the restaurant is intimate without being close.

Upon arrival we were served a small brick-like loaf of rye bread. At first I thought it was a pate and waited for the medium to spread it on, but my companions quickly showed me my error: Slightly burned on top, the bread was soft and bursting with rye flavor beneath its dark surface. I could have made a meal of it—and nearly did. Consequently I opted for only one of the three courses of the prix fixe meal.

The Grillet Oksefilet is very much like a petite New York. The meat was flavorful, the thinness of the cut keeping it on the tender side of chewy; but the plate was made by the mash beneath the steak and the medley of baby beans, pearl onions and garlic that surrounded it...all brought thoroughly alive by a sauce of red wine and butter.