Cafe Nordo Leaves Seattle

The show is over. The ovens are cooling. The chef hat is off and on the floor. The performers have taken off their makeup, and the fine china has been boxed. The restaurant is packed in the truck, and everyone is ready to move on to the next city. It must be exciting to traipse around the country brining good food, good wine, and great amounts of joy wherever you go. I wish the cast and crew of Cafe Nordo good luck.

As Nordo was piling the last of his books and utensils into the trunk of his car he promised to return with more bravado, more heart, more mystery, and of course, more food. He said he has already begun negotiations to bring another food adventure to Seattle in the Spring. Perhaps, as the Modern American Chicken winds up its tour, another evening, as yet unnamed, will debut here in the Northwest. That was his implied message. He truly loved the people and the art here, and he talked incessantly of creating a meal to commemorate the bounty of the Northwest and its distinct history. I can only hope.

So, good-bye Cafe Nordo. Seattle will be waiting.

And I thought what better way to end this portion of the blog with words from one of the cast of Cafe Nordo itself- Cochin the Sous-Chef. On closing night I asked her for a few words that I may include here as a cap to the story of the Modern American Chicken in Seattle.

“Tell All”

by Cochin

As I smear petroleum jelly on my eye makeup residue and bleach the colorful yolk and pate stains from my chef's coat, I'll tell you straight up: we at Cafe Nordo do not go in for histrionics. “Performance” was never the goal of the Modern American Chicken.

Wink, nudge, right? You're finding that hard to believe after watching Rosecomb and Lou have at it, surrounded by champagne bubbles. Our Maitre'd is an Oscar statue in and of himself, for goodness sake! And yet, that is who these people are. They are not actors, but ordinary folks who have worked damn hard to grab your attention...and slowly lower it to the plate in front of you.

To the food.

Everyone asks, where IS Nordo? At one point during our Seattle tour a fiery mouthed woman slammed her knife and fork against the table inciting her entire section to shout “WE WANT NORDO!” How can I explain? If Nordo were to perform for you, it would not BE Nordo. Our chef demands the best...perfection. Nordo the man? Hardly. Nordo the meal...that's another story.

When I enter the dining room at Cafe Nordo the lights shine bright, the room is flooded with music, glitter, a show. Irony, personified. Really! Nordo will tell you. I would very much prefer skipping out with him after plating the panna cotta. I'm happiest off the floor; drinking wine as we squeeze the pate into the chou, moving through our tiny, bright kitchen in a dance that can only be appreciated by those who range the fire; who are bound by temperture, by texture, by the pink of your tongue as you open your mouth.

This is why: I'm just a tool for the Chef. It's his perogative to pull the hair net from my head and push me in front of the crowd. The way Nordo explains it, my “performance” is merely another sort of prep work. I am preparing you, the diners, for his Henrietta. It was my pleasure.

Till next time Seattle. Thank you.