CYBER-DOGS
909 Pike St., 206-405-DOGS, www.cyber-dogs.com
7:30 a.m.-midnight Mon.-Fri.; 10 a.m.- midnight Sat.; 10 a.m.-7 p.m. Sun.
Robin Laananen
THE OTHER DAY, I had one of those only-in-Seattle experiences. The place was Cyber-Dogs, the new all-vegetarian hot dog joint/ coffee shop/Internet cafe/job-referral service at the downtown Convention Center. Next to me, a kid played video games on one of five high-speed Internet hookups (20 minutes free, then $6 an hour). Belle & Sebastian blared from a boombox in the window. A guy with stretched earlobes, dressed entirely in black, slung espresso stylishly behind the counter. And an assortment of paintings, multimedia art, and dog-related merchandise filled nearly every square inch of the cafe's jarring orange wall space.
Amid all this charming miscellany, I dug into Cyber-Dogs' Laika Dog ($3.50), a Russian-themed wiener smothered in silky "eggplant caviar" and chopped onions. As far as I know, eggplant tastes nothing like caviar, but I didn't care: The dog was a perfect combination of salty hot-dog flavor, creamy eggplant and tomato puree, and crunchy whole-grain roll from Seattle's Essential Baking Company. I've eaten a lot of soy products in my day, but this was by far the most convincing not-dog I'd had in recent memory. Maybe it was just post-gym protein cravings, but I went home wishing I'd bought another.
On the second visit, I opted for the most adventurous-sounding selection on the menu: The DoggiLama, a dog covered in curry spinach sauce, (optional) spicy potatoes, and tzatziki, a cucumber-yogurt sauce ($3.75). The curry flavor of the spinach sauce was overwhelmed by the messy yogurt, which in turn contradicted the strongly flavored hot dog; I'd recommend getting it without the sauce. The Wiener Dog Schnitzel ($2.75), a traditional sauerkraut-and-onion combo, was proclaimed nearly indistinguishable from the real deal, although my dining partner longed for a plain, mushy white bun. The Greek Goddess ($3.75), a hummus-shrouded dog topped with feta cheese and served with pepperoncini, was the oddest of the bunch; the chunky chickpea spread seemed texturally redundant with the meatlike hot dog, though I still scraped up every bit.
Cyber-Dogs is bound to be open whenever you walk by (at least between 7:30 a.m. and midnight), and they also serve breakfast, gelato, and vegan desserts. Despite its low-traffic location just off the I-5 express lanes, the small space is often cramped, so they're adding some bar seating soon.
We vegetarians have gotten a ton of backlash lately from the meat-is-good majority, so it's refreshing to find a place that's unapologetic about its totally herbivorous menu. You almost don't notice the tiny sign in the window announcing, simply, "vegetarian" (A few people were seen beating a hasty retreat once they realized they'd stumbled into a meat-free zone). I'll be back, and I hope Cyber-Dogs will still be there to greet me.
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