The original Duwamish inhabitants of the Madison Valley/Madrona vicinity referred to it as "Where One Chops." Today, its profusion of tony restaurants might justify calling the place "Where One Chomps." Madison, the straight old road leading from downtown to Lake Washington, abruptly changes from scruffy to huffy right after the top of the hill, where it's lined with wonderful restaurants and high-end boutiques that might be called "Where One Shops"; and it just keeps getting more upmarket as you head down to the bustling beachfront of Madison Park (which might be called "Where One Can't Park"). The smaller restaurant row along 34th Street in nearby Madrona is like a miniature version of the Madison phenomenon; both might be airlifted to the Smithsonian as standard exhibitions of Gentrification by Cuisine. Yet both streets' less-prosperous pasts are part of their current allure: One feels in these neighborhoods a sense of history all too absent from our rather new, mostly burbed-out town. And the whole place is rich in pocket parks, scenic spins, lakeside paths, and quaint homes that have only been worth over half a million for a couple years. Ask a colorful local old-timer, and he'll tell of a time when nonmillionaires roamed the Earth, pasta was Chef Boyardee, and you couldn't find a good cup of coffee in Seattle to save your life. Tim Appelo
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Cafe Flora
Vegetarian/vegan/gluten-free cuisine can be sensible, bland, a virtuous mortification of the flesh—but not at this pleasure-intensive joint. In the greenhouselike great room or the posh calm of the main restaurant, you'll find sinful excess in some nicely spicy Oaxaca tacos (corn tortillas abundantly stuffed with mashed potatoes). After wolfing down a puff-pastry-clad, Madeira-wine-sauce-soaked portobello Wellington, you are guaranteed not to wheedle, "Where's the beef?" The more laid-back brunch scene brings rich delights of its own: Green Eggs (or tofu) and Yam is no Dr. Seuss fantasy. T.A.
2901 E. Madison St., 206-325-9100. $$
www.cafeflora.com
Chinoise Sushi Bar & Asian Grill
Seattle sushi chefs are seldom unfriendly, but they do tend to be brisk—more "Hai!" than "Hi, how are ya?" Chinoise owner Jae Ahrens has a top sushi chef's swift fingers and stern demand for the freshest fish, but he breaks from tradition in his barside manner—affable, chatty, witty, more like a bartender or party host than a lean, mean fish-slicing machine. He's the go-to guy for the standards, from California rolls to tamago, but don't hesitate to try his lightly seared striped bass. For me, Chinoise's sushi is the place's raison d'être; the rest of the Asian- fusion menu is like pop music—a little less refined. Stir-fried dishes are crisp, in sauces that go from so-so to just fine; pot stickers are a bit heavy-set. Unlike a lot of its peers, Chinoise also offers a dandy lunch menu, including a bento box, teriyaki, or sushi. I say stick with the sushi. But it tastes just as good seated elsewhere than at the street-facing sushi bar—I like the tables at the far end of the restaurant, down past the mini–bamboo garden against the wall. T.A.
2801 E. Madison. St., 206-323-0171. $$
www.chinoisecafe.com
Dulces Latin Bistro
The atmosphere is pleasingly hushed, the walls a warm sienna, the big picture windows looking out on a pretty green park. It's a Latin bistro, so go for anything spicy (that is, almost anything on the short menu): the crumb-free sautéed calamari, sizzling paella Valenciana, or zarzuela de marisco, swimming with saffron-scented scallops, shrimp, mussels, clams, and fish. Dare to order adventurously—you can get half-portions of almost anything on the menu, and you get a 10 percent discount for paying cash. Check out the adjacent cigar room, but remember: What happens in the cigar room stays in the cigar room. Don't carry that stogie into the restaurant proper. T.A.
1430 34th Ave., 206-322-5453. $$$
Harvest Vine
If there were such a thing as a "tapas dancer," you might ecstatically become one after one meal at Joseph Jimenez de Jimenez's legendary Spanish/Basque eatery. It's better than 12 out of 13 tapas joints I've sampled in Barcelona, and almost equal to the one The New York Times rated tops. Despite a rotating list of about 26 small, perfect tapas plates, I can seldom bear to pass up my usual order, washed down with a Rioja chosen at random from the excellent wine list: vieiras, pan-seared sea scallops of impeccable consistency with sautéed onions and crunchy peas; and pulpo de feira, potatoes and Galician octopus soaked in olive oil with smoked paprika and delectable sea-salt grit. Formerly impossible to get into, the Vine added a cozy basement room; now it's only nearly impossible to get into, and you still can't make reservations. And the best dozen or so seats are still the ones at the pretty copper tapas bar, where you can watch the masters whip up the dishes, and barely resist seizing each one as it comes up, even if it isn't, strictly speaking, your order. T.A.
2701 E. Madison St., 206-330-9771. $$
