How Many Burgers, TVs, and Hot Waitresses Can a Single Block Support?

I'm no idiot. I can read the signs. When three of them, marked "Grill," appeared on the same block in the past three months, it was like the universe telling me to eat more burgers, watch some football--or think about out-of-town visitors for once. Tap House Grill, Daily Grill, and the newly reconfigured World Sports Grille, all chains of varying degrees, have conquered the same city block around Sixth Avenue and Pike Street, mere steps away from Niketown and the long-standing Fox Sports Grill. More important, they're all one block from the Washington State Convention & Trade Center, which regularly disgorges enough conference attendees onto the surrounding streets to create an Ann Taylor fashion parade.

There's clearly money to be made from the badge wearers—in 2005, says the Seattle Convention and Visitors Bureau, the average convention delegate spent $116 a day in our city (compared to $60 for the average tourist). But do the new grill(e)s hold any appeal for the rest of us? Should visitors even go?

This week I emptied the Weekly's expense account to dine at all three grills. I considered getting more into the spirit of the hood by wearing khakis, a blue chambray shirt, and a name tag, but when I held up the outfit in front of the mirror, I had to admit that my ego just wasn't that strong.

In August 2007, the GameWorks Grill became the World Sports Grille. A July 23, 2007, article in the Nation's Restaurant News reported that pressure from competitors Chuck E. Cheese's and Dave & Buster's is strangling business at GameWorks' flagging 19 locations. The Sega-owned company is aiming to up its food and drink revenue by retooling itself as a chain of adult-oriented (ergo, grill-E) casual restaurants. The first WSG concept launched in Detroit, and Seattle followed a month later.

The philosophy statement on World Sports Grille's new menu, which reads like the box copy on a Chinese pirated video game, starts out, "The world is a wonderland of races, raw materials, and traditions." That's right, there's a world of flavors to savor at WSG, such as black-bean burgers and Thai chicken pizza with broccoli and ginger. The 21-and-over area is cordoned off from GameWorks' play zones, and though the occasional bell or yelp can be heard, diners mostly seem focused on several of the dozen flat-screen TVs hanging around the room.

"You want some snacks with your drinks?" our waitress asked, setting the tone for the night. I scanned the room, and most of the tourists around us were accompanying their beers with a plate or two in front of them. A sign? If so, we ignored it, ordering apps, entrées, and 25-ounce mugs of beer.

Whatever wonderland of raw materials and traditions World Sports Grille's corporate chefs are working with, if they're planning on rolling out this concept around the nation, they'd better do some serious market testing. I've eaten less sloppy, more carefully considered food at Chili's, TGI Friday's, and Applebee's. Our soggy Buffalo wings were drowning in oil. A steak-and-Brie pizza looked as if the ingredients had been dropped on it from a ladder, and my companion aptly named the flavor "shades of Boyardee." While the pasta in the sesame-lamb noodles came out properly al dente, the noodles were coated in a shiny sauce that tasted like halvah, ginger, and corn starch.

In fact, the sandwich I ordered as a joke, the Szechuan pork burger—no, it's not a pork burger, but a beef burger topped with pork, as well as bok choy, lettuce, and tomato—turned out to be the best dish of the lot. This despite the fact that the sandwich was falling out of the bun into a pool of grease, the hunks of pork reminded me more of a shredded Slim Jim than cheap Chinese, the bok choy melted into the bun, and the burger came out well, well done.

Props to our waitress, though, for keeping an eye on the table, bringing out more napkins, and noting just when we'd hit the last sip of beer. I was masochistically itching to try a dessert of four brownies with four ice creams and four sauces, but the waitress brought out the check before we were done with our entrées. I looked up surprised, but she explained, "I just rang you up now so you can get the happy hour discount on your drinks," which cut our liquor bill in half. We thanked her, took the check as a fortuitous omen, and hauled out of there.

It's no surprise that three-quarters of the diners at Tap House Grill, which opened in May in the old Planet Hollywood space, were straight (-appearing) men. The giant underground warehouse—decorated in a handsome palette of copper and chocolate—is dominated by a bar with 160 tap handles, staffed with a team of lovely women, and lined with a Circuit City's worth of flat-panel TVs.