day : 10/02/2006 3 results

Second time around

| Comments Off on Second time around

Went to the newly remodeled Spiro’s Pizza & Pasta tonight. Last time we went there was at least … 10 years ago. No foolin’. Went there once, not impressed, didn’t go back. Didn’t have a reason to, really, since the pizza picture here on the west side of the bay has steadily improved — especially once Pagliacci arrived.

Then came tonight: driving around with a West Seattle Blogger Relative whose hungry heart was set on sitdown pizza. Drove past Pegasus — no surprise, crowd spilling out onto the street, as it does just about any weekend night that’s not besieged with rain (or worse). WSB Relative suggested Spiro’s. What the heck.

What a surprise! The menu’s still a lot like Pegasus (minus Caesar salad, sadly). The pizza bears a bit of resemblance — crispy-topped cheese — but much more savory than Pegasus, and less overwhelming. (“Zesty,” was the proclamation of WSB Relative.)

The atmosphere, though, remains no better than what I recall from all those years ago. The remodeling work seems to have fancied up the walls (the baseboards remain glaringly aged), but the space is insanely noisy. My workplace is clamorous enough, I don’t need to deal with that kind of racket while dining out. We’ll go again — but next time, for takeout.

Did they say a MILE?

February 10, 2006 10:01 pm

| Comments Off on Did they say a MILE?

| WS breaking news

First it started with a minor-sounding sinkhole … now it’s suddenly a major sewer-line replacement project along the beach at Lincoln Park (read the county’s full news release here). A mile? As in, all the way up to Lowman Beach? And will the four months be over in June? Gonna be some ugly overlap with the Colman Pool season …

Memories

February 10, 2006 6:19 am

| Comments Off on Memories

| Development

The woman who inspired this Times column today had a kindred spirit along Alki Avenue not that many years ago.

I am fuzzy on specifics. But I can see it in my mind — one of those mondo-condo high-rises that went up, east of the beach, had to wrap itself around a home whose owner just wouldn’t sell out. Eventually either she sold out or died, and the home went away.

As they all do … even here in my neighborhood on the south side of the West Side, homes never seem to just change hands any more; if they are on land with even a hint of a view, the “sold” sign is followed by the backhoes, the debris, the new construction. We know we are the last owners of our little house, whether we are here six more months, six more years, or until the day we pass on to the next plane of existence (and no, I don’t mean Ballard).