How the Other Half Lives: Lunch at Overlake Hospital in Bellevue

Wow, you go to inner city hospital cafeterias enough you begin to be delighted with a cafeteria that doesn’t require a trek through the deepest annals of the facility to eat salisbury steak. Not only did Overlake Hospital, in the upper class satellite city of Bellevue, east of Seattle, not make me take the trudge of the damned, they had a friggin’ piano player in the lobby.

She’s real, I talked to her. Her name is Consuelo Corbett (she looked like a Rose to me though, I have no idea why). She was very nice and inquisitive as she plunked away Christmas standards on the shiny black grand paino.

There are a many places to choose from in proximity to the Overlake lobby. There’s a Starbucks and a salad and sandwich cafe, but my interest resided one floor down. It had a little glassed area, an upper and lower outdoor patio, and a large seating area with a television (not a normal feature of the places I’ve been so far).

The area where they serve food is set into a small cramped space where there are three food windows and a computerized ordering system. I tried to use the system, but I couldn’t find the special. Either way, I had to wait a while and flag down an employee to get me the special that was featured on the plate outside the service area. The area looked like during a rush it would get mighty packed and frustrating. I’m glad I was there around 1:30.

The lady that took my order was very nice and gave me a heaping plate of noodles and vegetables with four giant shrimp on top. I grabbed a cheesecake (their featured desert). There was also a soda fountain, another uncommon feature for some reason, perhaps bottles are more sanitary…who knows?

I was a little disappointed that they didn’t have silverware, only plastic utensils, which contributes to the death of the planet. However, the cashier was chipper enough to strip away my skepticism when I paid for my food.

I settled at a random table in the main room because the atrium room looked like it was set up for a party. I watched Wayne Brady on Let’s Make A Deal engage in a rap about a product that embarrassed the whole African American culture. I sipped my Diet Coke and examined my meal.

It was colorful and not something I would anticipate hailing from a hospital kitchen. Regardless, I took the first bite of my meal not expecting much and found layers of wonderful soy, ginger, sesame, lemon, fresh green onion and cilantro unfold in my mouth. It was a cold noodle salad that one would enjoy for lunch on the patio at a Northwest/Asian fusion bistro. The shrimp had been frozen and thawed (the only way they usually come in the Northwest), but large and yummy. Though I’ve had this before (and even made it home a couple of times), it was wonderful and better than I made at home.

The meal wasn’t perfect though. I looked around and not only was my table not clean, but most of them around me weren’t wiped. I suppose the staff was busy doing other stuff or it was right after the rush, but a little gross.

The parking was a little weird too, because they allow an hour for free, then it’s four bucks. The walk from the parking garage to the cafeteria and back takes up 15 minutes, then there’s the 10 minutes of bumbling around like an idiot looking for things, it doesn’t leave for a relaxing lunch. But if you’re at a hospital, you’re probably not there for just an hour, which is a healthy portion of what a friend of mine would call “weak sauce.”

I enjoyed my meal, however it wasn’t really “all that” (you may have noticed that I didn’t mention the cheese cake). All in all, I really enjoyed the experience and the cafeteria seemed to have lots of choices both healthy and unhealthy. But having dirty tables at a hospital is really bad. I give them two and a half out of four catheters. I’ll go back in the summer and see if that improves with the outdoor seating.

Wishing I Hadn’t Woken Up?

 

Enter if ye dare.

Harborview Medical Center is abuzz with activity at all hours, but the morning seems to be particularly hive-like. The swarm flows out  the door of the local gourmet coffee dispensary (Diva espresso), just like in the cafeteria. The difference is that, I have no idea why the cafeteria has any buzz in the morning. The coffee at Diva is good, both the food and the coffee at the cafeteria are not the nectar one would expect.

I have given Harborview an excellent review before. Why? Because it was yummy/spicy and I liked the equally spicy/sassy staff. They made me happy. But the thick guttural bloop sound emitting out of the oatmeal pot set the mood of the whole place the morning I went in for breakfast. As I stood the long line for the special I realized that the Kafka-esque trudge toward the hot counter was reflective of the food. It turned out to be about as special as my mom told me I was when I was a kid (I wasn’t).

It featured cheesy eggs that literally made a thumping noise when they hit the plate, hashbrowns so dry they seemed to absorb moisture from the atmosphere around them, and sausage logs. I was going to go for the bacon, but it looked limp and white. I almost felt sorry for it, like the pig was being punished for some slight against the farmer long after death.

The look of the whole culinary fiasco inspired my breakfast mate to choose a bagel and fruit. The former being bland, the later being “I took a shower BEFORE my workout” fresh.

You’ll notice there is no coffee in the picture of my plate. That’s because I could smell the coffee before I even got to the coffee, however, I didn’t realize that the horrible smell was the coffee. It had this dormant metallic smell, like someone had put dishwater into an aluminum pan, set it on the stove, and let it burn into the pan.  So, upon realizing this, I decided on orange juice.

The eggs were dense and the cheese was oily. The hashbrowns tasted like I was eating shavings of cheese puffs without the fake orange cheese flavoring and ketchup, salt, pepper, and tabasco didn’t help one bit. The sausage logs were the only good thing on the plate, but they still had those chewy little balls of gristle.

I am going to give Harboview another chance in the future for breakfast, but this time, it gets one catheter out of four. The staff was all business, not the light banter between each other and the customers that I enjoy so much, and the atmosphere was great in the atrium. This yielded the catheter. The food alone was no catheters what-so-ever.

Date Night at a Hospital Cafeteria

 

The specials are displayed...enticed much?

Virginia Mason’s Four Seasons Cafe is one of my regular hospital food review cronies favorite places to eat. Not because of the food, apparently they have a specialized credit union cash machine next to the cafe where she can make deposits instead of having to drive all the way out to Bellevue. I know, lame reason, but no more asinine than me driving 40 miles away for a specific brand of underwear and enjoying the added bonus of the local hotdog stand every time I go.

Seattle has some of the best food on the planet with hundreds of restaurants. It would be a crime to not eat at every single one of them at least once. That’s what we try to do normally, especially when we’re on our way to a show at the Paramount in the evening. However, we found this as a perfect opportunity to get a quick and yummy bite at a hospital on our way. Regret is a terrible thing.

Virginia Mason Lobby

One thing that surprised me is the sheer volume of people at the cafeteria in the evening compared to other times at Virginia Mason. Harborview has lines all of the time, but a private hospital like VM? There was a whole table of volunteers spending (what I overheard) a $10 stipend, another table of tense and quiet family members, and a volume of various workers including a couple of very stressed out doctors who looked as if they were about ready to fall over while standing in line.

After getting our meals, garden burger and salad for my partner, “the special,” which was lemon crusted cod, potatoes, steamed veggies, and the bread pudding for me; we stood in line. My partner pointed out that hospital workers have some of the oddest eating habits. One man had four milks, orange juice, three oranges, and a bag of plain chips. Another guy had a mound of bay shrimp from the salad bar covered in ranch dressing, a browny, and a coke.

We sat down and ate our meal in a place that’s so inappropriate for a date that there’s only one word for the experience in my world, “perfection.” Adding to the perfection was the fact that my meal was terrible. The filet was triangular, which can only mean one thing, it was frozen. Unless of course cod fishes are triangular, then that’s perfectly acceptable (they’re not). The mashed potatoes were gritty, almost sandy. Perhaps it was because there was a light dusting of garlic salt, but that did not save them from tasting like boxed mashed potatoes. The steamed veggies had no flavor to report.

My desert was the best part of the meal. It was a breading with a custard on top and melted chocolate chips throughout.

Date early, date often

My partner’s garden burger had fresh ingredients, a good bun, and the patty had some passable flavor. The salad bar is lackluster, so her salad featured a lot of peas.

Hospital cafeterias are a great second date place. They could be a first date place if the woman is especially open-minded, but there’s nothing better than a good first impression, and that’s probably not the lasting impression you want to leave. The third date is supposed to be the “intimacy” date, so the hospital can only hurt that chance. Nope, the second date is perfect because it’s different, fun, and non-obligatory.

As for my dinner, I give it one and a half out of four catheters. I still like the center pieces (held over from another review), but serving one step up from a fish stick and what appeared to be powdered mashed potatoes is really sad for a private hospital that’s supposed to have standards. Plus, the expression on the faces of the workers was particularly oppressed as opposed to other days at VM, which is normally dissociated at best.

Northwest Hospital, Ahhh, If Only It Were Summer

I went to Northwest Hospital to do a food review for three reasons:

1) I was hungry.

2) I was going to go shopping for Christmas at the mall near there.

3) They saved my life once.

I was just about done with recovery from cancer and I was days from moving out of my parents to try living on my own when BAM! Infection. I knew I was in pain, but I didn’t want to lose my freedom. However, it got worse and worse until the infection popped one of the stitches attaching one of my internal organs to the rest of my internal organs. It was like speeding down a winding mountain pass and blowing a tube in the brake line. In seconds it seemed like I’d gone from doing things on my own to having hours (minutes) to live.

I was taken to Northwest hospital and they saved my life. Out of all of the healthcare workers from various hospitals that saw me naked during my cancer, the staff at the Northwest hospital were the nicest. Will this influence my food review? Not at all, probably.

The campus of Northwest Hospital is beautiful. It’s in the suburbs. Unlike the inner city hospitals I’m used to it has grass and trees and nice walkways and no screaming ambulances and no shooting victims standing at the bus stop smoking a cigarette talking loudly on their cell phone about the how the next time they see that dude that shot them they’re going bust a cap, blah, blah, blah. This really helps create a pleasant atmosphere for the outdoor seating at the cafe.

The lack of crazy people searching for illegal prescription medicine also allows NW Hospital to have a normal cafe entrance as opposed to passing though layers of security to get to the cafeteria. The set up of the cafe is pretty standard. The difference comes in the real cafe ambiance and the friendly service.

Woops...my stomach took over.

One thing that will show you that I was hungry was that I didn’t take a picture of my breakfast until I was almost done with it. However, they had the standard fare served with a big ice cream ladle (as opposed to an ice cream scoop). This made the portions more robust than other hospitals. I also chose the crispy bacon and one sausage, which was grey on one side and brown on the other.

The eggs were great! They were fluffy and creamy and my breakfast mate (who chose the same thing I did) swears that they put cream in them. However, they insisted the eggs were not cut with milk and my breakfast mate (who’s allergic to dairy) would have been dead by now if they had so I believe them.

The hashbrowns were uninspired as was the bacon and the sausage. The coffee was from Starbucks and was fresh, which was nice. They offered flavored non-dairy liquid creamer, which added a little pizzaz to the normally bland coffee. I also noticed they had a DIY panini station (note to self: awesome).

Though there were no pleasant surprises, the breakfast was good, there was free parking, and it would be a place I would go to during the summer just to hang out on the deck and have lunch, weather permitting.

I give the NW Hospital three catheters. What really stood out was the ambiance. The atrium room was bright and airy even though we went on a drearily cold rainy day. They had music, which is rare. The service was with a smile and they had lots of fresh fruit and big pancakes (which I didn’t try, but saw many others eating…I should have tried them. Maybe next time).

Thai Me To a Moving Food Truck…Please

My lunch companion at the Market Cafe entrance...inviting...

You know what? I like food. I like the look of it, the smell of it, and (in the case of pizza and nachos) I even like the feel of it. However, the taste of food, at some moments throughout my lifetime, have been disappointing. The worst is when anticipation for what you’re about to eat builds, just to drop you like a big sack of wet spinach off of the roof of a very tall wet spinach factory (which only exist in my head). That’s what happened at Swedish Medical Center the other day.

You may have seen the review I did of the Market Cafe in Swedish last month. Not the most sterling review. In fact, giving it two and a half catheters was a catheter too generous in hindsight. But I am not an indian-catheter-giver, no, but I will not stand to be deceived.

When I walked into Swedish to do my lunch review I was hopeful. Perhaps because of the many pleasant past experiences I have had there. Let me reminisce for one second here before I launch my lunch…experience. I went in on a Thursday last summer to find in the corner of the cafe a mini vegetable market. I’m not kidding. I bought fresh basil, green beans, asparagus, and a jar of preserves from a couple of people who owned a local farm. HOW COOL IS THAT?!

Unfortunately that was when the public could enter through the cafe entrance with the awning. They changed the policy, probably for security reasons. Now the public has to wind through the maze of corridors and elevators asking the random employees where to go along the way. It feels like the trudge of the damned even before you get there.

However, when I went in for lunch, I was pleasantly surprised and excited. As you might have been able to tell, I always order the special to even the review playing field. Usually at most hospitals it’s chicken or fish something with potatoes and veggies. But the day I went to the Market Cafe, they were boasting Thai Food, that’s right, perhaps the tastiest type of foreign food to step onto the shores of these United States.

I couldn’t wait, the anticipation was building, but then…the ice cream scoop came out. It was being held by the same type of employee I have been confronted with at the Market Cafe before. She looked like she’d had her soul vacuumed out of her, as if life had reduced her to merely an arm with an ice cream scoop ready to roll into a tight ball whatever substance lay in that chafing dish in front of her.

Thai Food?

But an ice cream scoop does not determine the taste of a dish.

The substance was made with chicken and it hade vegetables in it. It was served on (a ball of course) of rice. It was runny. My lunch companion, who rarely has the same thing I do, but decided to go with the special also that day, looked at me crookedly as we trudged up to the cashier. This didn’t look like Thai food. I’m not quite sure what country it hailed from. Perhaps that would be revealed by the taste.

It wasn’t. There was no taste. I would like to think that it had been prepared with ingredients, but the flavor of the ingredients had been extracted somehow. The difference between the rice and the dish was a great mushy morass of bland. It had peas in it for godsake, PEAS! That’s not a Thai ingredient!

I was hungry so I finished it. Why wouldn’t I? It’s not as if it was bad…it was like the person who served it, just not there. Not present. In fact, the dish was so bland it was like a black hole of taste sucking the joy out of the blueberry pie I chose to follow it with. I’m sorry I wasted the time.

I give this whole dull and tedious fiasco one and a half catheters. The half a catheter is for at least brightening my day for a fleeting moment.

Opa! Going Greek at the Four Seasons Cafe

My first review of the Virginia Mason’s Four Seasons Cafe was less than stellar because of the bland lunch and the dead eyes of the staff. But one day is not another. I reviewed the lunch during the week, however, my breakfast experience happened on a quiet cold Sunday.

Was it Sunday Brunch? No. They don’t serve Mimosas or cater to hung over club goers telling stories of what they remember of the evening before. It has the same hospital workers, ambulance drivers, and worried family members huddled around tables making plans as any other hospital. Yet, the atmosphere was pleasant and they had CENTERPIECES! Not only that, they had stuff like salt and pepper and Tabasco. That made me happy.

I did what I do with all of my reviews and chose the special, which was the Greek Scramble. Usually I don’t like the American version of Greek because it involves tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and feta cheese. I’ve spent a lot of time in Greece, so after my 400th experience with that combo, it has lost its luster…or so I thought.

I was served by a really nice energetic guy who actually acknowledged my existence and made recommendations. The Greek combination contained fresh ingredients, was moist, and had a wonderful balance of spices to boost it out of the normal hemisphere of bland hospital fare. It was accompanied by some standard, but crispy hash browns and beautifully done brown sausages. A nice change to the grey meat logs that I see too often at some cafeterias.

They use Boyd’s coffee, which is a step above Folgers, but not exciting. It was fresh enough that I didn’t just throw it away after breakfast, which I find myself doing too often after a hospital breakfast. I’m from Seattle. Of course I’m a coffee snob! But one thing that delighted me was that they had non-dairy creamer. Sure, it’s a chemical substance that will probably outlive the earth itself, but it’s also a time machine in a little packet that can thrust you back into what coffee tasted like in the 70′s.

I didn’t have a breakfast companion, so I brought a book thinking I would hit a coffee shop on the way back. However, I found that the atmosphere was nice and peaceful so I stayed. Also, the French Roast Boyd’s coffee wasn’t half bad. With flowers on the table and a quiet place to sit, I had a much different experience than the last time I was there.

I give this breakfast three out of four catheters for good quality, nice service, good coffee, and a peaceful atmosphere.

The Flavors of Harborview

Harborview cafeteria art

Did you watch that show, Grey’s Anatomy? Harborview Medical Center is the hospital on which show is supposedly based, with its gritty nonstop atmosphere of high energy adventure. Living within two blocks from it will tell you that Grey’s Anatomy doesn’t have anything on the real thing.

Believe it or not, the show is actually less diverse and buzzing than if you just stand out front for an hour. You’d probably see less sex between staff members, but more gunshot wounds. What they definitely don’t depict well on the show is the fact that is has one of the best cafeterias in Seattle.

Harborview is the dumping ground for every homeless, uninsured, or unidentifiable car accident victim within a large area. The helicopters go day and night and the ER is by far the most active of any in the city. This turns a lot of people in the area off from even considering eating around there. Trying to get to the actual cafeteria isn’t that appetizing either.

The hospital is massive and just finding the cafeteria is a disturbing maze past Tuberculosis research wards, shaking people hanging out in the halls for seemingly no reason, and rushing staff members wearing all different kinds of badges. When you hit the dank basement leading to the deepest annals of the hospital, you’re near the cafeteria. Suddenly you’re welcomed by a wide open area with art and a spectacular atrium.

The cafeteria serving area is cramped, so going there for the rush is not advisable. When the rush is done, the staff scrambles to get more food out, but they are forced to be cognizant of food cost I would guess a little more than other hospitals since they are publicly funded. The staff however is boisterous and sassy, something I personally really enjoy. This comes out in the food they prepare.

Their choices were few because I arrived at the at interim time between the rush and new food, so I was forced to choose the Hungarian Goulash. It’s basically a spicy beef stew with any type of veggie you wish to put in it and potatoes. They put a healthy dollop of sour cream on it. The lady (who actually sounded and looked Hungarian) told me it was traditional served that way. I’m not Hungarian, but I knew that was a healthy dollop of BS. I chose the green beans on the side with a carrot cake.

My vegetarian lunch mate chose the black bean burger, one of two veggie patties offered in the grill area. She was very happy to have choices. It was also served on a fresh whole wheat bun.

The Hungarian goulash was nothing to laugh at, it was spicy with large chunks of everything and made my stomach very very happy how hearty it was. The green beans were snap crisp, however they had some weird (but yummy) flavored oil. The carrot cake was light, moist, and wonderful with real chunks of carrot. The lunch was a real delight.

My lunchmate said her patty was a little dry, but the veggies were fresh and the bun was excellent.

The best part of the whole meal was sitting in the atrium with a curved glass ceiling. There were senior staff as well as lower level staff all sitting at the common tables working on their work there rather than in their offices, which tells you that it was a safe and positive place to hang out even after your lunch.

This was the first time I had been to this cafeteria because, like many people, I was a little afraid of what I’d find. But if you can handle the maze and the walk through the dungeon basement, it is worth it. If not for the food or the atrium, then the excellent people watching possibilities.

I give it three and a half out of four catheters. I will be going back…perhaps I’ll hang out for a while and do some writing.

Just Because It’s Served With An Ice Cream Scoop Doesn’t Make It Ice Cream

The Market Café at Swedish Hospital used to be a different place than it is now. It was inviting, intent on separating itself from the other hospital cafeterias by having an awning and ground floor access from the street like a real café.

It was originally touted as “First Hill’s Café.” That has changed.

You see, First Hill (aka Pill Hill) in Seattle is not only known for tons of hospital workers and friends and families of guests, but also chain-smoking wheelchair-bound elderly people, drug addicts, and discharged mental patients. These people seem to have had ample time on their hands to grace the Market Café with their odorous patronage.

Once these people decided to make the Market Cafe their personal loitering spot, the hospital decided to limit access to the cafe to three entrances on the far side of the hospital that force patrons to trudge through the maze of unappetizing hospital-ness. This is understandable. Security is more important than atmosphere and access. However, this has caused the café to revert back to more of a café-teria.

Breakfast is served from 6:30 am to 10 am every day. There are the standard choices, scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, fruit etc.

The gal behind the hot case held an ice cream scoop and gave me a stare like, “Are you kidding me? You actually have to think about what you’re going to get? There are three things here: choose.” Of course, she didn’t say that. She didn’t say anything at all.

That ice cream scoop became the versatile utensil with which my breakfast was placed upon the plate. Cheesy scrambled eggs, hash browns, and bacon. I contemplated getting the sausage, but it was grey. I don’t like grey food. I also considered biscuits and gravy, but the gravy had a yellow hew. Perhaps it was the lighting, but ew to the hew.

My eggs were great. Fluffy and cheesy, but a little greasier than I expected. The bacon was perfect, crisp and not too fatty. The hash browns were dry and so bland that I had to add salt, pepper, Tabasco, and catsup (something I don’t like to add unless it’s a last resort or the food is in hotdog form).

The coffee was made by Cafe Vita, actually one of my favorite coffee companies. I go to their cafes often. Their careful roasters make a great products and sustainable business model keep me going back. Swedish should be commended for making the right choice in coffee. However, their drip coffee was not fresh. Admittedly, I went at around 9 am, later in the breakfast service.

My breakfast mate was far more impressed with her meal. She had a cup of cut fruit and an English muffin with jam and an Americano from their automatic espresso machine also filled with Vita coffee.

She said that the fruit was very fresh and good and could have had a better variety other than melons, pineapple, and grapes, like strawberries or blueberries, but the cost would have been different and perhaps would have bled into the other contents. She liked her fresh english muffin and especially enjoyed putting it through their industrial rolling toaster.

I was nonplused by the breakfast, but everything only cost $11, so I became more “plused” in hindsight. My breakfast mate enjoyed it and liked that the café had windows. It’s definitely one of those breakfasts that is placed there to keep you alive after a long night shift or an excruciating night of pacing the emergency ward floor.

I give the Market Café two and a half out of four catheters for effort, but the whole feel was no different than any other hospital. ~ Jeremy Cairns

Lunch Time at Virginia Mason Medical Center

I get to the cafe by walking into the emergency room entrance of the Virginia Mason Medical Center. Their emergency room is like entering a Christmas store in June; a lot of employees prepared and waiting for something that will inevitably come, but probably not today or tomorrow. Out of all of the times I’ve walked in there, I’ve only seen an empty waiting room and bored staff. However, the day I walked in for the food review there was actually something happening. A doctor stood with two policemen talking about a how a homeless man had wandered in and they turned him away, prompting him to become belligerent about his need for care and their hippocratic oath and what-not. The cops arrived only after he’d wandered off, back into the city.

It’s these types of things that make lunches so special.

Virginia Mason’s Four Seasons Cafe (not affiliated with the Four Season’s Hotel chain) is situated on the fourth floor in a somewhat confusing labyrinth of inner corridors and elevators. If you’ve found the gift shop and vending machines, you’ve found the entrance to the Four Seasons. Down a hallway you are greeted with plates of food under steamy hoods. The hallway then converts into a cafeteria in the truest sense. Confined, controlled, and windowless.

cafe

It has an average salad bar, a hot table of ham, veggies, italian something-or-other, etc, and a grill. The selection is limited, but better than you would get at a restaurant with a limited menu. As I will most likely do with most of my reviews, I ordered the special, their variation on a chicken pot pie. My lunch mate is a vegetarian so she ordered a veggie burger from the grill.

Chicken Pot Pie

The chicken pot pie was a flakey filo dough, cut in half, then filled. The filling was a gummy shredded chicken, carrot, pea, and onion combination. Exactly what one would expect from a chicken pot pie. When I cut into it the light filo dough crackled and flaked perfectly. Filo dough doesn’t have much taste, so I was expecting the filling to compensate, but unfortunately they did not. In fact, there was so little flavor I turned to breathing the sterile air to add some excitement to the dish. That didn’t work, so I added salt and pepper instead. So in the end, the dish tasted like salt and pepper.

The side of veggies were half over cooked/half crisp, which left me dizzy like I just got off culinary bumper cars. The potatoes were boiled, perhaps the best way to cook a new red potato. Believe it or not, you can still screw up a red potato by over boiling it and drying it out. That didn’t happen.

You will notice the side of their desert of the day, blackberry cobbler. That was heaven in a little cup. It was not too sweet, just the right amount of crunch, and had whole fresh blackberries. It was so good that I seriously contemplated going back for another. I didn’t.

My lunch partner described her meal was “insert veggie burger here” with the standard frozen veggie burger and standard white bun.

Veggie Burger

However, she was thoroughly impressed by the freshness of the lettuce, tomato, and pickle. She said that there were way more condiment options than average including little packets of bbq, tabasco, Mrs. Dash, to giver her the option to flavor her burger any way she wanted. She chose to flavor it with “Canadian flavor,” which is basically a combination of mayonaise and good intentions.

The atmosphere of the place was dated eighties pastel with light wood and canned art. Very little to make you want to stay and enjoy your whole lunch hour.

Virginia Mason’s Four Seasons Cafe for lunch gets a two and a half out of four catheters. Their ingredients were fresh, but bland. The service was cordial, but with lots of cafeteria vacant stares. The atmosphere was clean and outdated. I will visit again because they have the only First Tech Credit Union cash machine in this section of the city, plus the blackberry cobbler has now entered my dreams. ~ Jeremy Cairns