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Back Buzz - April 25, 1997

Still Life In Fremont, 709 North 35th Street, Fremont

What a perfectly situated cafe this is. A half block east of Fremont Avenue, Still Life lies within spitting distance of the heart of Fremont, also known as the Artists' Republic of Fremont. Perhaps a more depictive, less phlegmy way to describe its location is that it's nestled snugly against A.R.F.'s jugular vein: in one direction you've got the Fremont rocket, the statue of Lenin, Hale's, Redhook, and Maritime breweries, and all those pubs; in the other direction, the Fremont troll and Archie McPhee's. Like Uptown Espresso in Lower Queen Anne, the place is usually crowded. The room features tall echoing ceilings, a cool wall of northern-exposure windows, and a cozy clutter of mismatched wooden tables.

Concerning the recent double cappuccino I had here, I have to take points off for the use of a coffee mug instead of a proper cappuccino cup. With a typically dryish cappuccino the shape of a mug forces the milk foam into a tall, impenetrable tower. In order for the espresso buried underneath to reach one's mouth it must slide around the tower and out the side, resulting in a mouthful of straight espresso and a faceful of foam. In other words, there's no cohesion; a cappuccino should feature the marriage of fine espresso and perfectly-steamed milk, not the separation. Another minor pitfall was the fact that they didn't seem to offer a proper spoon, either demitasse or regular. I had the choice of a large or small soup spoon, so I opted for the small, which seemed more suited to feeding strained prunes to a baby than stirring coffee.

The espresso itself (Torrefazione, according to a year-old source) has that powdery working-class Italian taste that many espresso oldtimers prefer. I could appreciate the coffee's character -- nice and strong -- but it tended to weaken toward the end of the cup, becoming almost watery. Could this be simply from the barista oversteaming the milk? Or were the shots too weak? It's hard to say, but I'll allow for the possibility that it wasn't up to Still Life's standards. All in all it was perfectly enjoyable, though, even without cohesion and even when stirred with a babyfood spoon.

Still Life also offers a variety of sandwiches, soups, and desserts, and I happen to know they have excellent scones and bread. While you're here you should definitely check out the Garden of the Everyday Miracle, a cool hillside art installation immediately to the east of Still Life. Seen from the alley side it's a typical overgrown Seattle hillside; but growing among the plants and weeds are TV's, computer terminals, heads, and other artifacts. It reminds me of some of the wonderfully eccentric yards I've stumbled across while exploring the Berkeley Hills with my Bay Area friend.

There's one rather unsettling feature of Still Life In Fremont, however. On each table sits a sign which reads, "PLEASE do not study or conduct business meetings when it is busy so that people wanting to eat can have a seat. Thank you." Now, just what exactly does this mean? As Max pointed out, what if one plans to study or conduct a meeting for exactly how long it takes to consume their meal? Is that frowned upon? And just what do they mean by study, anyway? Aren't most of the average person's waking hours spent studying in one form or another? Is one allowed to sit in the cafe when it's busy and muse, for instance? How about scrutinizing one's pumpkin cake or contemplating one's tea? Are those activities allowed? What if it's crowded at lunchtime and a tired worker merely wants to sit and eat a sandwich while pondering her own existence? Is that any different than perusing the morning's paper or scrutinizing the crowd? Aren't these all forms of studying?

This reminds me of that ridiculous sign in Westlake Park which says "Do Not Feed the Pigeons." Now, Westlake Park is located in the heart of downtown Seattle. On a sunny day the park is usually full of office workers with their lunches, a handful of homeless people, and pigeons. So why on earth not feed the pigeons? What a ridiculous concept -- I mean, they're pigeons! They're urban scavengers. The sign makes absolutely no sense at all, and I'm glad it's regularly vandalized and defaced. It shouldn't exist in the first place.