 |
|
Coyote Creek Pizza Co.
Pizza Northwest
By John Hinterberger of The Seattle Times (August 29, 1993)
The most blatantly Northwestern pizza in the world was invented in a curiously Southwestern pizza joint in downtown Kirkland.
The Coyote Creek Pizza Co. sports hand-painted tablecloths decorated with motifs from New Mexico and Arizona; its walls are hung with bright paintings of assorted depictions of coyotes. Indeed, drop-in visitors might think they have been delivered to a Santa Fe culinary knock-off.
Not so. Coyote Creek is not an ordinary pizza joint and only a few menu items could be categorized as Southwest-inspired.
Why then "Coyote Creek?" I asked co-owner Steve Brodniak.
"We spent months agonizing over a name for the restaurant," he said. "Then, one night, we were sitting around with a group of friends going over the list of final 50 names, finishing off a bottle of wine. The wine had a "creek"--yeah, Jacob's Creek, I think--on the label. And just at that moment, someone looked out the window and saw a coyote sitting in the back yard. We put the two together and that was it."
Steve and Laura Brodniak started Coyote Creek last March as a small, bright storefront restaurant in downtown Kirkland, a block or so from the burgeoning colony of booming yuppie restaurants and assorted shops that make up much of Kirkland's commercial core.
But it is far from an ordinary pizza taverna. The influences of Wolfgang Puck's California Cuisine are much in evidence here. These pizzas would be far more at home in L.A.'s Spago than in Naples.
Who created them? Surely not two owners who are ex-bankers.
The Brodniaks did two very wise things most fledgling restaurateurs fail to do. They recognized their limitations--and hired someone to compensate for them. Bill Tamiesie, former pizza meister at Big Time Pizza and Hot Lips Pizza, was brought in as manager and menu developer.
"It was only because of Bill's expertise," said Laura Brodniak, "that we could feel comfortable with giving him a direction, like: 'I have a friend coming in from Arizona, can we make up a special pizza that tastes like a fajita?'--and have him create it."
He not only could, it's still on the menu--and not for the unadventurous.
All doughs are made fresh daily. So are the sauces and salad dressings. Pizzas are hand-tossed to order.
Ordering them may pose a bit of a problem for newcomers: Beyond a couple of recognizable entries (like a good Classic Neopolitan, $7.50, $12 and $17.50, depending on size), most of the line up have names like Blue Moon, Uptown Chicken, Prawns Plus and Texas Fajita along with--of course--the Northwest Delight.
Take heart; plunge in. You can find some pepperoni if you need to.
All pies come in 10-inch, 14-inch and 16-inch sizes. The Brodniaks suggest that the small pie will feed one or two diners, the medium two or three, and the large three, four or more.
I was intrigued with the Northwest Delight, if only because it was the first apple pizza I had ever contemplated. Frankly, at first consideration, I thought about ordering apple with about as much enthusiasm as William Tell, Jr. But we ordered a small ($8.75).
The pizza is constructed of tart green apples, sliced thin (Granny Smith's, I thought) layered over a spread of garlic-blended ricotta cheese. Next comes a layering of red onion rings (in season, Walla Walla Sweets are used), thin-sliced mushrooms, mozzarella cheese and roasted hazelnuts.
It's surprisingly savory and, without question, VERY Northwest. It is also the only pizza leftover that I pondered the next morning and wondered how it might go with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Urge left unexplored. But it's great cold, with hot, black coffee. The Texas Fajita ($9 to $19) is not for tenderfeet--or tender tongues. The base is a potent red chili sauce, which is augmented with sliced red bell peppers, onions, "southwest" spices, chunks of marinated chicken, melted mozzarella and chopped, fresh jalapeno chiles.
Most of the pizza is at least challenging; an occasional bite can be outright ferocious. Removing the fiery flecks of green chile from the pie by hand didn't seem to matter. The hot oils were married to the soul of the pie and were lip-searing for an hour afterwards.
Uptown Chicken (also $9 to $19) is much more urbane. In fact, it's downright civilized. Smoked chicken, blue cheese, walnuts and sun-dried tomatoes are arrayed over the garlic-ricotta base and baked until the mozzarella is bubbling. I judged it to be the best of the Coyote Creek "contemporary" pizzas, along with a bountiful Prawns Plus ($11 to 21)--prawns, sun-dried tomatoes, red onions, crushed red peppers on a pesto base.
The latter is an exceptionally pretty creation.
I found the restaurant's Antipasto Plate ($6.50) appealing, with a spread of sliced meats: prosciutto and copa ham, Genoa salami, Sicilian olives, artichoke hearts, mixed marinated beans, cucumbers and tomato.
Salads are large (even the small sizes) but nothing exceptional. The Caesar ($3.25 and $5.75) is billed as being made with whole Romaine leaves (which is quite authentic; that's how the Mexican-Italian original was first made by Caesar Cardini in Tijuana), but came instead with chopped leaves.
Dressings, including a light anchovy-lemon, are excellent, but not always evenly applied. One house spinach salad was almost dry.
The Brodniaks have literally built their entrepreneurial dream themselves. Because of their lack of restaurant experience, many landlords were afraid to rent to them. And because their backgrounds were in banking, not food, banks were equally hesitant.
"For a year we worked six or seven days a week--even building the counters ourselves, doing the tablecloths by hand--because we wanted this place to be our own," Steve Brodniak said.
The local trend is gradually toward more traditional toppings, he noted, and they are all available, but it was the gamble on the 18 designer pizzas that got them started and made them distinctive.
What next?
"To open another one," he said.
"As soon as we find the right place," she added. "No strip malls. It has to be part of a community."
I have to go back and order the Roadrunner ($9 to $19), before the Coyote does. For the record, it's ham and goat cheese--not roadkill.
