The Pink Door

"The more things change, the more they stay the same." A common saying, this seems to capture what has happened at The Pink Door, which hit its 30^th anniversary in December 2010. Owner Jackie Roberts has managed to keep things fresh and current (if not futuristic) without losing sight of her original vision.

Owner Jackie Roberts at play

In 1981 when The Pink Door opened, Jackie's mission statement was about being able to survive through political and economic changes. Prescient? She wanted to create a paradox: a high-quality menu that was produce-driven, with deeply fresh food from local farmers yet reasonably priced. A place that offered an experience, more than just an eating establishment, that was fun and sensuous, with crazy music and a bohemian-looking wait staff that was professional, polished and knowledgeable about ingredients and wine.

There has always been a tarot card reader in-house; the first was author Tom Robbins' wife Alexa. Eugenia Van Vliet, the current reader, sits at a table beneath a mirror inscribed with her name. There is no other acknowledgement that she is there. Live music is offered six days a week. Aerialists twist and writhe from the 20-foot ceiling above diners twice a week. Saturday night's burlesque/satire takes place at 11 p.m. and is the only entertainment for which there is a cover charge.

Tamara the Trapeze Lady

"I always knew we'd be doing cabaret," recalls Jackie. "We started it when the stage was what I called a Murphy stage. It had chains that allowed us to raise and lower it. Gian-Carlo Scandiuzzi (Carlos) who is now with ACT Theatre, helped curate the cabaret in the beginning. Performance art was big. Each week he would paint a body part of a naked woman. Interesting people came to the show—the movers and shakers in Seattle. Our first trapeze artist used a trained eight-foot python that would bend at a 90º angle. I found him in New York when I was looking for an act that was edgy. One night the snake fell on a diner. She still comes back and shows people where it happened, but she won't come in!"

At first, Jackie had just the one dining room with the mysterious entrance from Post Alley through a pink door. "There was very little light in the alley back then. I wanted the color to stand out, be friendly, feminine and controversial." Just inside the door is a steep stairway leading down into the dining room. Jackie hired an aerialist named Tron Von Hollywood who became a good friend. One night in 1983 he called and told her the restaurant was on fire. She raced down on her Vespa motorcycle to see huge flames. As it turned out, the fire was in the bingo hall behind the restaurant. The Pink Door suffered smoke damage, but the bingo hall was a goner. Later she received a call from the Pike Market Historical Commission asking if she wanted more space. Tron looked at her and said "Bingo! Cabaret!" She took a portion of the space, the outside deck and a burned bingo card which still hangs on the wall.

For the first four years, they offered a prix fixe menu that changed weekly. Diners chose from three entrées and everyone got the same surrounding courses. "This made it easy to keep the kitchen fresh. We had no walk-in and I rode my pink Vespa with its crate to the Market and bought what we needed. My first chef was Patti Whitman; she did the entrées and I did the pasta course. I never had any culinary training and don't think I'm a very good chef. I do have one of the best palates I've ever met! I can identify ingredients and know what tastes good and what doesn't." Jackie used arugula and fennel before anyone else. "I got the seeds from Italy and had a farmer in the Market, Pasqualina Verde, grow them for me; I gave her sausage sandwiches. We bought local from farmers before it was the thing to do."

The prix fixe ended because people started having food issues. They couldn't serve the same thing to everyone. They've now found a gluten-free pasta from Italy they like and a gluten-free bread in Colorado that is air-freighted frozen to them. "We're very customer oriented. We let people substitute; they should have what they want. We wouldn't be here without their repeat business. I put myself in their shoes."

About 1/5 of the menu has been the same over the years. "We have three signature items—cioppino (pictured), lasagna and my grandma's meatballs. People won't let us take those off the menu. There are items that come and go: a butterscotch dessert made with butter and Dewar's Scotch, and our Bongo Bongos, three profiteroles stuffed with crème Anglaise. Our beet salad has been on the menu since the 90s, and our Bolognese for 10 years. Each time we get a new chef, I have to determine if they will be able to help us move ahead yet be willing to keep the meatballs on the menu!"

The Pink Door's chef, Steve Smrstik* (Culinary Institute of America, Place Pigalle, Pink Door, Painted Table, Tulio/Vintage Park Hotel, Seattle Catch, Flying Fish, 35^th Street Bistro and back to Pink Door) has upped the ante with items like his trio of fish: crudo with different marinades. "He has brought the restaurant to a new level. We're still American/Italian, but Steve's connections with fishermen help bring us the freshest catch. He's very knowledgeable about fish."

It's been an interesting career for Jackie. "In retrospect, I guess I always wanted to feed people. When I was eight, I used corn silks to pretend I'd made spaghetti. In my college dorm room, I raised my bed almost to the ceiling and put in a hot plate and refrigerator below it. Everyone came to my room to eat. I was drawn to Europe and loved the culture of conviviality at the table." After college, she and then partner Dany Mitchell traveled through Europe, returning to open Trattoria Mitchelli. She was a pantry chef at Rossellini's 910, a pastry chef at Annique's and worked with Joe McDonnal at Market Place Caterers. At a catering job in a bingo hall, she saw a pocket door, opened it and saw her restaurant for the first time. "It was an empty, cavernous space with a 20-foot ceiling and a door in the alley. Joe gave me tables, chairs and a refrigerator he wasn't using and told me to pay him back when I could. I did. The Pike Market Historical Commission wouldn't let me use the large neon sign I had, so I went the other way and put no sign up at all; I just had the pink door. I didn't advertise. I put up a website five years ago. This ended up giving me built-in cache, but I didn't do it on purpose."

When her daughter turned 18, Jackie refocused her attention on the restaurant and cabaret. "When you've been around a long time, you have to do something drastic. Our numbers are going up. Our late night is filled with locals in their 30s. We do three turns a night in the restaurant. We've lightened up the lunch menu. We've set trends when we weren't trying, like our entertainment and even the wine glasses I got from Italy that are now used by many places. Our house wine is good. People in Seattle are discriminating about food and using their money to eat out and be entertained. To keep going, you have to be tenacious. A restaurant is a work in progress; you're never really ‘there.' You can't rest on your laurels. Without attention to consistency, you will fail."

The Pink Door's lounge

It's easy to go through life and simply accept what you've done. But Jackie has a great deal to be proud of, succeeding in a tough industry and doing it in her own inimitable style. Making people happy, giving them memories, entertaining and feeding them—she should feel pretty good about herself now that she's done it for the rest of us.

All photos courtesy of The Pink Door

Connie Adams/February 2012