The Ridgeback Cafe

500 NW 65th

206-783-4073


Mon 7 am - 6 pm; Tue-Thu 7 am - 9 pm; Fri 7 am - 10 pm; Sat 8 am - 10 pm;
Sun 8 am - 6 pm



Georgetown is, we’ve decided, Ballard’s official sister neighborhood. It’s where Ballardites go when they can’t take it any more: can’t find a parking spot anywhere near Market, can’t squeeze sideways into Ballard eateries or bars, and can’t deal with the influx (especially on Friday and Saturday nights).  
But in a strange twist of reverse Ballard-flee behavior, Ballardians can now escape to Georgetown without leaving Ballard. G-town's beloved Hangar Cafe has opened a satellite on 65th NW, the Ridgeback Cafe, and Justin Taft has brought his crepes up North for us to enjoy.



Judging from the clientele, this is a place of free-thinkers, by free-thinkers, and for free-thinkers -- and nothing spells freedom like the Ridgeback’s open, airy, and woodsy space. Walking in the door feels  just like strapping on an oxygen mask for a minute or two, similar to what NFL players do after they have to run more than twenty yards at a time (without having had crepes for breakfast). Granted, neither of us has ever done either of those things, but this place just feels downright oxygen-y. 



Blonde furnishings modernize the minimalist environment, with matching chairs giving the room the feel of a fresh and tidy classroom. Slatted benches and restrained wall decorations add zest, and a bizarre lamp pulls our gaze. This would seem completely out place anywhere other than an estate sale of 70s furnishing, or here at the Ridgeback.  It’s a calming effect overall. Like sucking oxygen.



There were a few moments when it occurred to us that the servers had maybe sucked a little too much oxygen from the tank. The Zen-like atmosphere among the staff was clearly not always appreciated by the customers. Making each crepe one by one, they'd serenely set the first one aside until all of a table’s orders were ready. This handcrafted approach may have advantages, but having crepes served at room temperature is not one of them. We vote for the purchase of another crepe-making device. This would definitely be in order. 



Orange juice is served in jars and a different unique vintage salt and pepper shaker set adorns each table. While not the biggest fans of kitsch, we were compelled by the salt and pepper shakers to take lots of pictures, a sure sign that we'd been won over. They added whim and humor, enhancing the free-wheeling approach that is really one of the top draws of the Ridgeback. It would be easy to think the whole thing was thrown together, but there is an orderliness to the space that alludes to hidden design.  The room is simple yet completely functional.



The crepes, the restaurant’s raison d’etre, are made with mostly fresh and local ingredients, but the small pile of potatoes served alongside them had seen happier days.  We certainly enjoyed the Ridgeback Crepe, with sausage, caramelized onion, mushroom, cheddar cheese, spinach and egg ($9.50). This is a crepe heartier at most, giving a nod to its cousin the omelet. There was nothing precious or gentle about it, and it simply could not have been eaten with our hands. This is how we prefer our crepes; it just seems weird to see people walking around at a farmer's market eating a crepe as though it were an ice cream cone. We say eat ice cream when you walk around, and sit to consume egg dishes. And we think Ridgeback might agree with us on this point.



Sandwiches are well-represented on the menu and the Turkey Club, with roasted turkey, bacon, caramelized onions, avocado, spinach and tomato on grilled rosemary bread ($7.75) holds its own nicely. Served hot and piping, with a cute little side salad, this club stands head and shoulders above the typical triple-decker white bread parties that usually pass for a club. This little rascal sang a little bit of a different song. A song of freedom, space, air, and bacon, which are a quartet not to be beat. And now, next time we feel like going to Georgetown, all we have to do is drive to 65th! 




The Ballard Food Police visit all establishments anonymously and pay for all food and drink in full. Know anything we should know? Tell the Ballard Food Police at ballardfoodpolice@gmail.com.