Restaurant Review: Poppy

Is Jerry Traunfeld’s Poppy a clever taste of the future, or a modernized trip back in time?

I thought I knew Jerry Traunfeld. Granted, we’ve never met. But having followed his career for more than a decade, having devoured The Herbfarm Cookbook, which he wrote in 2000, and having eaten at The Herbfarm, the nationally renowned restaurant where Traunfeld’s genius bloomed (and where he tirelessly led the kitchen for 17 years before leaving in November 2007), I thought I had a pretty good bead on what made our region’s most celebrated chef tick. You know, utterly seasonal cooking using wild and foraged foods, and clear, pared-down flavors with unexpected punches from little-known herbs. Traunfeld’s a chef who, decades before the current local-seasonal rapture became mainstream, could elicit orgasmic responses from diners by feeding them, well, herbs.

With all of his success, Traunfeld didn’t strike me as the type to stray too far from his muse. But after I heard (and read in this magazine’s September story “Poppy Love”) about the intriguing concept for Poppy, it was clear that the chef was intent on divorcing himself from his former persona. He’d chosen to open on Capitol Hill’s pedestrian-friendly Broadway (a far cry from The Herbfarm’s tony Eastside locale) and began serving $32 thalis—individual platters with several small dishes. All signs pointed toward Poppy, which opened in September, ringing in the era of Traunfeld 2.0. Still, I wondered: Even if you take the chef out The Herbfarm, can you really take The Herbfarm out of the chef? 

Visually, the answer is a resounding yes. Unlike his alma mater, there’s not a stitch of chintz in the sprawling space. Poppy, which Traunfeld named for his mother, has a spare, open, midcentury modern interior, with tables in coordinating shades of poppies—bright orange and yellow—lit with mod white pendant lamps. At the sprawling bar, the people-watching is almost as delicious as the line-up of modernized old-time drinks. I especially liked the house bourbon sour ($9), frothy and fizzy from egg whites whisked while you watch, and the Pearaway ($11), which gets its dry intrigue from aquavit.

At Poppy, Traunfeld is introducing us to an Indian dining concept called “thali”—essentially, little tastes of lots of dishes. Fans of Indian cuisine know the drill: A thali consists of several varied yet compatible dishes of rice, chutney, vegetables, dal (thick bean stew), one or two curries, raita (cooling cucumber-yogurt sauce) and naan, or flatbread, all served on a large, round tray. The idea is to take bits of this, add a touch of that and, in essence, create an endless array of tastes. Traunfeld became enamored of this style of eating on a trip to India in January 2007. When he returned home to Seattle, he couldn’t shake the idea that this style of dining could work here, even if the foods filling the petite ramekins were distinctively Northwestern in style and flavor.

It does, and it doesn’t. At Poppy, save for a few options only available at the bar, diners have just three choices: The “thali of the day” ($32), consisting of 10 tastes of varying sizes (the two larger meat and/or fish dishes change daily, though seasonally appropriate side dishes and salads may remain for several days); a vegetarian version of that day’s thali (also $32); and a “smali” ($22), consisting of the diner’s choice of one protein dish and several side dishes.

During my two dinners, I was wowed by an array of dishes: a superb spiced Berkshire pork short rib so good I could’ve eaten a half-rack; pumpkin soup sprinkled with ingenious candied black olive “praline”; pillowy ricotta gnocchi tossed with meaty roasted chanterelle mushrooms, sage and shallots; and braised chicken in a leek and porcini mushroom sauce so hearty and satisfying I was tempted to lick the bowl. This was the kind of spot-on cooking I remembered from my stellar Traunfeld dinners at The Herbfarm. He’s a chef with that rare ability to do just enough with good ingredients to make them absolutely stunning.