Nevertheless, Lunchbox Laboratory is a prime example of Seattle’s exciting new batch of microrestaurants. Meanwhile, chef Scott Simpson and his line cook are calling orders to each other on the side of the board, co-owner Allegra Waggener is brushing past you to deliver plates and pressing you for your order, and you can smell the fact that a lunch rush is going to hit in five minutes. Since there’s only the width of a 747 aisle separating burger aspirants from a tetanus incident with a rusty lunchbox or an intimate encounter with the person seated behind you, you have to stand very still and lean back to study the menu, as if you were at the base of the Space Needle trying to spot a friend waving at you from the Sk圜ity lounge. That’s not to mention the two additional boards around the corner, one advertising the daily chef’s specials and one listing a couple dozen flavors of shakes. Covered in writing, it’s the Lunchbox Laboratory burger-creation toolkit: At publication time, the lab offered six patties, 14 cheeses, 14 sauces, five extra toppings, six sides, and four varieties of salt. Had I encountered Lunchbox Laboratory in my days of collecting macrame patterns and Tammy Faye Bakker memorabilia, I’d have hyperventilated so hard my brain would have overoxygenated and shut down before I ever looked at the menu board.īut that menu board, the size of a ping-pong table, stretching from shoulder height to the ceiling and dividing the “dining room” from the “kitchen,” was the obstacle my friend was referring to. Every surface is studded with metal lunchboxes from obscure television shows, vintage signs, and more tchotchkes than my grandmother ever owned-a gen-X version of the old rusty-farm-tool décor espoused by family-friendly restaurants of the 1970s.
#LUNCHBOX LABORATORY WINDOWS#
“It’s a little . . . overwhelming,” she explained.Īt first, I thought she meant the décor: In terms of square footage, there isn’t much to the 15th Avenue burger shack-just a slim row of tables against the front windows and a tiny back kitchen, with little room between-but there’s sure a lot to look at. Opening the door to Ballard’s Lunchbox Laboratory, I spotted my lunch date just on the other side, huddling back from the burger line, staring at the room as if she were a rabbit and it were a pair of 60-mile-an-hour headlights.
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