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this marks my hundredth post, which conjures images of fireworks and champagne bottles popping (oh wait, maybe that’s just new year…), but i’m sad to report that suite 410 doesn’t really foot the bill.  self-proclaimed as an “urban neighborhood bar”, a mal-alignment of expectations was presented; sure, it’s in downtown, which could be construed as “urban”, but “neighborhood bar” is far from meeting expectations.  there’s no sense of cheers, but rather an ambiance fit for a hotel bar, with a brushed steel/lacquered wood bar and piston stools that convey somewhere far from home.  our bartender was a young lad no older than a quarter century, with a faux hawk that would make belltown rise up in applause.  after pointing out to him where the fernet was located at his own bar, i asked for a ginger back, at which point he mixed what i later found out to be “bartender’s ginger ale“, a concoction of sprite, coke, and a dash of angostura.  while i’m usually a purist, i can’t say that i mind being hoodwinked in this situation, as some ginger beers can be overpowering and syrup-laden.  throw in a complementary communal fruit and cheese plate during happy hour and we’ll call it even.

poppin' bottles....if he can find 'em