Burk's Cafe Is In A Cajun-Creole Groove

Jun 19, 1992

John Hinterberger

XX Burk's Cafe, 5411 Ballard Ave. N.W. Creole, Cajun. Lunch and dinner ($6 to $13) 11 a.m. to 10 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday. Closed Sunday, Monday. Beer, wine. Major credit cards. No smoking allowed. Reservations not taken. Information: 782-0091. --------------------------------------------------------------- How black is your redfish? How thick is your gumbo?

Regional cooking returned to the forefront of American culinary journalistic attention a little more than a decade ago. It was a revival, in a sense. But it was also more than that.

To some extent, it was a nationalistic reaction against years of attention paid to more sophisticated European cooking.

The first of those regional cuisines to enjoy a full-blown national celebration was the Cajun-Creole cooking of Louisiana, principally through the huffing exhortations of a grossly overweight chef named Paul Prudhomme, cooking hot and fearless out of New Orleans.

Locally, a young chef, Terry Burkhardt, took up the cause and opened Burk's Cafe in old Ballard. He housed his Cajun revival in a tiny storefront spot that, dating back to 1891, had been the home of Ballard's first tavern.

Louisiana-style foods, with the combination of dramatic high-fat methodologies, highly seasoned sauces and somewhat exotic ingredients (like okra pickles), were perfect for a food fad, but for the most part faded.

But at Burk's Cafe it persists - and prospers. It's a likable place and Burkhardt, himself, is a likable man. He has run his restaurant like a personal passion for almost 10 years. It opened in October 1982, and doubled in size three years later when "Burk" expanded into the space next door.

I liked it when it opened, I applauded when it expanded and I find I like it still - but not as much.

Burk's is in a groove. The menu is little changed. Big, boisterous gumbos (priced from luncheon specials at around $7 to $10 and $13 at night), a rich and satisfying Shrimp Etouffee at $11.95 and the highly touted Mussels starter ($6.95) whose followers - I among them - proclaim to be the best in Seattle.

The fried catfish is grand, but overpriced.

Yet there are glitches. The Tex-mati rice, an American hybrid of the vaunted Pakistani Basmati, came to the table gluey and overcooked on three occasions, feebly flecked through with wild rice and a few onions. The flavor was OK, but the kitchen oversight was indifferent.

A Ham and Shrimp File Gumbo (around $8) had been so overseasoned with cloves that the flavor profile was completely out of whack. It was almost impossible to sort out the tastes of the cubes of lean ham, chunks of tomato and nicely fresh shrimp.

Burkhardt has always relied heavily on potent herbs and spices - which is no sin in this cuisine (Prudhomme comes close to needing absolution, however) - but the sense of balance I enjoyed in earlier years seemed to have been bypassed in favor of more strident statements.

On one midday occasion, we had to ask for a basket of bread - excellent loaves from Grand Central Bakery - and were startled to find later that we had been charged an extra $1.50 for it.

I got the vague feeling that the difference between a restaurant that is in the groove and verging on being in a rut is a delicate distinction.

I still heartily recommend the mussels starter. If you can get it. Here is a dish that is not only to die for but to steal for. A couple of days ago the waiter confessed that the mussels, always presented in a spicey tomato-courtbouillon, had been stolen from outside the back door, just moments before the kitchen crew arrived.

"The bivalves were burgled," my associate announced. "The staff was shell-shocked. The manager unhinged."

We settled instead for the Cold Rice Salad with Marinated Artichoke Hearts ($2.95 and an ample amount for two). It came mayo-dressed, lemony with some lentils, red pepper, green onions, parsley and an appropriate amount of thistle hearts.

Although the restaurant uses the same menu throughout the day (and evening), the blackboard specials change at 5 p.m.

Thus, you can get the lunch items for around $6 to $8, and the more pricey nightly specials from 5 p.m. on.

Chicken Creole from the daytime fresh sheet ($5.95) consisted of one skinless, boneless breast, topped with Creole Sauce, a lively deep red sauce with green pepper, onion, celery and the usual blend of aromatics - which were better than the previous gumbo seasonings had been. The cloves were there, but reined in.

The Creole Sausage Platter ($9.95) is served with a Piquant Sauce, very hot but interesting. The two long sausages were split and grilled, loaded with garlic and fennel. But they were woefully dry, no sign of fat or moisture remaining. A noble side serving of red beans helped.

"Same miserable lump of rice," my associate grumbled. "Gluier than the last time."

The cup of chicory coffee was a nice finish. Try a couple of the desserts: the Pecan Pie with whipped cream ($3.50) is as good as anything in town. So is the Bread Pudding with Whiskey Sauce. A recent Buttermilk Pie was sadly bland and had a crust too tough to worry over.

Burk's is still a pleasure and still highly popular. But it needs its own revival.