Fremont Fresh offers something a little extra

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Contrary to popular belief, I do not spend every night dining in restaurants. Just like many other overwhelmed, overworked moms heading home after a day at the office, there are evenings when I maneuver my car onto the I-5 express lane asking myself the age-old question: "What'll we have for dinner?"

Take-out pizza or its frozen cousin isn't usually an option; it's often my husband's easy way out on nights when I'm out reviewing. But I am a big fan of those ready-made chickens (pop 'em in the oven, roast some potatoes, toss a salad and — Come and get it! — dinner). Last week, we dined on the remainder of a Chinese restaurant-review meal coupled with a sauté of fresh gai lan bought for a buck at our neighborhood farmer's market. It made for a last-minute commuter-mom's dream dinner: prep time, five minutes; cooking time, 10 minutes.

Last Tuesday, I found that night's quick dinner and this week's "Taste" column at the same venue. Touring Fremont in search of a new sushi bar (delayed construction has caused serious setbacks), and keen to get a look at the new Red Door Ale House (soon to open atop a new parking garage at the corner of North 34th Street and Evanston Avenue North), I stumbled onto Fremont Fresh Market (3601 Fremont Ave. N., Seattle; 206-633-FOOD). There, I found what may be the best pork ribs I've ever eaten. Better still, I met Morrey Eskenazi, meat man extraordinaire and the market's unofficial Ambassador of Goodwill.

Funny thing is, I'd been hearing about the guy for years. One of my pals landscapes his yard and claims there's not a nicer man alive than this former White Center butcher, who spent four decades treating customers right, hand-cutting and house-smoking meats at what was once his father's shop. It's been a year since Morrey closed White Center Meats, forced into retirement when he says the landlord tripled his rent. While that was bad news for the butcher it was good news for Fremont. Three months later he went back to work, landing a job at this upscale market, open since January 2000.

Wearing a crisp white coat and a name tag, presiding over the smoked-meat counter (and the smokehouse out back), Morrey's hard to miss. When I introduced myself as a friend of a friend — with nary a mention of media affiliation — he all but took me by the hand, showing off the handsome 15,000-square-foot store as if he had envisioned, built and opened the place himself.

But first he gave me something to nosh on. "You like spicy food?" he asked, reaching for a sample of his house-made pepperoni. "It's too cold to eat right away. Warm it in your hand first."

Morrey introduced me to the wine manager ("Anything you want to know about wine, he's the guy to ask"), showed me around the new wine bar ("We have tastings every Saturday from 3 to 6 p.m."), the spotless meat case ("Look at that chicken!"), the coffee bar ("You can come in and relax, sit by the fireplace, read the paper"), the produce aisle and the deli counter ("Isn't that stuff gorgeous?"). Stopping to smell the roses, Morrey directed me toward the floral department, ("Here's our lovely Samantha — doesn't she do a beautiful job with these flowers?").

Doing a beautiful job at public relations, Morrey Eskenazi is everything a shopkeeper should be: warm, friendly and proud of his product. That he doesn't own this shop is immaterial; that distinction goes to Dan and Lillian Cawdrey, whose Fremont Fresh, positioned as a "neighborhood Euro-market," has become a part of Fremont's ever-burgeoning consumer consciousness.

Granted, it costs more to shop at such clean, well-lighted places, the likes of which are sprouting up in neighborhoods throughout the city, but at Fremont Fresh, it's easy to reconcile paying extra for a sense of community, a sense of stewardship and — if it's your lucky day — the chance to meet Morrey.

I gladly shelled out $6.99 per pound for a fat slab of his mighty, meaty pork ribs and $2.99 for a loaf of Ciro's bread from La Panzanella. With canned baked beans and a salad, that was one memorable "home-cooked" meal, prepared, start-to-finish, in 20 minutes.

Nancy Leson can be reached at 206-464-8838 or nleson@seattletimes.com.