As the Crow flies, so does Betty

There was Shirley, surprised to see Nancy, who'd just shown up at Betty, where she was thrilled to find Jerry.

Shirley, my former neighbor, is a stylish septuagenarian and hip grandma who lives on the same street as Betty. And Betty is the new Queen Anne bistro, where she hailed me from her perch at a street-front deuce.

Shirley raved about everything on the minuscule menu — then insisted I try the croquettes. And when I saw that one of "her" team of cooks in the open kitchen was Jerry Corso, an itinerant chef who's done a star turn at some of the city's best restaurants, I figured I'd soon be raving myself.

I was right.

It's easy to see why this contemporary construct atop the Counterbalance, brought to us courtesy of the guys from Crow, has been an instant hit since its May debut. It's smaller than its flashy Lower Queen Anne sibling, far less ear-splitting, and yet, thanks to the fabulous food and drink, no less mood-lifting.

Betty's cool color scheme is more blue-nunnery than the Dante's inferno you find at Crow. And the bar sits in an awkward little lounge tucked in back while Crow's is a long expanse of fun humming up front. Otherwise the parallels are pronounced: There's a brief oft-changing menu, modestly priced; a lively kitchen counter whose seats are the best in the house; carefully crafted cocktails made with high-end hooch; and a smart wine list with lots to love under $30.

And why "Betty"? Because owners/chefs Craig Serbousek and Jesse Thomas wanted a name that reflected their style of cookery, one rooted in simplicity. And because they never met a Betty they didn't like.

So what's all the fuss about this plain Jane? Take it from Shirley:

• Because they know you: "The girl at the front desk says, 'you want your usual table?' " Shirley says. And if you come early enough to avoid the crush (or think far enough in advance to make a reservation), you'll get it.

• Because the staff is terrific: Tim-the-Mercer-Island-middle-school-teacher is not only a terrific waiter, says Shirley, he's "a lovely young man who is nice to old ladies."

• Because they've got the presentation down: "The portions at the 5 Spot are too big," enumerates Shirley, "the local wine bar too trendy," and when it comes to the menu at Betty, "whatever's fresh, they've got."

Take, for instance, a bowl of chilled cucumber-mint soup, the perfect antidote for a hot summer night. Grass-green and intensely flavored, it came dressed with a squiggle of crème fraîche and a big sweet shrimp — for $6. If that wasn't refresher enough on a recent scorcher, I also cooled off with a goblet of sparkling ginger lemonade — a vodka-spiked cocktail that wanted for nothing but a beach towel and a patch of sand.

The heady scent of a country pâté — a porcine perfume both musky and magical — struck me before the taste did. The slice of pink perfection offered the proper pork-to-fat ratio and hits of pistachio. And it's been quite a while since a plate of risotto made me sit up in my (hard wooden) seat and say "Whoa!" with as much fervor as the one I sampled here in early June.

Rites of spring required ordering that dreamy rice plumped with a double-rich stock and punctuated with fresh morels and English peas. And the same may be said of the Copper River sockeye, a succulent salmon suspended over a garden of earthly delights: roasted fingerling potatoes, sweet pear tomatoes, slivers of fennel and crisp green beans in a bright vinaigrette.

Chicken breast arrived on a bed of asparagus tips and creamy corona beans clearly pulled from the pages of Jack in the Beanstalk. The buxom bird's skin, packed with a purée of herbs and roasted garlic, was pan-seared at several-zillion BTUs till it crisped like bacon. Its simple pan sauce sealed the deal. As did the sauce moistening steak frites — a sprawling grilled rib-eye whose golden fries — crispy on the outside, tender within — rocked my world.

And how 'bout those croquettes, Shirley! Three egg-shaped clouds of mashed potatoes, flecked with bits of Spanish ham, breaded with panko and fried to a tantalizing crunch over a bright sweet-pepper purée. These, like the crostini trio (individual canvases smeared with the likes of fava beans and mint, tapenade and goat cheese), are offered as "shared items," though each could double as supper, leaving room for dessert.

That sweet might be a slice of flaky crusted, deep-purple, bing cherry pie a la mode. Or a lightly bay-scented crème brûlée served in a coffee cup. Or a magnificent mousselike chocolate ice cream, lush with caramel.

Young Betty can be both generous (with the toasted hazelnuts and Stilton crumbles on her golden beet salad) and stingy (what? no highchairs? you got something against toddlers, girlfriend?). She's often endearing (lovingly layering juicy pork sausages over creamy polenta) and occasionally aggravating (missing a timing beat and serving dinner before you've had a chance to finish your first course).

But take a tip from Shirley (who calls this her home-away-from-home) and Nancy (who would if she could): Come to Betty. And say hello to Jerry — who may someday soon find a stove to call his own.

Nancy Leson: 206-464-8838 or nleson@seattletimes.com.

More columns at www.seattletimes.com/nancyleson.