Charms of cozy Phinney Ridge not hard to find

You can learn a lot about a neighborhood by seeking out its charming eccentricities.

For instance, on Seattle's Phinney Ridge, tucked in among the new condominiums and chic shops, there still exists a small town. Walking by buildings built more than 100 years ago, I saw the signs. Literally. A handwritten message taped to the window of a restaurant door appeared to be slapped on in a happy rush: "Closed for family wedding. Sorry for the inconvenience!"

On the door of a pottery studio, an honest admission: "Hours by chance or appointment."

Even the neighborhood's borders are unpredictable, but according to the resource HistoryLink, most people would say the boundaries run along a ridge from the Woodland Park Zoo, former estate of Guy C. Phinney, a man of means from Nova Scotia who settled here in the 1800s, to around North 80th Street. (Greenwood folks might disagree, pushing south at least several blocks.)

Whatever its borders, the neighborhood has supported small-town businesses such as Dolly's Dollhouse for 30 years. Owner Joyce Clifford (everyone calls her Dolly) is often found perched behind the counter, overseeing a little shop crammed floor-to-ceiling with dollhouses and their tiny contents. Behind her on a wall are pinned photographs of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. "I don't know where the time went," she smiled, shaking her head. "If you enjoy what you're doing, that's just the way it is."

What she enjoys most is helping people create a miniature world unto itself, and if you think this is for women and little girls only, not true. Men are often introduced to the craft by building a dollhouse for their daughters. "Or sometimes the wife will start and at first the man might stick his nose up at it, but then he gets into it and when he does, he takes over," Clifford said. "It's so cute."

A bite here, a bite there

Near Dolly's Dollhouse sits the quintessential neighborhood grocery store, Phinney Market. It's comfortable, cozy and custom, with lots of food made in-house. In the deli case, there's a good range of edibles, from gorgeous tamales to robust sandwiches. Family-style tables by the front windows bring in locals for Friday-night supper and Sunday brunch. There's good, clean fun here sitting down to a home-cooked meal at what looks like the Waltons' dinner table, watching the world go by.

Down the street, Mae's Café attracts people from both the neighborhood and beyond. Know it by the cow-spot logos and motto, "Graze at Mae's." The waitress who brought me coffee said their cinnamon rolls are among the most coveted menu items, but also high up on the list are freshly made pesto, salsas, soups and sauces, plus they've got their own coffee roaster. In memory of that, you can snag a Mae's coffee mug for $5.

Walking south, there's major construction under way, some of it for the Finí condominiums, the name an apparent upgrade of the original Irish Phinney, although, according to Google Translate, finí is French for "finished" or "end." That's some kind of clever, which you might need with well-appointed units going for, as they euphemistically say, "in the $300s to $700s."

Makes you wonder if the community's main anchor and soul might one day get the name change, too, making it the Finí Neighborhood Center. Not likely, since it's all about heritage, housed in the 1905 John B. Allen School. What a thing of beauty. Gleaming wood everywhere, wide stairs, even the high ceiling and tall window in the first-floor bathroom seem grand. Upstairs, through east-facing windows, take in the full breadth of the Cascade Mountains.

Also upstairs, through late July, catch the current art show, exotic shadow puppets from all over the world, on loan from the Northwest Puppet Center, displayed behind sheer curtains. (If the lights aren't on to illuminate the puppets, just ask at the front desk.)

Come to the center on Friday afternoon and have the added pleasure of poking around the weekly farmers market.

Cheap bread and cheer

Back on the avenue, I walked by an Oroweat outlet store, its doors wide open. Inside, a long line of jovial people clutched loaves of bread, bags of cookies and sacks of English muffins while a small woman worked the cash register. Looked like a party, so I stepped inside.

Scoring my favorite loaf for 79 cents was a draw, but so was the animated personality of clerk Susan Johnson, who offered gentle teasing and cheerful small talk to customers. During a lull, she told me the work is good in part because of people. "Everyone's friendly around here and our seniors always have great stories."

Johnson has lived on Phinney Ridge for 30 years and wonders about the morphing on both sides of the avenue. "All those condos going up and then, if this store ever closes, I don't know how some people will make it, especially seniors. They rely on this store."

"I'm not a senior and I love this place," 25-year-old Anesha Murnane chimed in. "I come in every week for cinnamon bread. It's like a cinnamon roll but with less guilt," she said with a laugh.

Good thinking. I made a note of that, then went to sit on stone benches outside the well-regarded Francine Seders Gallery to think things over. They call it diversity when a place and a people can embrace dollhouses, high-end housing and cheap bread. It's a good thing, I guess. Or as the Phinney French might put it, "C'est bon."