One of Seattle’s best restaurants is hiding inside this cafe and wine bar

I’m not the biggest fan of wet cake. Trifle, tiramisu, an oversoaked tres leches — the light texture of cake, sogged, just seems very wrong.

The trifle was the only dessert on the menu at Upwell Wine & Coffee in West Seattle, which is the only reason it got ordered, and my god, it was good: mounds of sherry cream with the texture of edible velvet, yuzu kumquat compote for a citrus tingle, raspberry spooning up from the bottom, pound cake in the middle sweetly but firmly holding its own. Two tuile cookies were stuck in the top, a classic little extra.

Upwell chef/co-owner Rosanne Zhu laughed when I asked her about it on the phone — she hates tiramisu, too, for the same sodden reason. She started making trifle simply to use the end-pieces of the pound cake she bakes for the pastry case at this new spot. It’s an unusual restaurant business model, built for unusual restaurant times: an all-day cafe that morphs into an evening wine bar with a dinner menu, plus a built-in wine shop called Walter’s run by co-owner/master sommelier Chris Tanghe. And at a time when everybody could use some fresh joy found in a surprising place, Upwell’s making stuff of comfort and delight, from oddball espresso drinks to unexpected cereal bars to Zhu’s menu of some of the best food in Seattle.

Zhu is modest. She’s just keeping it simple at Upwell, she said: using the highest quality local/organic/etc. ingredients, yes, but making uncomplicated favorites in the confines of a small kitchen with no hood, preparing everything in one oven and keeping an eye on the bottom line. (Throwing away those pound cake ends compelled her to the trifle.) 

But her modesty belies her background. Originally from Yakima, Zhu cooked at Café Campagne in Pike Place Market; spent three years at New York’s Gramercy Tavern working for Tom Colicchio; then, back in Seattle, worked at Little Uncle and became Stateside’s chef de cuisine. Tanghe’s no slouch, either — he started out in the industry washing dishes at 13, and his résumé includes The Herbfarm, Matt’s in the Market, RN74 and Canlis. At Upwell, Zhu’s command of technique and multifaceted culinary expertise are all over the place, in the best way, and both owners’ attention to detail and commitment to customers’ happiness is everywhere as well.

Back in summertime, before the introduction of proper entrees — a long softish opening started in mid-July — Zhu’s bibb salad with Oregon bay shrimp, Point Reyes blue cheese, cherry tomatoes and buttermilk vinaigrette was a shining example of salad perfection. The counterpoint these chilly days might be the French onion grilled cheese, made with cave-aged Gruyère, richly caramelized Walla Walla sweets, fine-crumbed Macrina brioche and tons of superlative-quality Plugrà butter. The side salad is no afterthought, with pretty watermelon radishes and bits of chive. 

At a recent solo lunch, this sandwich and a glass of Gorrondona txakoli offered the kind of solace that temporarily, helpfully emptied the mind. All was gooey, nutty, stretchy cheese; crisply toasted bread; buttery fingers; sips of straw-gold wine tasting faintly of lemon-lime. An hour by yourself at Upwell’s elegant black walnut counter — giving more sushi-bar design vibes than cafe ones — should really be covered by health insurance these days.

At dinner right now, Upwell’s rabbit potpie is comfort food so supreme, it’ll knock your wool socks off. Zhu’s making rabbit stock, using the fat that floats to the top for the potpie’s roux (making use of the carcass while also saving the cost of more Plugrà butter, she noted). The resulting sauce is simply masterful — luxurious but not remotely heavy, super-savory without reliance on blunt salt, it demands that you swipe out the dish with your finger. The hunks of rabbit are chewy and tender at once; there’s carrot, of course, and pearl onions, rosemary, tufts of puff pastry and frizzled shallot on top. Zhu said she’s a big fan of Colicchio’s motto, “Whatever grows together, goes together” — this dish is a northern winter’s best, made in the best possible way.

Zhu denies being fancy, but she tops her potpie with a “skin chip” — a bubbly crisp of intense savoriness, like chicharrón crossed with the skin pulled off right-out-of-the-oven turkey. It’s made with chicken skin, she explains, and it’s merely, demurely a little add-on thanks to her extensive knowledge of the cookbooks of “Modernist Cuisine.” That’s another secret to the greatness of Upwell’s food — Zhu’s husband is a chef in the Bellevue test kitchen for the revered haute culinary series, so such refinements find their way into the simple things here. (They also, she mentioned, use the skin chip method at home for Thanksgiving.)

All the pastries are Zhu’s work, too, like a puff laden with spicy Mama Lil’s peppers and an Asian-pear-and-walnut muffin that stays on the austere side of sweet. Her cereal bar born of a surfeit of black sesame seeds has proved a big hit. Daytimes, there’s a very nice egg-and-Cotswold-cheddar breakfast sandwich and a coconut-lime granola parfait with passion fruit pudding that, given the trifle, I’m mad I haven’t tried. The local albacore tuna melt is a fine specimen, but I’d have a hard time not ordering the French onion grilled cheese until summertime comes. And on both the daytime and evening menus, the salad at the moment is an excellent chicory Caesar with tiny brioche croutons and a dressing made with confit garlic.

The dinner menu, somewhat confusingly, gets a couple of additions from Thursday through Saturday, but Zhu’s cassoulet is available seven nights a week right now. It approaches the platonic ideal of the potpie, and it’s equally soul-warming. (Sorry for saying “soul-warming,” but in these dark days, it’s like these dishes light you up inside.)

For a vegetarian supper, the roasted beets and wild mushrooms with stracciatella cheese was less cohesive and less overwhelmingly delicious than other options. A side of kale and chard had a seawatery level of salinity one night at Upwell; another day, a side salad got overdressed to limp, though the Meyer lemon dressing itself was so ideally creamy-savory, I ate every leaf.

I didn’t love Upwell’s design when I first went — the small space with its contemporary look, black- and cream-colored, felt somewhat generic. Hanging around and paying better attention was its own reward. The wall behind the espresso machine is midnight blue tile for subtle contrast and texture; part of the ceiling is soundproofed in a soft blanket of gray, form following soothing function. The delicate stemware and decanters for the wine are lovely handblown Sophienwald stemware from Austria. In contrast of cost if not style, the handsome ribbed water carafes come from Ikea (they’re the “Anledning,” for your decor-hack purposes). The lighting’s just right, even when it comes to the shelves of wine, with labels illuminated with the care that’s mirrored throughout the space (including in the touch-to-change-the-lighting mirror in the restroom). 

Tanghe’s on-premises wine shop — Walter’s, after his dog — deserves its own review. Despite his highest possible official wine-expert status, he wants drinking it to be fun and pretension-free; he’ll share recommendations for “Tuesday night” bottles in the $15 to $30 range readily, enthusiastically rocking a little in his checkered Vans. His wine selection focuses on sustainability, good labor practices and high value, roving from the Pacific Northwest to points global, from classically styled to funky. If I lived in West Seattle, I’d buy Tuesday-night bottles here all the time — and, pro tip for splurges, Tanghe acquires high-end wines from collectors and prices them lower than elsewhere (e.g., Bérêche et Fils premier cru for $150, which can retail for $180). Buy a bottle of whatever your wallet allows and drink it in-house for a bargain $15 corkage fee. Walter’s also hosts Tuesday tastings — one recently featured alcohol-free options in honor of Dry January, along with low-A.V.B. for an off-dry month.

I could go on (clearly!). But, this: When it comes to something for dessert besides Zhu’s glorious trifle, consider the “24 Carrot.” A “carrot cake-inspired latte” might sound off-putting, but Tanghe reverse-engineered this one after seeing the idea on coffee-nerd website Sprudge, and it must be tasted for its mind-altering goodness to be believed.

And same with the Upwell affogato, ordered caffè corretto-style: It’s Villa Dolce vanilla gelato with espresso (right now, from Herkimer or Second Love), served with Pedro Ximénez sherry to mellow out the coffee and complement the creamy-sweet dairy. In a very Upwell/Walter’s touch, the gelato gets spatula’d around the inside of a frozen coffee cup, with the espresso poured in the middle and the sherry served in a miniature pitcher. 

This little fine-dining nicety takes significant extra time. Tanghe and Zhu work hard; the place is open seven days a week, and they’re both here nearly every open hour. I asked Zhu: Isn’t the affogato presentation a pain? 

“We love it,” she said. They’ve got one regular who calls ahead to specifically make sure that the frozen-cup affogato situation is available. They do not think this person is a pain, either.

“We’re here to serve you,” Zhu said simply. 

When you go to Upwell, you know — the love and the commitment to service, along with the depth of experience, show.