Bottomfeeder: Paddy Coyne's is an Unwieldy Classic in SLU

South Lake Union is chockablock with local chain affiliates. There's Blue Moon Burgers, which also has a Fremont store. There's Feierabend, an "authentic" German pub that shares its incorporation with Prost! and die BierStube. There's Uptown Espresso, which seems to have adopted a Starbuckian expansion philosophy when it comes to birthing offspring within a mile of the Queen Anne original. There's Portage Bay Cafe, which originated in the U District. And of course, there's the ubiquitous Taco Del Mar.Then there's Paddy Coyne's, a South Lake Union original (est. 2004), insofar as anything in South Lake Union can be considered original. Much as Safeco Field is a gussied-up hybrid of the great stadiums that came before it, South Lake Union is a sort of homage to more organically grown 'hoods strewn about the city. It's like the nimble conversationalist who knows a little about everything, but a lot about nothing.Paddy's is an Irish pub located on the ground floor of a newish condo building in what used to be referred to as Cascade, which once served as a sort of NoDo industrial-supply throughway. Were it not for a small sign announcing its presence, this Paddy Coyne's, unlike its Tacoma twin, could be easily missed. While bars in Belltown are viewed as disruptive forces by residents who didn't quite bargain for the lifestyle they walked into, Paddy Coyne's goes out of its way to blend in.In South Lake Union, a premium is placed on tidy synergy, but there's nothing particularly synergistic about an Irish Trashcan, a raid-the-liquor-cabinet drink (it contains nearly every form of liquor ever invented, along with Red Bull) that makes the infamous Long Island Iced Tea seem tranquil by comparison. There's also Guinness, naturally, and rugby on TV. The bartender can't explain the rules of rugby, however; nor can anyone—even its inventor, I'd wager—explain the thought process behind the Wedge Salad, a delicacy that requires its consumer to wield a steak knife in order to cut up half a wedge of iceberg lettuce, much of which inevitably tumbles off the side of the plate, taking several bacon bits along for the ride.But this isn't Paddy's fault, unless you want to blame the pub simply for having this unwieldy classic on its menu. The main course it comes with, a low-carb (read: no bread) patty melt, is cooked perfectly, in a manner befitting a manufactured neighborhood where every tree is a promising sapling, every train—go SLUT!—expected to run precisely on

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