First, a little disclaimer. I’ve worked for Tom Douglas. As far as star/celebrity chefs go, he’s like the Bruce Willis. He’s the everyman: affable, commited, and the hardest working “celebutante” I’ve ever seen. Not a fancy-pants foam guy. You’re more liable to find him in the dish pit or on the line of any one of his restaurants than in the office.

His M.O. — fresh Northwest ingredients, prepared with ethnic influences from at home and around the globe. His emphasis is on the quality of the ingredients and having that show through, and often determine, the presentation. No tall food. “Fine dining” Tom-style never reminds you that you’re in a fine dining restaurant. It’s thoughtful and genuine and some of the best service in Seattle.

Last night, Tom hosted a party at the Palace Ballroom for 180 of his closest friends and customers–complete with fog machine, giant screens and standard issue hachimaki headbands. Everyone was in the spirit; they cheered at every opportunity. It felt like going to your favorite spot to watch the big playoff game. Only with kick ass food. And for once, your team wins. (cough, cough, cub fan, cough)

A few of my highlights:

The pear wood-smoked salmon over fava puree with a just-beyond-jiggly poached egg. A hidden minced shiitake hash was also on the plate. The puree had a bit of creme fraiche in it, so it worked on the lox and cream cheese angle, too. The gooey yolk with the little sweet of the smoked salmon was stunning. And the fava and mushroom added bright and earthy flavors. An olive crostini was added for the dinner, and every plate was sopped clean.

The young coconut curry broth with toasted rice flour drenched salmon and shiitake mushroom was one of the best soups I’ve ever had. Not your typical coconut curry, more brothy and subtle. The perfect balance of a bit sweet, a little sour, and a miso-like savory.

The best man won, and the deciding issue was taste. Because it doesn’t matter if you nitro-flame it, foam it, cryo it, or sous vid it….if it doesn’t taste good. Remember that, all you Ferran freaks.