Tugboat Annie’s Restaurant

Where: 2100 West Bay Dr. N.W., Olympia, 360.943.1850
Hours: Open Daily for lunch and dinner served 11 a.m. to 9 p.m. Sunday - Thursday, 11 a.m. to 10 p.m.  Friday & Saturday (bar open late). Breakfast served 9 a.m. until noon Saturday & Sunday
Cuisine: American fare with a nod to seafood
Scene: Casual family-friendly dining
Drinkies: Full bar, standard non-alcoholic beverages, hard ice cream milkshakes
Prices: $4-$24

ANNOUNCER: As often happens with businesses in close proximity to recreational areas, a seemingly odd marriage of recreational equipment and food occurs. Let’s face it, activity requires energy; energy is derived from food, and how convenient it is to eat and rent your gear in the same place. Tugboat Annie’s in Olympia has been renting kayaks, slinging pub grub and providing musical entertainment for 10 years.

JASON: Seated at a bar booth, we had a spectacular view of West Bay Marina, and captivating reflections on the water held our gaze — it was like staring at a fire — till the waiter arrived with seriously powerful margaritas. The mix of salty air and savory food scents were disrupted randomly by stinky Bay smell, but that comes with location.

JAKE: Surprisingly I found whole pieces of Chilean rock crab in crab cakes the size of burger patties — yes! All too often they’re only 25 percent crab with the remaining majority consisting of bread crumbs, onion and celery. These were too wet for me and fell apart easily. Ruddy roasted red pepper remoulade sauce complemented the crab well.

JASON: The chowder looked promising with chunks of potato that still had the skin on. Personal preference on this one, but the chowder was really thick. I’m guessing overcooked potatoes to be the culprit. Even with sizeable pieces of clam, it was unremarkable. Shaking them on, salt and pepper would be my best friends for dinner’s duration.

JAKE: The romaine in my house Caesar salad was crisp and fresh, the dressing tangy and freshly shaved parmesan plentiful. Annie’s actually has pepper mills. I almost wept with relief.

JASON: Lucky you. Blue cheese dressing was sickly, syrupy sweet. Did someone accidently dump corn syrup in it? Aaccckkk! Gross. The salad of wild greens was also fresh. I wanted to get ranch, but staff wearing street clothes and not uniforms made it hard to discern patrons from who could help me.

JAKE: No one can help you.

JASON: Bite me. Served in a deep bowl, prawn scampi noodles were a tad overdone, too soft. I searched high and low and found only one lone caper. Big ole prawns from Hood Canal, mushrooms, red onion, and tomato were sautéed in lemon, garlic, and butter. If we had been somewhere with white tablecloths, it would be called a beurre blanc sauce, but we weren’t. We were at a boatie hang, a casual pub with nautical theme, and a workingman’s bar all rolled into one.

JAKE: I was asked if I wanted tartar with the chef’s fish special. That should have warned me right there, but I was staring at the marina wishing I had a boat, not really paying attention to what I’d ordered and just nodded. After a lengthy wait that felt unwarranted given the half full dining room, my entrée arrived minus tartar. I shrugged and aimed. Serious overkill in the amount of ground up nut; the almond-crusted coating broke off in clumps. I could not tell if there was anything added to it beyond flour, which just left it chalky and lackluster. Rice pilaf was bland too, which was disappointing since we were told it was made from scratch. My veggies were overcooked as well. I think the fish even sighed in disappointment at how utterly flavorless the whole meal was. Not even the nice view and ample salt, pepper and squeezed lemon could entice me to eat that plate of misery.

JASON: Dear Guy-In-The-Kitchen, please don’t run that special again. Don’t do it to your patrons. Don’t do it to yourself. Stay with what you do well, so I don’t have to listen to my brother being a whiney ass. Granted it was a crappy dish but, Jake, plate of misery? Seriously? I mean, seriously?