I pronounced the word with the J as a hard G, as is proper.
The look I got from the waitress made me question whether or not I'd unconsciously started speaking in hieroglyphics.
"Oh," she said after a third trimester pause. "You mean Darzeeling." She took my menu and walked away.
That's when I knew I'd made it to Seattle.
Portage Bay Cafe bills itself as serving local, organic, and sustainable breakfast, which sounds really great until you don't think about ordering fresh local orange juice in Washington in March. Out of season oranges taste like dirt.
Fortunately, despite the patronizing-while-still-wrong server and the orange juice mistake, breakfast was great: grits with prawns, red-eye gravy, and poached eggs, some stewed greens, and a side of pepper bacon.
The restaurant has a tagline emblazoned on their mugs: Eat Like You Give a Damn. It captures the localvore spirit of the place, and the city -- caring about avoiding corporate and globalistic influences. But caring is expensive, which is why this is America. After the tip my breakfast cost about $35. At least the only meal I ate that day was delicious and filling.