The Lockspot Cafe is the lounge, espresso stand, and seafood shack that's occupied the same severely enchanting space in Ballard for a hundred years. Its architecture involves a special blending of two buildings (a restaurant structure integrated with disassembled portions of an old house), and inside, everything is askew and seemingly wiggled into place, with lots of indiscriminate jutting, weird angles, and slantingness.
What else: The Lockspot is historic and legendary, but it's not a tourist trap. The decor is neither clipped nor spotless nor stylishly weathered nor potently themed, and though a few nautical objects are on display—oars and captain's wheels and life rings—they're not trying too hard to look cool. Also, there are neon beer signs, men of few words, 2007 almanacs, workaday carpets, sports-broadcasting televisions, Christmas lights, and wood-paneled surfaces, and the mounted moose antlers are thoughtfully tipped with wine corks to ensure some reckless dipshit doesn't poke his face off.