There was a time when Wild Ginger was one of the most exciting restaurants in Seattle. But those days are long gone, and it’s now in its last days of downtown disco—literally; the location also cooks for Triple Door, the music club next door. The restaurant itself, even today, is impressive in its design: it’s huge, with booths, tables, lounge areas for happy-hour drinks, and multiple bars on the ground floor, plus a cool catwalk-like loft holding a few more tables. And this remains one of few supremely busy places in town that doesn’t feel understaffed; service is professional and efficient.

But the food feels as dated as its logo’s Orientalist font. Wild Ginger seems to have textural dyslexia: kebabs are too dry, noodles too wet and pasty. Curry sauces can be watery, and dumplings gummy. The menu travels all over the world in a seemingly endless series of airport layovers—kung pao chicken, pad Thai, dim sum, potstickers, satays. Points are awarded for the attempt to add some “hawker specialties” to the brunch dim sum menu, but the dreaded pad Thai shows up there, too, so they’re not delving too far into the rich and complex world of Asian street food.

Specialty cocktails are sweetly mediocre, but then, just as you’re about to write Wild Ginger off totally, you open the wine list. It is a work of profound beauty, elegance, and deep obsession, with dazzling verticals of Alsatian and German Rieslings that go well into the 1970s, yet are priced lower than wine-store levels. This is more than a wine list: it is a gift to the city.