Mise en Space

secret in a stone bowl

2012-01-04T18:36:00.001-05:00

OK, so in the future, I should try not to let my birthday fall on a Monday (when many restaurants are closed) that doubles as the federal observation of New Year's (when ever more are closed than usual). After running down the list of every possibly option for a low-key birthday dinner, we settled on what I might have wanted to suggest all along: sushi.

I haven't been out for sushi in the Springs since moving here, and while I didn't expect or even necessarily want something transcendent, I did want to enjoy a night out with Ed to celebrate my birthday. Over to Tejon we went, seeking sake and seaweed to ring in my -- and the -- new year.

The sushi I had ranged from good (competent sake sashimi and hamachi maki) to excellent (the Hawaiian poke maki and tuna tataki over daikon threads in a spicy sauce -- aka the unfortunately named* Screaming Orgasm maki), but maybe the best thing about Fujiyama is that they keep a few stone bowls around. If you know to ask (almost no one does -- some of the staff didn't even know the bowls existed), they'll use one for your authentic** bi-bim-bap -- and if it's your fiancée's birthday and you give her some of the delicious crunchy rice from the bottom of the bowl, well, it just might be a really great birthday dinner.

 And to the two couples at the table next to us when we sat down: the Ninth Doctor? Really? I sure hope that conversation was about to get into the awesomeness of Ten and Eleven.

*I think I missed the genesis of the trend of putatively outrages names for sushi rolls. I guess it makes waves among the teen-and-twenty-something-set -- I've seen it more in college towns than anywhere else -- but it's really just very silly.
**We had a long discussion over the intersection of Korean and Japanese food, particularly in the states in restaurants owned by Koreans in places where serving only a Korean menu might not be as successful. Whatever the reason, this place does a great Korean rice bowl; I highly recommend it.

and it comes with a slice of cantaloupe at the end

2011-12-04T17:29:00.001-05:00

I had brunch/lunch today with my aunt and uncle at Seasons in the Four Seasons Georgetown. This has become something of a tradition for us; they're usually in town the first weekend in December, and I meet them that Sunday morning. In the past, however, we've met early, for breakfast. Now, I love hotel breakfast, particularly at a hotel with good restaurants like the Four Seasons (they make an excellent Eggs Florentine that I always order). But we're always there while the restaurant sets up its incredibly elaborate brunch, and I'm always a little curious about the extensive offerings.

This year, my aunt told me she'd made a reservation for noon. Score! I thought. Brunch!

That said, I'm not the average DC (or NYC, or LA) bruncher. Brunch in these towns seems to occur at 1, 2, even 3 p.m., but that just doesn't work for my body because I just can't comfortably sleep late; unless I'm ill, 9 a.m. never sees me still in bed, and even 8 a.m. has started to feel decadent. And I'm also a breakfast-eater (one of my favorite meals, any time of day) who can't wait five or six hours after awakening to have something.

But, no matter. Brunch, lunch, schmunch -- it was just a midday meal that would be a treat. I had my normal small breakfast this morning, and hit the gym, looking forward to sampling a bit of everything at lunchtime.

And sample I did, having small servings of the Dill-Marinated Salmon; the Korean Grilled Octopus with Green Onion Salad; the Fried Okra Salad with Marinated Tomatoes, Onionsand Bacon; Arugula with Duck Confit, Dried Cherries, SpicedPecans and Maple Vinaigrette (I cannot pass up duck confit, ever); and a few Smoked Crimini Mushrooms.

Yum.

The cured salmon was buttery and full of flavor, while the octopus was nicely spicy and not at all overcooked (chewy, not rubbery). Bites of crisp-fried okra played nicely off the smoky bacon and vinegary tomatoes, while the lightly-dressed arugula salad had peppery crunch and sweetness to marry the duck's meaty richness. And I'm a sucker for a mushroom, and these had a nice full flavor to round things out.

My aunt and uncle delved even further, with a made-to-order omelet, some crab cakes, more smoked salmon and other items from the extensive raw bar (oysters, ceviche, shrimp, crab claws, crab salad), cheese from the cheese and charcuterie station ... I think the only place we didn't get to was the dessert table, probably because who could eat dessert after all that?

I'm not usually a fan of a buffet, but Seasons really has this one down pat, refreshing the salads and prepared dishes almost continually, and cooking many items to order. The layout in the room also facilitates movement, so it was never crowded or distracting. The entire meal was quite lovely -- company, of course, included.

The hotel is always decorated for the holidays with trees designed by local artists for charities, and the festive air is just part of the package, because I have looked forward every year to getting to spend a nice morning with my aunt and uncle as my start of the holiday season. And for the last DC rendezvous we'll have, well, we went out on a hight note.

big flavors, little serow

2011-11-21T12:24:00.001-05:00

I have never dined at Komi.

I'm stating that up front because it's known far and wide to be one of the best restaurants (or perhaps "dining experiences") in DC. Johnny Monis has received national accolades for his Mediterranean tasting menu; add a fantastic wine list and exquisite service, and it's no wonder it's one of the first places the Obamas went for a special occasion night out after moving here.

In the past few years, though, I've not had reason or inclination to go all-in for the multi-course Komi adventure. It's not that I doubt I'd enjoy it; it just never quite made it onto my must-do list.

And then.

Two weeks ago, the Komi team opened the doors on a new project: Little Serow. Serving a set menu of northern Thai (Isaan) dishes family-style, the tiny underground space with no signage doesn't take reservations; Tuesday through Saturday, you just have to show up and take a chance -- or wait for a text message telling you your table is ready if you don't get in on the first seating when they open the doors. The wine and beer menu, curated by Komi sommelier Kat Bangs, doesn't provide suggested pairings, but the staff guide you through your tastings with matches if you so choose. The early buzz, all positive, had my mouth watering. I wasn't about to leave DC without trying it out.

Ed and I met there at 5:30 on Friday night. Over the next ninety-plus minutes, we sampled the following:

jeow dtap bpet crispy pork / duck liver / shrimp paste
yaam het petmushroom / cured egg / lime
laap pla dukcatfish / shallots / chiles
khao tod fermented cabbage / lime leaf / peanuts
sai oua pork sausage / kaffir / basil
jin tup beef / charred & hammered
kaeng hung lay pork rib / tamarind / ginger

The first dish was like Thai chips and dip -- house-made pork rinds dipped in addictively spicy pate. Along with it came a dish full of herbs and cooling raw vegetables, and a basket of sticky rice, from which we were encouraged to scoop with our fingers for picking up items from the next three dishes. These salads played with spice and texture; the mushrooms were earthy while the house-cured egg shavings added crunch, as did the the crispy shallots over the spicy minced catfish. Our favorite was the fermented cabbage dish, an umami-rich interplay of sour and spice.

Slices of pork sausage, redolant of herbs, came with a huge sprig of basil, the leaves of which served as utensiles and wrappers for each bite. The last two dishes -- fantastically charred beef with a piquant dipping sauce, and just-shy-of-falling-off-the-bone pork ribs with a curry gravy -- cried out for more of the sticky rice to help sop up every fragrant, satisfying morsel. Two small squares of mint-coconut sticky rice finished off the meal perfectly, just a little hit of sweetness after the layers of herbs, spices, and heat.

Thai is not usually my favorite of the readily-available Asian cuisines; I gravitate more toward Japanese and Vietnamese -- the latter because of its focus on sour, salt, and spice as much as sweet. The food at Little Serow played into this kind of profile, abandoning sweet or coconut-milk-laden oversaucing in lieu of fresh and herbaceous spiciness.

Seven courses and several drinks (very nicely matched cider and a Thai beer for Ed; a sparkling Gruner Veltliner and then a Willamette pinot noir for me; and we each got a taste of a brandy-fortified wine from the Willamette valley as well, which went nicely with the salads) later, finished eating but not even close to finished discussing the interesting presentations and compositions of flavors and textures of the meal, we made our way into the chillier-than-anticipated DC night. I may still not have gotten to Komi, but I am a big fan of Little Serow.

serendipity at the conscious table

2011-10-30T14:46:00.004-05:00

I admit it. I'm a planner. Even if I end up entirely breaking the plans, I tend not to be happy if I haven't put something on the schedule.

However, sometimes the best things happen when you just don't schedule them in.

Yesterday, we had planned to go see an early evening movie before a nice dinner at a restaurant we like near the theatre. Unfortunately, the movie theatre neglected to update its schedule; the movie we had planned to see was sharing a screen with another film, and we (not alone among people in the lobby, it turned out) had missed the only showing. We considered seeing another movie, but one in which we were only mildly interested had already started and was nearly full, while another would have required we go to dinner pretty much immediately and then return -- and between having just had coffee (so not being hungry) and my not even knowing if I wanted to see the later film, it didn't seem worth it.

"We could go buy groceries and go to the restaurant tomorrow instead," I suggested.
"Sure," he agreed.

Bzzzt -- the restaurant is closed on Sundays.

"Well, how about we go to the wine store, then sit and read at the coffee shop?"
A pause, then a considered nod. "Well ... I guess that's why we brought the iPads."

A half-case deal later, we began to chat with the friendly, helpful clerk as she rang up our purchases. A comment about the 2010 Bordeaux led to a joke about my friend the sommelier ... and that's when our luck began to change.

"Oh, who's the somm?" asked the clerk.
"Ah, not out here -- back in DC," I replied. "Although, boy, I wish I could get him out here. The Springs would be just the kind of place he could open the sort of spot he'd like."
She half-laughed. "I moved here from San Diego and L.A. ... our food scene here is not all that."
Ed and I exchanged looks.
"Oh, I don't know," I said. "He thought that too before he moved back, but we've found some things to change his mind."
She stopped putting our bottles into the bag. "Well, if you want to support good, local food, and chefs doing interesting things--"
Another look between us. Did she just read our minds? Yes, please!
"--Go down to Kiowa, and turn left off Tejon. You can't in a car, because it's one way. And there's a little place, just opened, doesn't even have a sign. The Conscious Table. Three young chefs doing local and sustainable, farm-to-table stuff. I helped them do their wine list -- I'm a wholesale rep, just work in the shop one day a week for fun -- they are doing awesome, creative stuff. Only open on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays ... you have to check it out."
Our eyes got wide. "I think that description used every buzzword that generally indicates a restaurant the two of us would love," Ed finally replied.
"Great!" she smiled. "Tell them Stacy sent you. It's fantastic. Enjoy!"

After putting the wine in the car, we headed for the restaurant. Sure, locavore and farm-to-table have become marketing speak that might make the jaded gourmand roll his or her eyes, but the actual practices lend themselves to the kind of cooking we both seek out and savor. If that's really what they were doing, we absolutely had to check it out.

And there, in a mostly-unmarked storefront, sat an adorable space with exposed brick walls, a working fireplace, and the menu of the night on a huge chalkboard. Country paté? Xocolatl yardbird? Red curry shrimp pho? Too many choices! While we tried to decide, an amuse of pickled beets atop a slice of lemon cucumber from an heirloom garden of a neighbor gave us the first indication that we were in for a treat.

A plate of dense-crumbed fennel-studded bread with excellent salted butter and olive oil helped get us through the decision process. The (yes, actually) well-priced wine list yielded a nicely drinkable Côtes du Rhone that went wonderfully with the Butternut squash tarte tatin we shared to start. The tatin was amazing, with caramelized pineapple bringing out the natural sweetness of the squash, and the puff-pastry crust adding flaky, buttery crunch to each bite. We also had a small Sencha salad, mixed greens, candied walnuts, apples, goat cheese -- a perfect fall combination, and one of the best vinaigrettes I've had in ages (and I wish I knew what it was).

For his main course, Ed chose the Lamb bolognese, mashed potatoes, a slow-cooked dish of rich, deeply-flavored comfort if ever there was one. And I had to go with the Seared scallops, sweet potato purée, arugula, and beet molasses: four perfectly cooked giant scallops, caramelized on the outside but tender inside, over wilted greens, with little hits of sweetness from the root vegetable elements -- everything I could want in each lovely bite.

By this point, we knew this had to be the best meal we'd had in Colorado Springs, and on the list of the best meals we'd shared anywhere. The kind of place we want to bring people, just to see their eyes widen when they take their first bite and realize the talent that went into creating their food. The kind of place we want everyone to go, so the place succeeds beyond its wildest dreams.

We opted to bring home leftovers in favor of trying the Cranberry chocolate frangipane for dessert ... and asked the waitress if the restaurant would consider doing a semi-private event in mid-January.

"Sure!" she said brightly. "Here, I'll go get Chef."

And so, mid-bite of the excellent dessert -- tart cranberries mitigating what might otherwise have been a sugar-bomb of chocolate and almond paste -- Chef Brent Beavers pulled up a chair to chat with us.

And, full disclosure -- that "sencha" in the salad was a clue. Ed had already begun to notice the staff looked familiar; several of them hail from a restaurant of that name, now closed, that he used to visit and quite liked. It's like when your favorite actors show up in an indie movie you hadn't even planned on seeing ... just a little extra treat.

The restaurant is already offering chef's tables with multiple courses and pairings, so we talked to Chef Beavers about doing an event there, which seemed to be right up his alley. He seemed as excited as we were to plan a mid-winter celebration, and I can't wait to go back and taste what he's got in store.

Sure, the movie would have been fun. But stumbling into a restaurant that could have been created with us in mind? Plans, shmans: I'll take that any day.

And another one of those squash tarts. Oh, yes, please.

holy cow, whole foods

2011-09-09T17:20:00.000-05:00

The proximity of the new Whole Foods Foggy Bottom store to my commute is truly dangerous to my financial well-being. I already live above a very good Harris Teeter; to have a really awesome Whole Foods at the other end of my Metro ride is gilding the lily.

How do I know it's awesome? I just stopped in on my way home. I wasn't going to, because I was tired and figured it'd be mobbed, but the sunshine put me in a good mood and I figured I'd check it out. I didn't order any sushi or prepared foods, but the touch-screen kiosks for specializing your prepared foods or sushi (provided by Kaz Sushi Bistro*, says the sign) made me think I'm going to be getting a lot of sushi dinners here. The produce, shelves, and meats/seafood are as you'd expect, although the staff, outgoing and friendly and knowledgeable, reminds me more of the staff at my Whole Foods in Colorado Springs than anyone I ever encountered when I used to visit the P Street or Georgetown stores.

The olive bar has my all-time favorite olives** that only Whole Foods carries, and it always has cornichons, which are surprisingly hard to find with any regularity at other places in this town (Trader Joe's has them sometimes, but we all know how our favorite items tend to disappear from Trader Joe's; occasionally my downstair store has them, but one never knows; specialty stores are also weirdly hit or miss for me). Plus, I like the layout: the olives are by the cheeses are by the wine, but in a more navigable flow for me than P Street was. Honestly, they really crammed a lot into a smallish footprint, but if you remove the (inevitable, and given the location, inevitably student-heavy) crowds, it's really not claustrophobic.

The line system is a bit confusing: there are three areas to queue for three banks of checkouts, and there's an automated voice and sign announcing which checkout is ready, but you can go to any of the checkouts from any of the lines, so they have some people directing traffic. This has the potential to be very efficient, but right now it doesn't quite make sense (i.e., you don't go to the left-most bank from the left-most line). I mean, most of the world doesn't understand the right-of-way rules at a four-way stop sign; expecting them to get this right is really asking a lot of the typically crazed post-work grocery shopper. Or maybe that's just me.

*Warning: kind of terrible restaurant website ahead.
**I did not espy the Spanish cocktail mix that is truly, truly addictive. This is probably a good thing. Probably.

eola-di-da

2011-09-04T14:00:00.002-05:00

Back-to-back incredible multi-course dinners don't occur routinely for me, so this weekend has been a bit of an indulgence, but for good reason. Last night I finally got to Eola, which I've been wanting to try since it opened. Chef Daniel Singhofen recently transitioned the restaurant to a tasting-menu format from a la carte, although he's got three from which to choose: dinner, vegetarian, and offal, for which he first started earning acclaim in the food world. (Also, one Sunday a month--sadly not today--brunch offers a bacon flight, which is also the buzz of the "Everything's better with bacon!" crowd.)

To kick off a celebratory meal, we started with a couple of glasses of cava as we perused the menu. It went nicely with the "first course," which is a series of small amuses of the chef's choice. Tiny bites included 24-Hour Confit of Pig's Heart with Pesto and Crostini; Tomato Gelee on Cucumber with Basil; Crudo of Lamb with Black Truffle, Brioche, and Cress; Smoked Pork Belly on Steamed Bun with Scallion, Pickled Ginger, and Spicy Mayo; and Sorbet of Cuban Hats with Smoked Ham Froth and Peanuts. The first three achieved different levels of success: the pesto was delicious but overwhelmed the sliver of confit, and the gelee was more texture than flavor; the lamb with truffle was not quite enough of a bite to register the intensity of the flavors that were clearly at work there. But the final two bites hinted at what was to come with the rest of the meal--intensely flavorful pork belly, cut with spice and acid, filled the best pork buns I've ever eaten, and the spicy sorbet both cleansed and awakened the palate.

I began with the Stewed Halibut Cheek, porcini, country sausage, spruce, a tender, delicate piece of fish in a light nage with meaty mushrooms, rich sausage, and an herbal aroma that tied it all together. Ed's Stuffed Napa Cabbage, farro, pine-nuts, raisins, fennel sausage-tomato ragout had one of the deepest and richest tomato sauces I've tasted in DC or indeed anywhere, traditional flavors used to full effect.

Next came Sweet Corn Ravioli, dungeness crab, pickled jalapeno, roasted tomato, basil and Free-Form Lasagna, rabbit bolognese, coarse carrot puree, pasta rounds, parmesan. I recently had a similar corn and crab dish at Palena, but this one blew me away: plump ravioli stuffed with perfectly sweet corn, with just enough heat to amp up the sweetness of the crab and corn together, and the smokiness of the tomato highlighting somehow pulling it together. The bolognese also hit all the right traditional notes, with the sweetness of the carrot giving it just a little twist and making it all work.

The Merguez of Border Springs Farm Lamb hummus, curried heirloom pepper slaw, eggplant, and cumin jus presented a panoply of Mediterranean flavor, the sausage not so overly-spiced as to lose the great lamb flavor. This dish begged for all the elements to go together in each bite: creamy, smoky, spicy, crunchy yielded a complete experience in each mouthful. The Cedarbrook Farm Shoal Loin crowder peas, ratatouille, and a smoky jus also blended flavors masterfully. The chef appears to appreciate smokiness, I realize as I write this, but uses it with enough restraint that it was never overwehlming, and merely enhanced the tender shoat with a cracker-crisp skin and nicely cooked seasonal vegetables.

We decided to share a cheese course after dessert, which consisted of Huckleberry-Pine Nut Tart wild ginger custard, burn sugar, and a red-currant gastrique, and "Peaches and Cream" vanilla-poached peaches with sarsaparilla ice cream and a shortbread cookie. Not overly sweet, relying on the fresh fruit and a talented hand at pastry to be refreshing as well as delicious. The cheeses were local sheep's-milk creations, one a blue and one similar to a manchego, that rounded out the meal nicely. (We brought home some of our mignardises at that point!)

A 2007 Laurus Gigondas carried us through the entire meal beautifully, round enough to have a lushness but not so smooth that it abandoned its character. I'm usually a fan of Gigondas, and our server reassured me that this would be food-friendly, which it was. In fact, service was outstanding all through the evening: knowledgable, friendly without being overbearing, and generally an enhancement to the meal rather than an intrusion on it.

Because it's an automatic four-course meal without an a la carte option, the restaurant is certainly a special-occasion go-to spot--one I'd recommend over many restaurants that have long held that status in DC. I'm glad it was our choice for last night, and I hope we can revisit it for special moments in the future. With its focus on deftly-prepared, seasonal (and local) food, with a definitively creative twist, Eola has to be one of my new favorites.

birch and barley {insert witty play-on-words here; I'm still too full}

2011-09-03T10:51:00.000-05:00

A friend recently asked me, "Hey, where's Gennaro? He never posts on our food forum anymore." Well, true, and when I saw him recently for drinks, I good-naturedly teased him about it. But he has a very good reason: he's moved up to working the line at Birch and Barley, and he is there pretty much every single day. Doesn't leave a lot of time for cooking at home, or dining out, I imagine!

I took two work colleagues there a couple of weeks ago (one of the rare occasions Gennaro wasn't working, in fact), and had a fantastic meal. And I'd already planned to return last night with Ed, who used to live a block away before moving out of town -- and who was part of our foursome when Gennaro and I went to Vidalia 24 last year -- so we were both really looking forward to a great night out, with the remote hope we'd get to see our friend in action.

I'd actually texted Gennaro earlier in the day, and he told me they'd moved the skirt steak to the main menu (from the tasting menu, I think), and he recommended the pastas, as usual. Our server, Eli, remembered me from a few weeks ago, and confirmed that the steak was new to the menu but not much else had changed. We decided to go with the following courses:

Half Fig & Prosciutto Flatbread Gorgonzola Cremificato & Caramelized Onions: this has been on the menu since they opened, I think, and given that it's one of my favorite flatbread/pizza topping combos ever, I almost always order it. A great starter, creamy/salty/sweet/chewy all in one.

Panzanella Salad Heirloom Tomatoes, Grilled Baguette, Whipped Burrata, Groundcherries: the burrata here is almost like an airy cheese mousse, and there's a great interplay of textures here as well. This dish relies on the freshness of the ingredients, and last night's were excellent.

Melon & Cucumber Salad Almonds, Herbs: from the "Sides" portion of the menu, this is another dish that is all about showcasing freshness. The cantaloupe in particular was excellent, which made the salad come together. Really refreshing and light.

Then, a surprise: We were treated to tasting portions of both pastas currently on the menu (remember I said Gennaro recommended them...) Well, as I've said elsewhere on this board, I rarely order pasta out, but Kyle and his team are turning out pastas more than worth ordering. In fact, I'm not sure i have superlatives enough to describe them:

Hand-Cut Tagliatelle Roasted Kabocha Squash, Okra, Fried Squash Blossom, Bottarga: one bite of this will remind you why fresh pasta is so outrageously good. Silky squash, tiny rounds of crisp-tender okra, and fried squash blossom on top for crunch and beauty.
Ricotta Cavatelli Roasted Chicken, Heirloom Tomato Puree, Housemade Mozzarella: I think this was slightly different than on the online menu (braised chicken, breadcrumbs, and crunchy chicken skin), but this may have been the dish of the night. Outrageously rich, these cavatelli are more like gnudi, the sauce deeply flavorful and comforting.

Not that we even needed main courses by this point, necessarily, but oh well!

Honey Glazed Duck Breast Leg Confit, Wild Rice, Brandied Cherries, Radishes: I've probably mentioned before that I'm a sucker for duck, and Eli recommended it. I concur -- this was some perfectly cooked medium-rare duck breast, but the star may be the confit, which is air-dried and then crisped up. I love wild rice as well; sauteed greens (radish greens?) along with the radishes gave this some nice bitterness to offset the richness of the duck.

Skirt Steak (description isn't online) with whipped potatoes, zucchini: arriving a perfect medium rare, this looked gorgeous and apparently tasted it, too. Yes, I could have snagged a bite, but I restrained myself and let my friend enjoy his steak without having to parry an incoming fork.

(Yes, Ed tried several beers over the course of the night, but I don't remember which, so I can't comment here.)

We were absolutely stuffed at this point, but we managed to share the Tasting of house-spun sorbets buttermilk, plum-yuzu, nectarine-ginger, apricot, exotic spice (you do what you have to!). I love yuzu and it pairs so nicely with plum that this was a stand-out to me, but I would also eat a giant dish of the buttermilk, which is tart and tangy and creamy and somehow both light and decadent at the end of a big meal. The ginger flavor is also one I love, as it's not supremely sweet but retains that great ginger spiciness and kick. This was a wonderful way to end the night.

As one would expect, the restaurant was hopping last night, and Eli apologized at one point for the lag between courses, which didn't bother us since we were having a good time regardless. The staff was so gracious and friendly and seemed to have things running smoothly; I think this is one area where B&B has gotten dinged occasionally, but perhaps they had the A team on last night, or perhaps they're just gelling more as a team. (Oh, and Greg had on a spankin' tie.)

I ran back to the kitchen before leaving just to see if I could catch Gennaro and wave, although I expected he'd be busy. Chef pulled him off the line for a minute which was really nice, just so that I could tell him how awesome it was, and to make sure he shared that with Kyle and the rest of the kitchen. It was truly a wonderful meal and a wonderful experience, and again to repeat myself, if I lived closer, I'd be here even more.

the art of senart's

2011-08-13T20:59:00.000-05:00

I've been to Senart's several more times without writing anything, because it sort of seemed like, why should I? Solid oysters on the half-shell at good prices during happy hour, a great hanger steak with the incredible onion rings; a decent wine list, good craft cocktails...Frankly, in my usual way, I don't want to tell everyone about it, because it's really good and consistent and it's my neighborhood place and I don't want it overrun with everyone on the planet.

Which it would be, if word got out. I mean, $8/$16 for a half/dozen oysters at happy hour, well-shucked and with a great red-wine mignonette or a solid cocktail sauce, which also accompanies the jumbo shrimp cocktail -- holy moly are these shrimp good, by the way; they must be poached in court bouillon or something wonderful for all the flavor they have even without the cocktail sauce or the horseradish sauce, and I often find super-large shrimp tough and tasteless, but these were lovely and sweet -- that hanger steak, which really has no right to be as good as it is, and the onion rings, which are even better ... I don't want more people to know how solid Senart's is because it's crowded enough with us Hill residents already, and I like being able to get a seat when I show up, even (especially) on a Saturday.

I know 8th Street gets some flack from people for being a row of sell-outs; I know there's some local disappointment with the transformation of the strip into nothing *but* bars and restaurants. I get that, and I don't disagree. But then you get something hitting all the right notes, like Senart's, and you are thankful that you can get things like that a mere stumble from home.

(I write this, by the way, with Frodo caught in Shelob's web on my TV, which normally would block all thought of food from my mind as I cringe in arachnophobic horror at what I know is to come. That is a large fuckin' spider. And I'm still writing. Take that for what you will.)

romesco the stone

2011-07-29T16:38:00.001-05:00

I wanted to cook something new and interesting and a little bit special last night, since I've been in something of a rut with my old standbys (good as they are). A little bit of skimming over on Epicurious led me to Chicken Cutlets with Romesco and Serrano Cracklin's, which probably caught my eye because of what appears to be a misplaced apostrophe.*

The dish really appealed to me, though, and I decided I was going to give it a whirl. I even conceded to myself that I would cook exactly from the recipe, which I rarely do -- but romesco has a distinct flavor profile** and, having never experimented with it before, I wanted to do it correctly before I started riffing on it.

I did almost skimp and use pre-made breadcrumbs, but after much deliberation at the grocery store, I caved and bought the baguette. Since the crumbs go into the sauce, dried ones would change the texture, and I realized I couldn't predict exactly how that would turn out. Baguette it was! I even bought new smoked paprika to make sure the old stuff in the cupboard wouldn't deprive the sauce of its depth of flavor.

Sherry vinegar, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found. I don't understand how a well-stocked store that carried several different kinds of high-end, infused, and/or otherwise esoteric vinegars didn't carry a simple basic like sherry vinegar, but oh well; barrel-aged red-wine vinegar stood in nicely. I also had to substitue prosciutto for the serrano, although the recipe itself sanctions that, so I didn't fret too much about it.

So I came home and got out the mini-prep. I whirred, I measured, I toasted, I chopped, I pounded***, I dredged****, I sautéed, and then we ate.

Oh, boy. Oh boy oh boy oh boy.

The fresh breadcrumbs and parsley on the chicken kept it incredibly tender. The smoky, nutty sauce -- enhanced by crisp bits of salty prosciutto -- provided a complex base for the chicken, soft lettuce, and herbal parsley, which sang with brightness. A complete stunner of a dish, and exactly the kind of thing I wanted to make for a just-a-bit-special night in.

I can't wait for this to become one of the old standbys.

*I suppose it's because "cracklin'" in the singular uses an apostrophe to show the missing "g," but putting it into the plural makes it look like a possessive to me. Darn grammatical cognitive dissonance!

**As much as anything can that of course has regional variations all over the place, and about which people argue that only their region's is the "true" version, of course.

***Yes, I could have bought chicken cutlets, but it's so much more fine to buy the regular chicken breasts and whack the hell out of 'em, don't you think?

****I was confused that the recipe didn't recommend dredging in an egg-wash or the like, but although some of the crumb mixture of course fell off, I think the freshness of the bread allowed them to stick better than I expected.

tomato darn hot

2011-07-20T13:04:00.003-05:00

(This title may be the worst play-on-words I've yet attempted.)

When the entire country finds itself strangled by a heat wave, what's a girl to do for lunch?

A giant bowl of gazpacho, that's what.

Now, I don't make gazpacho with bread, which I thought meant I wasn't adhering to tradition. Just now, however, a friend who has been living in Spain for a year told me that, while of course it depends whom you ask and where you are, gazpacho is the vegetable soup, and salmorejo is the bread version. So I guess I'm not as much of a renegade as I thought!

I found some gorgeous (actually, ugly as sin, but beautifully ripe and wonderful) heirloom tomatoes at the market. Grabbed a cucumber and a yellow onion and, after minimal prep, threw it all in the food processor with huge handfuls of cilantro and parsley, plenty of salt and pepper, and a couple small cloves of raw garlic. A squeeze of lemon juice and a few hits of hot sauce, and I had a huge batch of gazpacho for a few lunches.

I topped my bowl with diced avocado from the small half I had leftover, and man, did it fit the bill. Take that, ridiculous heat wave.

down by ba bay

2011-07-17T15:38:00.009-05:00

I can't imagine how different my life would be had ba bay not opened in my neighborhood. Well, I'd cook some more, sure, but I wouldn't have nearly as much fish sauce as I do now; nor would I have a go-to cheer-up spot a mere few blocks from home. And I'd certainly not have as many excellent happy-hour meet-ups on the Hill.

It's hard to believe they've only been there since November. They have refined and revised their menu over the months, to be sure, but it has only led to higher quality and spot-on consistency.

Now, with Khoa Nguyen leaving the front of house (sort of) to take the helm in the kitchen, along with the ever-excellent sous-chef Sara Siegel, the summer menu is veering toward slightly more traditional Vietnamese flavors, but still punched up with vibrant and innovative twists, local ingredients, and the finesse that comes of having highly-trained, passionate people in charge and on board.

I've been waiting for a lazy Sunday when I could toddle up for a late lunch ever since I saw cold vermicelli, grilled pork, green apples, sprouts, pickles, carrots, herbs, fish sauce vinaigrette ($12) added to the brunch/lunch menu. (Well, no; first I begged and pleaded for this to join the dinner menu, but alas, I don't call the shots.) A friend and I made the trip today, and oh, am I glad, because this is one of the best interpretations of bun thit nuong I've ever had -- the apples, the pickled onions! Enough fresh herbs to make a whole salad! I want to tell everyone I know to run right over and get it, except I don't, because then there'll be more for me.

My friend and I were lucky enough to taste the new summer cocktail of watermelon juice, lime, and cachaça as well, despite our protestations that late afternoon work beckoned. This drink is wonderful, and probably deadly, because it doesn't taste a bit like it's got a boozy kick. When the front windows are open at the end of a swampy DC day, this will be the perfect thing to sip and watch the staffers traipse by.

If you aren't looking for alcoholic drinks, I can recommend the herbal hibiscus iced tea, which is a gorgeously shocking-pink libation with herbaceous aromatics that linger pleasantly on the palate. My friend said her fresh lemonade was not overly sweet, making it nicely refreshing on a hot day.

I also happen to think Ba Bay should open a little kiosk (think childhood lemonade stand) out front selling their vietnamese coffee milkshake, churro, cinnamon chantilly ($7) to go. You see people wandering down the street with their milkshakes from various places around this part of the hill, but this one, I'm convinced, puts all the others to shame. Oh, how I'd love one of those to sip on the walk home after an excursion to Eastern Market!

The Barracks Row/Eastern Market/SE Penn Ave area is blossoming with restaurants and bars these days. As a neighborhood girl, I am so, so pleased to have this particular one around: young proprietors expertly infusing tradition with creativity, and getting better at it each day.

publican prowess

2011-06-13T09:40:00.003-05:00

When you only have one night to dine in Chicago, the decision can be impossible. Blow-out gastronomical tasting at Alinea? Too intense. Hit the bar at fully-booked Girl and the Goat and hope for space? Too iffy. Take a beer- and pork-afficionado friend to beer-and-pork mecca The Publican? We have a winner.

The restaurant is loud and bustling, with communal tables running the length of it, along with semi-private four-top booths along the windows. Don't let the tables put you off, though; it's not really much different from dining in any restaurant where the tables along the banquette are very close together, and for the most part the close quarters with one's neighbors remain minimally intrusive.

I know I'm in the right place when my server, upon explaining the menu, notes, "We understand not everything cooks at the same rate, so we encourage you to order everything together, and we'll course it out for you." Too often, restaurants that don't follow a traditional service (one appetizer and one main course per person) bring dishes haphazardly. It shows great attention to the dining experience when a restaurant plans to pace the meal despite a nontraditional set-up -- small snacks, appetizers, medium-sized plates one might share or not, and family-style entrees all make an appearance on Publican's menu.

And oh, what a menu. The Publican is known, as mentioned above, for beer and pork, although it goes far beyond that: seafood, including a nicely-sourced raw bar, and vegetables from local farmers all are well represented. In fact, just about everything on the menu lists its provenance; you know what brewery, what farm, what butcher was responsible for everything in your glass or on your plate. One of the things I enjoyed, though, is that the nose-to-tail ethic at work isn't forced upon the diner. Read the blurb, think about it, or don't think about it and just enjoy your food.

My dining companion enjoyed the Monk's Café Flemish Sour Red Ale ($6), which the server accurately described as more sweet-and-sour than traditionally sour. He easily suggested alternatives for someone looking for a less unusual beer, but the Monk's was a welcome change from the expected. The next beer, the Brauerei Heller-Trum ($10), seemed to complement the multiple courses we enjoyed.

(I stuck to a very drinkable Argentinian sustainable pinot noir for $12. So sue me.)

Then, the food. Oh, my. There's a reason I had a salad for lunch before showing up to dinner.

daily pickles ($4): superbly pickled cauliflower, cucumber pickles that were just shy of being sweet enough to register as bread-and-butter, and pickled onions and beets (I think). A couple plates of these with a beer and some oysters in the bar would make a perfect light night out.

spicy pork rinds ($5): a huge cone of ethereally fried bites, coated with a spicy, cheesy dust, these were ridiculously addictive, the heat level building just gradually enough to keep me coming back for more even though I knew I had to pace myself.

serrano; half taste of ham ($14): some of the most flavorful and richest serrano I've ever tasted, with excellent country bread and slightly-too-cold butter.

frites ($5): my only quibble with these is that I wanted them to arrive with the next course; luckily, it came shortly after they did. My desert-island food is excellent French fries, and these fit the bill; double-fried to be crispy but thick enough to retain a creamy, potato-y middle, and salted just enough, with Belgian mayonnaise, I could have eaten the entire cone (and may have had more than my fair share, I'm sure).

spicy steak tartare, radishes, fennel & lovage ($17): the radish and fennel set of the perfectly spiced meat; a few bits of meltingly tender (and yes, raw) beef followed by a couple of crispy frites was perhaps my favorite combination of dishes of the evening.

squid, broccoli, peanuts & apricot-chili vinaigrette ($15): my dining companion doesn't enjoy seafood, so I had this all to myself, and what a dish to get to savor alone! The squid, roasted in an earthenware dish, was tender yet hearty, and incredibly flavorful; the broccoli acquired the nuttiness of the roast, set off deliciously by the peanuts and the sweet-spicy sauce.

country ribs, maitake mushrooms & kohlrabi, half order ($15): grilled to create an exceptional crust and yet not tough inside, with the meatiness of the maitake highlighting just how satisfying at an almost primal level this dish can be, this dish was almost too rich (and definitely too much) at the end of the meal, but well worth the indulgence.

chocolate-banana budino with coffee gelato & cocoa nibs ($7): did we need dessert? No. Was this outstanding? Caramelized bananas with a rich, dark-but-not-too-dark chocolate pudding, set off by the bitter cocoa nibs and the essence of coffee in the creamy gelato? Oh, yes.

Heading out into the light drizzle, I was seriously tempted to turn around, head back to the bar, and nurse a drink while watching what else came of the clearly talented kitchen. Chicago has a vibrant dining scene, and there are many more restaurants I need to get to, but it will be darn hard not to come back here each time, for a small plate, a drink, and, well, maybe just one or two other little tastes ...

in the immortal words of homer simpson, {drool}

2011-05-03T21:20:00.002-05:00

Sometimes you're at Whole Foods, and you see an item.

An item you know you could make, but you just don't have the time or the inclination.

So you buy this item, all the time thinking to yourself, Well, whatever.

Sometimes that item is roasted garlic butter.

Could I make this? Sure.

Did I have the time to do so today? Nope.

Were mushrooms sautéed in it the most goshdarnfreaking delicious thing I've eaten in ages? Oh holy hell yes.

Sure, the seared flank steak marinated in scallions, sage, rosemary, thyme, soy, Worcestershire, and red wine was also amazing. So were the crazygood roasted asparagus. But seriously, roasted garlic butter.

Goshdarnfreakingdelicious.

rustica as rustic does

2011-05-03T09:22:00.002-05:00

After three trips to Pizzeria Rustica in Old Colorado City, I know that the "ricotta surprise" in the eponymous pizza is that the ricotta is hidden in the crust. Scoop it out and scatter it over the crushed San Marzano tomatoes, homemade mozzarella, paper-thin prosciutto, and peppery arugula, and you have a dish that will rival the best Neapolitan pizze in the D.C. area.

The large antipasto platter is perfect to share, coming with ample amounts of that same prosciutto, a black-pepper salume, bite-sized pieces of polenta cake, marinated olives, roasted and marinated tomatoes, and assorted other vegetable salads (last night, pickled cauliflower with capers and carrots) and cheeses (usually pecorino and something vaguely cheddar-like). The wine list specializes in organically-grown Italian imports, and while a favorite nero d'avola was out last night, there was a nice sangiovese to take its place.

And no, I absolutely did not want the freaking delicious homemade espresso gelato with chocolate chips and biscotti crumbs, and I vastly resent being forced to share that, too.

la la fiola

2011-04-27T09:24:00.003-05:00

Last night I dined with another gastronome at the newly opened Fiola, the restaurant heralding the return to DC of Chef Fabio Trabocchi. This was a bit of blow-out treat, at least for me, but we just had to see what Trabocchi was turning out at this more casual and more rustic attempt at a high-end, traditional Italian spot in downtown DC.

Knowing we were going to run the gamut of vegetables, cheese, pasta, fish, and meat, but considering that we both prefer red wine, I found a very modestly priced 2007 Montepulciano d'Abruzzo on the list that I thought would carry us through -- and it did. The wine list actually has a pleasantly surprising number of bottles in the $30-55 range, particularly if you stick with the Italians (and why wouldn't you here?). It's a nice touch, one too often not considered here in the District, where wine lists often appear to be a second thought, if a thought at all.

We started with the Apulia Buffalo Mozzarella, Roasted Tomatoes, Pesto of Basil Genovese.The mozzarella was wonderful, so fresh and creamy it was almost more like burrata (I could have sworn the server actually said "burrata," which was not on the menu last night, when he set it down, even – and it turns out the online sample menu does call this “La Burrata”). One of the wonderful aspects of the pesto was that it was not overwhelmed with cheese or garlic; the basil shone, highlighting the mild mozzarella, and the roasted tomatoes' sweetness really tied it together. We also had the Salad of Violet Baby Artichokes, Spring Fava Beans, Mint, and English Peas. The delicate flavors of each item melded with the pea puree to create a vegetal representation of spring in a bowl; the ingredients were clearly of high quality and allowed to speak for themselves, and they did.

Next we shared a pasta course, the special of Spaghetti, Sea Urchin, Crab, Chile. The urchin was whipped into a sauce for the al dente pasta, dotted with fresh lump crab and enough red chile flake to cut the unctuousness of the dish and bring it to life. Sweet (from the crab), spicy (from the chile), savory (from the urchin), this dish sang; my friend said he could have licked the plate clean.

We knew going in we were going to overorder so that we could taste a lot of items (hey, that’s what leftovers are for!), so it was two entrees. Playing a little game of traditional dining role reversal, he went for fish and I for meat. The Veal Chop, Wild Mushrooms, Jerusalem Artichokes, Alba Hazelnuts was one of the best pieces of meat I have eaten in a long time. The thick chop was cooked to a perfect medium rare, with what was essentially duxelles tucked under a wrapper of just-crisp-enough prosciutto, so each bite had a medley of texture as well as incredible flavor. The hazelnut/sunchoke puree added a nice depth, the two elements contributing nuttiness in different ways. It was just outstanding.

Amazingly to me, though, the richness of the dish didn't overwhelm the tastes I had of the Branzino, Brodetto of Clams and Tomato, which was once again perfectly cooked, the creamy, dense flesh flaking with a touch of the fork. The fish-stock based broth had a smokiness to it that kicked everything into gear, and the plump, tender clams added a bit of salinity. This is definitely a go-to dish.

The place was jumping; yes, it does get a little loud, but I also think it may depend where you are in the room; away from the brick walls near the kitchen seemed a bit quieter. Our server, a young man who said he'd just relocated from another Italian restaurant downtown, was attentive but unobtrusive, although I got the inkling he thought our constant discussion of food (both what we were eating and just general interest in dining) was somewhat hilarious. He also had fun when he set down our individual plate of petit fours, which included doll-sized versions of chocolate-chip macaron – they should sell bags of these, as it’s easily the best macaron I’ve had in DC thus far – a gianduja cookie topped with a hazelnut tuile, and an apricot shortbread, reminiscent of a Linzer torte, or a jammy dodger, perhaps.

Oh, and dessert! The Fennel Gelato, Blood Orange, Olive Oil Semolina Cake ... creamy but refreshing, this could almost serve as an intermezzo, a twist on the traditional sorbet used for that type of course. So could the Lemon and Basil Granita atop the Zuppa Inglese (basically a strawberry trifle), wonderfully sweet and sour, just what was needed at the end of the meal (and the night). I can imagine that one is going to sell like mad out on the patio during the dog days of summer. Wow.

RIS-ky business, take two

2011-04-26T13:43:00.001-05:00

I almost never dine out for lunch, but when the executive editor of your academic journal is in town, you make exceptions. Or, at least, I do. I was toted along with some colleagues over to RIS, where I've not been in about a year despite its proximity to my office (see above about the frequency of my lunching). I have to say, based on this outing, I should give it more of a chance in future, particularly midday.

Spinach Salad fresh goat cheese, sherried beets, candied walnuts and sunflower seeds, honey mustard and sherry vinaigrette ($9) was really nice on this warm Tuesday, although it could have used a bit more of the creamy, mild cheese, and a bit less dressing (then again, I almost always find salads overdressed, and this one only seemed that way toward the end). It was quite substantial, with radicchio strewn among the baby spinach, and a plethora of perfectly-cooked red and yellow beet chunks.

The only danger was eating beets at a work lunch, given my generally klutzy nature, but thank goodness I chose to wear all black.

The quiche looked quite nice, a fluffy rendition filled with spinach and caramelized onions, and baked off as individual servings so everyone gets a healthy portion of crust. The Tuna Niçoise Tartine, seared tuna, green bean-potato cake, roasted tomatoes, lemon aioli, egg and capers ($13) -- served open-face as a tartine should be -- looked excellent, with slightly rare tuna and the surprise of the capers having been fried; my colleague said it was lovely.

duo ... do want

2011-04-17T13:49:00.000-05:00

"So, this would be pretty good for DC, yeah?" asked my friend.
"Hell, this would be pretty good -- no, really good -- anywhere," I replied, and I meant it.

If you find yourself in Denver on a Sunday morning and don't have brunch at Duo, you're missing out. This little restaurant with exposed brick walls and funky mismatched napkins focuses on farm-to-table fare, and does it with aplomb and creativity. The sweet sunday poached eggs on grilled sourdough bread + spinach, mushrooms + sweet onion ragout in a whole grain mustard cream sauce, crispy potatoes ($8) came with perfectly poached eggs; the substantial amount of nicely sautéed vegetables had great flavor, the mushrooms earthy and tender, the spinach nicely wilted and without bitterness, and the onion ragout pulling it all together with sweetness. The mustard cream sauce provided an outstanding counterpoint, a bit sharper than a traditional hollandaise (vastly appreciated in this case), and the potatoes, crisped with a bit of smoked paprika, were a great foil for soaking up the runny yolk.

One member of my party chose the pork hash house made pork sausage + kale, carmelized onion, roasted tomato, potatoes + sunnyside up eggs ($9), which he pronounced outstanding (when I could get him to weigh in, as he promptly devoured his meal). Our table also sampled the challah french toast fresh fruit compote + vermont maple syrup ($9) which came as four thick, fluffy slices dusted with powdered sugar and an abundance of fresh blackberries, along with a tiny carafe of good syrup, and the applewood bacon ($4), three strips of crispy, smoky bacon. Excellent coffee in a French press finished off the meal nicely.

With a drink, a glass of juice, and three orders of the bacon (hey, I maintain that there is no such thing as too much bacon, at least at brunch), the total for three people came to $55 before tip. If this is dining in Colorado, sign me up.

bibiana pollyanna

2011-02-11T09:14:00.001-05:00

As friends have mentioned beforeI'm not sure why this place flies so far under the radar. My good friend Carol will go all stabby on me for this, but seriously, Bibiana is incredible, and everyone should go there, now -- or, wait. Let me try that again. No one should go there at all, ever, leaving it all for me.

No one should go to get the phenomenal service or the outrageously good drinks, particularly the Addio al Re, Marcarini Chinato, Etichetta Nera Brandy, Orange Bitters ($12). And the food ... well, don't get the Carciofi alla Giudia that lived up to every bite of the dish I ever had in Rome. And certainly don't follow my lead on the mains, because although I almost never order pasta out, the Ravioli, Ravioli of Braised Lamb, Almonds, Espelette, Mint, Pecorino (full order $18) were out of this world, every bite a perfect compendium of flavor and texture, and if what I got is the half order, I'd like to see the person who can finish the full order.

Seriously, don't go to Bibiana. Please. Because I want to continue to be able to walk in at 7 in the evening and have the place to myself.

ba bay, baby

2011-01-03T16:40:00.002-05:00

I've been to Ba Bay three times now and it's improved each time. I am so pleased to have them within walking distance.

I've had to work all weekend, spending today editing madly, to the point that my eyes were burning and watery. I didn't want to do anything fancy -- this is the problem with having one's birthday so closely on the heels of the holidays, as many of my Capricorn compatriots can attest -- I just wanted a nice dinner with some friends. Well, I got it, and then some.

The chili-glazed wings, scallion ($12) are just silly-good. I would happily go to the bar of a weeknight, get these and a vegetable side, and be happy with that as a meal. We also tried the new savory pancake, eggs, rock shrimp, scallion, maggi dipping sauce ($9), which is not a traditional Vietnamese crepe and not a scallion pancake, but the best of both, eggy and savory and sweet (from the rock shrimp) at the same time.

The brussels sprouts, sweet chili butter ($5) have gotten better, and the bok choy, oyster sauce, crispy shallots ($4) continues to be my favorite preparation of this dish I've yet encountered in town. The rockfish, almond milk, rice congee, fermented black bean ($21) was also lovely, although I only got a bite as one of my dining companions scarfed it up, raving about the great flavors and comforting nature of it. She also claimed the roseda farm shaky beef, marinated onions, black pepper, watercress purée ($19) was better than that at the San Francisco restaurant (well-known but I forgot its name already) known for the dish. Two large noodle dishes, the pho, rice noodles, roseda farm rib eye, tendon, tripe, herbs ($13)
and the spicy pork–shrimp broth, thick rice noodles, thai basil, pork loin, shank ($12), were uniformly praised and mostly devoured (seriously, if anyone can actually finish one of these after appetizers and drinks, I'd like to see it.)

The staff graciously and unnecessarily comped both our desserts in honor of my birthday (which I tried to make up in tips, although my editing-addled brain may have failed at the math). I saw a person or two grabbing take-out, and I'm really pleased that Ba Bay is offering their full menu for this. I just know that there will be countless nights that a big bowl of brothy noodles will hit the spot, and it will be just the right temperature by the time I get it home.

They certainly are learning, changing, and growing. Not every dish I've eaten there has been a home run, but tonight, everything hit the mark, and I was pleased to see that the dishes I like the first time have not slipped in quality even as others have improved. I hope more people learn about this spot and help turn it into a Penn Ave SE gem.

a peak into the chesapeake

2010-12-08T16:31:00.003-05:00

Butternut squash-cauliflower puree sounds a little bit like you threw open the refrigerator door, yanked the crisper out to within an inch of its life, and mused, "Huh. Squash and cauliflower. I guess those things would blend up together."

Well, skeptic, they do, and how, the sweetness of the squash playing off the bitter/vegetal nature of the cauliflower beautifully. The first bite results in a "Hmmm ... mmm," the second in turning to your dining companion with, "You've got to taste this," and by the third, it's all parrying* the incoming fork: "Hey, the rest is mine!"

Chesapeake Room is the neighborhood newcomer that has continued to step up its game on each visit -- they're small steps, incremental, but I'm glad to see that they're maintaining upward trend. Tonight's meal was enough to make me want to return in much shorter order than I have before (and I hope they'll still have that puree).

*And this was even before the Catoctin Creek tasting. No, really.

un bon bistro la bonne

2010-09-10T12:08:00.004-05:00

I have to agree with some comments I’ve seen that the small Bistro La Bonne on U Street is sort of rocking an "under the radar" vibe -- the whole space is easy to pass by, and dining outside -- even in lovely weather -- is really more of an "enjoy traffic" experience than anything else. That's not meant as an indictment, though, as last night’s lovely pre-fall weather made sitting outside a treat regarless of the traffic situation. (Not to the liquor store across the street: must you persist in blasting some nameless thumping horror that invades your brain and demands attention? Urgh.)

Nothing was knock-your-socks-off outstanding, but there's a lot of solid execution going on here and that's nice to see. Frankly, I'm kind of old school in certain ways; if a French bistro really wants to go that route, I'm going to look not for innovation but for top-notch delivery of standards. For the most part, I have to say that a meal here is soul-satisfying, and also reassures me that they are at least striving for the same thing I'm looking for. Pissaladiere, crispy puff pastry topped with caramelized onions, olives and marinated anchovy ($9.95) may not be an entirely authentic version, given the puff pastry, but man are those anchovies and onions good. I may be a sucker for both those ingredients, but these were really nice, and particularly when shared, a nice way to start an evening. The paté de campagne ($6.95) is nothing revelatory -- although, according to their website, mentioned in the WaPo's Going Out Guide -- but the nicely (perhaps slightly over)dressed greens make up for it, and it's definitely got nice flavor and texture.

I'm kind of incapable of not ordering duck when I see it on a menu -- when it's good it's great, and when it's bad, well, caveat emptor -- so my dining companion and I split the Magret de Canard au Cinq Epices et Son Confit de Caingnard, roasted 5 spices duck breast, leg duck confit with a sweet potato and potatoe {sic} gratin, ratatouille & port wine sauce ($20.95). I could tell a story here about my French family and a summer week spent eating the best, freshest ratatouille on earth, but it's immaterial, because this dish was not elegant but was totally a satiating dish for the soul. The potatoes were creamy and earthy, the elements of the ratatouille retaining their bite, and the duck delicious (I would have preferred a few more slices of the duck breast, but the ones we had were perfectly cooked to the desired medium-rare, and well-seasoned). This dish was like a lighter version of cassoulet (also on their menu): homey, earthy, tasty, and completely satisfying.

I have no idea who the people are who are running this place, but after a few interactions our waiter (host? GM? he was everywhere out front, in snazzy orange-and-green suspenders) realized we spoke French and lapsed into it with us. I don't live close enough to U Street to make this place a regular stop, but I have a feeling that were I able to do so, I'd find myself speaking French with the staff and feeling like I'm back in Lyon or Limoges ... and oh could I go for that right now. A decidedly pleasant evening, one I hope to repeat when the siren song (or is that just sirens?) of U Street call.

oooh honey honey (cake)

2010-09-08T16:39:00.002-05:00

To ring in 5771, I will be partaking of homemade honey cake while on my evening conference call.

L'shana tovah tikatevu!

cityzen of the world

2010-08-04T09:06:00.004-05:00

The diner's koan: When every bite is transcendent, are any of them, truly?
Last night's dinner at the bar at Cityzen was, in fact, a transcendent experience. The three-course prix fixe lives up to its accolade as the best deal in town: $50 gets you three courses that a mere few feet away would cost you $30 more, plus an amuse and even a gratis aperitif.

Sadly, the online menus are not up to date and I can't recall everything perfectly, but I can at least attempt a brief rundown (I'd give the highlights but they were all highlights).

Terrine of lamb with mint pesto, beet jam, and watercress tasted wonderfully and purely of lamb, with a hint of gaminess that instead of being off-putting served as a lovely reminder that, yes, this really was a lamb terrine, and not anything else. A grenache blanc had a hint of smoky oak to it that paired perfectly with the lamb. Sweet corn chowder with crispy veal sweetbreads gave off the essence of that corn, bought at the farmers market that morning, but the just-crisp-enough sweetbreads sent this over the top, lending an earthiness that underscored the rich creaminess of the soup.

Sesame-crusted salmon with cucumber and kohlrabi salad and cucumber jus was so perfectly cooked that I was reminded why I so rarely order salmon out -- it's usually dry and tasteless, and I can do better at home; this, on the other hand, was tender and full of flavor, with the perfect amount of crispy, salty sesame to offset the creamy, sweet fish. The crunch of the kohlrabi and slightly softer cucumber gave the dish even more lightness and freshness; overall, this was a feast of summery flavor, balanced by a light Willamette valley pinot noir that came alive with the sesame in particular. Braised veal breast with crispy shallots and sautéed greens was similarly revelatory, the meltingly tender meat both more delicate and more flavorful than I can remember veal being, and yet not overly heavy or beefy despite the long-cooked preparation. The bites of fried shallot were perfect little onion rings (there was possibly a small scuffle over who got the last one, I can't lie). An easy-drinking Côtes du Ventoux grenache-syrah rounded out the course.

The desserts, a chocolate ganache with apricot sorbet and poached apricots, and the "Cake and Shake" black-almond milkshake and peach polenta cake, were both delicious. I would have gone for a cheese plate had one been offered, since I have less of a sweet tooth than some, but the polenta cake and the apricots were not overly sweet, capping the meal quite nicely (and I cannot recall what the dessert wine was).

Our foursome had the bar to ourselves, so we had a lovely conversation with the eminently gracious Sal, who mixed us some fantastic cocktails to start and introduced my friend Darrell to Fernet Branca at the end of the night. Great company to match great food ... transcendent, indeed.

urban(a) boho chic

2010-07-27T19:46:00.002-05:00

A dollar an oyster during happy hour? Um, yes please!

Rotating selection and quite good -- this deal might be unbeatable (and even not at happy hour, it's only $16/dozen) at Urbana on P Street. Tonight they had lovely, briny malpeques from PEI, something ginormous and flavorful from Long Island, and vaguely tasteless mid-size bivalves from Virginia. Still, this is kind of a killer deal, particularly given its proximity to my office.

The lamb meatballs over polenta were tasty, with a shard of parmigiano each and served over a good deal of nice grits (labeled polenta but with more bite and texture). The brandade-stuffed piquillos leaned on the potato but still had some good flavor. Both of the above would probably read as undersalted to most palates; I'm rather salt sensitive and have had more than my fair share in the past two days, so I appreciated a slight undersalination to allow me to taste the lamb flavor and the well-prepared peppers, although I can see that the brandade could play as primarily potato to some (I got some good cod flavor, but there was also a chunk of cod that hadn't made it through the puree filter, and that helped). The falafels were tiny but delicious, sweet and savory, over some tahini and with pickled onions to offset the creaminess -- I totally want these again. All the small plates are $5, and the portions are great for sharing -- or for wolfing down with some similarly-priced happy hour drink specials.

The margherita pizza had some good chew to the crust, an even-handed application of cheese, and was to my eye downright large for $8 (a full dinner plate diameter). I honestly got out of there totally stuffed, with solicitous service and only a bit of techno in the background as the lights dimmed.

Props to my friend Todd for the notification of the oyster deal, which will draw me back -- and would have done had the small plates not been even passable-to-good and instead totally sucked. I mean, come on, a buck an oyster? Months with 'r's be damned.

i think those new droids are gonna work out just fine

2010-07-18T19:10:00.015-05:00

Recipe for a successful* Sunday:
1) Take shoes ordered online back to DSW.

1a) Spend a long time finding other shoes instead of just returning ill-fitting pairs ordered online.

2) Feel pleased how "little" final bill is, wilfully ignoring you already paid a certain amount and are just exchanging, more or less
3) Head over to Bed Bath and Beyond for new mattress pad.

3a) Acquire two new pillows as well. Splurge on what is essentially a ShamWow to dry the dog (because you're tired of sacrificing real towels), and a cast-iron grill pan to replace warped nonstick grill pan you've had for years.

4) Once again, feel inordinately pleased with yourself for, really, just spending a lot of money.
5) Lug large bags of stuff home and immediately fill ginormous plastic BB&B bags with trash and recycling.

5a) Feel suddenly bad about consumerism. Soothe soul by washing dirty sheets for remaking bed with new mattress pad. Refuse to admit this is nonsensical.

6) Spend way too much time finding recipe to use friend's homemade Argentine chorizo. Settle on "sh rimp and chorizo pizza with escarole and manchego" because you like all those ingredients, even though you have no pizza stone and no longer have time to make dough.

6a) Buy all other ingredients at store, including dough. Assume you will magically figure out how to bake it.
6b) You're right.

My pizza totally
looked exactly like
this one.
Except for how
it didn't.

7) Consume dinner. Get stupidly full; actually save last piece of pizza for leftovers. Begin plotting when to make pizza again with other two chorizo links.

8) Throw in a disc of Star Trek: The Next Generation and finish your wine.

9) Put new mattress pad on bed. Remake bed. Consider climbing into bed. Decide to postpone until at least 9 p.m. for appearance's sake.

10) Seriously contemplate eating the leftover pizza.

10a) Resist.

11) More TNG. More wine. Feel inordinately pleased with (self-described) witty blog post.

FIN.

*"successful": "resulting or terminating in success"; incredibly boring to the entire rest of the world.

ku-ku-kushi

2010-07-17T21:44:00.004-05:00

When was the last time I went out for sushi or Japanese izakaya? For the first, I've lost track and for the second, um, that would be never. Oops! Luckily, the situation was easily remedied by heading over to Mt. Vernon Square and trying Kushi tonight.

Word on the street is that the kushiyaki and robata items from Kushi are excellent, but the draw is sushi, and the best of that is whatever's fresh on the menu for the day. We stuck to the specials tonight and were so not disappointed. The snapper (so good as nigiri we got an extra order as sashimi), chu-toro sashimi special, and maguro temaki were good enough that I would go back knowing I could get them (a toss-up given that two of the three were specials). However, due to a bit of a service snafu we didn't get our seared beef and scallion temaki in time, so we got a free pork belly and watercress temaki. These were dueling hand rolls and almost stunningly flavorful, with the pork having a slight edge over the beef; the rice was good, neither too vinegared nor with an edge of formed-in-advance staleness; and I honestly want to eat both of them again, right now, despite the fact that -- as much as I am a bottomless pit when it comes to awesome sushi -- I am so stuffed.

I've heard others who talked about mushrooms earlier, but I have to say that the grilled maitake and eringi, with an extra dish of the grilled Japanese eggplant, were outstanding tonight, and a fantastic value for the money -- these were huge as small plates go, and personally I could eat mushrooms every meal of my life and be happy, so it was a win-win. The maitake might have been my favorite: woodsy without being woody, earthy without tasting dirty, and enhanced by a brief dip in soy, they were both comforting and exciting. The grilled squid was also actually a massive plate of food, but the squid had both a lovely char and a great marinade. This dish is honestly too much squid at a time, even if you're sharing it, but the flavor and technique are there, so it's not a bad option, particularly if you're hungry.

I tried a cucumber "saketini" that I asked to be made on the not-sweet side. Most of the summer cocktails include a distinct sugar component, which is just not my thing -- I want my drink to have a bite and not be a dessert in itself. The bar obligingly made this sans sugar and it was so nice with the sushi parts of the meal. I forgot to specify gin instead of vodka so it wasn't entirely what I wanted, but still, it more than held up.

(The women sitting next to us were discussing the menu and one of them told her companion, "Well, you know I don't eat fish." Honestly, not that I would try to convert an anti-fish-eater via raw fish, but -- really? Then again, someone didn't snatch the chu-toro special out from under me, so I guess I'm thankful for small favors.)

Oh -- I should note that I did this with the LivingSocial coupon ($25 for $50 of food and drink). I'd paid my $25 long ago so that was a sunk cost, and I tipped on the full bill plus the comped temaki that was totally unnecessary -- I expect things that are being run among a sushi bar, robata grill, and kushiyaki station to come at different times -- but even so, the full price was actually more than reasonable for the sheer amount of food. The staff were completely gracious about the coupon. If this is what Kushi is putting out on a Saturday night (they were packed to the gills [pun intended] by the time we left a little past 9), then I wish them all the good will in the world, and intend to go back if possible for a maki or two and some grilled eggplant at the very least.

in media(s) res at J&G

2010-07-01T16:04:00.030-05:00

I was lucky to get to attend a media dinner last night at J&G Steakhouse. Chef Philippe Reininger was debuting his new summer menu, and newly installed GM Steve Uhr (who came from Blue Duck Tavern) served as the gracious host.

Everything we sampled is on the regular menu, but this was of course a special event, so my noting that the service and execution were flawless has to be taken with a grain (or a sizeable pinch?) of salt. Also flawless? The weather on the patio -- thank goodness. And the patio is nice; surprisingly, it's a quiet corner, probably because driving down 15th can be such a hassle, given that one has to do backflips to skirt the White House.

photo courtesy of fingerprint dc

Anyway, rather than focus too much on the details of an experience that isn't likely to be recreated on an average night -- I mean, how often does one find oneself seated next to Phil Suarez, aka Jean-Georges Vongerichten's business partner? -- I would like to highlight both Chef Reininger and Mr. Uhr.

Fairly often with "star chef" outposts, it's easy to focus on the name on the marquee and ascribe success or failure to that person and his/her participation (or lack thereof) in the restaurant. Sometimes that's warranted, but in this case, there is someone worth noticing in the kitchen. Chef Reininger is soft-spoken and appears to prefer to stay happily ensconced mostly behind the scenes, but his passion and commitment come through in his food. When he visited the table, it soon became apparent that he cares deeply about his craft; he opened up and was visibly more relaxed and gregarious when we engaged him in a conversation about the provenance of the yellow watermelon and the lamb he served. I hadn't had the chance to get to J&G before last night, but I very much want to return and see if, as was my impression last night, he's consistently putting out elegant, classic-with-hints-of-modern-twists food.

For his introduction as J&G's general manager, Mr. Uhr served as host and sommelier last night -- I believe he actually did the wine pairings with the dinner -- and was knowledgeable, gracious, friendly, and so completely on top of everything and in control that it was hard to believe he'd only been there a short time. The patio was fairly full last night, and it was amazing to watch him give the same level of attention to the customers scattered about as to our large party. A strong GM can contribute a lot to making a dining experience cross the line from good to great -- not that chefs and servers and the rest of the staff don't contribute, but a good GM, like a good stage manager, is the one responsible for the show, the one who makes sure the gears and cogs in the clock turn smoothly and with precision. Steve Uhr did an impressive job last night, and if this match lasts, it bodes well for J&G to continue to be a dining spot for people who care about service as much as food.

For the curious, the menu was as follows:

Watermelon and Goat Cheese, Cracked White Pepper, Olive Oil with a 2009 Boxwood Cabernet Franc rosé
Tuna Tartare, Ginger Dressing, Fresh Radish (this is on the online summer menu as salmon tartare) with a 2008 Viñedos de Ithaca 'Odysseus' Pedro Ximenez
Maine Lobster, Basil Butter, Corn and Potatoes with a 2008 Rochioli Sauvignon Blanc
Rack of Lamb, Green Chili and Mint, Sweet Pea Puree with a 2006 Duckhorn 'Goldeneye' Pinot Noir
Strawberries, Mint, Lime and Meringue, Sour Cream-Poppy Seed Sorbet with a nonvintage Lucien Albrect Brut Crémant d'Alsace rosé

photo courtesy of fingerprint dc

All our courses were full-size, with the exception of the lobster (half instead of whole) and lamb (two chops instead of three). To that end,although the lobster and the lamb are the most expensive dishes on the menu, I can absolutely recommend the lamb (Australian, if you're wondering), cooked perfectly medium rare with a vibrant green chili and mint panko crust. The chops came out tender and flavorful without any gaminess, and the herbal, piquant crust hit all the right complementary and contrasting notes. The tartare was also lovely, with nice heat from the ginger and radish; I felt the lobster could have benefited from a more even application of the basil butter, and I would have liked more of the pea puree with the lamb, too. The Rochioli sauvignon blanc was one of my favorite pairings of the night, contrasting the butter on the lobster, and the butteriness of the lobster, with a nice acidity and minerality, but the pinot noir was definitely the wine of the evening, earthy (even mushroomy) without being tannic and harsh. I guess I like French rosés better than Virginian ones, though, because the Boxwood really didn't impress me much, and the goat cheese in the salad overwhelmed it.

Jim got to eat lunch at J&G not long after it opened when he was interviewing for summer jobs, and I was distinctly jealous (I'm pretty sure I brown-bagged leftover salad that day). Well, now we're even, so the next step will be to go back on our own dime, and find out if it holds up.

sonom(nom)a

2010-06-23T09:04:00.002-05:00

After pulling a twelve-hour day at the office on Monday and then coming home, making dinner, and suddenly having to handle a work emergency, I decided that Tuesday was going to go like this:

1. Punch out at 5.

2. Meet a friend to catch up.

3. Have a nice dinner out with Jim.

And lo! That's exactly what happened.

Despite it being located right at the top of Penn, Jim had never eaten at Sonoma Wine Bar (I'd been to the bar once for a happy hour), so since that's where I was meeting my friend, I figured we'd snag a table. The original plan was just to wing it, but when I arrived at 5:45, the bar was mobbed with Hill-types (at least two Representatives and their assorted staffers), so as I waited, I used OpenTable on the iPhone to confirm a two-top at 7. (And people say smartphones are ruining society. Bah.)

Enough friends have reported back on Sonoma that I wasn't expecting anything revelatory; just something solid that didn't require me to turn on the stove. Quite honestly, Sonoma outperformed my expectations, at least a bit.

We started with the house-made burrata, chive, tomato jam, fried bread ($11). This is the one dish I'd tasted before, in fact, and it was better last night than the first time I had it, with one exception -- the burrata was served too cold. I would prefer my burrata be cool, of course, but as though it had been in les caves, rather than bearing a level of chill that brings to mind the refrigerator (even if it's never seen the inside of one). However, despite its temp, the burrata was delicious, flecked with chive, creamy and spreadable. Being just a bit warmer would have allowed it almost to melt into the crispy bread, but each bite, topped with a bit of the sweet/sour tomato jam, was still a lovely contrast of tastes and textures.

We also had the grilled calamari, paprika, red pea salad ($11). This was outstanding, my dish of the night. The calamari were charred just enough to impart a great smoky flavor, and retained just enough chew (but weren't chewy) to set off the tender peas. The peas themselves were infused with a different, but complementary, kind of smokiness from the paprika; eaten on their own, they were good, but taken together with the squid, the flavors dovetailed in unexpected ways.

Jim got the small portion of the pappardelle pork bolognese ($13), the noodles made in-house. I didn't try any, but it was a perfect size, sauced not too heavily but not too sparsely, and he finished every bite. I had the roasted rainbow trout, zucchini purée, zucchini, aleppo aioli, squash blossoms ($20) -- I seem to be on a trout kick. This presentation came as a lovely piece of skin-crisped fish, the flesh juicy and flavorful, next to a dollop of aioli, three lightly-fried squash blossoms, some sautéed zucchini coins (should have had a few more of these), and a bed of the purée. The last item had an odd bitterness to it when tasted by itself, but that flavor disappeared when paired with the sweetness of the fish and the buttery zucchini.

With a glass of the belle glos “oeil de perdrix” 08 pinot noir blanc (rosé) ($14) and Jim's rye old fashioned ($8), the meal was complete, and quite a nice treat on a steamy summer Tuesday.

one conference call, two conference calls, 3 bar and grill

2010-06-15T15:56:00.003-05:00

Clarendon is three stops from Foggy Bottom. Which means that so is, among other good places, 3 Bar and Grill.

Bleu Cheese Chips, Point Reyes Bleu, House-Cured Bacon ($9) are messy as sin and a true guilty pleasure: hand-cut, house-fried potato chips with scads of melty, tangy cheese and crispy chunks (not bits) of smoky bacon. They're like everything you want nachos to be, but so rarely are.

The Smothered Trout, Pan Seared, Shrimp, Mussels, Tomato, Asiago Grits ($18) was quite good, the skin very crispy and the flaky fish set off nicely by the acid of the tomatoes and onions. The two head-on shrimp and the mussels were flavorful and cooked properly, and the grits were outstanding, creamy and very cheesy without being overwhelmed by salt. An overly-heavy hand with an overly-buttery sauce provided the one off-note; luckily, the grits could be used to make a nice little barrier to prevent the sauce from drowning the rest of the dish.

After conference calls til nearly 8 p.m., it was just what the doctors* ordered.

It wasn't until the bar emptied out completely around 10 p.m. that we realized how loud it had been. It was a bit like eating with Dr. Kakofanous A. Dischord and the DYNNE. That said, it wouldn't stop me from coming back.

*No, really. Many of the doctors I work with would totally have ordered this, I swear -- "heart-healthy" be damned.

that is one hungry mother ....

2010-06-02T10:29:00.018-05:00

The last night in Cambridge was with my dear, dear friend Sam at Hungry Mother. Sam has lived with me a few times in the past, and is an up-and-coming young home cook and learning about drinks and food, too -- let's say a burgeoning foodie of sorts. He had gone to this restaurant recently and loved it so much he said we had to go when in town -- it's Southern comfort food done with an incredibly refined sensibiilty, and in Boston that's even rarer than it is here -- and so we checked it out.

And hoo boy, was Sam right.

Sam told me beforehand that their cocktails were fantastic, so I was looking forward to it. They number the drinks instead of naming them, but that reflects an overarching element of humor and (somehow inoffensive) cleverness to the menu (food as well as drinks; more on this to come). After the weekend I'd had -- and seeing that they recommended it as a pairing on the dessert menu -- I ordered a Sazerac ($9), which was slightly less fantastic than what I had at Temple Bar, but still made spot-on and quite delicious. Sam had the No. 43, Old Overholt Rye, 10 yr Ferreira Tawny Port, maple syrup, bitters ($9.50), but he vastly preferred the No. 2, Maker's Mark, sorghum syrup, Luxardo Amaretto, boiled peanut ($9), which Jim started with. It was perfectly balanced and possessed a great depth of flavor that was, truly, awesome.

The drinks menu also includes the No. 99, Bartender's Choice ($10). This is essentially the speakeasy element; you get as vague or as specific as you like, and the bar sends you something. Jim asked for "smoky, I like whiskey, with some citrus" and got a drink comprising mezcal, green chartreuse, Rittenhouse rye, and orange curacao -- and it was exactly what he asked for and more. The only downside is that the time it took made our second round arrive in the middle of our entrees ... but honestly, it was worth the wait.

We started with the "To Tide You Over..." order of Spicy Pimiento Cheese ($4), which was an amuse just the right size for three people. Perfectly spreadable, with a kick, it was a traditionally Southern presentation and absolutely went with the first cocktails. Next we shared the Local Lettuces, cucumbers, radishes, cherry tomatoes, mint, cornbread croutons ($9) and the Pork Plate ($10), which that night was housemade bratwurst cooked in beer, served with homemade stone-ground mustard and a beer shot. All the pork items are made in-house and they are amazing; if you did nothing but eat the pork products (guanciale, ham, bacon) I think you would walk out incredibly happy.

For our main courses, I had the Carolina Rainbow Trout, hakurei turnips & greens, sea island peas, bacon ($24). It was outstanding, with the accompaniments absolutely spot-on to add all the flavor elements (the bitter greens, the umami long-cooked peas, and the salty, crispy bacon). The fish was so perfectly cooked that I didn't want to share it, but the Veal Blanquette, carrots, potatoes, toasted bread ($23) was also so delicious that I had to keep trading bites for pieces of wonderfully tender veal in an incredibly flavorful gravy. The Cornmeal Catfish dirty rice, mustard brown butter, chow chow ($18) arrived masterfully done, crispy and flaky and seasoned with an assured hand to avoid the trap of under-flavored or over-salted fish that so often happens with catfish, in my experience.

Amazingly, we had room to try dessert. I only tasted my own, the Rhubarb Cobbler, black pepper ice cream ($8), but the reason I didn't try the others is because mine was so good -- not overly sweet, which I dislike, but allowing the pure tart rhubarb to shine through, with a traditional cobbler topping and the mild spice hit of the black pepper ice cream -- that I refused to share. I have it on good authority that the other desserts are quite good, although one of the cakes erred on the side of a bit dry, for which the housemade mint ice cream more than compensated, and the Taza Chocolate Sundae, sorghum marshmallow, black walnuts, cherry on top ($8) was raised to an ethereal level by the bruléed sorghum marshmallow ... heavenly.

This was the big blowout dinner, the "I haven't seen you in ages and we are going to tear. it. up." night on the town. We ended up back at Sam's place playing board games and drinking Kraken on the rocks after our multi-hour feast in a space that really feels like you're in the house of someone who just wants to feed you well: whitewashed brick walls, wooden floors and rustic tables, a staff who clearly cares what's going on, a kitchen bent on putting out incredible food (even on a Sunday night, which after reunion and Commencement weekend couldn't have been the biggest or most important night for them). I honestly wanted to go sit at the bar for the next three hours and just find out everything about this group, this place, that is doing what no one was doing in Cambridge when I left (except maybe Tony Maws, and funnily enough his new space is right around the corner). I am so impressed with this place .... I can't wait to go back.

temple bar the doors

2010-05-31T10:22:00.005-05:00

I found myself starting the evening off at Temple Bar on Friday and again on Saturday. I used to love it here when I lived down the street; for the past year or so, under the leadership of Michael Scelfo, the quality and creativity have increased to the point that I'm legitimately disappointed I can't actually get here again before I leave.

The first drink I tried, A Little Taste of Cambridge Grey Goose Pears, Canton Ginger, Fresh Lemon ($10), was perfect at the end of a hot, humid day -- it had enough of the ginger kick to offset the sweetness of the drink overall. It went wonderfully with the Sesame Tuna Tartare, Togarashi Aioli, Avocado, Wakame Seaweed Salad, & House Kettle Chips ($13), nothing innovative but rather a well-executed rendition of the classic, with cubes of ruby-red tuna and silky avocado piled on the seaweed, and the chips adding a nice starchy crunch. Even better were the Espresso & Fig-Glazed "St. Louis" Ribs, Smoky Espresso Syrup, Creamy Slaw ($9), which came with five meaty ribs, the meat all but falling off the bones, and the glaze nicely balanced between bitter and sweet. The bartender recommended this dish and I was glad he did; he also made me what is thus far the best Sazerac ($8) I've ever had to accompany the dish.

We stuck to the bar and appetizer menu both nights, and the dish of the night the second night had to be the Red Wine Braised Colorado Lamb Shoulder, Crispy Fried Olives, Crostini ($9) from the appetizers. This was fantastically flavorful and, in fact, a large portion over a smoky, chunky tomato sauce, with the fried black and green olives giving a salty punch and crunch to play off the tender meat. The Blue Hill Bay Mussels, House Made Merquez Sausage, Herbed Tomato Broth, Grilled Bread ($10) showed up as a huge bowl of plump, not-too-large mussels, but the merguez was the star, seasoned forcefully but not with an overly heavy hand, and not so spicy or smoky that it overwhelmed the mussels.

I used to come to this place for a casual night out just down the street; my standbys were the calamari, the burger, the Caesar salad, and the fondue. Happily, all of these things are still on the menu, but tweaked. Having sampled the new items the chef has brought to the restaurant, I bet these are even better than they were before, and I wish I still lived close enough that I could drop in on a lazy Tuesday night when I don't feel like cooking.

mes amies, chez henri

2010-05-28T22:18:00.006-05:00

The service in the bar at Chez Henri tonight was really off, which is a massive letdown. Yes, today was Commencement, but unless one has a particularly progressive parental relationship, the bar at Chez Henri is not where one celebrates such an event, so it wasn't due to excessive celebratory crowds. On a Thursday night, though, there's no reason there should have been only one bartender in charge of the bar and the tables, particularly when every seat was filled and they were three-deep at the bar; we waited long enough for someone to take our cards that Godot could have shown up first and we'd have been less surprised. That said, I'm still glad that I dragged my girlfriends there for our first girls' night out of Reunion weekend. They all lived in the Quad but never went to CH in college; I, on the other hand, found every excuse I could to eat in the bar there both during school and after, when I lived right up the street.

And on that front, Chez Henri did not disappoint. The Rhum Cocktail Marilene, 8 Year Old Haitian Rum, Muddled Lime & Angostura Bitters Shaken & Served on Ice (all cocktails $9) is new since I was last there (in...2006? 2007? Eep) and a fantastic way to start the evening (especially since yesterday's CF of a workday and nine-hour drive did not end with a drink). The Periodista, Triple Sec, Apricot Brandy, Rum, Lime Juice, Shaken and Served with a Twist of Lime also stood the test of time. After that, the girls and I moved to a bottle of rosé on special, and were more than well served. (In fact, one of our foursome arrived late, having had to wait for her babysitter (read: husband) to get home, and when her water didn't arrive in a timely fashion, was comped her glass of wine, totally unnecessarily -- it was a grand gesture.)

We also managed to sample the Chicken Empanadas ($7) and Vegetable Pinchos ($8) to start. The pinchos were skewers of grilled okra, red onion, red bell pepper, mushroom, and squash, with a dressing halfway between crema and tzatziki -- and were delicious (thank goodness for the okra, which I love). The empanadas are three small, but perfectly executed, examples to a plate, with a mango-black bean salsa and a salsa fresca to accompany. I had to have my truly beloved Duck Tamale on Spinach Salad, Warm Bacon and Mustard Dressing ($11). This is one of my favorite dishes of all time -- actually the first dish I ate when I last returned from France, because nothing else would bridge the gap from the food in Paris to back home in Portland, ME, at the time. Big chunks of crispy/fatty bacon and a spicy dressing set off the confit of duck packed into the soft masa ... OK, I kind of want to go back and have it again tomorrow. The Grilled Homemade Chorizo over scallion mashed potato ($8) was another star of the evening. I'm kind of just sad we didn't make it to the conch fritters.

Yes, we were crammed into the door corner all night long and the service was ridiculously off-kilter (we easily would have gotten another round if anyone had asked instead of just dropping our check after clearing our plates, and we had to ask several times for forks for our main course rounds after the first ones were cleared with the apps), but I will come back to Chez Henri for their drinks and that freaking amazing duck tamale as long as I'm able to visit Harvard Square ... and I hope that will be for a good, long time.

rusticoh my goodness

2010-05-07T10:44:00.003-05:00

I have to admit that I didn't anticipate great things from Rustico last night, given the ups and downs of previous reviews, and the fact that I was going with a party of nine at 10 p.m. on a Friday. I figured, sure, there'd be some beers, some burgers, some pizzas, and everyone would be in a post-Iron Man 2 good mood so it wouldn't really matter if things were kind of meh.

I'm more than happy to say I was wrong. Rustico performed, and performed well.

One of the dishes of the night would have to have been the first special we tried, an asparagus and burrata bruschetta ($12). The young asparagus had just enough of a char on them to highlight the creamy, delicate cheese; other people must have taken a chance on this, too, as we tried to get two orders and instead got only one, the last of the night. We also had two starter pizzas (Roasted Mushroom, mushroom cream, goat cheese, sauteed spinach [$14] and Duck Confit and Cracklins, brie and sautéed onions [$16]) shared amongst the group -- both solid presentations from the pizza oven, with great flavors, and perhaps just a bit too much of a crust-to-topping ratio.

The Grilled Dry-Aged Cheddar Burger, toasted brioche, red wine - shallot aioli, malted fries ($12) is a burger that could have been designed specifically for the birthday boy. Good thing, too, as he had accidentally left his wallet at home and was thus prohibited from trying any of the many beers available (the primary reason he chose the spot, although also it was mere minutes from the theatre). Of course, after the starters, he had to bring half the enormous, juicy, perfectly-cooked sandwich home, along with the pile of excellent fries. Slightly less than half, actually, because hands kept snaking over to steal them when he wasn't looking -- but for once, I was not among the fry purloiners! No; that's because I was one of the three at table who ordered the special, Soft-Shell Crabs, avocado purée, cucumber salad, and shoestring potatoes ($27). At just under twice what I've been paying around town for a single soft-shell as an appetizer, these were two beautiful, meaty specimens, caught at 4 p.m. that day (our server immediately informed us*), perfectly fried with just enough crunch but not too much batter, allowing the flavor of the crabs to shine through. The shoestrings were more like matchsticks, but that was fine with me -- crunchy, salty, and just barely potato-y, they were essentially another element of crispiness to play off the softness of the puree, cucumber bites, and crabmeat.

Another member of the party couldn't resist the Grilled Bone-In Pork Chop, chorizo fried rice, cherry compote ($22). This massive portion (much of which accompanied her home as well) was described by our friend Gennaro as having "no right to be that tender and delicious" and I think he has half a mind to ask how they're brining that chop to keep it that way. The cherry was not too sweet, collaborating with instead of fighting the heat and spice of the other flavors on the plate. Gennaro described his own Half-Chicken Two Ways, creamy fregola & spring pea stew, herb chicken jus ($18) as far exceeding his expectations, a huge (I'm sensing a theme here) half-chicken that was juicy and full of spring-herb flavors -- although none of us could determine what the "two ways" were.

Probably the weakest dish was the Spinach and Ricotta Canelloni, creamy walnut sauce, confit shrimp & herb salad ($18). I didn't taste this, but it was deemed by those who did to be not bad, just underwhelming: filling a bit on the bland side, and the diner who ordered it didn't care for the texture of the shrimp, which also were very gently flavored. Nothing made this dish jump to life, and compared to the others on the table, it just felt lackluster.

I know I'm supposed to talk about the beer now, but honestly, I have no idea what beers people ordered and what they thought of them; for the most part, people were too busy talking about the food -- and other topics, of course, like how all the Louboutins the costumers put on Gwyneth Paltrow in the movie made us dislike her even more than usual** -- to comment too heavily on the libations.

Since this was a birthday celebration, there was dessert: Red Velvet Cheesecake, whipped cream, chocolate covered pretzels ($8). A rich yet light concoction from Buzz across the street, it was exactly right to end the meal, and the evening.

I'm not in that part of Alexandria that often, but I can say with confidence that I'll be back at Rustico, and before Iron Man 3 is out, for sure.

*I was reminded just how much of a neighborhood spot this is by our server's interactions with us -- or maybe it was just his personality. As you might have gathered, this was a table of self-professed sci-fi/comic book geeks, and at one point the topic of the Tauntaun sleeping bag came up. Because he was in earshot, our server dove right into the conversation. It wasn't at all unpleasant, just a bit unanticipated, as was the cartoon cow he drew on the take-out container for the burger (alas, no piggy on the pork chop's box).

**Unabashedly girly geek-out. No shoes or movie stars were harmed in the writing of this review.

layers of the onion

2010-04-26T09:47:00.004-05:00

Last Friday, I went to Vidalia 24 with my friends Ed, Kriste, and Gennaro.

It was, in a word, fantastic.

The only words that exist to describe how delicious and interesting the courses we tasted over three hours seem hackneyed and overused. Come up with a rave, and I would agree it applies to one if not many or most of the dishes Chef Cooper set before us tonight. I could have made a meal of the interpretation of caviar, the scallops, the lamb, and the bacon -- oh, and the foie gras -- but as much as I hated it when those dishes were gone, I was thrilled to discover what new masterpiece would take their places.

I've never eaten in Vidalia's dining room -- only the bar. In fact, that was where I took my Air Force friend before, who was so impressed with the bar food that he decided 24 had to be on his "must eat" list before he leaves DC for good. He's recently been to minibar, Komi, and Volt (although not Table 21), so Vidalia 24 came next in the line. Well, halfway through he was contemplating if he could get in again with friends from New Zealand.

Me? I was wondering why I'd not done anything like this before, and glad I was doing it at a place that feels probably too homey after a cruddy day at the office. Getting not only to see, but to participate in, the process of a chef and his staff orchestrating an event like this truly adds to the experience -- but the food was so far beyond what I could have anticipated that I don't even know how to demonstrate that.

I don't think of foam as food; while molecular gastronomy interests me academically, I'll take a burger over a "burger" any day. But 24 wasn't just about showing off; it was a pure synthesis of techniques both classical and creative, pairings both time-tested and innovative, and most tellingly, a joyous exploration on behalf of both those creating and those dining alike.

Part of the fun is that Chef Cooper really wants those seated at the table to let loose and have a blast. Ed Jenks and his seemingly endless perfect pairings definitely help with that, but honestly, the freedom to be as silly and over the top as we might want was a real pleasure. That freakin' bacon & bread dish so good you want to steal some off your friend's plate? Have a spoon war -- no one's judging! Playing with your napkin ring and naming the iron pig Fat Bastard Reuben? (Not that we did that. Ahem.) All part of the experience. Part of being at 24 is creating the synaesthesia most of us don't actually ever experience; laughter and camaraderie woke up the taste buds, and let one -- or, anyway, let me -- experience combinations and depths of flavors I didn't know existed.

So in the vein of creativity, Kriste and I decided to write our responses to the night as abstract but meaningful responses to the menu itself. (But, for those of you who find this utterly ridiculous, never fear -- Gennaro has the more traditional write-up, and our combined pictures).

Without further ado, then, and on behalf of newly-minted auntie K, I give your our impressions of the highlights.

pink piggy / black linen / eat with your eyes first

beef liver jalapeno matsuhisa picked radish / unctuous umami / mmmmm

peas & carrots/ whispering whimsy / shouting of spring

scallop & avocado / smoke and flame / eyes-roll-back good

vegetable ash / "rocks" of potato and egg / earth wanting wind, seeking fire

mirabelle, grüner veltliner, pinot noir / lime, vodka, cucumber / aromatic fantastic

8 mile / 8 ball / bacon powder is the new cocaine

don't need no heaven / lamb, peanut, rye / more, please

pigeon, blood pudding, rhubarb / mineral symphony / 2005 mourvedre domaine du gros' noré

green garlic / oh baby / sturgeon sublime

palate fixer / test tube / mirepoix elixir

fancy chocolate crunchies / oooh melty ice cream / sweets for the sweet

riffing on riffing / want more detail? / see this post

didn't siroc my world

2010-04-23T10:04:00.005-05:00

Last night was a lovely night to sit outside anywhere in Washington. I had thought it might get a bit chilly, but surprisingly, the patio at Siroc (which lacks heaters, as far as I noticed) remained pleasant after the sun went down. Dinner itself, however, was less so.

My friend and I wanted to taste several dishes from the menu, and as noted upthread, Siroc happily does half-portions of pasta, which meant we could do two appetizers and two pastas. For our first course, we had the Cappelacci filled with Lobster and Roasted Corn with a Sweet Pepper Beurre Blanc and Baby Cilantro and an off-menu special of Soft-Shell Crabwith Crispy Pork Belly and Baby Bok Choi. The latter was absolutely the dish of the night: a big, meaty soft-shell, prepared expertly, with crispy pieces of pork and tender greens, all tied together with just enough of a balsamic-reduction drizzle (which is an ingredient that likely belongs on the trite food list if not already there, but did work in this dish, adding a bit of tang and cutting the richness of the fried crab).

Sadly, the pasta did not work as well. This dish was basically another riff on lobster and butter, but although many dishes succeed with only those two elements, this dish completely failed to pull it off. There was an odd sour-citrus note (from the sweet pepper?) and a bit of a chili oil (hot pepper as a balancing element? I don't know, it was just confusing) that didn't integrate; if there was corn present, it surely wasn't roasted, because none of that flavor came through. The lobster itself was compressed into dense balls at the center of the cappelacci, and so lacking in any forthright lobster flavor that it seems safe to assume it had been frozen. This was likely also the case with the crabmeat in the crabcake amuse over a spot of mango puree, although the mere presence of an amuse was a pleasant surprise, and highlights the very good service we had throughout.

For our second courses, we had another half-portion of pasta, this time the Hand-made Potato Gnocchi with a Ragu of Muscovy Duck with Caramelized Carrots and Parsnips. For a dish with so many elements that should have exploded with flavor, we wound up instead with a bowl of dumplings under-topped with a sauce at once overly herbaceous and bland. This would have benefited from a brief encounter with a salt-shaker, which might have allowed the flavors of the duck and the root vegetables to emerge and lend some life to the dish; instead, this was just sad. We also had the Quail Marinated in Pomegranate with Fingerling Potatoes baked with Goat Cheese Curd, Green Olives and Crushed Tomatoes, which did at least have flavor; unfortunately, many of them just didn't belong together! One of the odd men out here was the cheese; luckily, to some degree, there was very little of it (I think we each had one small bite that included it). I don't recall actually seeing any olives, and the fingerlings were sad and limp, although properly seasoned. I think I got the one fairly meaty bite of the bird, the skin of which had been lacquered to a sticky-sweet shine by the marinade.

It's disappointing when a meal that seems promising falls this far short of the mark, especially when there are little elements that shine. The plates evinced plenty of good technique: the vegetables in the ragu had been chopped into perfect, tiny dice; the crab was fried with neither too light nor too heavy a hand. Service was unobtrusive and spot-on throughout the night, as well; when we realized that our chosen orders of the Nero d'Avola and Soave wouldn't be exactly right with our first course dishes (particularly the Nero), we added a glass of the Chardonnay, which managed to appear before the appetizer after all, allowing us to pair it with the pasta dish.

I hadn't been to Siroc before and very much wanted to like it, and if invited back I would get the soft-shell crab again in a hot minute and have not a single qualm. But for a small, independent restaurant to fight off the corporate behemoth, it has to be far more consistent -- after all, even this short-ish thread yields a sense that the highs are high and the lows are definitely low -- and send out dishes that don't wind up less than the sum of their parts.

the world's most boring travel blog post

2010-03-21T14:44:00.009-05:00

I have three trips coming up in the next ten months and I'm trying to figure out the best approach to booking travel. Yeah, this is how I spend glorious early spring Sundays. Shut up.

Memorial Day weekend: DC to Boston for my college reunion. (Also: hello, Internet! Now you sort of know how old I am!)

Fourth of July weekend: DC to Ann Arbor for a wedding.

Weekend of November 13th: DC to Sonoma County, CA, for a wedding.

Details: I can take some extra vacation days around the first to see friends and family. The last might also be extended for some vacationing in California wine country. The middle one will be an up-and-back.

Resources: One round trip ticket available via miles on US Air. One 2008 Mazda 3i five-door. Lots of luggage.

Obstacles: Vile and deep-seated loathing for the process of scheduling travel.

I realize that sounds a bit vitriolic, but have you tried to book a flight these days? There is no such thing as the lowest fare, and if you manage to find an airplane leaving your desired airport at a time when normal humans are actually awake and available to travel, then more power to you.

All of my options come up as leaving at dark-thirty in the morning, or with a layover lasting the length of an elephant's gestational period, which at least is somewhat convenient in that you can just sleep in the terminal and give up on booking a nice hotel.

I'm thinking it makes the most sense to use the miles trip for the California journey, as those tickets are the most expensive (and that trip will also require a rental car). Of course, it's also the trip least likely to be available on that particular airline.

Whereas USAir flies to Boston approximately every forty-eight seconds here, so it would be super-easy to use the miles on that trip. Still, the Boston trip is the only one that could conceivably be done via car. If so, then in at least one direction it will be just me, and while I don't mind that drive, I can think of better ways to spend eight hours at a stretch. And the one-way plane fare to get my ride-share up to Boston is almost as expensive as a round-trip (awesome!) in the first place.

The easiest option is just to suck it up, book all three trips, and be done with it, but of course that feels like a cop-out. What if fares go down? What if fares go up? What if we get to keep our shoes on but have to fly naked? Honestly, if we can achieve this, why can't we dematerialize and reconstruct our atoms in a new place?

The fallout of all of this is that I just don't want to travel anymore and my brain is looking for new and creative ways to avoid it. Yes, that's right; instead of just forking over some cash to the airlines, my brain is going, "What if you tried to hitchhike/bike/run across the country for charity instead?" or "Surely you're developing viral encephalitis and won't be able to go." This is a ridiculous statement for many very obvious reasons, not least if which is that travel is one of my few major passions; there's no way I should be so willing to chuck it all and hole up in my house instead. It's just such a pain to try to get it all squared away.

I think it'd be easier to go back for that advanced degree in physics and build the damn transporter.

it's a RISk

2010-03-20T10:51:00.003-05:00

We went to the bar at RIS last night for happy hour and to sample the menu. Our bartender told us he was new, which unfortunately was a harbinger of the rest of the evening. While he did fine when it was just me and Gennaro at the bar, as it got busier and our other dining companions joined us, he forgot to fire orders and couldn't keep up with the pace of things; we waited far too long (at least forty-five minutes, although thanks to good company, I didn't feel pressed to check my watch) for entrees after an appetizer, and probably a good thirty minutes for the bar food, which we ordered when we were essentially the only people there, around 5:30 p.m.

Sietsema's review mentioned generous portions, but I have to wonder if there's been a readjustment based on that comment. The Pan Roasted Rockfish with grapefruit brûlé, sunchokes, spinach and citrus glaze ($25) had completely crispy skin and flaky flesh, a textbook preparation, but it was a very small portion, the accoutrements almost nonexistent. Sardines lightly breaded and pan fried with pine nuts, sweet onions, verjus and golden raisins ($13) were likewise excellent -- phenomenal flavor and just the right application of the Mediterranean pine nut-raisin topping -- but the plural "s" is something of a misnomer. One single lonely sardine ... Well, to be fair, at any other restaurant in the area, I don't think I'd find it that odd, but my expectations of a greater food-to-price ratio had been raised by the review. (I should note that we didn't order the crudos, which is the dish he calls out specifically as being a large portion relative to others in the city.)

Then again, saying the restaurant has a "heavy hand" with the plating isn't necessarily wrong (whether it's good or bad remains to be seen). We asked the kitchen to do a half-portion of the Mushroom Pappardelle with butternut squash, roasted chestnuts, Brussels sprouts and Parmesean (sic) ($18), and if that was truly a half-portion, then I recommend getting the full plate only if you are famished or running a marathon the next day. The components were individually lovely, and the elements of nuttiness in the mushroom noodles and the chestnuts played off the squash well, but it didn't entirely tie together -- although in this case I'm inclined to think that's because, due to the timing issues, it came out a bit cold; at the right temperature, I think this had the potential to be a very good dish.

My favorite dish was probably the Bar Tart of caramelized endive, walnuts, blue cheese, and grapes ($6.30), topped with lightly dressed greens, all on a flaky round of puff pastry. I know I've seen peoplerail against this combination before, but in this presentation (instead of as a plated salad) it was really fantastic, the cheese just melted enough to unify the sweet-salty-creamy-peppery elements. In the future, I would go back and get this and a glass of wine during the "Rush Hour" happy hour -- the place is less than three blocks from my office -- and leave happy after that.

that took ... guts

2010-03-18T09:34:00.011-05:00

My last night in Atlanta for annual meeting, I had a phenomenal time, and an outrageously good meal, with my friend Betty and her husband the other night at Linton Hopkins' gastropub, Holeman & Finch. Perhaps my favorite memory of the evening would be the great discussion over the veal fries, which has to be shared:

Husband: "What are veal fries?"

Me: "Well, given that it's the only 'part' on the "parts" section of the menu that doesn't have an anatomical name, um ..."

(Betty and I lock eyes; I'm pretty sure we're thinking the same thing) Betty: "I'm sure you can ask; the waitress will know."

(waitress appears)

Waitress: "Do you have any questions about the menu?"

Husband: "Yes; what are the veal fries?"

(very brief awkward pause)

Waitress: "They are ... testicles."

Me: "Yeah, it kind of had to be, right?"

Betty: "It's basically the only body part you wouldn't list verbatim on the menu."

Husband: " ... "

Waitress: "They're really good, in fact."

Me: "It's not that unusual; think Rocky Mountain Oysters."

Husband: " ... "

Betty: "Cojones, you know."

Me: "Ooh! Why can't they just put that on the menu? That would be great!"

(another brief awkward pause)

Husband: "I'm gonna try 'em."

Betty: " ... "

Me: " ... "

Waitress (cheerily): "All right then!"

(she leaves; Betty and I look at each other again)

Betty: "Well, that was unexpected.

Me: "I think I need more wine."

In any case, they turned out pretty well -- texturally akin to sweetbreads, and topped with a jalapeno/shallot/orange salad that was far more interesting flavor-wise than the parts themselves.

This morning, Betty told me that she was talking to her sister yesterday, and they had a conversation along the following lines:

Sister: "Blah blah blah wedding planning blah blah blah."

Betty: "So, we ate testicles last night."

Sister: "Wow, no segue there."

Betty: "There's no good segue for veal balls."

Sister: "Quote of the day!"

All in all, though, the meal was pretty fantastic. I had the steak tartare, a luscious and herby version topped with potato straws that epitomized the crunchy, salty, ur-potato, and mussels in a bacon-rye whiskey sauce that just begged to be sopped up with excellent pain au levain. The deviled eggs (particularly the sunchoke one), fried pickles (crunchy and spicy), beet-and-blue arugula salad (sweet and peppery), and chocolate toffee pudding (....yum) all hit exactly the right notes in each bite, and no serving was too overwhelming to deal with. It was a great finale to a great time in Atlanta (filled with much excellent food and company, to be sure) ... I definitely had a ball.

i'll even(tide) go to virginia sometimes

2010-02-20T11:03:00.001-05:00

We had arranged to meet friends at Liberty Tavern, and upon arriving promptly at 5:30, there was not a spot in the bar to be found, or a table to be had for dinner. We had intended to have drinks for a while, linger, and eventually eat, and so we wandered down the few paces to Eventide's lounge, which was essentially empty (several people at the bar, no one at the lounge tables). By 5:45 when our friends showed up, we had our pick of tables, and were informed that even on Saturday, happy hour was in effect until 7.

We took a booth and settled in for a comfortable, cozy evening during which we didn't have to shout to make ourselves heard, and paid no more than $5 for a drink all night. Among us, we ordered the Butternut Squash Risotto Fritters with arugula salad, balsamic vinaigrette ($10), the Fried Chicken and Waffles, buttermilk fried chicken breast, herbed pecan waffles, maple butter, maple-chicken jus ($17), the Soft Pretzels, housemade peach mustard, deviled Virginia ham ($8), the Pasta Bolognese, spinach pasta sheets, herbed ricotta cheese, pork and beef Bolognese, Parmesan bread crumbs ($15), and the Bison Barbecue Sliders (3) with Napa cabbage slaw and fries ($12). The last was my dish, and the pulled bison barbecue was exactly what I needed for my first real food after a week of being too sick to eat anything fun: not too sweet and perfectly tender, with a creamy/tangy slaw, and lovely, crispy fries (the ketchup was unnecessary to me). I have to admit I'm a bun remover -- I tend to eat sandwiches open face or with half a bun because I prefer a higher filling-to-bread ratio, particularly if I have fries on the side, but I didn't mind have to use a fork on the extra meat. My companions raved over the bolognese, which was presented as a lasagna in a personal casserole dish, and the deviled ham that came with the pretzels; also receiving two thumbs up were the chicken and waffles, comprising a huge, mostly-deboned breast with juicy meat beneath a crisp coating, and waffles that had no score on the sogginess scale, with the maple-chicken jus presented in, essentially, a shot glass on the side for personal decision-making on "to douse or not to douse."

I admit that I'm entirely too District-centric in my dining, and I'd been looking for a chance to get to either Eventide or Liberty Tavern for a while. Seeing friends we hadn't had the chance to visit for a while (and who happen to live at Courthouse) was an easy excuse, to be sure, but I would come back to Eventide lounge on a whim. I'd love to try the upstairs restaurant, but for a casual night out -- even on a Saturday! -- with friends, this completely hit the spot.

flu the coop

2010-02-19T13:03:00.005-05:00

Between the massive amounts of snow that Mother Nature decided to dump on DC* and then the flu that took me out, I've barely been out of my house for the past two weeks. And I am going completely and utterly stir-crazy.

The problem is that when I do venture out, I wind up feeling sicker than before, prolonging the misery. Ever had one of those low-grade fevers that wipes you out, gives you a headache and body aches, and makes you feel vaguely subhuman? Yeah, that's me in a nutshell ("Look! I'm in a nutshell!") right there.

Put it this way: During this week of the flu, I haven't even felt like cooking. I know, right? The four horsemen must be on their way.

Luckily, I've had things like the greatest new blog on the Internet to keep me company. It's not quite the same as, you know, leading a normal life, but it's at least kept me from carving notches in the wall to track my imprisonment.

*I am actually not at all upset about the snow. I sort of consider it all the snow I've been missing since we moved from Maine -- it just came all at once. The problem is that this region has no system and no infrastructure for dealing with the snow, and even a massive sudden warm-up is just going to lead to flooded intersections and transit issues instead of street-clearing. Oh well. At least I own cute wellies.

Olympic post

2010-02-17T21:20:00.001-05:00

Skiing Commentator: "She told me she likes it rough and bumpy."

Mr. M: "That's what she said."

Me: "Heh. Seriously,"

Mr. M: "No, really. That's what she said."

This post brought to you by the awesomest detention slip ever.

when life gives you lemons ... zest 'em

2010-02-03T11:04:00.000-05:00

It's been one of those weeks (oh, dear, it's only Wednesday) that is thisclose to getting you to throw in the towel and say, Screw it, I'm moving back to Lyon et personne ne puisse me faire changer d'avis.

In any case, I completely gave up on cooking tonight after having maybe three hours of sleep in the past four days, and decided to get a burger from Zest. I really just wanted a nicely char-grilled piece of meat (no jokes, y'all) with some fries and maybe a bit of greens to allow me to pretend there was a vegetable involved.

And Zest delivered. (Not literally.) Their website doesn't note that the default is a cheeseburger, but the cheddar melted onto the patty was inoffensive -- tasty enough to not have been Kraft, not too strident to detract from the meat. The burger itself was close to medium -- since I was getting take-out, I asked for medium-rare knowing it would dry a bit on the trek home -- and I happen to enjoy raw red onion thinly sliced with my burgers, so that went right onto my bun too.

The burger itself was tasty although not agressively seasoned -- yes, I still prefer the non-mini Matchbox burger up the street -- but it had a far better char on the outside, while remaining moist and not overcooked in the center, than I find at most casual burger joints within the bounds of the District. Too many thick burger patties, to retain their medium-rare/medium status, end up looking as though they weren't seared or grilled at all on the exterior; this had a great balance of char to tender interior (but was definitely cooked through -- no too-cool center here).

The fries were really far too limp (...no one say anything about that either) but I've seen them there in person before and they were anything but, so I'm completely chalking that up to travel. Their flavor was excellent, and if I'd been any more patient I'd have crisped them up in the toaster oven before wolfing them down.

I need to sleep for about twenty hours to become a functional adult again, but it's unlikely that will happen. At least I had sustenance that I would more than order again -- at $9.50 before tax and tip, this is a takeout burger I will probably rely on.

againn and againn and againn

2010-01-12T11:07:00.003-05:00

The bar at Againn last night was all but full when I walked in at 8 p.m., but the crowd had thinned out a bit by the time my dining companion joined me around 8:40. We could have grabbed a table -- there were plenty -- but decided to stay and eat at the bar.

We started with the Potted Pork, confit pork shoulder, onion marmalade ($10), along with a basket of really good, hearty bread. The potted pork was fantastic, superbly creamy and flavorful without being too salty, and I'm a goner for any kind of caramelized onion. The toast triangles -- bigger than traditional toast points -- served with it ran the risk of running out before the pork, but I'm not nearly dainty enough to care and just slathered on the spread with abandon, spread-to-bread ratio be damned. Forget about that, though, because it's time to discuss the Corned Lamb's Tongue, warm fingerling potatoes, green sauce, puntarelle ($14). The tongue was out-of-this-world die-happy-now phenomenal.* There was an undercurrent of caraway that really brought home the corning of the meat, and the sauce (which I'm still trying to identify -- almost chimichurri-esque, but less piquant), with the tongue and a bite of the perfectly cooked tiny potatoes, made for a masterful synthesis of flavors. The greens laid delicately on top (to hide the meat from squeamish eyes? hmmm) had just enough bite on their own to work as a palate-cleanser between bites.

If Rachel is there, by the way, ask her for a rye old-fashioned to go with the lamb's tongue. It's a match made in bartending nirvana.

If I hadn't been famished, I would have made a meal out of these two, but somehow we also ended up with two entrees. The Grandmother's Braised Chicken, roasted root vegetables, bacon, pork sausage, marjoram, butterball potatoes ($26) contained a leg and thigh of such expertly herbed chicken that it had enough flavor to match the riot of pork and vegetables accompanying it in its Calvados-and-broth sauce. The Tamworth Pork Belly, Anson Mill's white grits, baby mizuna ($24) was fantastic, the sear setting off the soft meat in each bite, and the grits, greens, and sauce rounded out the plate to create what might be my new favorite comfort food.

After all that, there was absolutely no need for Sticky Toffee Pudding, stout ice cream, toffee caramel ($8), except, you know: Guinness ice cream. I also quite liked the Banoffee Pie, bananas, caramelized milk, graham biscuit, cream, ganache ($8) as well, with its cloud of milky, creamy goodness (and because I like bananas mostly in desserts), but really: Guinness ice cream.

I used to live around the corner from Againn, and I'm frankly slightly sad I don't now, because this food is beyond good, possibly beyond great. More tables should have been filled last night, but my guess is that it's only a matter of time. Until then, I'm going back as often as my schedule will allow. And yes, I'm getting the tongue.**

*I fully expect someone to take this sentence out of context.
**This one too.

2009-08-19T10:01:00.001-05:00

Master procraster strikes again

2009-08-08T14:19:00.003-05:00

Having been exceedingly remiss in posting to this blog (in the sense of stopping for so long even I considered it essentially defunct), I've decided to try to get it up and running again for the following reasons:

1) Several friends have commented they miss my writing;

2) I've been feeling like taking it in a more cookbook-via-blog-post direction, i.e., having more of a defined goal of food-blogging for it; and

3) I'm supposed to be doing at least 4000 other things

right now, so of course this leaps to mind.

Meantime, please check out the photopoetry I've been trying to maintain with some regularity. Here's a taste to whet your appetite.

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great minds

2009-02-15T18:29:00.001-05:00

Jim and I apparently had very similar inspiration this year when shopping for Valentine's day cards.

it's because we're all senile now

2009-01-23T22:32:00.005-05:00

So today I got a wall post on Facebook from my cousin Bram. That's him in that picture over there. I didn't include one that has his gorgeous wife Juliet in it, but that's only because I like how the stripes in his shirt in this one sort of play off the background. Also, I'm too lazy to find one of the two of them right now.

Bram, I should point out, is the only one of my ten first cousins who is younger than I am -- and not by much. I'm only ahead by seven months, give or take some days, and we were the same year in school for most of our lives; so, for all intents and purposes, we're the same age. However, he does get the benefit of being the baby of the family.

Unlike Baby Ed, who is seven months older than I, and only has the nickname because there were two cousins named Edward: Teddy, and Baby Ed. Really.

Never mind.

OK, so I get this wall post, to the effect of, "Did you get a text message from me last night, wishing you happy birthday?" And my response was basically, "No, and, um, what?!?"

You know, given that my birthday was twenty days ago, and also, well really ... um, what?!?

So Bram wrote back, and given that this is absolutely the greatest story I've heard in a long long time, if not ever, I had to share it with everyone verbatim.

"Ok ... long story ... The funny part about all of this is your birthday is down as 1/22 in my computer for some reason. Not right obviously, so happy way belated birthday! Did I forget to email you? Probably ... I suck. (Ed.'s note: Bram doesn't suck.)

On with the story... So yesterday, I had every intention of calling you to wish you a happy birthday since I thought it was your birthday (wrong). But I had a hellish day. I didn't have a free moment until 6 pm, at which point I was in a cab on my way to a work dinner which I knew would last several hours. So there was a text message exchange that went something like this:

Me - Hey cuz, happy birthday!
Not You - Who is this?
Me - Your favorite younger cousin.
Not You - You have the wrong number.

Now the part that I don't get is why the person (not you) couldn't have saved us all a lot of time by saying it wasn't his/her birthday right off the bat. Why did he/she ask who I was when he/she knew it wasn't his/her birthday, and it was obviously a wrong number. Weird. Unless it actually was his/her birthday, which would have been an amazing coincidence, all things considered."

I started laughing so hard it hurt. Gosh I love my cousins. Thanks, Bram! Best birthday wish this year by far.

my version of baby-picture christmas cards

2008-12-18T13:57:00.010-05:00

In response to the adorable holiday cards/belated thank-you notes we have received, all fronted by the pictures of super-cute newborns*, I have decided to post a series of "Awww!"-inducing photos of dogs.

*Happy holidays to Layla, Maggie and big sis Nina, Eliana, and Daniel and Sofia!

First, meet Hudson. Hudson is the resident dog at a new salon just up the street, SalonBlu. After walking by the shop several times as it was being built and after it opened, Jim decided he was going to give it a try. This was a big step. You see, Jim generally follows the following procedure** for choosing a stylist:

1. Find barber shop.

2. Determine if barber shop charges more than amount of cash currently in wallet.

3. If no, get hair cut.

In fact, I would venture to say that no one who has ever trimmed Jim's hair would, in fact, refer to himself as a stylist.

His last cut, however, was different from every single previous cut in that it was a little longer on the top than usual, and it was a good look for him. So recently, after letting his hair g

row (unintentionally) for way too long, Jim decided maybe he'd give a higher-priced salon (one clearly aiming for the gay clientiele, and specializing in actual, you know, styling of hair) a shot.

Bill, the owner, did a very nice job. It clearly earned Hudson's approval. And neither the stylist nor the dog attempted the hard sell of products. All in all, a good salon experience.

**I am told this is the most commonly-used procedure in the handbook of male grooming.

Next, we have Miss Ellie. Most of my readers are familiar with Ellie -- most of my readers, I think it's fair to say, are actually occupying the same house*** as Miss Ellie...when she lets them.

Ellie is a truly gorgeous, if somewhat insane, purebred Shih-Tzu. She has perfect posture, a perfect face, the perfect size -- the breeder visits and laments that she didn't show/breed this one, who, as the runt of the litter, was predicted to grow up too small to show.

She is, however, wilful as all get-out, and apparently getting somewhat computer-savvy. If emails start arriving in my inbox with peculiar typos and/or lots of "grrrrrARFARFARF" in them, I'll know something is up.

***Mom, I think you should make sure she doesn't have online shopping access.

Oh, right, this little guy! I couldn't possibly leave Milo off the list! Jim and I are both a little sad that he'll be spending his first Christmas without us, but he will be well cared for by my coworker Beth and her family, which includes two little girls desperate for the promised new puppy coming sometime in the spring**** to their home. To make sure he is looking his best for his trip to stay with the Denton/Carrier family, he's going to get a holiday haircut tomorrow.

And perhaps a Santa hat.

****No, "Beth" is not a pseudonym for Michelle Obama. Or is it??

culinaeria (borkborkbork)

2008-12-10T19:39:00.007-05:00

As an anniversary gift, my adorable husband got me a gift certificate.

WAIT! This is a good thing. The gift certificate was for a cooking class at the just-opened, just-around-the-corner CulinAerie .

I took some time investigating the calendar, which, since they just opened, only runs until the beginning of February. Still, there are several classes that I've considered signing up for. Sadly, the "pizza" class was for teenagers.

Kidding! Well, no, it *is* for teens. But I did consider signing up until I realized that.

However, I'm not kidding about the fact that "Sauces" is a three-parter and I just can't commit to that at this point.

It came down to the "Tapas: Beyond Tortilla Espanola" class, and the "Breads for Beginners" class. And while I'm very interested in the tapas, I really want to go and have the space to mix, knead, and shape some sesame chapati, French pain au lait, Moroccan country bread, and banana walnut chocolate bread.

So, I'm going to attend that class on Sunday the 21st. Jim and I will definitely reap the benefits of what I bring home. Let's just hope I don't sign myself up as their fulltime assistant...I need the income from the other job I have, which I truly enjoy.

Even if it doesn't result in crumbs.

cruet to be kind

2008-11-25T19:21:00.010-05:00

So a while back (I can't remember when), my mom gave me the spoon rest that she always had in our kitchen when I was growing up. She had the one from my grandma's kitchen, and thus it was something of a generational passing-along, if you will.

Of course, at some point, something fell out of a cabinet onto Jim as he was trying to get it, and the spoon rest shattered. It wasn't a huge deal; sure, I didn't have anywhere to rest my dormant-but-in-use spoons, but really, a saucer stands in just fine.

Not terribly long thereafter, Jim was doing something else and broke one of the cruets -- I think the olive oil cruet broke first.*

Yes, I said "first." That's because another time, Jim** was doing something in the kitchen, and lo! The balsamic vinegar cruet also shattered into nothing.

Such is life. Those cruets were kind of blah anyway, and it isn't as though these substances don't come in perfectly handy bottles of their own. I just happen to like the decorative and easy-pour nature of countertop cruets.

Well, a while back, we bought an uber-cheap spoon rest at Bed Bath and Beyond. At the time, I had suggested we possibly splurge on the stainless steel version, but Mr. Maltese professed his adamant avowal that he would not break anything in the kitchen ever again, that he would pay attention to the placement of items, I agreed to go with the black china spoon rest.

At the time, I noted it was about $3, so replacing it wouldn't be a big deal anyway. Jim shot daggers at me when I said as much -- after all, there was no way that thing was going down on his watch.

Over time, I also lamented the loss of the cruets, so my mom, masterful shopper that she is, found a wonderful set from Williams-Sonoma and gifted them to me. (I adore them; they are far more elegant and also utile than the el-cheapo set I had before.)

Cut to today.

{Leigh's work phone rings; Jim's cell is caller ID.}

Me: "Hey?"

Jim: "Can I put stain stick on a sweater to get out balsamic vinegar?"

Me: "What is the sweater made of?"

Jim: "I don't know. Guess I should take it off."

{rustling}

Me: "What were you putting balsamic on?"

Jim: {beat}

Me: {knows what is coming}

Jim: "I wasn't. But I was reaching over the cruets to put away silverware and the balsamic went over, and in saving the cruet--"

Me: "You got your sweater."

Jim: "Yeah. And ... the spoon rest."

Me: "Oh, whatever. It only cost $3. What's the sweater made of?"

Jim: "It's beige, and, um, ... cotton."

Me: "Stain-stick it and throw it in. You're cool."

Jim: "Woo."

Me: "Next spoon rest? Stainless steel."

Jim: "... Definitely."

*Maybe the vinegar broke first. I really can't recall.

**I'm not ascribing blame, here. I think I was involved in one of the incidents. I'm not really sure, because I don't remember being there, but it's definitely possible I witnessed or participated tangentially in at least one of these events.

the fact that this posted on our anniversary is eerie...

2008-11-19T08:51:00.003-05:00

...because this is totally us.

Happy third anniversary, Jim!

turkey lurkey

2008-11-15T14:47:00.009-05:00

So I just ordered my Thanksgiving turkey from Whole Foods. I realize -- having noted all the fresh and available turkeys still there the day before the holiday last year when I popped in for other supplies -- that pre-ordering was not absolutely necessary.

However, there are only five of us, so I really did not want to get stuck with an eighteen-pound turkey. Eight to ten pounds will be plenty, so that's what I set aside.

Even btter, though, is the promotion they are running to keep down crowds on Wednesday the 26th: Pick up your turkey between 10 and 11 p.m. on Tuesday the 25th, and get a free wheel of Brie.

{crickets}

OK, so you, personally, may not be excited. But let me repeat: Free. Wheel. Of. Brie.

Fine, you think, free cheese. Yes, milk and dairy prices have gone up in the past year or two, but really: Who cares that much about cheese?

And if you think that, you definitely have not spent enought time around me, and by "enough" I mean "any." Yes, I am likely to have fallen asleep already by ten in the evening, but I will wake myself up, get dressed, and drive to Whole Foods to pick up my turkey if it gets me free Brie!

I love cheese, and pretty much never turn down a double- or triple-crème. "Never look a gift cheese in the mold," I always say.* I don't currently plan any Thanksgiving dishes that would be enhanced by the addition of a very creamy cow's milk cheese, although if I put my mind to it I probably could come up with one. I'm sure it will be perfectly happy to find its way into the hors d'oeuvres, though, and the rest of it ... well, that can be my personal treat on Sunday night, when all is said and done, we've overdosed and leftovers, and I just don't want to think about cooking anything before the work week kicks in.

If it even makes it past the (four-minute) drive home, that is. Did I mention: free Brie?

Excuse me; I think the Manchego in the fridge is calling.

*I have never said this in my life, but now I kind of want to.

All together now: Awwww!

2008-10-30T19:57:00.004-05:00

This is totally the cutest thing I've seen, and it totally makes up for the stupid tear-jerky nature of the Obama infomercial.

P.S. I'm highly aware that the Senator did not write this himself (99% sure on that). Still -- if I were the intern who got to do that response, I'd be proud of myself for that for, oh, the rest of my life.

only time anyone ever hopes for a root canal

2008-10-13T11:04:00.004-05:00

I believe in personalized license plates that are funny, or quirky, or clever. Our family had a BMW Z3 convertible with the plate Z3PO for quite some time (and I was ridiculously proud of my mom for coming up with that one.) I totally would have driven around with TK-421 or 1701-D* if I'd been able** to get them on my first car back in highschool.

When it comes to vanity plates, though, I don't believe in them for certain things, particularly bragging (IMRICH on your Maserati, for example) or sexual innuendo (QT PIE is just silly). I also have a bit of a gut reaction against plates that act to champion your political views. For example, what if you're lobbying a cause that becomes law? Then you just seem out of touch, or out of date.

Or in the case of this plate, what if you're lobbying a cause in a truly idiotic and at the very least incapable-of-informing-others manner? For example: Does Mr. or Ms. DrillNow believe we should drill off-shore? In ANWAR? In his/her licensing state of West Virginia? Everywhere? How much drilling? When should it stop? When is "now" anyway?***

I realize there can be a lot of misinterpretation. It's entirely possible the owner of this plate was not someone shouting "Drill Baby Drill!" at the television along with the crowd at the GOP Convention.

Benefit of the doubt, people. I, for once, choose to believe that maybe the driver is just a dentist.

*I wanted NCC1701-D, but Missouri, at least at that time, had a six-character (plus hyphen) limit.

**"Been able" meaning I actually requested them, and both were taken. Rock on, geeks of Missouri!

***This link thrown in just to up the sci-fi/geek factor of this entire post.

mahna mahna

2008-08-17T15:04:00.005-05:00

This weekend, Jasmin came to visit, which is always fantastic. We talked about books, the Olympics, wine, Michael Phelps, food, Olympic gymnastics, traveling the world, Bob Costas ... ok, so maybe it was a wee bit Olympic-heavy, but whatever.

We did our fair share of DC-ish things too. It's restaurant week, so we had dinner at Zola yesterday, which was pretty awesome, not just for the food but also because the design is kind of stunning. It was clearly fit into an odd space, but it plays on and uses the adjacent International Spy Museum theme and to great effect. Jim and I want to go back and sit in one of the super-cool red booths. Very Mata Hari.

Before dinner, Jasmin and I did a whirlwind tour of the Portrait Gallery, through the presidents and Herblocks' sendups of them, the posters-as-portraiture exhibit, the Zaida Ben-Yusuf photography show, and the hip-hop exhibit, among others. We even restrained ourselves at the gift shop, although it was supremely tempting to get the Barack Obama and Family Paper Dolls for Jim (yes, they make a McCain version too -- this town may be political, but not precisely partisan).

And prior to that, we went to see the Jim Henson's Fantastic World traveling exhibition at the Smithsonian. I highly recommend -- nay, I almost demand -- that you go see this exhibit when it comes to a museum near you, whether you have young children in tow or not. I had no idea that Henson was such an amazing artist beyond the field of the doodles that turned into Muppets later in life, nor that he had made some way-out wacky student films in his day. For example, he painted an elephant. Pink. Which makes me wonder, how did he get a hold of a real elephant, and how long did it stay pink?

There was an awesome moment, too, when Jim, Jasmin, and I were standing in front of the case holding an actual Bert (circa the 70s) and an actual Ernie (circa the 80s, with rubber duckie in hand). A toddler with a mop of brown curls ran up, parents lagging behind. "It's Ernie!!" he cried. "And Bert! Look! It's Ernie and Bert!"

"Yeah!" his mom answered, with what appeared to be mostly unfeigned enthusiasm (seriously, this exhibit is more for adults than kids, really). "It's Ernie and Bert!"

"And the rubber duck!" the kid added.

There was consensus all around that, yes, it was Ernie and Bert and Rubber Duckie, and how cool was that? I think Jasmin and I just about lost it from the cuteness of the whole thing.

(By the way, am I the only person who somehow thinks of them only and "Bert and Ernie" and never "Ernie and Bert?" Is it a rhythmic thing? Hm.)

Anyway, while the exhibit comprised more than the Muppet era (think commercials and The Dark Crystal), there was also a case with Mahna Mahna and the two Snowths, which made me and Jasmin both wish the museum had a looped video of the track playing.

I mean, Mahna Mahna is like It's a Small World: It sticks in your brain and you can't help but sing along to it even as it drives you nuts. Which I guess might have a negative impact on the exhibition's security guards, but really, you can't have the Muppets without the music.

Although as Des and Nick will warn you, toddlers tend to love it so much that they watch it again and again and again and OHMYGODWHYWON'TITSTOP?!?! Yes, we can watch it again.

This one's for you, Nina.

flower power

2008-07-27T18:36:00.007-05:00

So yesterday, coming back from Wall-E with Eoghan, we came in the loading dock doors on the lower level. As we were waiting for the elevator, Jim handed me a bouquet of flowers.

No, this time, he hadn't put one over one me by stopping in for "Kleenex" or something. Rather, he'd grabbed them from the settee in the elevator lobby.

For which I give him credit, as I hadn't done so. "Oh, yeah, I saw those there earlier," I said. "Do you think we can take 'em?"

"Beats me. Should I leave them?" Jim asked.

I shrugged. "Nah, I mean, they were there, like, yesterday," I said, glancing at Eoghan for confirmation. Why, I don't know, since Eoghan hadn't been on the terrace level of our apartment since, um, ever. But still.

So we brought the random bouquet upstairs. I made the mixture of plant food and water, put it into a vase, cut the stems, and stuck the whole thing in. (I'm not good at arrangments; I leave that to my mother, who is wonderful with such things.) It looked nice, and basically wasn't dead yet, which was enough for me.

Then this morning I was making breakfast, and I looked over at the vase and said, aloud, "What the hell?!"

Because the water?

Had turned bright pink.
I kid you not. And seriously, science geeks, I do not understand this particular chemical reaction. I mean -- was the plant food to blame? The flowers themselves? What the hell kind of reaction is going on in my vase?

But in the meantime, I guess, well, meh. My flowers are still alive, which I can't always say the day after sticking a bouquet in water. If water so fluorescent it seems radioactive is to blame, then I'll take it.

Even if it really doesn't go with my color scheme.

je t'en prie, paris

2008-07-27T14:37:00.010-05:00

So my cousin Bram, after posting something like four gajillion photo albums on Facebook of his recent trip to Paris (I salute you, Bram -- that's quite an organizational feat), decided to make a "Best of" album so that we don't have to flick through the eight googlezillion pictures he actually uploaded.

One immediately caught my eye as being the actual visual representation of my personal Parisian ideal. I actually almost started drooling with a weird kind of location-hunger; my eyes turned into little cartoon stars and my stomach turned flips, as my brain said, "Must...move...there....now!"

Sigh. I can trace the roots of my francophilia way way back, but there's no denying it; I'm a homesick French wannabe. We'll see if I manage to rectify that ever in life -- a little cottage in the south of France or a wee nineteenth-century apartment in Paris. The biggest headache is convincing the folks to move with me, since Mom doesn't like to fly enough to come visit on a regular basis.

Oh, and speaking of Aix*: I also reconnected with members of the French family with whom I spent much of a summer in high school. The eldest daughter, Marie, had been an au pair for my next-door neighbors, and now the eldest next-door neighbor daughter is an au pair for Marie's little ones! And, apparently, Cady managed to get Marie using Facebook, so: Je te remercie, Cady, pour trouver mon ancienne amie.

Anyway, Marie now lives near Aix-en-Provence. Again: droooool...

Yeah, it's a big ol' Facebook-meets-France lovefest (...not that kind) in my house today, to be capped off by mini-burgers and cupcakes. Which are totally French, thank you very much.

*Aix. Aches. Yeah, I even make myself groan, I'm so punny.

farewell to...well, not arms

2008-06-27T18:09:00.001-05:00

babies, babies everywhere and...um...yeah

2008-06-15T09:19:00.021-05:00

So it's spring/summertime, when a young woman's fancy turns to thoughts of "Holy crap -- everyone I know is having a baby!"

Well, not yet I. (Relax, folks -- more on this below.) However, two friends have just added to their families, and two more are in the process of doing so. Hence, on this Father's Day, I thought I'd give a little shout-out.

Please welcome...

Maggie Halter (little sis to Nina), born May 29, 2008.

Congratulations, Des and Nick!

And...

Anne Frances McHale (little sis to Benjy), born June 13, 2008.

Congratulations, Jeanne and Matt!

And keep an eye out for...

The Yang Triplets (!!!), due sometime this fall, along with their cousin, Fetus Farnham. Yay, Christie and Ted and Becky and Chris!

Yeah, it's a little crazy. The Maltese side of the family is going from zero grandkids to four all at once -- exciting!

So plenty to practice on for the next year or so, at which point, the time will be ripe (pun intended) for yet another grandkid -- this one for both Maltese and Shapiro sides. I mean, given how fast the fish died, we just want to make sure we can keep a dog alive for a whole year before we take on a human being. We're working our way up...but don't fear; the blips are on our radar, in pink and blue.

Love and happy Father's Day to all!

dinner conversation à la dorks

2008-06-14T17:56:00.004-05:00

Scene: My husband and I are discussing the Hollywood-centric lives of friends.

Me: "I wish I were in that sphere."

Jim: "I'm sorry."

Me: "Oh, that wasn't meant to malign you. Just a thing. And besides, I am. Because of {friend's name redacted}."

Jim: "Yes. You are in the penumbra.

Me: {weird look} "Yes. I ... am in the penumbra."

{beat}

Me: "What does that word mean in law terms?"

Jim: "It ... what do you mean? How did you know it's a law thing?"

Me: "Because it essentially is Latin for 'shadow' and so ..."

Jim: "OK. It means things sort of vaguely outside the limits of a ruling, so if the ruling falls here {makes sphere shape with hands} and you're just here {slightly larger sphere shape} then you're in the penumbra."

{beat}

Me: "So you see how it comes to mean this."

Jim: "Yeah, and you're right, I only know this from law stuff."

{beat}

Jim: "We're smart."

Me: "Well, I don't know about that signaling "smart" per se. I just know Latin."

Jim: "Yeah, but there are a lot of people who don't remember their Latin so long after they graduated high school."

Me: {glare}

Jim: "I mean ... eleven years after ... You're ... I love you?"

Win: Me.