Brasserie Beck (McPherson Sq)

Four years ago, Robert Wiedmaier opened Brasserie Beck, a contemporary, relaxed, yet upscale Belgian restaurant. I meant to go. Who wouldn’t want to try the cousin restaurant to Marcel’s, arguably the best food in DC. But then I didn’t go. I have no excuse. So when the living social deal popped up for Beck a few weeks ago, I knew if I bought it, I’d have 3 months to get there or forgo the $60 off.

So last night, I went to Beck, near McPherson Square at 11th and K. Twas a third date if you count a spontaneous midnight cheese sandwich rendezvous. Our first date was simply coffee and a cupcake. So because it would be our first real night out, I was looking for a trendy, yet private, quiet place that would inspire conversation; a place where I could test the boundaries of my companion’s foodie-ism; and a place that could couple casual with elegance so no matter my date’s comfort level dining out, we would both have a wonderful experience.

Brasserie Beck met all of those requirements so away we went. We were greeted at the door by debonair host Ric Nelson who exudes hospitality. I met Ric quite a few years ago through a mutual friend and not only did he remember my first and last name, he remembered my profession and other details. That’s the kind of guy you want at your front door. Two positive snaps so far!

We passed the bar with the largest selection of Belgian beers outside of Belgium—exciting me to sample something past my go-to Hoegaarden. There in plain view was also the raw bar where I immediately began craving mussels. Delving further into the cavernous space, we passed the open, yet glassed in kitchen with its large butcher block table where the finishing touches are expertly administered.

We were seated in a secluded table for two by the window, sanctioned off by a rich, dark wood divider. Mark, our overly attentive waiter, delivered the beer and wine list. B perused one while I roamed the other. We settled on a bottle of O’Reilly’s, a 2009 earthy Pinot Noir from Oregon; and to start, 2 Weihenstephan, a very drinkable Belgian wheat beer from the world’s oldest brewery. While the beer list earned the comment “It’s cheaper to drink here than the bar!” from B, I didn’t have the same impression from the wine list. If you’re going to order a bottle, expect a very limited (as in 1 selection) of bottles in the under $50 price point from each grape. The sommelier needs to diversify his list because momma doesn’t do the $300/bottle, even on half price night!


Veal Sweetbreads



Mark came back at least 3 times (I’m trying not to say the word bother), but bothering us to order. We finally made it clear that we were in no rush. Hovering waiters make stars disappear from my final review grade usually, but his playful and knowledgeable demeanor won me over in the end for a decent tip. I particularly liked his beer education as our selection required a unique pour that I was convinced would result in wet shoes.



As we enjoyed our beers, we ordered the crispy veal sweetbreads with path valley squash risotto and sage butter. It turns out B was testing my foodie-ism too. I’d never sampled sweetbreads, whose fancy culinary name doesn’t mask the fact it is either a thymus or pancreas—neither of which spark salivations for me. But fry that up with the right seasoning and put it over the richest risotto I’d ever had and I was in heaven. Who knew? They were crisply breaded with moist interiors that melted on my tongue.

I had wanted, desperately, to have one of the many mussels selections – the Chapel Hill Farms Veal Bolognese in particular – but that’s the kind of thing you share. My dinner companion, though, can’t eat shellfish. Oh the things people have to give up in life – it’s terrible Mariel!

Moving along, we each enjoyed a salad. Mine was the slow roasted beet salad with whipped pipe dreams goat cheese and caramelized walnuts over mixed greens. I can’t pass up a roasted beet, but I wasn’t a fan of this cheese. It had good flavor, but the texture was off. It was like eating a dollop of sour cream on a salad. I’d have preferred something more solid.



Pork Special



Neither of us was overly excited about most of the specials as the chef was making his way through a use-every-part-of-the-animal-from-tooth-to-tail cookbook. Included this evening were pigs ears and spleen, or gall bladder, or some other completely inedible thing for an American – even one with as broad a palate as I. I had tried sweetbreads. That was enough of a step into learning to eat the strange body parts of the cloven hoofed. All I could think of is a blazing lightning bolt from God “And the Lord set a mark upon Cain…” as the bolt splits open a baby calf, exploding its innards, its green, mucused spleen landing on my plate, white napkin folded in my lap as I fork it with my pinky out.



Duck

I fully realize whole animal butchery is part of Chef Wiedmaier’s reputation, but that doesn’t mean I have to order the extreme ranges. I fully welcome him fooling me by pulling out the flavors in something using these nontraditional parts… perhaps the spleen would be better as a sauce? At least for marketing sake. Or give it a pretty name like sweetbreads. Even a toddler would eat something called a sweet bread especially since it looks like a chicken McNugget! I don’t pretend to be an expert foodie. I just learned what a gratin and clafoutis are this week! The French and their fancy words…


Instead, for dinner I went with the pork special consisting of 3 different, but normal, cuts of pork – tenderloin, shoulder and roast – served atop a plate of buttery grits and a sweet brown sauce. B had the long island duck cassoulet consisting of a roasted breast, leg confit, port trotter, braised mustard greens and a flageolet bean ragout. B liked the duck quite a bit. I liked mine better. The dishes, quite honestly, were nothing to write home about… even though I am writing home here. Hi mom!



Dessert, though, was priceless. A pear tarte tatin with this decadent, rich caramel slathered over it. My mouth is watering just thinking about it again. Blotto!

I really had only one negative comment – and that was the backup wait staff. I don’t know if they were not on their game, they were over staffed for the night, or possibly even under staffed. I couldn’t tell. But we were offered pepper for our salads twice from two different assistant servers, yet when the salads came, we still had no silverware. Both very minor, minor incidents not really even worthy of mention, but surprising nonetheless given the extensive detail poured over and put into every other aspect of the evening.

Overall, my experience at Brasserie Beck was lovely. It was a wonderful date restaurant, with a very friendly staff. The food isn’t something you can really get anywhere else… well, maybe from one of Wiedmaier’s other restaurants – Marcel’s or Brabo’s – but for the most part, this type of food, ingenious and creative, is a rarity in DC. The ambiance gets a very high score with the perfect balance between the hustle and bustle of a happening local, and the intimacy desired at a table for two. I’ll go back, but next time I’m getting an industry partner to take the tab!







BlackSalt

Nestled in the Palisades, off the beaten path west of Georgetown, is one of those small town main streets with all the charm a small town main street ought to have, despite the fact the old-time movie theater is a CVS. I’ve been going there for years to have all of my framing done at Artisan’s frame shop (which I highly recommend), and always had the intent to visit the restaurant across the street, BlackSalt, long known as one of the best restaurants in DC.

Akin to a number of restaurants through the years in this area, Jeff and Barbara Black who opened BlackSalt in 2004 easily rival the likes of your go-to, high-end pisca eateries like Kinkeads or McCormick and Schmicks, yet with more of a local feeling.

Finally I went for a lunch meeting, and this was certainly a good restaurant to bring the corporate credit card to sample the entire fare. Unlike the other mom and pop places on the street, BlackSalt stands alone in this neighborhood as a major foodie restaurant with associated major foodie restaurant prices.

Starting off with oyster selections from the raw bar, we let the waiter, Doug, choose for us with instructions that we preferred west coast varieties for their creaminess despite their limited selection that day.

I must take a moment to brag on their calamari, which on most menus has slipped into the category of too pedestrian for me to choose over other, more creative choices. But the crisp breading, freshness of the meat and seasoning quickly dispelled any doubts about BlackSalt’s take on this dish.

The first word in their description of their Addie’s mussels is garlic. Order this dish and savor the sauce with their fresh bread, but don’t plan on kissing anybody for the rest of the day. These mussels are well worth that sacrifice.

Beet Salad

Upon my second visit there during restaurant week, I selected the exact same salad and entree as the first time. They were that good… First I had a colorful oven-roasted ruby and golden beet salad trickled with dijon vinaigrette, generous with the beets more so than arugula as I prefer. For my main dish, I chose their flakey, Wood-grilled Atlantic Mahi, served with greens charred in I’m guessing bacon grease giving them this oh-my-god smoky flavor. All of this was served atop a warm white bean, English Pea, smoked bacon and radish mix of which I could have ordered 3 more helpings. The Cornmeal Crusted Tilapia sandwich also got high marks from my lunch companion.

Key Lime Pie

Desert selections included a chocolate chambord truffle cake, key lime pie and sorbet selections… all three of which were presented beautifully. I give extra credit when the chef takes such pride in presentation flare like the caramel pancake sculpted over my coconut and berry sorbet or the candied flag pole raised over the key lime pie.

The restaurant itself is only a portion of this establishment, with 4 distinct spaces getting more formal as you delve deeper into the restaurant. Upon entry, you’re in a fish market with fresh catches staring at you over ice and fish mongers ready to filet anything to your specifications. I would be there every night choosing something from this fish stand if I were a neighbor. The next space is a long raw bar with café tables where you can enjoy a drink as well. Third and fourth are two dining rooms, each with their own level of sophisticated décor, no detail gone unnoticed.

The service was exceptional and courteous, albeit too fast. But catering to a lunch crowd on a weekday, that can be a positive. I highly recommend reservations even if for lunch because this place was packed each time I’ve visited.

Overall, a highly positive experience. I can taste that white bean accompaniment just thinking about it.

http://www.blacksaltrestaurant.com/

Pizza NY or DC?

Grimaldi's Kitchen

The finer points of pizza pie making supposedly come from Naples, Italy, where I once ordered a “supreme” only to get chopped up hot dogs and olives with pits included. Great pizza, but super strange ingredients!

Recently I’ve come upon 2 places who have perfected the pizza.

Grimaldi’s in Brooklyn New York, right under the bridge after a 2 hour wait in the snow will deliver one of the best coal-fire pizzas I’ve ever had. And Comet Ping Pong in upper Northwest DC adds hipster art and a funky scene as it delivers thin crust pies made from sustainable ingredients in its wood-burning stove.

Dre at Grimaldi's

In New York, you are either a Grimaldi’s fan or a Lombardi’s fan – although it turns out the locals don’t really go to Grimaldi’s because the line is too damn long. But for the tourists, it’s like the difference between the Mets and Yankees I think. For me, after waiting 2 hours behind a group of Army guys and their girlfriends who Dre and I made friends with, they could have served poo-pizza and it would have been the bomb for all the hype that had been built up around it. But the pizza was indeed amazing. We shared a small (perfect for 2 hungry people) with pepperoni, basil, olives and sausage. The fresh mozzarella sliced, not grated, and went onto the dough first then the sauce, then the toppings.

The service took on Disney World flair as they tried to turn tables as fast as they could… and speaking of those tables, you really have to be friendly with your neighbors because they are at the same table with you… not good for a first date. As with any local favorite that has taken on a tourist fame (I mean really, it must be in the guide books), the clientele skewed with the Asian invasion.

If coal fired pizza were not regulated (You can’t just open a new one up), I’d suggest they open up a new hot spot downtown for the tourists and let this fantastic hole in the wall go back to the natives. It’s just a travesty to force New Yorkers who pride themselves on their pizza to stand in line for two hours. Perhaps there’s a back door where you can flash your Brooklyn driver’s license and get carry out. If not, there should be.

And hole in the wall is the appropriate description. It’s so small, they let the pie dough rise in stacked boxes outside the bathroom as people wait in yet another line.

But the pizza is THAT good. When compared to any other cooking style, coal fired is definitely the way to go. It creates the perfect texture and imbeds a charcoal flavor the same as if you cook a steak on charcoal versus a gas grill. It’s different … and better because of the coal.

But that’s not to discount the fantastic execution of the wood-fired variety Comet Ping Pong pumped out in DC today.

Comet Ping Pong White Pizza

While I normally seek the new hip places because they are new and hip, Comet Ping Pong is not that new. We purposely sought out this hipster nest for its presence recently on Diner’s Drive-ins and Dives. With the outstanding recommendations of that Food Network Show, I’ve really enjoyed some otherwise overlooked places around the globe. Most recently was Papa Ole’s on Oahu for some Loco Moco.

Comet Ping Pong is a gutted restaurant with a lofty ceiling and cool junkyard art. The booths are all ping pong tables with welded steel backs that match the cantilevered “L” shaped light fixtures. A concrete brick cum disco ball hangs adjacent a Vespa near the bar, which serves unique beers.

The long, narrow restaurant includes a ping-pong tourney room in the back, behind the hidden bathroom doors (just push on the wall, he said to his mom). Centered in the space is a small kitchen with a jutting out wood-fired stove.

The grunge era inspired wait staff are as friendly as they are slow, which is much preferable to the alternative, albeit frustrating when famished.

Comet Ping Pong 

The pizzas are the perfect size for one person… a fete which seems difficult for other restaurants to achieve. I chose to top mine with roasted pork and olives and a white pizza base. Delectable. My company, mom and Janet, also chose a white pizza with basil and started off sharing a mound of lettuce.

The minor inattention of our waiter missed the basil on my pizza and the dressing on the side of the salad, but it all turned out good in the end. I’d like to chalk it up to him thinking the combinations otherwise wouldn’t have been as good.

The clientele was a mixed bag… everything from families to hipster college guys to Kurt Cobain fans turned yuppie city singletons. Given the new found fame of the place, there can be a wait of a couple hours on busy nights, particularly when a band or DJ show up… but the ambiance and pie are well worth it.

Ristorante Piccolo (Georgetown)

I'd like to send a shout out to Ristorante Piccolo on 31st Street in Georgetown. I had a lovely evening there this week with my friend Andrea. The experience brought me back to Positano, sitting on an intimate second floor balcony, with only a few tables, overlooking a bustling street below. Our server, Zarah, was honest and delightful.

For our meal, we started with the crab bruschetta, which was a bit too salty. Their gnocchi spampinato was fresh and original with its pesto tomato sauce. And our main course, we chose the Veal piccata (Vitello Piccata), which was the closest you could get in execution to the same dish I had on that Positano balcony and have been seeking in the states since 2007. For dessert, we chose the Cannoli. My grandma's are better... but for a restaurant, these were good. Well done Piccolo. I'll be back.

http://www.piccolodc.com 

Ashby Inn - revisited

The Ashby Inn and I have had a roller coaster relationship since I first blogged about them in 2008, but a visit there this weekend makes them worthy of an update.

The new regime has been there for a short while now, but Chef Tarver King and manager Neal Wavra have upped the game of what was already one of the better food experiences one can have in northern Virginia.

Preferring this location for a lingering brunch, I was invited this last weekend out there with my friends Andrew and Mike for a day in the country. Andrew has been prepping me about the changes of the menu under new management. Meals are either hit or miss… but when they are a hit, they blow it out of this hemisphere. And when the meal misses, you can’t fault Chef Tarver for stepping out onto the ledge and trying something so unique, that the combination of flavors and ingredients is still a worthy of respect.

Chicken and Waffles with smoked bacon caramel,
peanuts and sage

While what I will describe below as my experience was wonderful, you will be hard pressed to try these tastes again because the menu is dynamic weekly based on local availability of goods and the whim of the chef with one exception: my main course of Chicken and waffles, which has apparently been so touted with threat of revolt, patrons demand this dish’s return weekly.

The brunch meal is price fixed with three courses. My first course was the corned rockfish (once again, I question exactly how one corns something), scrambled eggs, fried shallots, tarragon and crème fraiche. I could have done without the latter given my intolerance for lactose, but I can’t imagine this dish without just one of these ingredients. Tarragon is a spice to use sparingly, but the kick it added was well worth it. The fried shallots were like mini onion rings adding not just flavor but texture to this complex flavored dish.

My companions let me share their eggs benedict served with pork belly, pickled cabbage, soy and hollandaise and Andrew’s deconstructed BLT: a beefsteak tomato salad with smoked ham, ricotta, red wine vinaigrette and a crouton.

As I previously mentioned, my main dish was the chicken and waffles with smoked bacon caramel, peanuts and sage. Wow… that’s a lot to take in, I know. Again, even one ingredient subtracted would have offset the gentle balance of this immaculate dish. Bacon caramel! Can you even fathom such a delicacy? I couldn’t before Sunday but all I can taste 3 days later is the lasting legacy of its flavor on my tongue. As the strongest flavor, I have tried to deconstruct bacon caramel and what I imagine occurred was the bacon grease was caramelized with sugar bringing out a sweet nutty flavor and then adding the bacon pieces back. The waffle was moist and sweet and the chicken, shredded atop, was juicy.

Steak and Eggs

My companions had the steak and eggs and a beef brisket served with green beans, sesame butter, citrus greens and yolk. The steak and eggs were a hit, with a wonderful cut of beef from a neighboring farm. The beef brisket, however, failed to impress us, particularly in the lack of citrus flavor that came out given the description, which reminds me to mention that the description on the menu can be vastly different than what your mind pictures after reading it and before its on the table in front of you.

Brisket

To finish, we crossed off the camembert dessert and had them deliver one of each remaining three desserts. Our desserts, though, comprised a blackberry sherbert over rice pudding with mint meringue chips and elderflower syrup that gave a spicy bite at the end. The texture of the mint meringue chips was a bit off-putting, but you can’t knock the flavor combo of this dish. Mike had the grilled creme fraiche pound cake with blueberry syrup and salted butter ice cream. This dessert was a stick of butter topped with a stick of butter and drizzled with butter. Who could possibly not love that? Mine, however, was my favorite of the three. Macerated peaches, butter cake, peach anglaise and gewürztraminer sorbet. With the peach farms lining the streets en route to Paris, Virginia, who could resist the peach dish on the menu? I only wish the sorbet survived the heat of the day eventually soaking into my butter cake.

Peaches

Pound Cake aka Butter with Butter

Rice Pudding

Neal, the manager, gave us personal attention, not because he recognized our party, but because of his interest in ensuring his patrons have an experience, not just a meal.  With instructions to choose a sparkling wine and later a rose on a hot day, he brought out bottles and gave descriptions as if he personally went to their French homes yesterday choosing these selections for us knowing our reservation was upcoming and wanting us to sample these particular wines. On a side note, my best wishes for Neal’s new family as his wife, Star, gives birth shortly.

Despite the new management, the serene environment has not changed. The only atmospheric I will mention is the new china, each chosen to display their food not as sustenance, but as art.

And art it is, which is why despite the volume the Ashby Inn could theoretically accommodate, it refuses reservations to ensure the kitchen is not overburdened to enable creation of such art. Dozens of parties could be seated outside alone. But there were no more than a few tables occupied on a beautiful, breezy Sunday ensuring our experience received every ounce of attention desired.

Reserve an entire day, the commute there is no joke and you’ll surely want to stop at any number of nearby wineries on the way home if you’ve not already whittled your day away lingering at Ashby Inn.

http://www.ashbyinn.com/ 

Honorable mentions: Scion and Againn

I stopped paying attention to the merry-go-round of restaurants in and out of the space at P St and  21^st, but on the invitation of my friend Dre who organized a night out with her boys, I went to Scion, which has occupied this space for about a year now.

Voted a “Best of DC” in the Washington City Paper this year, their menu is described as eclectic American with an Asian influence. The best example of that menu is perhaps my dinner selection: the Kobe Beef burger. Usually the price of anything kobe drives me away, but this burger was actually reasonable. While there are better burgers in the city, it was pretty good. The thing to write mom about, though, is their mac and cheese. Oh, Becky, so good! I snarfed it up despite not having my lactaid pill. Even the CoCo Sala chocolate covered bacon mac and cheese doesn’t compare and that has both chocolate and bacon! I nominate Scion best mac and cheese on the planet, right now.

http://www.scionrestaurant.com/Welcome.html

The second honorable mention is my revisit to Againn, but this time for brunch. For the first time ever, this restaurant got me to eat corned beef. I’ve avoided this dish my entire life because if I wanted corn something, I wouldn’t know where to start. But I jumped off the cliff and fell for it. The corned beef here, though was shredded and substantial.

The other notable idea Againn gave me (which I revisited to the joy of my liver Sunday) was a grapefruit and cava mimosa.

Read my previous Againn blog here: http://smallrestaurantreviews.blogspot.com/2010/01/againn.html

http://www.againndc.com/brunch

A taste of Minneapolis

My intentions upon day one of my travels to Minneapolis were to do my usual restaurant blogging there given the stellar impression I got from my first taste at lunch, day one of the conference. We went to Masa on Nicollet Mall and I was immediately blown away by the food, service and every category of dining out, that I erased all my preconceived notions I had been handed by the North: that of a general under-appreciation of food. I now realize that impression was simply another negative impact imprinted on me by the 1950s white bread and mayonnaise sandwich branch of my family from that region.

And it didn’t help that the day before this trip, the Discovery channel was experimenting in the delights of fried leeches from Minnesota. I was overjoyed to discover the culinary delights of this twin city. But since time escaped me last week, here is a tasting menu of my dining experience.

At Masa, the lunch special is a tapas-turvy meal where instead of sharing plates, you got to choose 3 small plates that combined into one for your own meal. This allowed you a sampling of all the different choices on the fresh and contemporary Mexican menu, while catering to the more business crowd of this downtown bustling street.

Ensalada de jicama y mango,
Torta Carnita, Adobo Pork Taco

I had the Ensalada de jicama y mango, which was more jicama than mango and doused in this tart and delicious cilantro lime vinaigrette. Next to that was my half torta carnita, a rost pork sandwich with cilantro, avocado, onion, lime and pickled peppers. This torta comes in a large size as well and would easily have been my choice upon a second visit. For my third choice, I picked one of five creative taco selections: the pork marinated in adobo sauce with grilled pineapple and salsa verde. This had just enough heat in it to enjoy without disrupting the rest of my conference later. To accompany my meal, I had a watermelon lemonade drink, which was so refreshing but unfortunately not refillable.

The ambiance at Masa was sunny and light, with the kitchen open to the diners and a very friendly manager who visited our table to ensure all was well. Our waiter evoked what I realized was simply standard courtesy up north (something I’m not used to in general in DC), and he was intimately familiar with the menu, which I always appreciate. It’s never fun when the response to the question “which is your favorite…?” is a bland “I like the …” Instead, this guy told me why he liked the taco recommendation he gave. A+

Wood Grilled Copper
River Salmon and Red
Pepper Risotto

The next restaurant worthy of mention was Zelo. The occasion was seeing my brother Mike, his wife Jennie and their toddler, Aly for the first time in years. We had much to catch up on and just strolling down the street, finally stopping in front of Zelo and saying “how about here.”

This is not a casual “How about here” kind of restaurant. We sat inside under rich mahogany wood arches with silver encrusted ornate moldings and eclectic, colorful art in a comfortable booth for 4.

Our waiter, Johnny on the spot with everything, was immediately helpful with our dinning-with-toddler predicament by offering a kids menu and glass of milk with a lid. I can hear the gasps from some of my friends reading this that I’d be willing to take a child anywhere let alone someplace nicer than McDonalds, but thankfully Aly is a quiet, still child. Clearly Mike benefited with parenting skills based on the mistakes of his.

Walleye Sandwich
from Newsroom

Mike chose the walleye, which apparently is a popular fish in this region… flakey and white. I was not familiar with it until lunch that day at the Newsroom next door, but was pleasantly shocked at the visual difference a meaty, crusted walleye had here over the fish-wich from earlier in the day. No offense to Newsroom where I am the “Duke” on Yelp now, but I had written walleye off as fish for the hoi palloi. Clearly I was wrong and should consider it again.

I chose the wood grilled Copper River salmon despite it being from Alaska as it was in season. Usually I only order local fish, but the waiter assured me it was shipped fresh. While an excellent piece of fish for sure… fatty and juicy, it was the red pepper whole grain risotto that stole the show for this plate. I was also quite pleased with my heirloom grain salad to start, with its heirloom farro, quinoa, asparagus, red pepper, spinach, avocado, cheeses and lemon.

For the wine selection, I took Mike’s recommendation for the Casa Lapostolle Sauvignon Blanc from Chile… after all, he works with wine on the side and this was an inexpensive selection. While it had a nice grapefruit flavor as most Chilean Sauv Blancs do, it didn’t linger at all. Perhaps a perfect selection then for a hot summer night.

The last place I will mention here as recommended dining in downtown Minneapolis is The Local, an Irish public house. We were limited in time for lunch that day because the last briefer before lunch ran over, into our lunch hour (how rude! … ok, it was me, but it wasn’t my fault). I was drawn particularly by the sign “Soup of the Day: Whiskey” … and wished I didn’t have to go back to the conference. Oh wait, I didn’t! The Local claims to have the highest volume of Jamison outpouring in the world. Who tracks that kind of thing?

The Local's Guinness
Mousse

Our seat was a secluded booth with high glass walls allowing us private conversation in a light filled space. Since I was with my coworkers, I skipped a trip to the kissing room… although I was tempted to peek in to see if there were any nooners going on.

The Local's Berry Creme
Brulee

With a number of sandwiches to choose from on the lunch menu, we all opted for a smaller plate… a “wee lunch” as they call it. I had the BBQ Pork plate, which is no more than a slider with salad and fries on the side leaving me quite hungry in the end, but probably more healthy than the glutinous dining out I’d been doing all week.

I am blogging The Local, though, because of the desserts. I was confused how this happened, but we ended up with a taste of just about everything. Crème brulee berry tart, chocolate cake filled with chocolate mousse, Izzy’s Irish Moxie ice cream (the best) and something I hope I never see again in my life: Guinness flavored Mousse. Creative, but you really gotta like Guinness beer to down that sucker.

Overall, I give high marks to the city and will one day go back. Honorable mention shout outs to the Newsroom, The Brit Pub, Hell’s Kitchen all downtown and Bubba Gump Shrimp in the Mall of America.

The News room's Pistachio Chicken Salad
and Pom-a-Dor martini

Zengo (Chinatown)

I can’t believe I’ve never blogged Zengo! I guess it is because I typically blog new restaurants I’ve not been to yet and Zengo has been one of my favorites since it’s opening.

It’s a great date restaurant. The lounge is a nice meet-up location (I even set up an unsuccessful blind date for my friend @meppers there once). And today… I took my mom for a lunch away from our impending tourist agenda at the Portrait Gallery next door.

We were seated in my favorite seat, a 2-top behind the big pillar next to the window, offering privacy, light and a view of the bustling 7^th street below. The one drawback to this table, which I’ve experienced before sitting there, is that the server can sometimes forget you… out of sight, out of mind kind of thing. But that doesn’t matter when lingering over lunch.

Always craving the fish tacos, which come with a nice bit of guacamole, I immediately went to them on the menu, but was distracted by the Peking duck daikon tacos. Adventurous I posed them as an option, knowing full well mom would scoff at the texture of duck. Still, I suggested them to her, luring her with the appeal of the curried apples. I wish I had asked what the “tortilla” was, resembling some sort of very thinly sliced apple. I liked everything about this dish. She thought the “shell” was too drippy. The orange coriander sauce for this was zesty and along with the jalapeno hints, helped oust our other dishes as my favorite of the day.

Mom chose the chicken empanadas we ate as her favorite because of the mango chutney atop. While yes, I liked the chutney; I found the empanadas incomparable to the better empanadas I get in the little Cuban lunch stand I frequent in New York. The poblano and Oaxaca cheese flavors just didn’t come out. Had they, I think I would have still preferred the green olive and shredded chicken variety in NYC.

We picked Zengo over La Tasca today because we both wanted a bit of sushi, but were in the mood for more Spanish flair. Zengo expertly fuses Asian dim sum and sushi with latin small plates in an oft unsuccessful marriage of the divergent foods from these cultures.

Unfortunately Zengo’s sushi today was too advanced for mom’s pallet. While she likes sushi in general, she’s not a fan of large raw fish chunks. So we opted for the vegetarian with roasted red peppers and asparagus in it. I didn’t think I’d be a fan, but I was. I give them credit, though, for not folding with a bland California roll on the menu as the alternative option to the gourmet sushi choices.

Our final tapas today were the Thai lettuce wraps. I voted for them because of the tamarind sauce, missing this too-underutilized spice since I travelled to Mexico last year. They should have stopped with the shrimp because the chorizo in this dish didn’t add anything. Mom thinks they could have served this without the lettuce… once again a drippy dish. This was both of our least favorite of the day, albeit still good.

In the end, we split a Vietnamese coffee, Mexican Chocolate tort. Had its dry crust not been there, this sweet could have toppled our Kakawa chocolate elixir experience in Santa Fe. Sadly, the crust detracted from the otherwise well-executed dish.

On a normal trip to Zengo, I would not have overlooked my aforementioned fish tacos. My other favorites on the menu here are the overpriced, but exceptionally worth-it kobe beef plate and the not-for-tapas-dining choice: beef tenderloin palomilla.

Since this was a lunch date with mom, I also overlooked my standard drink choice at Zengo, the Kimono Kiss: an update to the drink I preferred when I travelled the air show circuit “goose and juice.” The Kimono kiss is made with Grey Goose l’orange, sake, orange and ginger. If I’m not mistaken, I believe it is garnished with a kumquat, but it’s been a while and drinks do tend to become a blurred memory. Hiccup.

The other thing I like about Zengo: it’s design. It’s clean, open, and yet intimate. The décor is simple and color palate of warm oranges and browns, very soothing and reflective of the menu. I also love the attention paid to the design of the bathrooms with the metal curtains serving as doors and Asian minimalist feel of the sinks.

While the service in the lounge downstairs can be difficult due to the sheer volume of people that congregate there during lounging times, I can say nothing bad of the service in general.

If you were going to have an “off day,” though, then a Monday lunch would be a good time to do it. While the food, as always was spot-on today, the computers were down and so the server couldn’t figure out how to deliver a check. After 20 minutes of trying to reboot, he went for the roadside diner’s receipt book and started to hand tally our tapas, comping a few for good measure as an apology for making us wait. Despite being ‘off’ with such an unavoidable glitch, they made up for it. I love a restaurant who does right by the customer… further earning my patronage for years to come.

http://www.richardsandoval.com/zengodc/ 

Sticky Rice (Atlas Neighborhood)

My neighbors Gretchen and Josh are frequenters of Sticky Rice, a trendy Japanese joint in the frontier land known as H Street, or the Atlas neighborhood. It’s so new, they’ve not branded their hood yet, but I’m a fan of Atlas given the historic theater there decimated during the MLK riots.

This was not the neighborhood to go to on the July 4th weekend when the locals had leftover firecrackers. A few times, I wasn’t sure if the pops echoing around me were legal or not, but the lady on her hard-wired phone sitting on a barcalounger in the front yard didn’t seem to mind.

Entering the packed place, we checked in with the hostess slash bus-girl. We were not sure if she had the wiping-tables responsibility as a method to know a table was available, or if the place was simply too short staffed. It didn’t pass us by that during the nearly 25-cum-45 minute wait, while shiny objects distracted the not-so-with-it, but very polite hostess – that the table we eventually sat at was empty from the very start. But where else did we have to go?

Besides, during our wait, we eyeballed what logically should have been calamari, but were a bucket o’ tots that also came in a vegan option. Of course the chicken came in a vegan option too… The college kids eating the bucket offered us a taste, but we declined. For a place whose top seller is tater tots, they need to hire a guy in the back whose sole job it is to fill ketchup bottles. After being seated, our waitress brought us a nearly empty one, good only for one glob’s worth.

During our wait, I did note that the toked-up hostess could speak American Sign Language. I was impressed particularly being so close to Gallaudet. Having had a deaf assistant before, I appreciated her skills in reaching out to a core segment of her customer base.

Speaking of core customers… we tried to figure out who should visit Sticky Rice and we decided it was a place for people who wanted trendy and hip on a budget. We didn’t yet see it as a destination restaurant because the neighborhood was simply too raw, but worth a try for those adventurous enough who don’t rely on the metro to get around. This of course is no reflection of my neighbors, however -- so perhaps my observation is over generalized. Plus, Gretchen and Josh go there to sit at the bar and eat sushi and have fun, whereas my party was there for a sit down dinner and my observations of the place were clouded by that angle. I'd go back for the sushi and perhaps it can oust Bonsai Sushi on 23rd Street as my hole-in-the-wall of choice for that kind of dinner.

Looking at the menu, there were a decent number of sake and Junmai choices. When I asked Gretchen why she likes the place, she raised a glass to the Sake Bomb, which comes with a gong. Not ordering Sushi here was a mistake. Instead, I and the two other guys in my party, David and Lou, all tried their noodle dishes. True to Japanese form, these dishes were bland bland bland.

I had the sesame chicken with udon noodles. Simple… this dish was no more than a bowl of noodles, some chopped up chicken and julienned veggies in some kind of bland soy sauce. But filling and decent. David had the coconut shrimp, which looked exactly the same as mine, but with shrimp. He said there may have been some coconut waved over the top at some point, but none had ever touched the shrimp.

For a starter, we chose, of course, the tots, and the lettuce wraps, which were not appropriately scaled. You can’t have 2” leaves of droopy iceberg lettuce and 1” chunks of chicken to stuff them with. It simply doesn’t work mathematically.

While my expectations for the place dropped into the basement when I saw they offered $1 PBRs for life if you got a sticky rice tattoo, that didn’t justify the slow service. This is not the restaurant in which to linger. It’s a get in, get out or get drunk kind of place. Rachel, our server, even commented, “I need to pay more attention to you guys.” And then promptly forgot about us again.

Speaking of our forced lingering, the hip don’t welcome the wise. ‘Wise’ being code word older person bothered by noise levels of concert proportions. Despite that criticism, I found the place rather fun – right down to the sharpie pen art on the wall that if you stand back far enough, it looks like actual art instead of a sketches on plywood.

While all of this review sounds ultimately negative, I will return to Sticky Rice for a night of Sake Bombs and Sushi… but I have to be in the right mindset to do so. And with somebody who can talk really, really loud.

Agora (Dupont Circle)

With no intention of actually having a good meal last night, I ventured out to 17^th Street with two friends, Andrew and Dr. Mike. Why there? We wanted to say hi to our favorite bartender who left Annie’s to work at Level One. No restaurant on 17^th Street including the two aforementioned are anything more than a place to grab a quick bite because you happen to be walking by or you want food in close proximity to the bar at which you intend to drown yourself. Hank’s Oyster bar gets a pass, however, given it is not technically on 17^th Street. In our attempt to have edible food, we tried to go to Hank’s, but with a 45 minute wait on a blistering summer evening, we opted for any of the lesser establishment options.

One of my companions mentioned Tom Sietsema recently reviewing a new Turkish restaurant on this strip, which now occupies a space that has changed hands every time I have changed my air conditioner filter. In what was once Peppers is now Agora. There were two restaurants that were briefly there in between these two – Jack’s and something about a French pig. Given how often the place has had to redecorate, I was skeptical, but my friends assured me that Tom gave it glowing reviews. Regardless, I wanted meat and a small-plates Turkish place sounded as if they’d have some so I agreed to go.

“Checking in” with my new stalker friendly iPhone ap there resulted in comments matching my skepticism… “Really? You’re eating on 17^th Street? Did you lose your job or something?”

Eyeballing an open 4-top on the patio that was taken by the couple in front of us, we were fortunately made to wait at the bar for an inside table. I say fortunate because I would not have discovered and spent such time with their wine list had we gone immediately to the table, nor would I have ventured inside to discover a quite nice atmosphere.

A brief comment in the wine list caught my eye regarding the proceeds for tastes of their by-the-glass selections. The restaurant offers 23 wines by the glass, all of which you can order a one-ounce sample for $1, 10 cents of which is donated to an animal rescue group. So I opted to try their Pinot Noir, a Turkish red, and a Zinfindel. The latter two were too potent for my pallet, but their Pinot was excellent. Having said that, when we sat down at the table intending to order a bottle, I stumbled onto their recession wine list – a brilliant marketing concept to push less expensive wines. There, we found a quite good Sangiovese for only $28. As the dinner went on and the wine disappeared, the restaurant ran out of this brand, but honored its price for a more expensive bottle of merlot. The customer service and attention paid by the young sommelier impressed me.

On my next visit though, as I wait for a table, I will be tempted their Turkish drink that has figs in it.

As Andrew and I engaged a happenstance friend of his, Amber, dining nearby, Mike took it upon himself to order some spreads to go with the ballooning, still-steaming flat breads delivered. By far, my favorite of the three ordered was the Patlican Kozleme, a charcoal smoked eggplant with green and red peppers. The smoky flavor really came out, overpowering my taste buds and also bringing out some of the more complex intricacies in our wine selection. We also had the Htipiti, which was roasted peppers, feta, and spices; and the mashed fava beans. For those with a lactose aversion, bring your pills because the Htipiti is not to be missed. Otherwise, suffer the consequences because it will end up on your table, you will be tempted by it and you will love it.

With my attention now turned from the wine list to the menu, a number of cocktails flowing through my blood stream, and my desire for meat, I grabbed the waiter and just pointed to the two most recognizable meat dishes without reading much past the word “meat.

The first dish to arrive in surprisingly quick haste given the crowded restaurant was the Kofte: small sautéed ground lamb and beef meatballs on sour cherry sauce. This was easily the best dish of the night. When the waiter tried to take away the empty plate, I smacked his hand, wanting to relish every last drop of the succulent, tart cherry sauce. The other dish I ordered was a very lemony, juicy shish tavuk. For the un-Turkish… that’s chicken. Our other small plates were the kibbeh (crowned best kibbeh in town by me just now) and one of their fish dishes, which to be honest I paid little attention to as I bogarted the meat from my diner companions.

The desert selection was somewhat disappointing with only two selections, as was the small taste I took of the Turkish pastry that Andrew and Mike ordered. I couldn’t resist taking home a baklava sample though, which didn’t hold up overnight, yet had an amazing zest of orange kick to it.

The service as Agora was impeccable. The wait staff was Johnny-on-the-spot with clearing the empty dishes, refilling our wine and giving us attention. One of the more surprising features not seen elsewhere in DC, is the fact that fresh spring water con gas or no con gas is complimentary. Take note DC restaurants… since our local water sucks, this was a very nice touch!

Not having ever ventured past the patio into Agora’s predecessors, I can’t tell you what they did inside. However, the concrete floors, dark wood furniture, brick work and rustic details impress an atmosphere expectant of the more posh side of Georgetown. The mood was lively, the food was spectacular, the service impeccable.

As Mike mentioned, it must be a good restaurant if the only thing Andrew found to complain about was the cleanliness of the bathrooms, which did need some attention. Having said that, we were on 17^th street and I’m not surprised the clientele of that neighborhood are pigs in that respect.

Reading over their website today, I’m not surprised to learn that Agora has relations with my former favorite Mediterranean DC restaurant, Neyla, as Executive chef Ghassan Jarrourj hails from there. Congrats Agora, you have toppled the nearly 10-year reign of Neyla as the best Mediterranean restaurant in DC for me.

Esca (Hell's Kitchen NYC)

On my last night in New York, I finally made it to the one restaurant I had marked as a must visit when I read about it in one of those seat pocket airplane magazines. I was immediately impressed by Dave Pasternack’s ability to find the right fish guy for every fish, bypassing the middleman. I remember that review describing a remote Eskimo who supplies the chef with some niche fish and wondering what fish I’d choose and where in the world it would come from.

As a southern coastal Italian restaurant, I had high expectations for the seafood, as that was my favorite food on my Amalfi Coast visit. Everything was so fresh and real in Italy. Esca did not disappoint.

My friend David and I decided to make an event of it given my last night instead of just going for food, so we started off with a bottle of wine and a half dozen oysters. Given the wine list was all Italian, we consulted the sommelier who recommended the dry Moscato del Veneto “Sirio” Vignalta 2007 Veneto from the Northeast. The oysters were Widow’s Hole and Peter’s point, all large and succulent.

It was a tough decision to forgo a crudo dish of raw seafood, but the Altro dish (cooked appetizer) of clams with prosciutto was too enticing to pass up and really, how many dishes can we do?

From there, we went to our primi dish of spaghetti neri, which was squid ink spaghetti with tiny cuttlefish, green chilies, and scallion. The chilies gave it a surprising kick and the squid ink gave it a fantastic and beautiful texture.

Our Secondi dish, we went for the Branzino per Tre, which was a whole Mediterranean sea bass cooked in sea salt. Teased by the display of this fish to our neighboring table... The waiter brought it out caked in the salt for our inspection prior to serving it up on our individual plates. While it was meant for 3 people, it was perfect for two even with all the other food. I normally don’t care for fish that may have bones in it, but the server deboned it expertly, leaving no inedible remains and a magnificently flavored fish. Clearly the chef understands fish better than any other chef’s seafood concoctions I’ve ever tasted before, knowing just what it needed, and didn't. Our complex dishes in this meal combined wonderful flavors, while our main dish was so simple and perfect.

To finish, we couldn’t fathom any more food, so we both ended with a digestivo instead of dessert. I can’t remember the name of mine, but it was a carmel flavored liquor and a wonderful end to a fantastic meal.

The restaurant itself appeared small, with only a handful of tables inside and a large al fresca dining space on a neighboring patio, but this added to the intimacy of the place. There was a more formal side of the restaurant, but I was happy with our bright, open, yet intimate table. The space was overwhelmed with branches of a flowering live pink rhododendron to add personality.

Our service was attentive. I appreciated that the wait staff seemed less like starving actors and more like professional service people, unlike other restaurants in this Hell’s Kitchen neighborhood.

Overall, Esca tops my restaurant experience in New York, Coming in a close second only to Nobu. Thank you David for a wonderful meal!

Flavor of Midtown (New York)

I had the pleasure of experiencing the Grand Gourmet Flavor of Midtown on its tenth anniversary this year, hosted by the Grand Central Partnership in Grand Central Station. The event was created ten years ago to showcase the rejuvenation of a new culinary scene in midtown New York and serves as a benefit to the Grand Central Neighborhood Social Services Corporation helping the homeless.

As I’m not able to review each restaurant past their tasters here, I’ll simply give a list of the highlights from the event, whose restaurants have added themselves to my must visit list on my next trip to New York.

Ranking first on my list, Pera Mediterranean Brasserie. There, Chef Jason Avery sampled his smoked lamb “Turkish Tacos,” which completely blew all other tasters out of the water at this event. The meat was incredibly flavorful and the feta sprinkled over the top added a nice contrast.

Ranking second was the Wheeltapper Pub serving a petite canapé of irish curried chicken on fresh baked brown bread and topped with old time Irish marmalade by Chef James Donahue. The curry was mild and chicken shredded. This was the first thing I sampled and it wasn’t until the very last thing sampled at Pera that I was uber impressed by another dish… it was a very close second.

Ranking third on my list is the Benjamin Steakhouse at the Dylan hotel. There, Chef Arturo McLeod sampled his porterhouse bites with creamy mashed potatoes and Benjamin steak sauce. Incredibly tender steak.

And fourth was Pershing Square, sampling their lobster sliders with pickles and chips by Chef Aaron Bashy… quite unique, but still just a slider with too much bread.

Honorable mentions include:

Aretsky’s Patron, At Vermillion, Bice Ristorante, and Triomphe,

There was only one to completely avoid, where my notes simply said “gross:” Kellari Taverna.

All others were simply mundane. An enjoyable, star-studded event though… very well produced and worth every dime of my comped ticket! Thank you Stella for sponsoring.

Kakawa Chocolate House (Santa Fe)

It was worth 9 hours in the traveling chair to arrive in Santa Fe if only for the experience at Kakawa Chocolate House. Kakawa is a chocolate shop within walking distance of central downtown Santa Fe and within sight of the famous Canyon Road art gallerias. After a day of wandering and a Reflexology spa treatment, Mom and I decided we needed to indulge further. At the suggestion of Fodor's, we ventured to Kakawa

The ancient people of Mesoamerica used kakawa (a Nahuatl word, translated as cacao) in elixirs. They believed that it was food from the gods and only those of high-status were allowed to consume it. Cortez discovered chocolate when visiting the great Aztec Emperor, Montezuma, and brought it back to Europe where sweetened versions of the elixirs were formulated.

There are two types of recipes for the elixirs brewed here. Mesoamerican and European. The Mesoamerican elixirs are brewed to recipes thousands of years old and are for those who prefer a bittersweet, spicy experience. Throughout mesoamerica, chocolate was primarily mixed with water and made into highly spiced aromatic unsweetened drinks and considered to be the sacred and favorite elixir of the rulers and warriors.

Among the list are Atole, Acuyo, Aztec Warrior, Chili, Mayan full spice, pepper allspice, rose almond and zapoteca. Only a few of each are offered each day.

I opted for the Atole, which had a kick of an after taste that lingered in my mouth. It combines the staff of life, roasted blue corn with chocolate. Ingredients include purified water, blue corn atole, unsweetened chocolate, honey, chili and salt.

Fodors recommended the Aztec Warrior Chocolate Elixir, which after a sampling was such a unique concoction -- but far to potent for me. It had unsweetened chocolate, herbs, flowers, nuts, spices, pasilla de oaxaca chili and mexican vanilla.

Mom chose from the European list: "Chocolate will never be the same for me after sampling the Marie Antoinette elixir and the gluten free chocolate torte. For a common chocolatier like me, the decision was easy - non-dairy please. The torte defined decadent. Imagine chocolate the texture of butter, trimmed in raspberry compote. It's true, the shared slice was far too rich for me... "

The Marie Antoinette is one of the European chocolate elixirs brewed for those they are named after. This recipe of course comes from the french court of Versailles during the reign of Marie Antoinette in the 1770s. Marie brought her own liking and recipe from drinking chocolate with her from Vienna to the Royal Court of France. The drink had 70% chocolate, almond milk, orange blossom water, raw unprocessed cane sugar, ceylon cinnamon, mexican vanilla and culinary orange blossom essential oil.

We went back for a second time today, both mom and I trying European elixirs. I had the Italian Citrus that harkens back to the Italian court of Tuscany in the 1660s. It had a deep, mysterious and bright chocolate flavor made from Chocolate, lemon and orange peel, raw cane sugar, ceylon cinnamon, mexican vanilla and Ambergris essential oil.

While there, we also sampled some coconut milk and a raspberry peach pie that had the best crust known to man.

The owner of Kakawa, Peter Wolf, will delight you in the history of chocolate and its health benefits. He is more than happy to sample all of his flavors with you, educating you on their recipe. He reminded me of a bohemian version of Carrie-Anne Moss character from the 2000 movie Chocolat. He's been operating this shop for the past 5 years.

The shop itself is convenient to all the beautiful galleries of Santa Fe and a great place to stop for a morning or afternoon libation. It's a cozy place with local art displayed on the walls where one is inspired to linger over chocolate for hours.

I should also mention that the elixirs are not the only thing on the menu. Mark has a full case of truffles and other chocolates available with unique flavors such as Rosemary or Basil truffles. I tried both of these. The basil being the more savory of the two. I also had a smoked rock salt caramel, which had the "Ohmygod" factor to it... taking in the smokey smell of the salt as I bit into it.

I asked the proprietor for a recipe book to bring to my friend Mark Hare, an accomplished chocolate maker himself to share these elixir recipes, but alas, no such book exists yet. He's working on it though.

www.kakawachocolates.com

Acadiana

To celebrate Steph’s promotion to Colonel, I gathered together with three former coworkers turned good friends for a night out at Acadiana on New York and 9th. A lovely day, it was still a bit chilly for al fresca dining so we opted for an inside table as soon as our party gathered. Steph was running a bit late, so Jen, Jackie and I waited at the bar where they had a decent number of Abitas on tap. I chose a gin and basil cocktail though from their signature menu which I do not recommend. Tart.

Waiting, I tried to pinpoint the type of person who would enjoy frequenting this restaurant and the only thing that came to mind was: tourist. Nothing about the restaurant read DC: from the Cajun menu to the bland décor in an odd location overpowered by more Caps fans than Cap and Traders or trendsetters.

When Steph finally arrived, we took our seats where an overly ambitious waiter tried to take my unfinished drink from me at the risk of his tip. What I needed was food though. Thankfully, the biscuits came out complimented by a strange honey and mayonnaise concoction sure to turn my stomach later, but too good to resist now. Scarffing down a second basket of biscuits, my starter trio of soups arrived. I was the only one to order an appetizer, but at Darryl’s recommendation, I needed to try this dish. They were off to a bad start and I wanted a positive.

Each soup came in a tiny square demitasse lined horizontally along a long plate. The first was a tomato-based soup that the waiter pronounced 3 times to my complete lack of comprehension. Tangy and ok. The second soup was a crab and corn bisque which was probably my favorite of the three. Creamy with a slight kick. I unfortunately saved the worst for last: a chicken gumbo overly peppered with smoky, uncomplimentary spices.

My main dish was the snapper with pine nuts. Mistake. First, I am deathly afraid of any fish that may have fish bones in it from a childhood incident where I watched my father choke half to death on a fish bone stuck in his throat. If only… I digress. Plus, such fish is sometimes served with the head still on, especially at ethnic places. If any animal comes out on my plate still looking like the animal it once was, it is sure to head straight back to the kitchen. Nevertheless, it is rare for me to order such a fish, but I do like a snapper and I don’t find snapper on the east often. This means the restaurant is either adept at importing pacific fish and likely has its own fisheries, or my snapper was frozen and trucked across country as if I ordered it in Omaha. I have this thing about ordering fish when I’m not near water. So what made this dish even worse than the risk of ordering a boney fish? Every pine nut I crunched in my mouth I thought was a bone. And one was actually a bone. So I was forced to turn the fish into the consistency of the mashed sweet potatoes that accompanied the dish before forking its way to my mouth. It was also served with swiss chard which I didn’t touch and supposedly doused in a citrus butter, which didn’t come through. The final thing that made this dish such a bad choice was it came skin on and skin up. Fish skin. Seriously? Perhaps chef Brant Tesky learned this was a fancy way to serve up snapper, but it just reads “fish with head still on it.”

Everybody else seemed to enjoy their meal. Steph in her uncomplicated description of her blackened redfish, covered in a crab sauce, called it “good.” Jackie had the duck, which she described as tangy and citrus based: neither flavor was in the menu description. And poor Jen, who is not a seafood fan, was faced with limited menu choices. She ended up with a grilled romaine salad. Yes, the lettuce was actually grilled. She liked it. I found it strange. The macerated figs and farmers cheese made it for her, although I prefer to macerate my own food versus the restaurant doing it for me.

Neither I or Jen thought to check the menu beforehand as we normally do to ensure there are enough choices for a younger palette. In this case, there were not enough choices. They had every flavor of fish imaginable, but only one steak dish and not a lick of chicken on the menu. Call me crazy, but Cajun ought to have some chicken. Hello Popeyes! Which is exactly where I’ll have to go the next time I crave Cajun in DC because Acadiana is permanently off my list.

Bad service. Crappy drinks. Scary fish. No menu variety. Bland décor. And lets just add the fact it is in a neighborhood with the new 10pm meters as if it were some sort of real destination dining establishment. Insulting. The only compliment I can give Acadiana are its biscuits, but really: how hard is it to pop some pilsburys in the oven and douse them in honey. I can do that at home.

I was so disappointed that a place related to a couple of my favorites, namely Ceiba and DC Coast, could produce such a meal. I’m not surprised for the bad service given the relation to my nemesis restaurant TenPehn, but come on guys!

Thankfully the evening was rescued by my great company.

http://www.acadianarestaurant.com/