Standing in line at the Black Cat one night in September, the sidewalk was alive with contractors traversing between their trucks and a new destination on 14th Street. Curious, I peeked in and saw a long bar (the longest in DC, so their web site claims), sleek wood contrasted with concrete décor, and red lamps dotting the air between tables and the ceiling. WOW! This is too high class for this neighborhood was my initial thought.
On a second examination last night, though, there were some unique details that brought the place down from my too-posh first impression like the chopsticks in a glass of lentils as table center pieces, and tequila bottles instead of art on the barren brick walls. Yet these details made the place more approachable for the neighborhood, allowing the vibe to attract both the hip trendsetters mixing with the common folk.
Drawing the U Street bohemian crowd down and the Logan Circle stylish metrosexuals up, Masa 14 bridges the neighborhoods with a concept already tried in Logan by the failed Merkado, but executed fantastically by Masa 14 – the fusion of Asian and Latin, yet here with small plates. I never forgave Merkado for that Fred Flintstone lamb shank they tried to serve me on my birthday, and that was the beginning of their downfall, allowing Masa to give the concept another, more refined shot in this neighborhood.
Not having done my research, I could sense a faint resemblance to another favorite of mine, Zengo, in Chinatown… and it turns out that sense was because chef Richard Sandoval’s dominion includes both restaurants. Masa, though, has a co-owner: Washington chef Kaz Okochi of Kaz Sushi Bistro downtown. The final leg in the chef tripartite here is Antonio Burrell of Vidalia.
An asian latin fusion on small plates… so tired and 2004. Hell, Wok-a-mole in San Antonio has been around since the 90s! How is this still trendy you ask? Well… it wasn’t simply the menu that was fused, it was the dishes themselves.
Case in point: The pulled beef tostada. Cilantro, peanuts, bean sprouts, cotija cheese and guacamole… it was like eating pad thai with guacamole on Mexican chips. A surprisingly fantastic combination where the competing ingredients ended up complementing each other versus distracting the two influences.
Our evening also saw the green curry chicken which was a bit too spicy for my taste, the Wagyu beef brisket, the crunchy shrimp (whose chipotle aioli had a kick as well, but great flavor), and the barbecued salmon (punctuated by large, juicy bacon bits). Also try the Yucca fries, which I didn’t see on the menu, but came with some sort of potent, citrusy mayo that is not to be missed.
The evening of course started off with cocktails at the bar. I chose a Red Star which is a signature drink there containing Herradura, Chambord, agave nectar, blackberry puree and lime juice. After my first pleasing sip, I asked the bartender what exactly was Herradura. Tequila! Oops… Tequila on a Thursday night? It’s going to be a long night! I highly recommend this drink. Not-so, however, do I recommend their caipirinha. Bland and boring.
The evening ended with a cocoa flan topped with a bit of peanut brittle, which was a disappointing and unnecessary ending to my otherwise unforgettable meal. I’m not a cheesecake fan and unfortunately my flan was less flanny and more cakey. My friend Darryl whom I dined with had the sesame ice cream, which I tried and didn’t care for. Some things just shouldn’t be fused. Go to your spice cabinet and down a shot of sesame seeds. Does that sound remotely appealing? The manage a trois of chefs needs to keep working on their desserts.
The service was adequate and forgettable, which as I’ve said before is neither a bad or good thing. I would recommend that the place could use an upgrade on their uniforms to professionalize their service and put their busboys in a uniform as well. All black would be so much more appealing than the rolls of fat ass in too-tight jeans and an ill-advised, messy gray t-shirt clad girl I was forced to look at bussing the table next to us.
Despite the two sour notes at the end, I highly recommend this place. Make your reservations early. Masa 14 is a hotspot. But if opentable cannot accommodate, give them a call. http://www.masa14.com/ Next time, I’m trying the octopus, which I’m told is less calamari and more meaty, and the banh mi, which Tom Sietsema bragged on.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Chelsea Grill (Hells Kitchen, NY)
Being as my Reserve job is now located in Manhattan, I’ve decided to include my restaurant outings in New York on my blog here too. While most of my readers are in DC, it is just a megabus ride away…
Upon the recommendation of my friend Adam, I ventured over to Hells Kitchen for the Chelsea Grill. My instructions to him were to find a place laid back, nice, ethnic but not spicey. I don’t think you can call Chelsea Grill ethnic, but anywhere you go in NY has a diverse vibe so… perhaps that was the interpretation.
A Google search for Chelsea Grill will bring you to a place in Chelsea that has since closed and relocated to Hells Kitchen on 9th between 46th and 47th.
The drink menu was a step above the standard. I opted for something with elderberry liquor that tasted like a capriana, but wasn’t. I would have been just as comfortable with a beer here as a fancy cocktail with the relaxed ambiance.
I sat on a padded bench along the exposed brick wall near the windowed entrance. A long bar with tiffany-looking lamps hanging over it led the rest of the way down the restaurant dotted with two-tops throughout the space. Behind my head was a very HOT pipe. Steam, hot water… I don’t know, but it added to the complete lack of pomp and stripped down décor of the place.
For dinner, I chose the grilled shrimp and ratatouille which was presented by the kitchen as if this were a high falootin’ restaurant. Mighty tasty and the shrimp were huge. The ratatouille was piled high, chunked larger than I’d expect and cooked enough to not be hard, but not be mush.
This was truly a neighborhood establishment. The waitress joked with the table for one next to us where a man was seated who had flowers. “For me?” … Sure… he handed the bouquet over to her referencing a bodega on the way home where he could get more. Only in New York.
Upon the recommendation of my friend Adam, I ventured over to Hells Kitchen for the Chelsea Grill. My instructions to him were to find a place laid back, nice, ethnic but not spicey. I don’t think you can call Chelsea Grill ethnic, but anywhere you go in NY has a diverse vibe so… perhaps that was the interpretation.
A Google search for Chelsea Grill will bring you to a place in Chelsea that has since closed and relocated to Hells Kitchen on 9th between 46th and 47th.
The drink menu was a step above the standard. I opted for something with elderberry liquor that tasted like a capriana, but wasn’t. I would have been just as comfortable with a beer here as a fancy cocktail with the relaxed ambiance.
I sat on a padded bench along the exposed brick wall near the windowed entrance. A long bar with tiffany-looking lamps hanging over it led the rest of the way down the restaurant dotted with two-tops throughout the space. Behind my head was a very HOT pipe. Steam, hot water… I don’t know, but it added to the complete lack of pomp and stripped down décor of the place.
For dinner, I chose the grilled shrimp and ratatouille which was presented by the kitchen as if this were a high falootin’ restaurant. Mighty tasty and the shrimp were huge. The ratatouille was piled high, chunked larger than I’d expect and cooked enough to not be hard, but not be mush.
This was truly a neighborhood establishment. The waitress joked with the table for one next to us where a man was seated who had flowers. “For me?” … Sure… he handed the bouquet over to her referencing a bodega on the way home where he could get more. Only in New York.
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