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.