DonRocks

From Italy to Idli (sorry)

Based on 2+ experiences there, it will not be the trendy bar crowd that scares the foodies away. Tricia, you're a major talent right in the middle of what is fast becoming erroneously annointed mediocrity: will Poste become an oasis for weary travelers, a salt lick for thirsty horses, a real destination restaurant for thoughtful lovers of fine dining in this desert of bad food, or must we go out to the suburbs of Matchbox, Ella's, Andale, Paradou, 701, to get anything original, worthwhile, or perhaps even great? Cheers, Rocks.

I have so many good things to say about Woodlands I don't know where to begin. I was last there six days ago for their Sunday lunch buffet, and once again I felt guilty when I left because it didn't cost enough. I have a dear Indian friend who moved to Berkeley, and whenever she comes back I get a call asking me to go with her to Woodlands, "the only type of Indian food I can't get at home," she says - "home" being her parents' house in Virginia - and then she proceeds to order a Special Onion Ravi Masala Dosa. I sometimes order that too, because it's cooked-to-order and is a phenomenal combination of taste and texture, but I also find myself drawn to the seemingly endless buffet while she noshes her dosa. The buffet, especially on weekends, is an amazing spread, ridiculously priced, and enough to make me think about going vegan, at least until later that afternoon. I've been to the Woodlands in Langley Park, but almost always frequent the one in Fairfax. In fact, I was going to write about it last week in the Desperately Seeking Strip Malls thread, as it's sandwiched directly in between a giant K-Mart and a Dairy Queen in what must be one of the ugliest, most disgustingly sterile strip malls around (and the competition for this honor runs deep and fierce). How much do I like Woodlands? Last year I spent eight days in London, and had lunch at the one there - many American tourists cheat and get a McDonald's fix; I cheated and got my Woodlands fix. This, even considering I was searching out the best and brightest Indian restaurants London had to offer. The combinations of vegetables, grains and breads are vast, impressive and humbling to someone (like me) without an in-depth knowledge of how these dishes are prepared, and while I can't always deconstruct or even correctly identify them, I am always shaking my head when I walk out, feeling how lucky I am that a restaurant such as this is available. The weekend buffet at Fairfax Woodlands is precisely the place where a budget-minded eGullet get-together should be held, lack-of-access to Metro notwithstanding: it's dirt cheap, it's great, it's somewhat healthy, it's esoteric, and it's educational if you choose to let it be. Cheers, Rocks.

Miss Indie, I was only dissing Natty Boh, not indicting an entire city. Once I walked into a Royal Farms 24-hour Mini-Mart at 4 AM, and ordered a 3-piece assortment of fried chicken and asked the cashier for 6 Nasty Blows. He, "We have light version now too." "What's it called?" "Mousy Dung." Reaping what I sowed for going off topic... Cheers, Rocks.

This little LuvFest is charming, but we're all waxing poetic about dung. Last night I went to a Vietnamese hole-in-the-wall in Eden Center, and for the first time in my life, I was wishing I had gone to Four Sisters. This place was authentic and homey, but it was also nasty: everyone was smoking, the beer glasses smelled strongly of metal (from being stored upside-down on the metal shelf above the bar), the fish tank was way too small for the army of large docile fish floating around doing nothing, and it was so dirty and cloudy that it was completely opaque. The basil tasted like soap, which quite frankly amazed me because that means they washed it, the shrimp was frozen and limpid, bivalves were sitting around on a tray in the middle of the restaurant at room temperature, and a thermos full of live frogs was even more disgusting. It was a top-to-bottom bad meal: at least Four Sisters isn't filthy. Little Tavern, anyone?

Nectar treats their multi-chese progressive plate with enormous respect and must stand alone atop the heap Maestro had the best cart I've seen in town lately, but it's been awhile Taberna del Alabardero NOT Equinox (cheeses are ill-conceived, served too cold, and come with a gross fig jam and the same nasty nuts they serve at the bar) 2 Amy's pipe farms goat cheese with fig jam or gorgonzola with chestnut honey NOT nasty pecorino/fennel/celery salad at Sette Osteria (with due respect to their fine pizzas and charcuterie plates) Phone call to Formaggio Kitchen www.formaggiokitchen.com for the ultimate in next-day-air-delivered world-class cheese for no more than you'd pay for the overripe stuff you often find at Dean & DeLuca.

I'm sending in The Doughnut Holes to come waving $20 bills and expecting change

Schultz's Crab House, Essex My-T-Fine Sno-Cones, Carney

I believe Ann is not a businesswoman; she's a woman in business. See also Carole Greenwood and Yannick Cam. Ann could increase her business by 20% by spending about two hours making changes to the way her wares are displayed. When you go in, the display case is not at all welcoming, and there aren't enough signs describing what is for sale. I actually like Mark's idea of a dozen (or half-dozen) doughnut minimum. Her dismissal of The Doughnut Maggots (of which I am sometimes one) notwithstanding, I'll happily choose her crotchety passion over someone elses wan practicality. There was a little sign up last weekend that said something like "The cost of doughnuts is now $1.25. If you have bought milk or eggs lately, you'll understand why." It's hard not to like this, and it's evidence that, deep down inside, Ann feels a grudging obligation to satisfy her Doughnut People. She probably drives a Ford Torus.

I'm thinking that the next eGullet outing should be a tourbus full of people showing up at the bakery at 10:58 AM, everyone waving a $20 bill and ordering a single donut.

I've been in contact with Ann about this thread, and she wanted to add a couple of thoughts. First and foremost, she insisted on sharing any credit she gets here with her two coworkers: "The two people that work for me are Noris Pineda and Noel Sanchez. They are the most loyal, hardworking two people I've ever known. I plated desserts at the restaurant for 3 years until this past September when Frank finally took pity on me and said "Let's get Noel to plate". So now Noel, goes down after a day at the bakery and works the night shift." She continues to give credit to her coworkers: "This bakery and the restaurant are miracles. To have survived 3 1/2 years in this economic climate is astonishing. It's due in part at the bakery because [of the] people who come in to help … On Fridays and Saturdays, Robert DeLapeyrouse comes in and bakes bread … We are so lucky. The point is that the bakery is a warm and welcoming place to the people who come in with like attitude." I stopped in yesterday morning for a piece of focaccia, and in less than five minutes, I saw three people come in, ask for doughnuts, and leave without buying anything when they were told that the first batch was gone, and that the second batch hadn't yet come in (the doughnuts are made down the block at Palena). The "doughnut people" seem to be the bane of Ann's existence: "... they want the doughnuts, in most cases, because Tom wrote them up and put a big picture of them in the dining guide. It became cool to wait for the doughnuts to get to the bakery, the 'in' thing to do, the new 'trendinistas.' I could write on infinitely about this subject. I'd rather talk by phone if you want to hear what we deal with. But I will relay to you one incident. We made a policy to not break twenty dollar bills for one or two doughnuts, if the customer didn't buy anything else. We had to. The bank usually runs out of one dollar bills early on Saturday, and no matter how hard I try I'm always floundering to keep the cash drawer supplied. A woman came in around 2 p.m. and asked Noris for 2 doughnuts and then handed her a 20. Noris told her we couldn't break a 20 for 2 doughnuts. The woman became angry, held the bill in Noris's face and said "This is American money". (Noris is Latino) She asked to see the manager. I came out of my office, (a proof box that's no longer operational) and came up to her and began to apologize, telling her that I understood her frustration, but I could not get any more ones, the bank was closed. She said she left her apt. just to get the doughnuts and all she brought was a 20. I said I was sincerely sorry but I couldn't do it. She was really angry and said her Satuday was made up of getting her doughnuts and that the doughnuts put "this bakery on the map". Well, that was the wrong thing to say to me, as you can imagine. So I said many customers bought a few other things along with the doughnuts and then it made it easier to break a large bill. (You could buy a few little cookies and it would cost 60 cents, you can't get cheaper than that). She said she only came into the bakery for doughnuts, that she bought all of her other pastries at Firehook. So I told her then that's where she should go and she said that's exactly what she would do. My feeling was that that story would go all over the internet making me and the bakery look like real [censored]s. And we're really not. We just don't understand how all these people think that the only thing worth buying at the bakery is a doughnut. And the one thing that we don't make. Think about it. It's so demeaning and hurtful to be confronted with this so often. And now since NPR did a program on the doughnuts, some people will come in just to irritate us and play on that whole business. I would like to chat with you about this and talk about what this bakery is really about…." And she concludes by saying: "Thanks for listening , Don, I really appreciate it… It means a great deal to know that some people do appreciate what we're about. Ann." And thank you, Ann, for sharing your thoughts. Cheers, Rocks.

Slater and Wabeck will be arriving early. Click Here and then click on the "Uniform" film canister to see them in action.

Yes, I attended opening night service of Le Paradou on Tuesday as the guest of the formidable Janet Cam. I won’t go into a lot of detail since things will be dynamic over the next few weeks (the wines that evening were $35, not $30, but that’s all going to be changing soon, with more menu options to open up in the next week or so), but let me use the morel soup served that evening as an example of what people might expect from the kitchen: A little bowl of morel soup, streaked with a touch of crème fraiche, and containing only a quail egg, looked impossibly simple. The first thing you notice is that it’s served lukewarm, the chef being a big proponent that subtlety and nuance are lost when things are served piping hot. The flavor coming from this soup was so deep and earthy that I thought sure he had cheated and used truffle oil. Janet later discussed this with Yannick, and nope, there were no shortcuts here: Proscuitto San Danielle, a piece of chicken slowly roasted to achieve a level of caramelization, roast sliced shallots, shiitake mushrooms (dryed because this gives more intensity than fresh), covered with stock and cooked. I did not detect any of these things in the dish. This is classic Yannick Cam: something looks deceptively simple, and yet you wonder why it has so much intensity and depth of flavor. I thought the same thing just yesterday when reading through a late Mozart sonata. From the front lines, Rocks.

So you don’t like my Capital Restaurant Concept labyrinth. Fine, I’ll continue: 15 ria is a rare restaurant whose main courses are better than the apps. Their Meat and Two nightly specials are the way to go (question: if all of Nashville gets a Meat and Three, then why do we only get a Meat and Two?) Their roasted chicken with cheese polenta and escarole is on their regular dinner menu, and is worth ordering. Their miniburgers (a welcome but mildly annoying restaurant trend) are also quite good, but the shoestring fries that come with it are just too much like shoestrings for me. Speaking of miniburgers, all you need to know is 701. Of course why would you do that when you could go to Stoney’s for their Super Grilled Cheese? Oh, you mean you don’t want grease running down your elbow? There’s always the chicken salad sandwich and fries at Tastee Diner in Silver Spring (outlets in Bethesda and Laurel, the one in Laurel being particularly nasty). But then you’re going to want something healthy to cleanse your system. In defense of all-you-can-scarf sushi lunch buffets, Matsutaki in Worldgate (three other outlets in Clarendon, Ballston and Reagan Airport) pulls this off about as well as anyone else for $10.95. Their secret? Threatening signs warning the customer that wasting sushi will result in an extra charge if they’re spotted leaving too much uneaten food on the plate. Paper thin fish, otherwise very good and generally fresh. Big wedges of rice without much thought as to the preparation. No wasabi on any piece. Big tubs o’ powdered wasabi and really ugly ginger. People scoff at these sushi buffets, but I’ve seen these same people get pre-made Sushi to-go at Whole Foods. I see precious little difference between the two in terms of quality. Ginger Reef has a lot of work to do in their kitchen, though the fruit-based drinks can sometimes be fabulous (and sometimes not). This may not be cool runnings, mon. I lament that Hibiscus Café is gone forever. Mandarin Oriental Hotel is now open, and you should prepare to pay dearly if you decide to go for a drink. Mandarin's high percentage of Asian customers reminds me that in The City Paper this week, Todd Kliman mentioned the racially diverse customer base at Colorado Kitchen. Based on visits in the past few days, I would also submit Ginger Reef and Fin as wonderful examples of an integrated clientele. I recently chatted with Café Atlantico's outstanding General Manager, Manuel Iguina, and he mentioned that Crystal City will soon be a beneficiary of the talented Mr. Andres: Oyamel Cocina Mexicana is coming soon. (The Oyamel is an endangered fir tree in Mexico that provides a unique habitat for the monarch butterfly population.) I saw a preliminary wine list (and I stress that it's preliminary), and it features 31 Mexican reds and 21 Mexican whites, no doubt influenced by Atlantico's fine sommelier, Francisco Astudillo. It’s inexplicable to me that Bardeo, a wine bar, serves its red wines so warm. The short-order food is perfectly serviceable, but man, can’t you guys get your wine service together? By the way, you can not order off of Ardeo’s menu if you eat at Bardeo. However, Ardeo does have their own bar. Get anything with tongue in it at El Pike Bolivian restaurant near Seven Corners (across Patrick Henry Street from Mark’s Duck House). Chef Roberto Hierro was in town last week cooking at Taberna del Alabardero. He is their chef at Taberna’s Madrid branch, and cooked up a lavish dinner last Saturday evening. However, he was also in town Wednesday through Friday offering similar things a la carte, and I got to try a few of his courses. A fascinating glimpse into traditional (and not-so-traditional) Spanish cuisine, straight out of today’s happenings in Madrid. The traditional garlic soup was out of this world. I want to add that Taberna has one of the great wine programs in all of Washington DC. Their sommelier (just look for the guy who’s about two meters tall) is terrific, and is supported in a big way by Manolo behind the bar. If I had to pick one person in all of Washington as Best Bartender for Fine Dining, it would be Manolo. The wines are all served at the proper temperature, each wine by the glass has the bottle presented to you before pouring, you can take tastes of whatever you want to try before committing to a full glass, he even goes through the motions of checking the cork for each bottle he opens. I have consistently found that dining at Taberna del Alabardero’s bar area is an inexpensive way to eat just about as well as anywhere in town, and the service there is simply unsurpassed in its warmth, tradition and respect paid to the diner. Heading to the gym, Rocks.

There once was a bartender named Johnny Barr (yes, Johnny Barr) who split duties between Fin and Andale. One night while I was at Andale, he recommended Fin's new chef, Josh Jeffress, quite highly, and based on my impression of Mr. Barr, I took that recommendation seriously enough to try Fin. Johnny Barr has since left Fin and is now (happily) full-time at Andale. Look for him there - he's quite good. Josh Jeffress has since left Fin and is now Executive Chef at Paolo's in Reston. Bilrus and company, take note. Darrell Hughes has since left Paolo's in Georgetown and is now Executive Chef at Fin. My initial visit is favorable, in part due to their able bartender, Abel. P.S. Manager Dan Meyer is not related to Danny Meyer, at least I don't think he is. (I vaguely remember being with Danny Meyer's cousin at 3 AM last spring at Chief Ike's. At least I think I was.) The former Sous Chef at Paolo's in Georgetown is now the Executive Chef at Paolo's in Georgetown. Got that straight? Me neither. Rocks.

Two recent visits to Al Tiramisu make me wonder: is this restaurant “worth” any more than Sergio’s in Silver Spring or Pasta Plus in Laurel? Not in my book, it isn’t. What about Yee Hwa? Are there not twenty (literally, 20) Korean restaurants in Annandale that are both better and more authentic? I have not been to Yee Hwa, and so I must pose this as a rhetorical question only. Can you find better in-town Cantonese cuisine than at Fortune in Falls Church? I don't see it even being close. Your choice for a good taco or pupusa in-town? Let's do Bolivian. El Pike in Seven Corners, Luzmilla's in Falls Church, Tutto Bene in Arlington? Where are you going to go in Washington? And what about Vietnamese? Peruvian chicken? There are several ethnic pockets (Ethiopian, for example), that seem like they've traditionally been more interesing within the city limits, but there are other ethnicities that have more authentic food out in strip-mall hell, in the low-rent district. When seeking out quality (or authentic) ethnic cuisine in Washington, it seems like you should begin your search by finding out where the ethnic population is concentrated. Convenience to a downtown Metro stop is always nice, but isn't that sort of like going to a Smithsonian slideshow of Croatia instead of dining with a family from Zagreb? Cheers, Rocks. P.S. I didn't actually say "Pines of Rome," did I?

Boy those two guys at the bar tonight sure looked like Thomas Keller and Jonathan Benno .... (not to add fuel to, erm, The Fire or anything).

I had lunch today at Bookchangdong Tofu (Annandale, on Little River Turnpike just inside the beltway) and thought it was a cut above most other places I've tried, though this is only the first time I've visited. By the way, here's a pretty complete list of area Korean restaurants: http://www.enterdc.com/SearchList.asp?categoryID=61 Cheers, Rocks.

In fifteen minutes worth of postings, we have The Little Prince and The Little Princess. P.S. The bracelet was supposedly a forgery!

Went tonight. I hadn’t been to Secret Garden in a good five years, and was immediately reminded of how much I like the interior (if you’re driving by, you should poke your head inside and look at the funny totem poles in the entrance foyer). Pre-P.S.: I should subtitle all my Korean postings “Relegated To OB.” When I walked in, I was the only American in the restaurant, and I don’t think I was looking terribly Korean this evening. The six banchan they brought were accompanied by a bowl of miso soup and a Shoney’s-like lettuce salad topped with shredded carrots and bottled salad dressing - both of these were put directly in front of me. About halfway into the meal, I feigned a visit to the restroom so I could peak at the 2-3 other tables which were frequented by Korean diners. I didn’t see the lettuce salad on their tables, and in fact I saw the server bring another one to a young American couple that came in later (I find this gesture sort of charming actually, but I didn’t eat mine!) The banchan were decent with the exception of an unforgivable mayonnaise-y egg-and-potato salad with little pieces of apple in it. One of them was two cubes of fried tofu that were wonderful. I spent some time leafing through the menu, and noticed that the steak tartare was inexplicably priced at $16.69, and the bibim bap was described as “beet[sic], assorted vegetables, and egg atio[sic] steamed rice.” (Does anyone wonder why Asian restaurants don’t pay somebody $10.00 to edit the typos out of their menus?) I ordered the Dol Sot Bibim Bap, which is one of two dishes (along with kimchi jige) that I use as little references when trying a new Korean restaurant, simply because I’ve had them both a bunch of times and am familiar with them. This was a good version, and I enjoyed it though I wasn’t a huge fan of the stir-in sauce which seemed a bit too thick and perhaps a bit too old. The young gentleman managing the floor was quite friendly, and a fine example that one good person on the floor can make-or-break the service in a small restaurant. (read: Jarad Slipp and Tricia Cominsky) Next door is Sam Mi Oriental Market, and if you want to make a decision on the value-per-pound of kimchi vis-à-vis caviar, walk in and look at the refrigerated section on the right-hand side of the store: there is literally a half-ton of kimchi sitting in gallon plastic containers. I’ve spent a good deal of time in the past ten minutes thinking about what can make a Korean restaurant great. Is it the expense-account/diplomat places such as Woo Lae Oak? The gargantuan warehouses such as Songbird? The obscure 24-hour places (yes, 24-hour places) such as Man Po Myun Oak? My temptation lies in thinking that it involves being either really traditional Korean (Woo Lae Oak), or much less Korean skewed towards modern American (Jeff Tunks: got any plans next year?), and I’m not sure what the answer is. Back to Secret Garden: Frances Hodgson Burnett can rest comfortably, as this perfectly fine little ambassador of Korean cuisine upholds the honor of its literary cousins (her two best-known works being, appropriately, Secret Garden and Sara Crew (the latter being rewritten to become A Little Princess. )). Eternally vigilant, Rocks.

I was thinking yesterday that this thread is beginning to make Sette sound better than it actually is. I have enjoyed all the pizzas I've tried, and I love the winelist, but not everything has fired on all cylinders all the time. Two examples: a Peperoni e Melanzane salad I had was pure garlic (and I love garlic) and too mushy for my taste, and a recent appetizer of calamari featured good-but-not-great calamari with batter that was way oversalted (and I love salt). For me, this is a terrific late-night wine and pizza bistro that fills a very useful purpose in this town. But I'm not sure it's anything more than that (and perhaps it doesn't need to be). Cheers, Rocks.

This happened to me twice in the past week at Zola (see Zola thread), and more recently at Logan Tavern. (Sometimes it seems like the "how would you like that cooked" question has become mere formality these days.) I ordered a bacon cheeseburger and fries at the bar at Logan Tavern, and when my server asked me how I wanted it cooked, I said "medium rare." The burger came out well done, and was quite dry in the middle. I'm always a bit reluctant to mention something like this, especially when we're talking about a cheeseburger at a bar, but I went ahead and politely told her that it was just too overcooked. She immediately apologized (and of course it wasn't her fault) and had the kitchen redo the sandwich. Then she poured me another beer, saying "this one's on us." Finally, when the bill arrived, not only was the beer comped, but the burger was too. This was more than I expected, and certainly wasn't necessary though the gesture was much appreciated So thanks, Logan Tavern, for service well done. Cheers, Rocks.

The three articles I've read by Todd Kliman are terrific, basically investigative journalism relating to the Washington DC food scene. Todd, are you out there? You're doing a great job. I was going to post this as an addendum to my Korean thread, but it works just as well here: Mr. Kliman writes, My friend emailed me today and wrote the following comments in response to my musings about Korean cuisine (this is paraphrased and heavily edited): P.S. Someone was asking about the fugu at Kaz. Caveat emptor. Cheers, Rocks.

My friend and I were discussing Buca di Beppo last night, and at what seemed like the exact same moment, we decided that Washington DC is a better place because that restaurant exists. Why? Because when you see a busload of 16-year-old tourists looking for a place to eat, you can steer them directly towards Buca di Beppo, which will subsequently funnel off traffic from places like Sette Osteria. Do not underestimate the importance of this, especially considering its proximity to the gargantuan Washington Hilton, the largest single hotel in the city.

Well, surprise! I had dinner at Zola Sunday night this week (would I be intellectually honest if I didn’t retry some of these places?) My server at the bar was Ryan, a quiet-but-cool young man who refilled my glass of Transylvanian (!) Sauvignon Blanc without asking or charging me. And then I sat and listened to Younes, a charming bartender from Morocco who has worked at Zola since it opened – he was regaling an older out-of-town couple sitting next to me with his friendliness and vignettes about his country. He made their evening, and when they left, I mentioned to him how much I appreciated his gesture of kindness towards them, which was above-and-beyond the normal call. I ordered a burger and fries with gouda, medium-rare, and a glass of red Cotes-du-Rhone which, sigh, was served too warm. The three of us (Ryan, Younes and I) continued to talk as the bar wasn’t terribly crowded at that time. Ryan is an expert at motorcycle mechanics, specializing in the astounding combination of Harley-Davidsons and Ducattis, and if I had a bike that needed any work done to it at all, he would be the first person I called. The cheeseburger arrived with five pounds of fries, and when I cut into it, it was cooked throughout and well-done. I took a couple of polite bites, and then just lost interest in the sandwich itself, preferring to enjoy my vino. Ryan asked me how it was, and in an unusual moment of candor, I said “it’s well-done, and I’m just not a big fan of well-done meat.” Younes overheard this, and immediately apologized and said they would redo the burger, to which I said it wasn’t their fault, and I really didn’t care that much about the outcome of a cheeseburger. Nevertheless, Ryan chimed in and said “it’s our responsibility,” and so they took my plate from me. In the interim, Younes mentioned that it seemed like I appreciated wine, and that they’d soon be offering a flight of three Austrian red wines, and would I like to try them? How was I to say no? The wines, as it turns out, were imported by one of my dearest friends Terry Theise, and I was poured three glasses to try and enjoy, which I did with gusto. Then the burger arrived, perfectly cooked medium-rare. What was not to like? Their concern over something as simple as a cheeseburger changed a bad food experience into everything one could possibly expect, and their magnanimity and generosity with the wines made the evening. I asked Ryan to serve me a digestif of his choice, and to Younes' objection, he chose and served a perfectly fine Bonny Doon Vin de Glacière (I think Younes had something a bit stronger in mind!) I then asked for the check. It was impossibly low, and I mentioned to them that it needed to be updated. “That’s the check,” Younes said. I said thank you and left a tip that was commensurate with their extraordinary level of service. I saw Ryan take the check over to the register, open it, and try to maintain his composure when he saw the tip I left them. They deserved what they got, because they were both wonderful, and my experience at Zola this week was a winner because of the efforts of these two fine bartenders. Kudos, gentlemen, and my best wishes to you. Cheers! Rocks.