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The opening has been pushed back due to construction delays. The chef is Graig Glufling (Double G), formerly of Matchbox (and for full disclosure, also my little brother). He created the Matchbox menu and is bringing some of it over to the new Mug. The owners even put in a pizza oven for him! When I know more about the opening, I’ll post it. ← We were at the Ugly Mug tonight. We live on the Hill and would love places like Ugly Mug to succeed because we are acutely aware of how bad the dining scene is here generally. And who wants to brave cross-town traffic to have decent food in a nice pub? But, by the same token, who wants to return to a place that serves wet and sloppy martinis, bland chicken wings, and where the hostess-cum-server doesn't refresh your drinks or take your food order until you ask her to, and then does not return until you summon her again? (and then says, "Wasn't your server here?). The place was fairly full (good short term sign) but they had only one server for the whole floor (bad long term sign). The tables next to us as well, also Hill residents, shook their heads in that mixture of disappointment and frustration characteristic of the Hill restaurant patron. People do not return to places with flaws like this, at least not a third time, and we let people on hand know what was wrong (we were told the manager was not there). They were apologetic, said the place had opened way too early, etc. But in the end it boils down to one fact: people who have a bad first experience at a new establishment will return to it only out of generosity or neighborhood esprit de corps, if at all. That's a thin thread from which to hang the fate of a new restaurant--even on the Hill.

Shouldn't it include a Cab-Merlot blend from South Africa?

Well said. I can't wait to get to Eve again. I still haven't tried lunch at the bistro.

Perhaps the lesson here is that no matter how highly a restaurant has been praised, one should always enter it with an open mind. Despite Eve's regrettable mix-ups that evening, I can't help but think that cigarnv's hype-primed expectations got in the way of a more independent and balanaced judgement and what could have been an enjoyable evening after all. In short, one may choose not to listen to "hype."

I actually think it already is. We just need to convince restaurateurs of the same! *Sigh*

Exultation! Salvation! Jubilation! There's hope for the Hill! (At least I hope there's hope...)

Don is right. Anyone can have an off night or mix things up; it's how you deal with it afterwards that matters. And CA's handling of this, as Don said, has made it come out looking like a winner. Jimmy's reaching out (which again I really appreciate) is proof of that. Now let's move on.

I'm a passionate fan of the original IC and therfore cannot help but compare ICA against it. To me the new show is an example of how better production values and more bells and whistles do not always--in fact seldom--lead to an improvement over the original. (I think Star Trek fans might be familiar with this phenomenon.) The most endearing aspect of IC was its very human focus on the challengers' and chefs' personal stories and careers, sometimes with family members or old friends in attendance. Sure, this led to some camp and kitsch, particularly in the case of "grudge" matches and so forth--but that was part of the fun and made the show interesting and entertaining for reasons beyond food. There was also a sense of real camaraderie and honor between challenger and Iron Chef which I don't think was just a put-on. I was reminded of this just a few days ago when IC Chen defended himself against a chef who had cooked free-lance all over Japan for nearly 60 years. Although Chen won, the reverence he showed his challenger was unmistakeable. This is a human dimension you just don't get in the American version. Another element lacking in the new version is simply drama. To name the most obvious example, the winner is announced without any buildup or suspense, which only adds to the overall flatness already created by the lack of personalization of the participants. The Chairman's comments and introductions also appear totally scripted and without an ounce of wit or humor. The original IC also impressed with the sheer technical prowess of its participants and the generally thoughtful comments of its judges. Both of these, especially the latter, seem to be lacking so far in ICA. And although Alton Brown does a good job, the commentary from the floor in the new version often seems unknowledgeable. The second episode of ICA, with Batali and Trevino, gave me some hope that things might improve. Both chefs were great fun to watch, and the comments of the judges were mostly observant and thoughtful. (I have to confess that any battle without Flay is more enjoyable for me, since he really rubs me the wrong way. His win against Sakai during the pilots was a scandal.) Still, the the dramatic austerity of the overall format remains. For now, reruns of the old IC are at least as entertaining as new episodes of Iron Chef America.

Follow up: The management at Cafe Atlantico contacted me the day of my post to apologize for the mix ups. I really appreciated the professionalism of this gesture. I also owe CA an apology myself: A reader of this forum pointed out to me that I should not have mentioned names in my review, and frankly I think she's right. My apologies to the staff at CA for doing so.

My wife and I and a friend had the pretheater menu at CA last Saturday. It consisted of a foie gras appetizer, a main of split lobster served in a rich ragu of tomatoes and olives, and a selection of carfefully prepared desserts. All the food was excellent, and for $25 this must be one of the best pre-theater menu values in town. However, we encountered some strange service problems. When I called to confirm my reservation, I was told that someone had called to cancel it. When I said that no one had called and that we were coming as planned, the person on the other end grew defensive, said he wasn't "lying" and that my wife must have called about five minutes ago to cancel. She had done no such thing, and soon I found myself arguing with someone whom I had never met about whether my own wife had made a phone call. I tried to explain that there must have been a misunderstanding or a confusion with another patron (the pertson I spoke with even mentioned another party with a somewhat similar name to mine), but he would have none of it. I accepted his offer to find the originating number of the call for cancellation, after which he put me on hold, came back on the line, and told me the system was "down." It amazed me that a maitre was so obstinate in refusing to concede a simple error, especially when a patron had shown the courtesy to confirm a reservation. The whole altercation left a bad taste in my mouth even before we arrived. Things improved once we arrived at the restaurant. Our server was efficient, helpful, and friendly (though the question, "Are you still working on that?" always makes me wince). But then things deteriorated again while ordering the wine. After I ordered a bottle of what the wine list described as a Mosel, the "sommelier" came up to our table to recommend another bottle (an Alsace), saying he had the other wine in stock but that the Alsace might be more to my liking. He made this recommednation very delicately, and the Alsace was only five dollars more, so I didn't think this was a case of a wine steward pushing a more expensive wine. I thanked him for his advice but said I would stick with the Mosel. Then a very strange thing happened. When he came back with the bottle I had ordered and showed it to me, it was not a Mosel, but a Rheingau. He made no mention of the switch, and when I pointed it out to him, he said, "Oh, there's a mistake in the wine list; this is the wine you ordered." This, after we had discussed the wine in detail only minutes earlier! How could somebody described as a sommelier not be aware of such an error and not bring it to the patron's attention? I should add that we were at Cafe Atlantico after the heavy snowfall that same day, so the restaurant must have had a lot of cancellations and might have been out of joint in other ways. Still, one would think they would have been thankful for patrons who confirmed rather than cancelled, and the confusion over the wine was certainly not weather related. We will return to CA again for its excellent food, but it seems to have some service wrinkles to iron out.

My wife and I went to KAZ last night and I am still reeling from the pleasure of the evening. She ordered off the restaurant week menu, which comprised mostly sushi selections. I nibbled frequently from her plate and found everything first rate: not too cold; absolutely clean, fresh and flavorful; with varied textures to match. She also had some meltingly tender beef short ribs that combined the heartiness of a pot roast with the refined bladework, flavoring, and presentation of Kaiseki cuisine. In the following, however, I want to concentrate on my selections, which were all drawn from the chef's specials (a blue menu insert) or his special sushi creations at the top of the regular menu. The blue specials menu also marks selections with an asterisk that the chef personally recommends, so I suppose these are “special specials.” These are also the ones I ordered. Sake steamed shell-on bay scallops: The half-open scallops with their pink-streaked shells reminded me of flower blossoms. They were presented in a bowl of their nectar that had been delicately enhanced with miso and sake. Each scallop was perfectly shucked and had fully absorbed the flavors of the nectar while still in its shell. Adequately describing the mouth feel would require indecent or obscene metaphors. Kobe beef carpaccio: The small morsels were served with a hot rock for grilling, though I ate a few of them raw. I was told the beef was from New Zeeland. It was not as tender or luxurious as the Japanese original, but very fine nonetheless. Spanish mackerel sushi with basil miso: Often this fish can be unpleasantly fishy and greasy, even at a place like Makoto. Not here. Like all the raw fish served during the evening, it was clean and sweet. The basil/miso dollop was not a gimmick but really brought the flavors together. Smoked ankimo (monkfish paté) sushi with jalapeno jelly: I'm still tasting this one after almost 24 hours. The smokiness of the surprisingly firm textured paté was barely noticeable, but there nonetheless. Seldom have I tasted a garnish that did its job of highlighting the main flavors as well as this little dollop of jalapeno-infused aspic. God, this was good. Plum-wine infused foie gras nigiri with plum-wine jelly: This was similar in technique and garnish to the ankimo, but even more rich and luxurious, without being heavy or overpowering. The plum wine infusion carried over to the plum-wine flavored aspic of the garnish. This nigiri made this Franco- and Europhile think that plum wine might be as good an accompaniment to foie gras as Y’Quem or Rieussec. To paraphrase Elisa Doolittle, I could have eaten this all night. Tuna nigiri with Italian black truffle: What can I say? The first thing I did before eating this was to inhale the aroma of fresh black truffle combined with tuna and vinegar rice. The little slice of truffle on top of the tuna was covered with a light coat of aspic, yet its aroma still came through. What a perfect fusion of Asian and Western traditions! Salmon tempura roll with ginger and sesame sauce: This was the only catch in the evening, as the salmon was a touch overcooked. I probably noticed this only because everything else before it had been so immaculate. Still, it was enticingly flavored with a sesame sauce brightened by the tang of ginger, and the tempura coating was light and crispy. A lightly sweetened green tea tiramisu finished the evening perfectly, which had been punctuated with liberal lashings of Horin sake. Service was gracious and efficient. We had first been to KAZ about seven years ago after moving here from Germany, and last night we at first didn’t realize we were returning to the same restaurant. What a pearl it is! We most certainly will not wait another seven years before returning.

Following is a review of Eve's Tasting Room, Dec. 30. This is my first time posting here, and I originally posted the review on the "doggy" site, but given the EVE-focus of this forum and the presence of Armstrong, Thrasher, et al, I think it might find more interest here. Please forgive me if this unappropriate or against the rules. *********** On December 30 my wife and I took my parents to Eve in Alexandria for their forty-ninth wedding anniversary. It was my first time at this restaurant, and I was eager to taste what the buzz was about. We were not disappointed. Although not perfect, Eve was a memorable dining experience. It is especially gratifying to be able to say this about a local restaurant that has been open for less than a year. We ate in the Tasting Room, where my father and I had the nine-course, my wife and my mother the five-course menu. I started with an aperitif, the “New Age Gibson,” made with Bombay and garnished with plump pearl onions infused with saffron. Like much of the food that would follow, it was a witty and carefully prepared riff on a classic preparation. The amuses let us know immediately that we were in the hands of an imaginative chef with a well-schooled crew: delicately blanched leaves of Brussels Sprouts filled with an aromatic mushroom duxelles, deviled quail eggs topped with osetra caviar, a little button of foie gras mousse studded with a spiced apple compote of perfect, tiny dice. All left us eager to see what would come next. My parents and I started out with the lobster crême brulée I had read about so often. The little timbale of lobster custard with its sugar glaze was presented attractively on a long, narrow platter together with a few morsels of lobster garnished with a fennel compote and tarragon vinaigrette. Unfortunately, it seemed that someone in the kitchen had applied the blow torch a bit too long to my example, so half the custard had liquefied. Despite this last-minute mistake, the combination was inspired and the flavors were spot on. The anise tones of the fennel and tarragon paired beautifully with the lobster cream, and this pairing in turn was enhanced by the sweetness of the sugar glaze. Meanwhile, my wife had chosen the marinated kampachi for her first course. The single slice of fish was served carpaccio style, “cooked” only by its marinade of anise and licorice. It was a simple presentation in which bright and bracing flavors showed up the freshness and sweetness of the fish. The nine-course continued with “OOO” (oysters, osetra caviar, and onions). A creamy blanquette of caramelized onions and caviar enrobed the delicately poached, succulent oysters atop a light tartlet shell. The flavor and fragrance reminded me of a rich and luxurious version of the humble Alsatian tarte flambée. What impressed me most about this dish was how the chef showed an unfussy respect for the natural flavors and quality of his ingredients while combining them with ingenuity and flair--really the essence of all great cooking. For our third course my father and I had the terrine of moulard duck foie gras with fig jam. I don’t think the chef was intending an Alsatian theme of any kind, but this dish, like the “OOO,” reminded me of Alsace, because the last time I had such a carefully prepared and flavored foie gras terrine was in a restaurant tucked away in the foothills of the Vosges. Eve’s was dense, rich, luscious, and everything else you would expect a traditional foie gras terrine to be. The presentation, with sticks of brioche toast, was also traditional, but this garnish lacked the eggy richness that makes brioche such a beloved accompaniment to foie gras terrine. The fig jam was bright and deeply flavored; the chef’s judicious use of jams and fruit compotes would prove to be a delightful thread throughout the evening. For their second course, my wife had the ahi tuna with braised oxtail, rapini, and celery root, and my mother had the pan roasted onaga snapper with cauliflower panna cotta. The snapper was also the fourth course for my dad and me. Both it and the ahi tuna were faultlessly prepared. The piece of lightly seared tuna I tasted was of such high quality I would almost have preferred it raw, but then I would have had to forgo the sumptuous reduction of oxtail broth and aromatic winter flavors that accompanied this dish. The snapper was a morsel of succulent, deeply flavored fish with crisply seared skin sitting atop a disk of cauliflower panna cotta just firm enough to hold its shape. The sauce was a fragrant lobster cream. This talk of panna and cream might make this dish sound heavy, but, as with the “OOO,” the subtlety and simplicity of the flavors and the judicious portioning of the components kept it light and appealing. Eve’s wine list is arranged by style rather than region or grape variety, something I don’t care for but which I suppose has its merits. It is also very eclectic, a quality I admire but that puts me and my admittedly Eurocentric wine preferences at a disadvantage. Despite this, the wine we had been drinking until now was a no-brainer, a Riesling from Zind-Humbrecht. It was a near perfect accompaniment to the foie gras terrine as well as the tuna and snapper dishes, and as the food was creating all manner of Alsatian associations in my mind it could not have been a better choice. For the upcoming sweetbread and game dishes, however, I wanted a “Burgundy,” and sommelier Todd Thrasher suggested an Oregon Pinot Noir, Soter Beacon Hill. This wine turned out to be a highlight of the evening--all the rich berry overtones of an old-school Burgundy, and every bit as worthy. The Soter sang with the fifth course on the nine-course menu: veal sweet breads with caramelized apple and Calvados. The veal was an exquisite, fluffy, juicy morsel, lightly dusted with panade and fried with the utmost delicacy and respect for the texture of the meat. The apple and calvados-infused sauce paired magnificently with the sweetness of the sweetbreads while carrying through the fruit flavors that had already appeared in a number of dishes. For their third course my wife had the seared venison loin and my mother the roasted guinea hen with cabbage and quince. The latter was an attractive and traditional presentation, with the leg meat in a little galantine. The skin was beautifully crisped, though the meat in the one bite I tasted was a tad overcooked. The sauce, a reduction with cabbage and quince, again brought out this chef’s use of fruit flavors to brighten traditional combinations and styles. The same could be said for the venison, which was also the men’s sixth course: a perfectly cooked morsel of the highest quality presented with a simple demi-glace flavored with huckleberries and chestnuts. The women then had a selection of artisan cheeses, which I did not sample but which by all accounts were good and presented well (i.e., at the right temperature). The seventh course for my dad and me was the cheddar soup with Irish bacon sandwich--a tiny tureen of soup accompanied by a little canapé-sized sandwich. Here, the attempt at a witty quotation of an old favorite (“ham and cheese”) fell flat, and the dish was a dullard compared to the smartness and light touch of all the others that had preceded it. Despite the small portions, the oily grilled sandwich and the saltiness of the smoked meat and cheddar soup were heavy going this late into the courses. At this point Todd Thrasher came to our table to wish my parents a happy anniversary and present them with a few gifts. To our delight he also brought us a round of the famous “Hot Chocolate." All I can say is that this ideal winter warmer, an alcoholic concoction of peppers and chocolate, lives up to the pun of its name and epitomizes the witty and imaginative style of Eve. The eighth course for my dad and me was house-made yogurt with caramelized pear--a refreshing and tangy palate cleanser that again demonstrated the chef’s use of caramelized fruits and compotes to heighten the interest of individual dishes while conveying a sense of continuity in the overall menu. For desert came a “gift box:” A small chocolate box topped with a tiny golden sugar ribbon and filled with a creamy chocolate-hazelnut ganache. It was executed with technical skill worthy of a first-rate Brussels confectioner. I ended the meal with a 1995 Madeira that helped me reflect on everything that had come before it. A few quibbles about service in addition to the food-related ones already mentioned: Both bottles of the Zind-Humbrecht we ordered were underchilled, even though I mentioned this problem to Mr. Thrasher after the first bottle. (Could this be an example of overcompensating for the widespread tendency to serve white wines too cold, somewhat like mistaking undercooked vegetables for al dente?) Our welcome was a bit confused. On leading us to our table the hostess suddenly said, “Hold on!” and left us waiting while she backtracked to talk briefly with a colleague. I think the welcome of a restaurant is like the handshake of a first acquaintance, so this made me feel a bit uneasy. At our table, service sometimes appeared uncoordinated or impromptu, though otherwise professional and solicitous. These are probably nothing more than wrinkles that will be ironed out once the team finds its rhythm. People in the Washington metropolitan area are fortunate to have Eve in their midst. This culinary treasure is easily one of the best restaurants on the East Coast. Get there as soon as you can.