frogprince

would it be advisable to close a restaurant at 830 on a sunday? i shouldn't think so. nevertheless, they accomadated us as we strolled in at half past eight, on the condition that we "order quickly." needless to say, this did not bode well: a phrase portending starters and mains arriving simultaneously, desserts that would be nonexistent and the cold, glaring quartet of eyes ( the manager and waiter ) staring down at us with utter contempt, hoping their gallic glare would terrorize the two americans into scurrying off into the 10th street darkness with our hearts in our mouths. boy was i wrong. as it turns out, the only organ in my mouth last night only came from a generous, erudite, cultured calf, for i feasted on exquisite, custard-rich sauteed calf's brains with brown butter, capers and parsley. if the contradiction of "crispy flan" makes sense to you, then you can imagine the texture. for all those sweetbread lovers out there, brains just may ruin all future experiences, similar though these two organs may be in taste and appearence; i know it will never be the same again now. and it has manifested itself in an unquenchable thrist to explore the nuances of flavors and textures in grasses, hay and other such ruminant ruminations. had i drank more, i may have chewed the cud. a cursory glance at the by the glass list (not wanting to keep them longer with a commitment to a whole bottle) revealed notations of the tgi friday's kind: syrah, cabernet sauvignon, chardonnay... with nothing else to shed light on this, i went for the unknown quantity: cascadais. delightful, ruby-rich, a punchy anise nose. this post continues to grow at an alarming rate. speed is of the essence now, as it did not turn out to be last night. the warm, genial manager (the chef's son no less) regaled us with tales of our current administration's alarming practices of allowing shipments from france (notably banyuls and cassoulets (the terra cotta dishes not the stew)) rotting in customs rooms because a certain texan couldnt play nice with others. we were never felt rushed, one cascadais flew into another for a fanstastic veal stew languedocienne, sweet with carrots, salty with olives, sturdy with potatoes, piquant with pearl onions, rich with text-book perfect veal stock, a delicate citrus effluvium perfumed the whole and lifted it out of the ordinary. and oh yes, the cubes of veal of a texture that gave authentic meaning to the terms "fork-tender" "melt in the mouth" and "like butter". a glass of muscat st jean de minervois worked wonders with... well... muscat poached figs. fancy that. and the homemade vanilla ice cream makes me wonder why vanilla hasnt been promoted into the stratosphere of extravagence by sybarites the world over in the manner of foie gras, truffles, caviar, kobe (real kobe! sorry sunnyside...) beef, poulets de bresse, pata negra iberian hogs, grouse (yes, grouse), saffron, fresh leucodermic asparagus and the like. this is a beautiful space, a thoughtful, cheap wine list with the expected emphasis on the terroir of languedoc-roussillon, a cheery, warm, inviting staff (who remembered my previous visit a year ago and my companion's visits of the past six months), perfectly executed food of this exquisite region of france and no entree exceeds 20 bucks. and there were eight specials last night. and they serve 'effin BRAINS people! come on! no i've not been to the other bistros in town and i'm not worried about it. i've got all i could want here: bistro d'oc, a beacon of hope on the gutted, eviscerated facade of 10th street. edited for an appalling lack of negation at the beginning: i dont think places should close at 830. now this is written as such.

i cannot remember the name for the life of me, but there's a little shop opposite the back end of spitalfields (walking toward liverpool street from commericial road; its near that starf*cks, sorry starbucks, some cafe... this is vague and i apologize) they have lovely lovely stuff plus cheese from neal's yard. wine, small selection of take away goodies, assorted charcuterie, bits and bobs in boxes and jars. and get a homemade marshmellow. it might just change your life.

that would be a salt beef bagel from the brick lane beigel (yes english jews spell it this way) bakery. slathered with nasal-napalm; also known as english mustard. and the surly checkout lass who chats with an unlit fag hanging out of her mouth and you glance to your pocket to fetch 1.19 (nearly two dollars!) and when you look up she's stubbing it out and reaching for another in a single, fluid beautiful motion. then she yells at you to hurry. eat in the street and return to the back of the queue and repeat. i cant figure out how to do that double quote thing (yes techfear. i'm sensitive about) but the exiled mainer should trek down to corduroy for a lobster roll. my one (and sadly only) trip this past summer featured this exquisite execution of a classic. i would call to double check though. i propose a toast (pun intended) to the atkins-devil, the earl of sandwich. i believe we all owe him a debt of gratitude, if the myth holds true. i hear the bottle of jameson's squawking and cawing at me from a little watering hole in mt. pleasant...

johnny's half shell. half oyster. fries (as good as zapp's crisps are they do not compete). you will not complain. nor will your wallet with 6.95 plus tax and tip gone. as a disclaimer, i've not been to new orleans cafe on 18th though informants speak very highly. oh yeah, i used to work at johnny's too. but i was in love with those po boys before i worked there. honest.

i'm majoring in palenatology. and after youve recovered from laughing, a palenadrome (that will adorn the side of the official nascar, sponsored by the good folks at palena): sidecar - race 'dis.

if french isn't too ethnic (isnt it perplexing that ethnic food always seems to refer to certain places yet all food is, in some manner, ethnic in a way. its always confused me) i would recommend bistro d'oc downtown, 10th and f, around the corner from tosca. its concrete-solid french food, with enough variety to please meat and two veg types as well as delicious odds and ends such as feet, liver and the like. and entrees dont top 20 dp's.

in the fabulousy delicious but nontableclothed, tuxedo-clad servers, intimidating sommeliers but nonetheless delicious realm, bistro d'oc on the seemingly infinite reconstructed 10th street serves up a delicious, if simple, cheese plate. as i recall, only two cheeses but intelligently selected and served at the proper temperature.

as bizarre (?) as it is (particularly the uncouth and invisible service) mixtec still serves up the best mexican in the area. its at 18th and columbia. incredibly "low brow" (though this is never indictive of quality) but very satisfying and delicious. its REAL people. there aren't salvadorans serving up food from the country they hate (i know, i work with some) but authentic "cocina mexicana".

arfarf!!! i'm playing fetch to the best seafood-centric restaurant in dc. absolutely phenonmenal, despite jean-louis palladin's passing into the great kitchen in the sky and roberton donna's apparent disinterest/washing of the hands of this particular (previously) "superchef" venture. plus: its EASY (in the fine dining context) on the wallet!!!

there was an amazing review of micheal mina's restaurant from this past week's san fran chronicle in the westin... something or other hotel. it sounds like no other restaurant, including the avant garde spaniards. three "courses" on the tasting menu but in each of those "courses" you receive six different preparations. it sounds like something completely... novel and original, e.g. foie gras six different ways, followed by geoduck clams six different ways, followed by wagyu strip loin in variegated preparations, plus amuse gueneles and bouches. the vino list would (apparently) push governor arnold in the bar bell department . i've never been (to the west coast for that matter) but it seems as though a dining concept such as this has never been attempted (in my obviously constricted twenty-two year old range, which i hasten to includes an extended year in london (oh st john!!!) with frequent eurostar trips to france). seems like a trip well worth visit, if not the monetary investment alone.

i would love to be included +1 (no not that way; its the mother...) depending on the weekend of course...

i think this may have done it but bear with me if it doesnt work: http://forums.egullet.org/index.php?showto...1&st=&p=entry the old cheese thread that is.

a lactic beacon indeed. it will blind you and your ilk. and a lovely bouquet, sorry glass, of flowers (from... napa perhaps..) at the bar at nectar with their cheese would be akin to vision-impairing fireworks. i was in your boat for a while until i turned to these fabulous folks for cheese advice and now look at me: suggestions! that thread still lurks around here somewhere iam sure... if i had not techfear but techjoy i would gladly put the link up but alas, alack, tis not the case.

not a question, merely a sincere congratulations on a phenomenal restaurant alongside the aforementioned superlative wine list. both are exceptional. cheers for running a great place froggy

i've long considered this curious aspect of our particular forum: some places certainly see more comment on this site than others (some have none) and there is nothing wrong with that at all (for they are delicious); people comment here on where they have been (well duh froggie). but we must be going to other places too, of this i am sure. its just for whatever reason, we dont think and write about them. of this, i will be the first to admit to being guilty as charged; i have my haunts as does everyone else. ive been reluctant to posting such a comment because well... i cant really comment on other places as many circumstances, the most notable being of a pecuniary nature) prevent me trying places that i want go to (its fabulous not having a budget because who needs to budget something when youve nothing to budget ! oh the beauty!) case in point: i LOVE tosca. that tomato tart keeps me sane in summer (the other seasons as of yet have no coping mechanism attached to them). i've been there... thrice. perhaps four. and ive never written a thing about it on here. and i dont know why. so. not an attack or criticism of anyone or the current digital milieu in which we happily float in. merely an observation from a humble observer, eater, drinker, thinker and writer. lovably yours the regal amphibian

dc's little little miniscule non-existent litte italy can be sized down all the way to: litteri's, a deli-ish/wine store with lots of pantry foods. its on morse street, northeast, by the intersection of florida, 6th and new york. and dc's finest purveyor of spanish (and portugeuse) delectables is a & h seafood (yes this is their "specialty") in bethesda on.... bethesda ave. maybe. carless and dependent on metro and my walking power has only served to increase my terrible sense of street names and places. though i can tell you how to get there from timbuktu (its outside of chevy chase).

true true. but does porky come with hanger steak? or is he confined to the species regrettebly for us, fortunately for them, that do not have this fabulous fibrous tender and delicious cut?

eggactly. every dish has a myriad of bits and bobs and they sadly do not add up to the sum of their considerable parts.

Veal cheeks and grits. Order early and often. this *&%^%$&%*&%*&^ has beat me to the punch. but an order of those gelatinous gems (now are gems gelatinous...? probably not... unless they were hot) will surely be something to celebrate next year on your anniversary; goodbye wedding celebration - hello veal cheeks.

as mother's 50th came and went, i was my usual tardy and disorganized-self. i offered lunch at her choice: kinkead's, around the corner from her office and a place where we both know the lunch bartender very well (and no it is not dad. nice try though, you may have a future.) and it was... good. not fabulous, certainly not atrocious but pleasant. the menu perplexes me. it really does. it appears as though it has designed around the concept of "well here's my protein, no what kind of an ethnic mood am i in today? well, i just watched il postino, how about italian? lets see... tuna milanaise! some spinach, prosciutto, pine nuts, currants and salsa verde. done." to my own personal taste, there seemed to be a glaring lack of creativity or innovation. which is ( and i mark my words having read that l'auberge thread) NOT A BAD THING. there's nothing wrong with tradition: i'm from maryland- crabs are not to smothered with cardamom foam, accentuated with cuttlefish ink 'jus' on top of a greentea ice cream puree with crystalized baby carrots. crabs are eaten by the bushel full with beer outside on a picnic table in summer. i personally enjoy a balance of the two, a precarious balance but a balance nontheless. which is not to say it wasnt good. it was very good, the bites i had of it. i tried, for the first time, kingfish. knowing it was in the mackerel (i.e. the brash brazen, swagger down your gullet whether you like it or not cos i'm a FISH) family, i expected to a palate-pulverizing experince. for better or worse, this was not it. then again, maybe i just dont like kingfish. i will tell you what i do like though: fried lemons. even better with fried clams. fried parlsey? oh yes please. and our affable bartender george informed us that 1130 arrivals are greeted with their tremendous own-made soda bread still tingling from the oven; this is temptation. as are herbs in desserts. what is it about the savory world that has confined herbs in durance, locked away only to be released (in bondage still) for the likes of pesto, vinaigrettes and salsa verde? i for one would liek to call on all of you out there to lead an assault on savories unfair and unchecked restraining of herbs deliriously heady aroma and flavor. lemon verbena ice cream (which smells like what? come on, some one has read faulkner i know...) has escaped, as has peach-lavender. come on, onward soldiers! i drank away the afernoon with a cabernet sauvignon rose, 1+1=3 from spain and wanted to traverse the pyrenees to indulge a sweet tooth with a glass of jurancon but sadly, they were out. i jetted back across the pond for my induction to virginia's sweet wines, a "v d'or". amber gold i say. and i stumbled out of kinkead's into an overcast tuesday. what is it about being intoxicated when people are walking out of work and onto the metro at 4 in the afternoon that feels so... liberating and, dare i say it, smug? hence, the draws of happy hours i suppose.

for always intriguing if not entirely successful, food for thought (inside of the black cat on 14th by t) serves vegan, vegetarian and a couple dishes worth ruminating upon the ruminants that ended up in it, till half hour before last call i believe. i remember having vegan nachos with a vegan exgirlfriend and, damndest thing, tahini dressing melts like cheese; thankfully, it doesnt hold a candle to a ripe and gooey epoisses. tangent aside, it is better than the standard grease-factory fare that caters to refueling inebriated souls out late. and we all suffer.

very shortly there will be a new falafel shop on 18th, right next to the (sigh...) now-defunct dccd. i hear they will be open till 4am...

twisted and tasteless, high degree of potential offensiveness - my kind of humor. you have put a smile on my face.

such advice need not be confined to the dining realm, me thinks...

these two destinations wouldnt happen to be around the corner from my new funeral parlor would they? coughlan's - putting the 'fun' back in funeral !