iamthestretch

Not a bad write-up, though I don't know about the bit about talking his way into Roberto Donna's back door.

Lunch and brunch service both start on Nov. 9, according to their Web site. The fries are good, but I've heard some bitching that they won't give you ketchup even if you ask. Try the mayo, people! When in Flanders...

In DC? Good luck! I'm going to stay home and ponder another burning question. Edited to add: On advice below -- Possibly not suitable for work. Contains Flash animation, cute frustrated rabbits and Australian music.

i thought they cooked all burgers to well-done? ← I don't think so. It's two thin patties, rather than one thick one, so the soft center is less apparent. But at well done they'd be shoe leather. Plus they have the obligatory "consuming undercooked food products may increase your risk of foodborne illness" sign on the register, so they're probably stopping well short of 160 degrees, thank God.

Five Guys came up today in another thread and fulminating on the topic made me want to eat there for the first time in a while. I hit the new one on H St. across the block from Matchbox at the height of the lunch rush, with the line filling most of the store, but got my food in about 10 minutes and found a spot by the window to ponder the results. Cheeseburger with fried onions and ketchup, $4.39 -- This was a good burger. Juicy without being greasy, cooked medium rare, meaty meat, cheesy cheese and sweet, sweet onions. (OK. I'll never be Tom Sietsema.) Medium fries, regular, $1.89 -- These were noticeably once potatoes, which is more than can be said for most fast food fries. They're irregular (because they're hand cut?) and were obviously just out of the fryer. They tasted pleasantly like potatoes, again not a given, and the peanut oil they were cooked in. Only one dunk, I think, so not as crisp as the best kind, but cooked through all the same. Verdict. I still like Five Guys a lot. I like it that the young owner of this new franchised store has put his name up on a big brass plaque by the door. I like it that he is back there in the kitchen sweating bullets over the grill. I like it that the customers' post-it notes on the bulletin boards say: "So long, Fuddruckers, you'll never see me again!" Maybe Five Guys really can become 100 Guys and still retain some soul?

jongchen's example is interesting, because Five Guys is right now at the point at which many good concepts go off the road. After expanding slowly in the DC area, opening just four outlets over the course of two decades staffed by the titular bunch of brothers who started it all, they recently decided to go regional and are franchising as fast as they can through Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, North Carolina and Delaware. Word is that more than 100 new locations are planned. The big question, of course, is will the burgers stay good? There's been some rumblings already about quality slipping as the focus widens, but personally I haven't noticed it. Then again, I mostly eat at the original locations anyway. You do have to give Five Guys credit for 10 big stones though; their first store was right between a McDonalds and a Wendys and they recently opened up a new one directly across the street from the Mickey D's at Howard University, which someone told me was one of the highest-grossing in the country.

Sounds like you'll fit in just fine at medical school, Mr. Solomon. I remember fondly from my own university days how the medical faculty always seemed to be the locus of the most intense debauchery on offer on campus, though even then I sometimes wondered why exactly. No doubt the constant daily reminders of debilitation, suffering and mortality -- which most of the rest of us are able to simply choose to avoid contemplating -- have something to do with it, as do the medieval working conditions young doctors labor under. But that still doesn't fully account for the dedication many of them applied to dissipation. I remember fondly one future eminent specialist who insisted on splitting a bottle of gin before collegiate doubles matches on the grounds that it improved his tennis game far more than it degraded mine. And he was right. Of course, this was in another time, and another part of the world, with somewhat less strict doctrinal standards for purity of body and soul. Still, it is my understanding that the right to drink the odd beer with, or for, breakfast does not formally expire until the cessation of graduate study, joining in holy matrimony, or birth of first child. Whichever comes first.

How did it go? Did you beat Oprah?

I think they just left out the "beers in bottles" subhead. Apart from the five I mentioned, all the rest are in glass. (Edited to add: Mark, as far as I know, Flemings don't speak Flemish any more than Americans speak American. As with U.S. versus British English, usage and intonation are different, but the language is the same. Some unkind foreigners have noted, though, that given all the back-of-the-throat "ghghgh" sounds it contains, the language might be best called Phlegmish )

Sorry guys, it's only 5 beers on draft right now: Stella, Hoegaarden, Leffe Blonde, Leffe Brune and a rotating "draft of the month" -- which right now is the aptly named Delirium Tremens, clocking in at 11 percent ABV. I tried the two Leffes and the DT last night and all seemed to be in proper shape. There is also much, much more to choose from on the bottled side, with a decent number of those bad boys available in big 750 ml bottles for your quaffing pleasure. Prices are about average for Belgian imports. That is to say, fairly stiff. As far as the restaurant goes, they are having anything but a soft opening. The joint wasn't just jumping, it was slammed, with every seat filled, three deep at the bar and people waiting outside on the street. The hostess said they've been booked out every night so far -- who says Capitol Hill can't support decent places? Given the heavy load, the kitchen looked to be coping pretty well. The meal took a while, but the beer refills were prompt and the people watching was excellent, so that wasn't any great burden. And the food was good. I recommend the endive salad, served with apples, oranges, blue cheese and cubes of fruit gelatin and the Vlaamse Reus (Flemish Giant) -- a particular breed of rabbit that is stewed in red ale for your delectation. If that sounds good to you, it's probably best not to look at this picture. The "real Belgian fries" were also good, though I can't speak to their true provenance. Most of the other patrons were eating these in conjunction with huge, steaming bowls of mussels, which I suspect will be the major initial draw. But there's a lot of variety to the menu and I suspect that venturing outside of the old standards may yield the biggest rewards. Prices slightly belie the "cafe" description, with entrees closer to $20 than to $15, but I guess that's in line with other local spots calling themselves "bistro(t)s" and certainly not out of line for a serious restaurant, which Belga Cafe clearly intends to be. I suspect the Hill dwellers will embrace it as happily as they have Montmartre, though Bart Vandaele may be asking his clientele to accept rather more novelty, not to mention the delights of trying out their Dutch when ordering. How are your glottal stops, people?

And it's just the forum for our man: "Razor Magazine is brashly confident and smoothly self-assured, and is edited for those who like to go faster, farther and higher, Razor is for men who live their lives in the extreme. Whether it's technology, sports, fashion, health, culture or celebrity profiles, Razor shreds through the artifice to hone in on what's different, alternative or (sic) the shock of the new." Smoothly self assured. Check. Lives life in extreme. Check. Shreds through artifice. Check. Notice it doesn't say anything about food? Probably falls under "celebrity profile" then.

So, how was your luncheon? ← Saucy. They slipped us some tongue.

Welcome, Kanishka. Belga is open, though currently only for dinner. And the beer taps are very much on, I'm happy to say. We are going to try to get down there for dinner tonight and will report back afterward.

Heard a rumor that Romain Renard is moving to Maestro from Le Paradou. Anyone know if that's true? I thought Sr. Trabocchi made all his own desserts, but maybe even a maestro gets tired of doing everything at once.

Busboy, you must have stout shoes and good lungs. Mayflower-Tosca would be a fairly epic trek. Mayflower-Firefly-Tabard-Mayflower is the way to go, though the last leg of the round-trip may be a little wobbly if you do it right.

The Town and Country bar does make a mean gimlet. Since you're celebrating, why not have a few of those and then float up to Firefly? That's walkable, unless you're in 4-inch heels.

A great eye, lidless, wreathed in flame? Must be a bugger maintaining his anonymity, in that case. You know of what I speak...

All this pho talk has roused the editor in me. And he wants to know less about how it tastes than how it is pronounced. Googling "pho pronounced" yields five different opinions in the first five hits. To whit: -- "...Vietnamese pho (pronounced fuh)..." -- "...pho, pronounced fa..." -- "Essentially, Pho (pronounced foo) is a substantial soup..." (Eds: Foo? WTF?) -- "...homespun Vietnamese beef noodle soup known as pho (pronounced "pha")..." -- "..Wat Pho. (Pronounced 'What Poe')..." I would guess most people say "foe," though that's not even mentioned. Which, then, is the correct pho-neme? (Woohoo! I rule! Pho pun so fun. ) Edited to add: The plot thickens. "Pho pronounces like 'phir' in English."

We never discuss sources and methods, Joe, you know that. Actually, there's a banner hanging from the balcony up there. Says: "Opening fall. Pho Hiep Hoa."

I certainly agree on the first count: we are lucky to have such an energetic, enthusiastic and, above all, unstuffy, critic working for our paper of record. And I think you've put your finger on what has made his live chats special, the effort he makes to bridge the gap between the local restaurant community's producers and consumers. But in some cases, the mediation analogy simply fails and what we get is a trial in the court of public opinion. A trial in which one party is not even required to appear in person, but is free to introduce what may be quite harmful allegations without the burden of producing any supporting evidence whatsoever. Unless Tom wants to play the judge, and I'm sure he doesn't, these sorts of cases would be better settled out in the hallways, as it were.

I think it was called Thanh's, wasn't it? We liked it too and used to quietly fret that it wouldn't make it as we sat almost alone in the place on Saturday nights being fussed over by the entire wait staff. One day we pulled up in front on a lemongrass chicken mission and our fears had come true. It's now a Latino place that I haven't had the heart to try. That's it. I'm no phonnoisseur, but I thought it was pretty good. It's the classic setup. Formica tables, neon lights, bubbling cauldrons in the back, 31 different kinds of tripe. There's a place by the same name opening up in the new Silver Spring development above the Austin Grill, but I don't know if there's any affiliation. Hope so.

More generally, does anyone else feel that Tom's chat is steadily becoming more of a forum for airing diners' grievances (both real and imagined) than the interactive advice column that it used to be? It seems the Post's chronically dyspeptic readership has discovered they need not confine their bile to the reader reviews section of its Web site, but can now vent their spleen in real time too. So every other "report back" now ends in some variant of: "I wouldn't go back to Restaurant X if the world was drowning in piss and they were located at the top of the only remaining tree. Yah boo sucks with knobs on!" Clearly the industry folks around here have noticed, judging by how fast the smart ones personally jump in to extend an olive branch and the, um, less facile ones get on the phone and shout at their PR until a snippy little note materializes on their behalf. It's certainly not Tom's fault that he practices his trade in a city that cultivates self-important pricks like wet logs grow mushrooms -- and he probably prints a certain amount of the wingnuttery just for the humor value. But I think he puts himself in a tough spot when he allows ad hominem attacks like the bathroom dispute at Bistro D'Oc, because what's to stop anyone writing in and kicking it up a notch by stating: "I had an interaction with the owner/maitre d'/bartender at X/Y/Z that led me to believe he/she/it is a racist/sexist/homophobe/Ali G fan." Unless you're actually going to check out these sort of complaints and establish the truth of the matter (if you can), it's not much of a consolation to offer right of reply the next week. As in this case, plenty of people will simply discount any explanation offered as damage control and continue telling their friends to add X or Y or Z to the above piss/tree category. And I'm not just saying that because I like Bistro D'Oc a lot, and know the gentleman in question, and have found him unfailingly courteous and genuinely friendly, and don't for a minute believe he'd be that rude to anyone who hadn't thoroughly earned it. No siree.

Was An Loi the pho shop across University Blvd. from Dusit and Matamoros? If so, grrrrr, that was a good spot. If not, there is still somewhere to get pho in Wheaton, hooray!

For sure. You should plan ta ingest some right away. Sounds like everybody is also in the oxtail taco know by now. Still, I'd like to put in some words for the grilled onions, which are good and smoky-sweet and topped with an almond mole that will leave you wanting more. OK?

How about Belga Cafe's witloofsoep. Belgian endive and cream of curry soup. I've not had their version yet, but from time spent in the low countries I can testify the dish itself is a great winter warmer. (Kudos to Bart "Dreamy" Vandaele for doing his menu in his own language. How much am I looking forward to listening to y'all trying to order up a light lunch of garnaalkroketten and knoflookwafeltjies. )