iamthestretch

Is this normal: I was over at my favorite beer connection in DC this evening picking up some Brooklyn Lager and Shelter Pale Ale and a guy walks in and asks for a case of Heineken, cold. They fish it out of the cooler and ring it up: "$28 please." He balks and points to the clipping of their weekly WashPost column ad taped to the counter that has Heinies at $20 a case. "That's for warm," he's told. "What do you think pays for the refrigeration?" Granted, it's 100 degrees in DC right now and we're sweating under Orange Alert and all, but this is a new one to me. Anyone else been surcharged for dipping into the cooler rather than shopping off the shelves?

All right. I guess everybody else was off at Ray's last night, although, looking at Opentable, a lot of restaurants were booked solid for the final night of Restaurant Week so there must be some other reports still forthcoming. As it happened, my curry-craving, pregnant partner and I got dressed up and headed downtown for dinner at The Bombay Club. Their RW dinner menu was extensive, with 5 or 6 choices from the usual menu for each course and kulcha, naan and rice thrown in. I'm no expert on Indian food, but thought the meal was a cut above most of the competition and probably on a par with Heritage India, our usual stop for a curry fix. We ended up getting the Sev Puri, sort of puffed wheat crackers stuffed with curds and topped with chickpea balls, chutneys and fine, crispy fried noodles, and a spicy vegetable samosa. That was followed by a good chicken tikka -- with big, juicy chunks of chicken in a tangy sauce packing plenty of afterburn -- and perfectly cooked tandoori salmon marinated in yoghurt and herbs. For dessert, we had the rice kheer, a liquid rice pudding with raisins and nuts that I found a little bland, and the gulab jamun, two soft dumplings saturated with a honeyed syrup. Mmm. Apart from good food, The Bombay Club also has its civilized atmosphere to recommend it. They ask gents to wear jackets, and most apparently do, but aren't stuffy enough to make a point of it. The old-school waiters were also very nice to two tables near us with well-behaved young children and the pianist kept his repertoire of standards down to a discreet background level. If my old Dad, who spent a mercifully uneventful WWII in India waiting for a Japanese invasion that never came and trying to teach Pathan tribesmen to play rugby, were around to enjoy it, I'm sure it would rather remind him of the officers' mess back at HQ. Jolly good, what?

Welcome, Chef, and many thanks from one of your nearby neighbors for choosing to set up where you did. I'm curious -- since I think I read somewhere that your place was only the second sit-down restaurant to open in Ward 4 in over two decades -- what your thoughts are on the realities of running a food business in an underserved area versus the usual downtown and suburban hotspots. I presume that a little-known location can=lower cost base=more freedom, but can also=more risk of never finding a clientele. Do you have an idea of how much of your business is based in the neighborhood versus 'destination' business drawn in from elsewhere by your good reviews and word of mouth? And, with the Tivoli redevelopment in Columbia Heights and the ongoing Georgia Avenue Partnership efforts, do you think there's room for a few more good independent restaurants on our side of the park? I sure hope so. PS: What's all the digging next door to your place about? Is that Dasto-related?

Lots of praise here already for Yanyu, but I'd add that their RW lunch is a winner, too. Today we had the Firefly Calamari, crisp and spicy and served with a honeyed dipping sauce, and a succulent crab wonton, followed up by the compulsory second course of a novel cold duck salad with melon, carrot, pickle, seaweed, peanuts, chili oil and more. Entrees were a lobster pad thai with plenty of the good stuff and an Asian seafood curry stuffed with scallops, crab claws, fat shrimp and two of the biggest mussels I've ever seen. (4-inch green and black tigerstripe shells. Presume an Asian variety?) Both main courses could easily have fed both of us on their own, and there were a lot of people leaving the scene with doggie bags. Their airy front room was packed, and the upstairs section was steadily filling up as we left around 1:30 p.m. A super value this week and worth the trip to the uptight side of the park any other time. (Little 16th St. Heights joke. We're digging in around Dasto, you Woodley wussies. Come and get it.)

Lunch today at Signatures and I agree with BBQformeanytime, it's good. For one thing, apart from the decent Restaurant Week menu, every Friday lunch is half off all bottles of wine on the list* -- and you can't beat that with a stick. We got a nice 2002 Mulderbosch Chardonnay at $23.50, which is pretty close to retail. For vittles, we had the warm goat cheese tart and duck spring roll, followed by the seared salmon and pan fried rigatoni and rounded off with a creme brulee and a rich mascarpone and fig cake. The cooking was assured and the service was friendly. A lot of the other patrons were eating some pretty good looking sushi from the separate sushi bar and, while I can't speak to the quality, I can pass on that that is also half off on Tuesdays if you are anywhere near Navy Memorial and need a fish fix. Now, about that $123 all you can eat tasting menu... *Edited to add: I'm not actually sure about the $2,200 Petrus.

Ahh. Back in the ample bosom of the main thread. Reunited ... and it feels so good. The seven lunch schema fell apart yesterday, anyway, for the usual reason most solemn commitments go South -- a better offer came along. To whit, dinner on the sunken patio at Melrose. It was a beautiful evening and the two of us got to sit next to the fountain, which drowns out the noise of M St. so well it's easy to feel you're miles away from the city. Melrose is one of DC's most grown-up restaurants. Not in the same sense as the Prime Rib, which comes off as a gilded Big Hunt for the over-55 set, but in the calm competence and decorum that prevails from the smooth, smiling host, to the old school bar, to the gliding -- but not hovering -- service. All of this sets the stage nicely for Brian McBride's cooking, which is just as polished, focused and restrained. It's not cheap, usually, with some entrees pushing up toward the $40 threshold, but his Restaurant Week menu is an absolute steal and if you can still get there, you'd be nuts to pass it up. (One word of caution, they're not doing the RW menu tomorrow night. Don't know if that means they'll extend for a day into next week.) At any rate, we had the chilled cherry soup with cinnamon meringue and shallot kumquat marmalade (a rare bit of whimsy here) and the sauteed summer mushrooms with syrah and veal juice reduction over creamy garlic polenta, which was be-still-my-bleating-tastebuds good. The third appetiser choice is warm goat cheese wrapped in zucchini with herbs, greens and green onion vinaigrette. For entrees, I had the slow braised beef cheeks with baby turnips and braised summer cabbage, my companion got the shrimp ravioli with sweet corn, pepper and tomato in lemon grass beurre blanc. Both were of a size, and quality, that I would have felt they were good value even at the regular menu prices. For veggies, there is also a roulade of vegetables, silky tofu and asian herbs in a hot and sour broth. Desserts were a summer berry pudding with sweet vanilla cream, served in a margarita glass frosted with sugar icicles and garnished with a dark chocolate "straw", and frozen chocolate "tiramisu" cake and expresso ice cream. The other choice is frozen amaretto parfait with apricot sauce and pistachio biscotti. The bill, then, for some of the best food I've eaten in a long while, a romantic outdoor setting, two cocktails, two big glasses of good cabernet and valet parking -- $105 before tip. Again, steal. Run, don't walk.

Yeah. Gold Corner Market. He has signed photo of Dubya to ward off all evil. Probably off topic, but since we're talking about 'hoods and changing perceptions, it's worth mentioning that there was a house for sale two blocks from Colorado Kitchen last weekend for $800,000. Not a huge one, neither. There's also a newly-fitted-out shopfront down the way on 14th opposite the bus depot with a big sign saying "Perfect for Juice Bar or Family Restaurant." Maybe they'll put in a "Janky Juice."

I really don't get all the thinly-veiled hostility to Gillian Clark and all her earthly works. Is her crime in opening a good restaurant in an area outside of the approved hipster foodie zone? Is it in insisting on running her place her way? Is it in having some fun with stereotypes about black women in the kitchen? Come on, folks, Aunt Jemimah pepperpots and feeble wordplay are a slender basis for the prosecution of thoughtcrimes.

Sorry about confusing the RW threads, everybody. I dunno, Rocks, do you want to amalgamate this with the main one? I’m easy either way. (Though I don’t actually go either way. Although I actually am easy. OK, that’s more than enough about me.) Lunch today was at Poste, which may be Comfort-less these days, but is certainly not cheerless. It’s an odd layout, but that’s not really their fault as the Hotel Monaco they’re in took over the old Tariff Building and it’s pretty hard to move walls that are 4 feet thick and made of solid stone. I sat in the back room and rather regretted it, both because I would have liked to watch the open kitchen work and because the aircon is set to stun back there. The airy main room is warmer, in all senses of the word, and, in another peculiarity of the forced design choices Kimpton had to make, you can watch the grill smoke curl out the front door into the reception area and convince guests they probably do want to eat lunch after checking in. Service was very good -- smooth and correct without being at all fussy – and the Restaurant Week selections from the usual menu are quite generous. For starters, you can get the New Zealand mussel salad with hijiki, toasted sesame seeds and red chili, the arugula salad with basil, mint, figs, parmesan and sherry vinaigrette, or the tomato gazpacho with crab, cucumber and avocado – which I went for. It’s probably closer to a bisque, really, smooth, rich and pleasantly spicy and poured separately from a jug over three little nuggets of the other ingredients on your soup plate. Entrees are all from the main course section of the usual lunch menu, which is admirable from a bean counting point of view. I wouldn’t have minded, personally, if they’d sneaked their excellent steak/provolone sandwich on. Anyway, there’s a crispy SS crab with tuna tartare and avocado coulis (usually $18 on its own), a summer veg risotto with pea shoots, morels and zucchini and my pick, a hangar steak salad with roasted tomatoes, grilled onions, fresh anchovies and blue cheese/cognac dressing. Good, although the dominant element is still iceberg lettuce. Desserts are anything you like off the normal menu, usually $7. There’s watermelon soup with frozen yoghurt parfait, lime tart with chantilly cream, chocolate 3 ways, poached nectarine with late harvest granite, vanilla bean crème brulee and a cheese plate, made up of three very generous helpings of triple-cream brie, a green-veined bleu (does that compute?) and a semi-soft white sheeps cheese I couldn’t place. Served with the decent house bread and salted butter. Overall, a very good value, particularly if one were to order the mussels and the crab. I had a couple of glasses of the Graham Beck Pinno, at $6, a cheap, uncomplicated South African wine that is popping up in some interesting places (like Nectar, say). Interesting story, though a digression: after the Apartheid system collapsed under the weight of its own contradictions, the SA wine industry were sure they were going to take the world by storm with the local favorite varietal Pinotage, a cross of Pinot Noir and the less-known Cinsault grape. But alas, international palates were less than thrilled by the prevailing nose of cabbage and taste, bluntly, of feet, and fashion and plantings moved on to more successful dalliances with Shiraz and Bordeaux blends. Luckily, some smart guys like former coal tycoon Graham Beck and his cellar masters Pete “Bubbles” Ferreira and “Chunky” Charles Hopkins figured out you could make really pleasant quaffing wine, and get rid of the ‘vegetal’ character, from all those unfashionable grapes if you weeded out the green tannins, which they did. Bottom line, $10 in your local wine store, $22 at Poste, a decent drink and a bonus (honestly) bouquet of bananas. Booyah! Edited to add: "cross" (hybrid?) not "blend". Mr. Slipp is right of course.

Sorry Ana, didn't check back in in time to answer that. Hope it was good. Anyway, in contrast to the laid-back West Coast atmosphere at Mendocino on Monday, Butterfield 9 looked about to melt down at 1:30 p.m. on Tuesday, with every table in their big, beige 14th St. dining room taken and a knot of reservation-waving RWers besieging the hostess station. To their credit, they dealt with the backlog quickly and politely and it was only a few minutes before me and my mate Big Media Al were seated in an alcove off to the side of the ground floor. Their Restaurant Week menu is short but sweet and, as a bonus, will apparently be on offer for an extra week for those who can't make it before the official event runs its course. In general, I'd recommend it; our six courses yielded two that were excellent, two that were good and two that were OK -- not a bad hit rate for a kitchen cranking that hard and definitely good value for your $20.04. Best by far were the great house-made ravioli of the day (eggplant that day) and the Mexican chocolate souffle cake, doused with a thick sherry cream. The lamb kabobs were nicely cooked, if slightly plain, and the watermelon sorbet was exactly what you would expect. The rice paper duck roll had a nice crunch, but could have used a bit more duck and a sauce less reminiscent, in consistency, of takeout sweet-and-sour pork. The rockfish, again, was well done and well presented but to my taste would be better off without its pea-soupy accompaniment. Service was very smooth, with our waiter dealing deftly with us and the neighboring 10-top that came in at the same time. Another bonus, Butterfield 9 has an attractive bar tucked away off to one side at the front of the restaurant and has just picked up one of DC's coolest bartenders, Shaven-Headed Scott from CP Steak, a mean mixer and Simpsons mimic so skilled that the show's voice cast should think seriously before they strike for more pay next time. Hey, it's one more alternative to the Old Ebbitt crush if you work in the neighborhood...

If I had to bet my own money on somebody else being entirely pleased with a meal, I'd send them to Maestro. I think you'll be lucky to get in, though, if it's this Saturday you're planning for. Nectar would also be a fine choice provided you are more interested in good food and suave service than in swank decor.

Having, currently, both the inclination and the time and being, generally, as cheap as a Dutch Scotsman (No offence. No offence.) – it occurred to me while reading the main Restaurant Week thread that eating seven lunches this week could be both fun, though fattening, and a chance to whittle down the personal "restaurants to visit" list to a more manageable length in a fiscally responsible manner. "The More You Eat, The More You Save" -- wasn't that a Tears For Fears tune? First out of the hat today was Mendocino Grille and Wine Bar, a cool, spare place on M St. in Georgetown which raises a question about New American restaurants that, as a foreigner, I’ve always wanted to ask: “What’s with the extra ‘e’?” Anyway, they're participating enthusiastically; the waitress reminded me RW was on and was happy to expound on the concept to the Justice Department lawyers who came in a bit later on. The special menu appeared to be largely soups, salads and sandwiches, albeit quite imaginative ones, and, from a purely quantitative viewpoint, my guess is that you’re probably saving somewhere North of $5 this week. From a personal point of view, is it worth the trip? Absolutely. The highlight for me was probably the gazpacho, served with basil oil and a thin, crisp pita called lavash. Very sweet-tart, very refreshing. The Virginia Kobe hamburger was perfectly cross-hatched, and intensely beefy, though a bit past my own definition of medium. The nice, gooey cobbler made good use of the great peaches around now and of some interesting cinnamon-maple ice cream. Some other things that looked good: Thai snapper club with basil aioli on sourdough; house-smoked chicken breast with apple chutney and brie on honey-wheat; a DLT, with duck bacon; a vanilla-buttermilk cheesecake. Wine is obviously also a big part of the concept, though that’s hard to do justice at lunch and while theoretically assuming a defensive financial position. But a friend, uh, yeah a friend, told me the Diamondback cabernet is pretty good and, as a sense-of-place bonus, it is made in Southern Mendocino itself. (PS: After writing this, see on the main thread that Mendocino actually is offering its full card for RW, so please take comments about scope of the menu as just my 2,004 cents. Musta mista memo.)

Jenny's nailed it. Atlantico for fancy, Habana for funky. Invest in a couple on your next date and you're in like Flynn. Much beyond that, beware, unless you fancy holding someone's hair back for the rest of the evening.

That's an interesting take, and it feels about right. My local place happens to be Colorado Kitchen, which makes an interesting test case. The food really does deliver, but the good vibrations are often in conspicuously short supply. Still, it's inarguably a real neighborhood restaurant -- in that it has been embraced by that neighborhood's residents and provides a real service to them -- and not only because it's, um, the only one we have.

Their nuts are harmless. But, whatever you do, stay away from the Duck Butter.

Pleasant dinner at Komi last night. The initial crush has subsided a bit and the atmosphere was mellow when we sat down at 7:30, followed by a steady flow through the doors that kept the place about 4/5ths full until we wobbled out some time after 10:30. Interesting, mixed 17th St. crowd and everyone looked pretty happy -- although the dressed-for-later club kid with the sheer Grecian blouse and no underpinnings did look a bit flustered after she turned most of the unshaved male heads with her teeter (eds: ahaha) across the room. I thought the cooking was noticeably improved from the restaurant's early days, with only one misfire coming to our table of four: a very bland pork tenderloin that wasn't improved by a rather gritty black tea crust. Other dishes ranged from good to excellent -- with distinctions going to the salmon pastrami (just added to the menu, our server said) and the tiny, juicy cuttlefish served with a massive, stuffed and perfectly fried squash blossom. They do a good cheese course, too, and were pleasant enough to assemble a custom spread (requirement=all pasteurized) for the pregnant member of the party. Those of us who can still drink drank the L'Crocodile Viognier and quite a lot of a Monastrell-based dessert wine. The homemade cinnamon suckers are on sabbatical, replaced for now by frozen, salted watermelon pops. Service was prompt and solicitous, though the reverent recital of the dishes as they reach the table remains a bit too precious for my taste. In general, we left saying: "We should come here more often."

As long as this guy doesn't get to come... "You will pay for your bloody crimes against my kind, Landrum. I am ... The Meatqualizer!"

Questions of restaurant metaphysics aside, Eve remains a very, very pleasant place to have lunch at the bar on a day off. You can sample most of the Bistro menu in a leisurely atmosphere far removed from the post-Sietsema dinner scrum. You can get to know Mike, an efficient and affable host who pours generously from an interesting by-the-glass wine list and has been known to rescue stray dogs in his spare time. And you can dine and drink extremely well: starting with an Eggenberger Hopfen Konig, a clean, hoppy pilsner from Austria, moving on to the Maryland Crabcake (actually, cakes -- there are two, both small, dense and delicious) with a nicely-matched South African Chenin Blanc and winding up with the Confit of Pork Belly and a Rhone blend that I can't recall. (Any chance of getting the wine list up on the Web site? Not nagging, just asking.) With the sun peeking through the front window and colheitas winking from behind the bar, it's actually kind of hard to leave until you remember that you've been parked for 1 hour and 58 minutes and the City of Alexandria is about to balance its budget on your windscreen. Next time, Taxi!

In my own narrow sphere of interest, there's at least one really good deal among the more esoteric choices on that list: the Rust en Vrede Estate 1998. $34 would be under retail for an excellent vintage (WS 90+, Top 100, if that sort of thing appeals to you) of what is arguably South Africa's best Bordeaux blend.

Careful, last time we tried this we ended up with a new eGullet term of art.

As far as I'm concerned, Chef Clark is welcome to appoint herself Lordy Lordy Ain't She Wonderful El Generalissimo Queen Of The Wild Frontier as long as she keeps turning out meals like I had last night. Started with the tomato, mozzarella and basil gallette, moved on to the pork chop (perfectly cooked, as always, LLASWEGQOTWF has a dab hand at the stove, that's for sure) with black and blueberries and my very first encounter with hoe cakes. Where have you been all my life, you delightful hoes? All lacy-crispy-crunchy at the edges and thickening to a soft, perfectly gritty cornmealy center. Ideal for mopping up mingled pork and blackberry juice. And when I got home, I got to replay dinner in my head while sinking the Dogfish Head IPA that would have made it all perfect. Did you know that Birch Beer actually isn't beer at all? Psych!

It is a little hard to find, as it's tucked away down a sort of side passage between the Whole Foods and the new mega movie theater. Best option is park in WF lot and, looking toward the store, head to the right past Strosniders hardware and follow the walkway around the corner. On your left will be Adega. Buy a nice German riesling while you're there and drink it, cold, in your back yard on an evening such as this. This will lead to happy thoughts.

Just got back from a quick corporate junket to Charlottesville courtesy of the primary breadwinner's highly-reputable professional services outfit. They were good enough to put us up at the Boar's Head, whose lodgings I can thoroughly recommend although our dinner options there were limited to the usual anodyne large-group banqueting fare. Since it was not I, thankfully, who was being "professionally developed," I did sneak out for lunch in town on Friday, towing a hangover of acid trip proportions resulting from an introduction, effected by some former Wahoos in attendance, to the local custom of mixing good bourbon with ginger ale. Anyway, I managed to dodge the dreads-and-dog-on-a-piece-of-string crusties panhandling at one end of the downtown Mall and the Wankstas practicing their scowls at the other to find out a few things that may be of interest. First, the New Dominion bookstore should be the template for all good bookstores anywhere -- piled to the roof with books in no great order and staffed by nice ladies who'll tell you the one you wanted wasn't much good anyway and here, read the latest Martin Amis instead. Second, OXO is open for lunch, from 11:30 Tuesday-Friday according to their door, except that they weren't when I turned up at 12:00. That was a pity because just reading about the steak and stilton sandwich special on the posted menu made me drool on the doormat. Thirdly, Bizou is an good substitute. I had a nicely seasoned tomato, corn and basil soup and a tasty steak salad with blue cheese, walnuts and a balsamic vinaigrette. It also has a pleasantly informal diner feel, they happily let me take up a whole booth on my own and the waitress called me "honey" despite being somewhat younger than me and a fair distance out of my league. I can also recommend the local alt-weekly paper (C-ville?) which had an extensive food section and appeared to stay well on top of the scene there. Two items of interest: Metropolitan, referenced above as one of the town's best, is closing down at the end of the month as the owners (who also run Bizou) couldn't make a go of it. And, for gastro-tourists, there's apparently now a pretty decent South African restaurant in the Vinegar Hill shopping center with an interesting wine and beer list including Castle, Windhoek, Tusker etc. It's called the Shebeen, slang for a backyard drinking den, and while I didn't make it out there this time, the recipe in the paper for for their lentils sauteed in brandy and red wine looked interesting enough. Other than that, the Tavern still rules. Also, if you've never been to Monticello, as I hadn't, go.

I've taken to checking out the attendance at Adega when I'm up in SS, and they seem to be doing OK, certainly at lunchtime. Today, prodded by Todd Kliman's recent comment about the cabernet burgers, I inhaled one myself and can only say that it certainly wasn't too upscale for my own good. As a bonus, I read one of their back issues of Wine Enthusiast while I waited and decided what to get myself for my wife's birthday. (She gets Sunday at the spa; I figure I get Sunday to grill myself steaks, kill a bottle of Saltram No. 1 and watch the Czechs play Italy (I assume) in the Euro Championship quarter finals. Ahhhhhhh.)

On a day like today, a young man's thoughts turn to a table outside so that he can watch the passing show -- so that his thoughts can turn to, well, you know. The estimable Opentable has now added a neat list of the town's better patios, with the added bonus of letting you know which places let you specifically reserve outdoor seating. Random trivia question: Name the actor, character and movie responsible for the following apt quotes, which could, in a pinch, be used on a luncheon-crimping boss or colleague. "I'm just drinking wine and eating cheese, and catching some rays, you know? Why don't you knock it off with them negative waves? Why don't you dig how beautiful it is out here? Why don't you say something righteous and hopeful for a change?"