Taberna Del Alabardero

[Zeb A]

This will not exactly be a very illuminating post, but I thought it couldn't hurt to start a thread for this place. I couldn't find another appropriate place to make the post.

We went to dinner at Taberna Del Alabardero over the holidays while up in DC visiting my folks. Having been to Spain not too long ago, we had been waiting for a good opportunity to go to this restaurant. We didn't really make any notes, and I can only generally describe some of what we ate, but, at the least, I thought it would be worth saying that we had a very nice dinner.

The restaurant felt more formal than most places I have eaten in DC. There is a very small tapas bar where you enter. We didn't spend any time at the bar, but the food looked tasty. The bar food food was not on the menu in the dining room, but we saw people in the restaurant eating it .

The wait staff was not overly friendly. Part of that could be the language, but that's not a great excuse. However, they were very attentive.

Four of us had dinner, and we shared most things. I really can't remember everything that we ate, but, it was along the lines of duck, sweat breads (not my choice), steak (with an odd cheese sauce), seared foe gras, a not so tasty fish soup, and some other things. The desserts were outstanding! We had a souffle of some sort that was incredible, a rich chocolate something or other, etc.

There was a sizable wine list with many Spanish options, and a wide price-range.

I know that's not too helpful, but the bottom line is that we had an excellent time (even though the restaurant was more formal than we had expected) and the food was very good. We would definitely go back.

Cost was about 100 bucks a person (appetizer, entree, before dinner drink, moderate wine, dessert, and after dinner drink for each).

[Damian]

My mother-in-law celebrated a recent birthday there. They have a beautiful and cozy private room up a few steps from the main dining room. The food was good to very good, but never broke through to being excellent for me. I think I had softshells which is never a bad thing, but did not blow me away. Very interesting Spanish wines on offer. I also recall the desserts being very good, but was not excited about a mango ravioli thing, that I felt did not work. Sitting at the bar and eating bread with some jamon serrano and queso manchego with a nice Spanish wine sounds about perfect right now actually.

[Suzanne F]

I ate there in early December, on the basis of Liza's post here. My writeup of the experience is at the end of this thread. We enjoyed it a lot, even though the chef had changed, and we were there during the Zarzuela fest.

Edited January 10, 2003 by Suzanne F (log)

[frogprince]

you know those places that are always slightly mysterious, maybe a little intimidating but always retain, in one's remote regions, the true aura of a cynosure? taberna del alabardero had, up until several days ago, been one of those places. frightfully formal, tony garish ostentatious and ornate to the point of nausea, a clientele of stuffy septuagenarians puffing on cigars with their 20 year old wives on each arm.

well, i will not lie: it was all those things. i, the youngest in the room by easily 40 years (save for my slightly older brother) the brobdinagian sommelier (replete with the wine bauble dangling from his neck) confronted us, the timourous trio out for a special 50th birthday. at once gracious and helpful yet still austere and serene, he directed us to a marvellous '99 100 percent tempranillo from la mancha.

and the food. an amuse of shredded oxtail with a profoundly deep flavor with whispers of a robust red wine and a long steady mirepoix braise. a pair of crispy shallot rings nimbused the fibrous meat, a crispy golden halo to the hauntingly flavoured king of offal.

a chilled tomato "bisque" followed perfumed with the hard-to-define but incredibly complex sweet/tart/sour/spicy effluvium of pimentos de piquillo. poured tableside from a inverted champagne flute, neat piles of jamon serrano, frozen olive oil cream and bonito tuna (umbrelled with micro basil) bathed luxuriously and decandently in the creamless liquid, stained a violent shade of carmine-red.

having never had an entree sized portion of sweetbreads, ive never thought of them as the richly flavoured (i.e. luxurious in small portions, downright sybaritic), a few bites and enough, type of food. now i know. crisply sauteed (and has there ever been such a better pairing for ingredient to technique? i know of none better, maybe equals. green tomatoes & a hot fryer) and draped with golden chantrelles, the indulgence factor dramatically increased with an incredibly complicated veal demi-glace/truffle sauce, though unfortunately more on the veal side than the truffle side.

our server, surely the paragon of four star service: friendly, affable, helpful, invisible when not needed, must have spied on us for as we were perusing dessert menus, an elongated rectangular plate arrived with happy birthday painted on with chocolate. and petit fours to DIE for. olives dusted with powdered sugar. yes you heard me. and no, these are not the divina brand kalamata olives with some sugar sprinkled on top but rather a trio of olives that had been seriously pampered by an immensely talented pastry chef. carmelised walnuts, biscotti-style cookies, pea sized truffles, flawless in every respect. and on the side, a slice of sponge cake, soaked in vanilla milk injected with aniseed liqueur. dear me.

at this point, eating more was out of the question (as ive failed to mention to very generous portions size in addition to the fabulous bread basket (country white and incredible olive) with some of the fruitiest olive oil ive had (nunez de prado, que?).

a very refreshing postprandial lustau east indian solera proved to be just the right climax. slightly rich, vaguely chocolately, uncloying sweetness, i couldnt have had a better sherry.

an absolutely incredible evening. these types of dining establishments may be effete, obsolescent and antediluvian (and i can see why: one wouldnt want to be frightened to go out to dinner, either because of the prices (anyone want to feed me for a week as im reduced to sugar packets now?) or the overbearing, overlyformal atmosphere) but for a generous, luxurious, decadent, intoxicating experience with a double helping of old world dining, i couldnt think of a better place. thank you taberna

[frogprince]

as jaleo continues its fey descent into mcdonald's mediocrity (by this i refer to the corporate chain-ness of it rather than comparing it to those fine arches advertising caledonian fare), one may begin to grow slightly uneasy and begin to experience early stages of spanish cuisine withdrawal (to include: feeling sick and dirty, more dead than alive, alleviated by frequent trips to bethesda's a&h seafood market to wait for your iberian man, increasing rage at the misappropiation of the word "tapas" by restaurants featuring nouveau california by way of tanzania and siberia with a side trip to the moon, feelings of dyspeptic sadness and longing after consuming peppers not of the piquillo variety or cured jamons not of the serrano variety or paprika that manages to be neither sweet nor smoky nor spicy).

i would heartily recommend repeated doses of taberna's tapas bar should such symptoms begin to afflict you.

it is rather odd, vaguely unsettling, a sibilant midge that soon reverberates to a plangent roar, to sit down to tapas (apotheosis of bar snacks) in an establishment of such grand high ceilings and vaulted dais, such ornate art deco environs and meticulously arranged arabesques, a place such as taberna del alabardero. it seems almost disingenous to nibble and munch when, across the tiled mosaic of the floor and ecru pannelled wood and silver mirrors of the bar, there exists the main dining room with astronomical menus, a glittering panoply of cutlery and ratio of crumbers:customers at 1:1.

nevertheless, it is there and can be done. the affable good-natured bartender, whose english never seems fully under command (and i love this fact for all its implications, i.e. spaniards come (and outnumbered us) frequently) will serve you just as politely as the tuxedoed gentlemen some 30 feet and several hundred dollars away.

the food will not please those looking for the whims of a capricious chef's mind. all of it (nearly 20 tapa) relies on solely on tradition. the exception to this doesnt suffer however: chilled foie gras on a perfectly toasted crustless rectangle of brioche, in smooth rich and buttery purgatory beneath the bitter heaven of seville orange gelee and the murky mysterious depths of carmelised onion hell. the rest of the dishes we sampled all lend new credibility to the terms "classic;" calamari fritto with paprika ali-oli demonstrates why this dish (when prepared with technical mastery) has become so ubiquitous; empanadas de atun y piquillos with a smashingly good pastry crust and filled with canned tuna of such wondrous quality that people who sneer upon food in canned states should perhaps hold their tongue; homemade chorizo is simply perfection. the quality of the pork, the judicious and sure-handed seasoning, the time spent sizzling on the grill and sliced and plated intelligently but not overdone. all simply perfection. we had mussels that, now having read about them, are actually nothing like oysters bienville but, at the time, all i could think of was how much better these were than that new orleans specialty. classic tortilla espanol eggceeded my eggspectations, namely because eggs dont eggcite my tongue. and what's not to love about watching your bartender carve your jamon serrano for you off the shackled leg at the end of the bar?

there is so much to love in this restaurant, in my opinion, and my recent discovery of the tapas bar can only mean that this passionate affair will continue, groaning and fumbling and caressing and imbibing in the thoughtfully darkened corner table of the bar in taberna del alabardero.

[DonRocks]

nevertheless, it is there and can be done. the affable good-natured bartender, whose english never seems fully under command

You refer to Manolo, and he is one of the best, most conscientious bartenders in all of Washington.

Mo from Cafe 701 is another bartender that seems to have born into the profession.

There are many others that I could think of (and am thinking of), but these two are old-school in the absolute best sense of the term.

Cheers,

Rocks.

[Joe H]

as jaleo continues its fey descent into mcdonald's mediocrity (by this i refer to the corporate chain-ness of it rather than comparing it to those fine arches advertising caledonian fare), one may begin to grow slightly uneasy and begin to experience early stages of spanish cuisine withdrawal (to include: feeling sick and dirty, more dead than alive, alleviated by frequent trips to bethesda's a&h seafood market to wait for your iberian man, increasing rage at the misappropiation of the word "tapas" by restaurants featuring nouveau california by way of tanzania and siberia with a side trip to the moon, feelings of dyspeptic sadness and longing after consuming peppers not of the piquillo variety or cured jamons not of the serrano variety or paprika that manages to be neither sweet nor smoky nor spicy).

i would heartily recommend repeated doses of taberna's tapas bar should such symptoms begin to afflict you.

it is rather odd, vaguely unsettling, a sibilant midge that soon reverberates to a plangent roar, to sit down to tapas (apotheosis of bar snacks) in an establishment of such grand high ceilings and vaulted dais, such ornate art deco environs and meticulously arranged arabesques, a place such as taberna del alabardero. it seems almost disingenous to nibble and munch when, across the tiled mosaic of the floor and ecru pannelled wood and silver mirrors of the bar, there exists the main dining room with astronomical menus, a glittering panoply of cutlery and ratio of crumbers:customers at 1:1.

nevertheless, it is there and can be done. the affable good-natured bartender, whose english never seems fully under command (and i love this fact for all its implications, i.e. spaniards come (and outnumbered us) frequently) will serve you just as politely as the tuxedoed gentlemen some 30 feet and several hundred dollars away.

the food will not please those looking for the whims of a capricious chef's mind. all of it (nearly 20 tapa) relies on solely on tradition. the exception to this doesnt suffer however: chilled foie gras on a perfectly toasted crustless rectangle of brioche, in smooth rich and buttery purgatory beneath the bitter heaven of seville orange gelee and the murky mysterious depths of carmelised onion hell. the rest of the dishes we sampled all lend new credibility to the terms "classic;" calamari fritto with paprika ali-oli demonstrates why this dish (when prepared with technical mastery) has become so ubiquitous; empanadas de atun y piquillos with a smashingly good pastry crust and filled with canned tuna of such wondrous quality that people who sneer upon food in canned states should perhaps hold their tongue; homemade chorizo is simply perfection. the quality of the pork, the judicious and sure-handed seasoning, the time spent sizzling on the grill and sliced and plated intelligently but not overdone. all simply perfection. we had mussels that, now having read about them, are actually nothing like oysters bienville but, at the time, all i could think of was how much better these were than that new orleans specialty. classic tortilla espanol eggceeded my eggspectations, namely because eggs dont eggcite my tongue. and what's not to love about watching your bartender carve your jamon serrano for you off the shackled leg at the end of the bar?

there is so much to love in this restaurant, in my opinion, and my recent discovery of the tapas bar can only mean that this passionate affair will continue, groaning and fumbling and caressing and imbibing in the thoughtfully darkened corner table of the bar in taberna del alabardero.

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A real pleasure to read. Thanks for taking the time to write so beautifully and expressively.