Oceanaire Seafood Room, Washington, D.C.

Wow.

Tonight I had what I believe was the best fish I've had in decades, if not ever. Leo and I went to the Oceanaire Seafood Room this evening for a Restaurant Week dinner, and both of us were quite favorably impressed with the place. It was a challenge to get in this week....our reservations weren't until 10 p.m.

We showed up a half hour early on the off chance that we might get a table before ten. It didn't happen; the restaurant was packed. We waited in the bar, sitting at the bar itself. Leo had a "Bye Bye" mai tai and then later a local creation called an "Orange Cloud," made of orange vodka, triple sec, and just a splash of sour served in an oversized martini glass with a sugared rim. I was more traditional, having a Dubonnet on the rocks with a splash and a twist, and then a kir royale.

Our table in the main dining room had a banquette along a low, smooth mahogany partition. The entire decor resembled the dining rooms on a cruise ship, and the restaurant's mascot, a swordfish, made an appearance on the walls in several forms from whole fish to prints to the cocktail glasses.

Once we had placed our orders, an assistant brought us a great big, tall, crusty loaf of bread and a relish tray that included a ramekin full of pickled whitefish. Meanwhile, I'd talked our waiter into letting me do a three course meal of soup, salad, and entree, instead of first course, entree, dessert, allowing me not to feel guilty while trying to "diet." My house salad with green goddess dressing arrived quickly.





We both had the New England clam chowder. Leo particularly liked it, commenting on the smoky flavor from the bacon, and he actually ate the whole bowl of soup, which is not something he usually does. With my salad and soup courses, I had a glass of Dom Reverdy-Ducroux Sancerre "Beau Roy" 2005 from the Loire region of France. It tasted round and fruity, and I suspect it is made from sauvignon blanc grapes. Leo had a French 75 cocktail that was actually pretty tasty (especially after the waiter came back with the bottle of champagne to float a pour on top of the other ingredients in the cognac-lemon juice mix—he'd forgotten earlier).

Next came the highlight of the evening: the fish main courses. Leo chose the grilled mahi-mahi, served with caramelized onions and blue cheese butter on top. He was a bit surprised that the fish turned out to be really spicy on the outside, but he ended up liking the dish quite a bit. His French 75 was a little too citrusy and sweet for the spicy fish, but he discovered that my red wine matched up perfectly with his fish, so he kept drinking from my wine glass.



I chose the Maine lemon sole in brown butter. It had a simple preparation, sort of meuniere with lots of brown butter and a goodly helping of pickled capers. The large fillet was perfectly cooked and the fish was actually almost what one might call "juicy." The nuttiness of the brown butter and the piquant edge of the capers perfectly set off the fish. I can't think of another lemon sole preparation at any restaurant that has been better. If only all fish could be this exquisite! With the sole I drank a glass of Elk Cove Vineyards Pinot Noir 2005 from the Williamette Valley of Oregon, and it was a lovely, smooth and soft wine with a slight currant flavor. It went nicely with my sole. Both of my wines were selected by the Oceanaire's congenial sommalier.



I had given up my interest in a dessert in favor of the much healthier salad, but our waiter was not inclined to help me with my diet, and he offered (and I accepted) to bring me a complimentary dessert "fourth" course so Leo didn't have to eat his sweets alone. So, I chose the key lime pie, and it was an amazing thing, all whipped and light and airy, with the filling much more like a light mousse or chiffon, and prepared with graham cracker crust in a deep dish so the pieces looked almost like cheesecake.



Leo ordered the tiramisu, and my taste of it indicated a particularly nice dessert with a good balance of ingredients. He thought it was the best tiramisu he'd had.



We're very much looking forward to going back to his wonderful restaurant. Those of you outside of the Washington area might be able to find one nearby, as Oceanaire is a small chain with about a dozen restaurants in major cities nationwide.

1789 Restaurant, Georgetown, D.C.

About a year ago, local chef Nathan Beauchamp took the reins of Georgetown's historic 1789 Restaurant (which just happens to be across the street from the infamous staircase made famous in the movie, The Exorcist), succeeding the internationally-known Ris Lacoste upon her retirement. Lacoste had quite a following (she was the one chef selected to cook for Julia Child's 90th birthday party) and over the years made 1789 into what was probably the best restaurant in the District of Columbia; Beauchamp thus has had big shoes to fill, and local culinary circles have watched closely for changes in 1789 and its food.

I've been meaning to get back to 1789 to try the new Beauchamp menus and see how things had changed, if at all. 1789 is now owned by the Clyde's Restaurant Group, so theoretically, a change of chefs should make little to no difference in a "store's" operations. Finally, I got around to going again earlier tonight, accompanied by this past summer's office intern, Drew, who's a senior at Georgetown University (which sort of surrounds the restaurant).

There was a bit of a crowd in the tiny entrance when we arrived, but the hostess espied us and knew of our reservation, so we were fairly quickly escorted upstairs to our table in the Wickets Room. After the past several restaurants where I've been placed at tightly-packed, tiny, two-top tables, 1789 felt positively spacious, as we had a nice four-top table in the corner of the room.

After struggling between either the parsnip soup or the escargot, Drew ended up choosing the steak tartare for his first course. It was a nice presentation. The beef was coarsely chopped and topped with a tiny, raw, quail egg yolk; pieces of grilled flatbread tented the beef. On the other end of the rectangular plate was a little salad of pickled red onions and tiny sprouts, plus a small pile of fried capers.



I started with the Maryland crab salad, a nice mound of crab meat bound together with just a tiny amount of mayonnaise and topped with some excellent, bright yellow, char roe caviar. Like the steak tartare, my salad was covered, only with a couple of pieces of heavily poppy seeded lavosh crackers. A little diced avocado and some thinly sliced radishes balanced the plate. With the crab, I drank a 2005 Domaine Le Peu de la Moriette Vouvray from the Loire region of France. It was full-bodied and fruity, going quite well with the natural sweetness of the crab.



Drew had no problem at all selecting his main course, and I think nothing else was under his serious consideration: he wanted the roasted venison. It came with white asparagus, chestnuts, and spinach with a bit of current sauce dripped across the plate, plus a little side of white macaroni and cheese in tiny black skillet. He thought the venison was good and properly prepared (I thought it was a rather small piece for the price), though he did note that it wasn't the best he'd ever had. With his venison he drank a glass of Teldeschi Merlot, 2004, from California.





I couldn't decide whether to get the sea bass, the monkfish, or the sturgeon, and finally decided upon the monkfish, more based upon the accompanying foods in the preparation (less incongruous "fusion"). The monkfish had been roasted, then the two pieces were layed atop a bed of halved Brussels sprouts, apples, and onions, with a couple of very thin, flash-fried slices of ham as a garnish. The flavors were excellent, though I found the fish to be ever so slightly overcooked and surprisingly (for monkfish) dry and plain. On the recommendation of the waiter, I had a glass of Domaine Rion Bourgogne 2005 French burgundy; it wasn't the best wine pairing, as I thought it a little too aggressively tannic to be matched with fish.



The waiter brought us each large dessert menus. One page was devoted to desserts, one to dessert wines, and one to brandies, cordials, and spirits. Drew had the golden chocolate dôme, a flourless chocolate sponge cake filled with a rich chocolate mousse and accompanied by coffee ice cream. The dôme had a little tiny bit of real, edible, gold leaf on top as a garnish (given the name of the dessert, I was disappointed that the dôme wasn't totally covered in gold).



In lieu of sweets, I picked the cheese course. The plate included five cheese, Red Hawk (California triple cream, cow's milk), Pleasant Ridge Reserve (Wisconsin cow's milk), Montgomery's Cheddar (Somerset, England; cow, slight bluing), Chapelle (Maryland,cow, white mold), and Bailey Hazen Blue (Vermont). My favorite was the Red Hawk, a smooth, soft cheese with a reddish orange rind, and I could have eaten it all night. The rest were unremarkable, and I was rather disappointed with the Bailey Hazen, a Stilton-esque cheese of some renown, which I found bland. The cheeses came with thin slices of toasted raisin bread, a raspberry purée, and some candied almonds.



After dinner we lingered over glasses of Remy Martin V.S.O.P. cognac.

On the whole, 1789 is still an excellent restaurant. It is my opinion, though, that the food quality has slipped just a little bit. More significantly, the quality of the service has deteriorated over the past year, with the staff not being that inobtrustive, well-oiled machine of years past. Comparing tonight to my previous visits, the magical sparkle just wasn't there. That doesn't mean that 1789 still isn't an great experience; even with tonight's shortcomings, it's still a better restaurant than the vast majority of District restaurants, and I would have no problem eating here again soon.

Bistro Bis, Washington, D.C.

The January Restaurant Week begins today and Robert and I decided to kick it off with a lunch on Capitol Hill at Bistro Bis. Bistro Bis, located in the Hotel George, is owned and operated by the same group responsible for one of my favorite restaurants, Vidalia.

Bistro Bis is a very clean, contemporary-looking restaurant with light woods, a vaulted ceiling, and a glass wall separating the kitchen from the dining room to give diners a little glimpse into cooking operations. Another glass wall covers the two-story tall wine cellar, and magnums and jeroboams of champagne grace the fireplace mantel on the opposite side of the room.

As is traditional with Restaurant Week, each participating restaurant offers a three-course prix fixe menu priced at $20.07 for lunch and $30.07 for dinner. Given Washington restaurant prices, this really is a great bargain, and it allows people to try the better establishments that ordinarily would be out of their financial reach. As do several other restaurants in town, Bistro Bis offers their entire menu for Restaurant Week, but certain luxury items have a small upcharge.

And speaking of upcharge, Robert started his meal with an upcharge item, the steak tartare Atilla. I found it an interesting and non-traditional presentation for steak tartare. The seasoned, chopped meat appeared in hamburger patty shape in the center of a thin, rectangular plate, along with a salad on one end and house-made potato chips on the other. Dots of a spicy aioli decorated the edges of the plate. Course-ground country mustard and a container of cornichon pickles were served on the side. And Robert's opinion? He profered, "I thought the steak tartare was rather rare." Har, har.



Meanwhile, I had the onion soup Les Halles, a version of the classic French onion soup. It was okay. I was a little disappointed, though to find two pieces of onion skin that I had to remove from my mouth. It wasn't a particularly outstanding or memorable soup, but it was serviceable.



Our main courses were significantly more spectacular. Robert chose the chicken à la ancienne, and he raved about it. Now, the menu said chicken breast, but I thought it looked like a trimmed leg quarter to me, yet I forgot to ask him about that....sometimes it's hard to tell from appearances with brown sauces on the meat. The chicken was braised with button mushrooms, pearl onions, and spinach all resting on a bed of soft polenta. It smelled very good.



Being conscious of my recent slight weight gain, I selected the trout salad lyonnaise, and what arrived wasn't at all what I had expected! The salad itself was a large bed of slightly bitter frisée with tiny little potatoes, hard boiled egg, halved grape tomatoes, pickled red onions, and some thin bits of crispy, fried ham or bacon. Atop all of this salad rested an entire well-seasoned, pan-fried trout. And to think I'd pondered getting the escalope of salmon—I got more fish with the trout! The salad was delicious, though I daresay it didn't do my diet any good at all.



There was quite a lengthy dessert menu, though many of them were various kinds of crème brulées and such. Robert picked the gâteau opera, a classic layered cake with chocolate cake, mocha buttercream, and hazelnut frangipane, all frosted in chocolate ganache.



I had a fantastic apple tart. They took a decorated round of puff pastry and topped it with fresh, caramelized apples; some calvados-scented crème frâiche with a sprig of mint occupied a special mound on the side.



And, thus, we had a very auspicious start to this year's Restaurant Week.