A few months ago, the company that owns the IHOP (International House of Pancakes) restaurant chain bought the Applebee's restaurant chain. We've now seen an unexpected benefit from that merger.
Robert and I were out and about in Takoma Park the other night and stopped in at their IHOP. We both ordered new menu items, Robert getting the sirloin tips and eggs (they looked really tasty) and me getting the barbecued ribs. Our waiter informed us that the ribs were the same ribs that are used at Applebee's. And, they were surprisingly good! They were smaller ribs, but they had all the expected flavor and they used a similar not-too-sweet sauce. Even better, they cost only a dollar more than the entree salad I'd originally planned to order.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Town Danceboutique, Washington, D.C.
After our dinner at Jack's last night, instead of going to some of the nightclubs in the immediate vicinity, my friend Mark wanted to try the new place at 8th and U called Town Danceboutique. So, off we went, abandoning the hard-found parking place we'd gotten over near 17th Street. And, of course, there's little on-street parking around Town and the neighborhood there is a little, um, "transitional," so we had to park in one of their overflow "secure" parking lots for a $15 fee.
Town appears to be in an old warehouse, and looks rather unprepossessing on the outside. It's been thoroughly gutted and redone on the inside into a nice, modern club. Before getting in, though, one must pay a $12 cover. And, if one wore a winter coat in, coat check is $3 per article (and there's a tip jar on the counter).
Inside, the main dance floor is high ceilinged with a stage on one side. On the far walls is a large L-shaped bar. The bars do not accept credit cards; there are, however, a number of ATMs owned by the club (meaning they get to charge a fee!) scattered around for ones "convenience." Behind the bars are large, full-wall projection screens that last night were displaying a computer screen for "Valentine" messages from one patron to another (the club was celebrating "Valentine's Weekend).
As we entered, a drag show was going on on the stage. The hostess of the show had a rather disconcertingly gruff voice that sounded more like a sports arena announcer than a drag hostess. We didn't really watch much of the show, but I did get some glimpses of a couple of "girls" who had choreographed backup dancers helping with the song.
There was a $5 Absolute vodka drink special going on til 11 p.m. With just one minute left to go, Mark had an Absolute Citron vodka Collins. I wasn't in a vodka mood and ordered a Scotch and water. Oddly, they didn't have a rail Scotch, and everything was call. I asked for the cheapest, and the drink ended up costing $7. On top of that, the drinks were served in rather short rocks glasses, and, the bars were using crushed ice instead of ice cubes (crushed ice fills up more of the volume of the glass, so the drink liquid content isn't as great).
About midnight, they opened the upstairs floor. Upstairs was rather nicer than downstairs. Again, there was a large L-shaped bar with projection screens, and a smaller dance floor with a raised end platform. What made the upstairs more interesting, though, was a long, narrow room to the side of the dance floor with comfortable banquettes along one wall, giving people a (relatively) quiet place to sit, relax, and actually carry on a conversation.
As I wandered around the dance floor, I was rather surprised that with as much money as the owners had spent remodeling and crafting this new dance club, there was a rather pedestrian lighting system on the dance floors. Perhaps they weren't using it or something, but there seemed to be little else special other than a mirror ball. At some of the New York clubs I've visited, the lighting has been so elaborate and spectacular, it's sometimes entertaining just to sit and watch the light show, but not here.
I found the crowd to be interestingly mixed. The expected twink barflies were there, but there was also an assortment of more mature patrons, and I definitely was not the oldest person in the bar by far. The downstairs dance floor seemed to attract the t-shirt and blue jeans set (removing t-shirts is encouraged, but I did not see that happening last night) and the upstairs dance floor had more people in nicer club clothes. There was also a surprising number of females there, and, given how they were dressed, I think most of them were straight girls.
We left probably about 1 a.m., and there was a long, long line outside on the street with people trying to get in. Since I did not perceive a sense of crowdedness inside (remember dancing at Nation when it was so packed on the dance floor that one could not move ones feet to dance?), either the fire marshall is holding them to an unusually strict occupancy capacity or they are trying to create a strong sense of demand by making people stand in line. Everyone seemed happy, though.
Well, at least now I can say I've been to Town.
Town appears to be in an old warehouse, and looks rather unprepossessing on the outside. It's been thoroughly gutted and redone on the inside into a nice, modern club. Before getting in, though, one must pay a $12 cover. And, if one wore a winter coat in, coat check is $3 per article (and there's a tip jar on the counter).
Inside, the main dance floor is high ceilinged with a stage on one side. On the far walls is a large L-shaped bar. The bars do not accept credit cards; there are, however, a number of ATMs owned by the club (meaning they get to charge a fee!) scattered around for ones "convenience." Behind the bars are large, full-wall projection screens that last night were displaying a computer screen for "Valentine" messages from one patron to another (the club was celebrating "Valentine's Weekend).
As we entered, a drag show was going on on the stage. The hostess of the show had a rather disconcertingly gruff voice that sounded more like a sports arena announcer than a drag hostess. We didn't really watch much of the show, but I did get some glimpses of a couple of "girls" who had choreographed backup dancers helping with the song.
There was a $5 Absolute vodka drink special going on til 11 p.m. With just one minute left to go, Mark had an Absolute Citron vodka Collins. I wasn't in a vodka mood and ordered a Scotch and water. Oddly, they didn't have a rail Scotch, and everything was call. I asked for the cheapest, and the drink ended up costing $7. On top of that, the drinks were served in rather short rocks glasses, and, the bars were using crushed ice instead of ice cubes (crushed ice fills up more of the volume of the glass, so the drink liquid content isn't as great).
About midnight, they opened the upstairs floor. Upstairs was rather nicer than downstairs. Again, there was a large L-shaped bar with projection screens, and a smaller dance floor with a raised end platform. What made the upstairs more interesting, though, was a long, narrow room to the side of the dance floor with comfortable banquettes along one wall, giving people a (relatively) quiet place to sit, relax, and actually carry on a conversation.
As I wandered around the dance floor, I was rather surprised that with as much money as the owners had spent remodeling and crafting this new dance club, there was a rather pedestrian lighting system on the dance floors. Perhaps they weren't using it or something, but there seemed to be little else special other than a mirror ball. At some of the New York clubs I've visited, the lighting has been so elaborate and spectacular, it's sometimes entertaining just to sit and watch the light show, but not here.
I found the crowd to be interestingly mixed. The expected twink barflies were there, but there was also an assortment of more mature patrons, and I definitely was not the oldest person in the bar by far. The downstairs dance floor seemed to attract the t-shirt and blue jeans set (removing t-shirts is encouraged, but I did not see that happening last night) and the upstairs dance floor had more people in nicer club clothes. There was also a surprising number of females there, and, given how they were dressed, I think most of them were straight girls.
We left probably about 1 a.m., and there was a long, long line outside on the street with people trying to get in. Since I did not perceive a sense of crowdedness inside (remember dancing at Nation when it was so packed on the dance floor that one could not move ones feet to dance?), either the fire marshall is holding them to an unusually strict occupancy capacity or they are trying to create a strong sense of demand by making people stand in line. Everyone seemed happy, though.
Well, at least now I can say I've been to Town.
Jack's Restaurant and Bar, Washington, D.C.
Last night my friend Mark called out of the blue and said he was in the mood to drive in to town and go to dinner. That's kind of unusual, since he lives on the Virginia outer fringes of the metropolitan area, and it's quite a trek to and from his place. I was in the middle of stewing a chicken for dinner, but that was easily enough put aside for other creations using cold chicken instead of hot, and I got cleaned up and dressed to join him.
Well, D.C. being D.C., we drove and drove and circled and circled to find a parking place, ending up about half a mile from our intended destination (for those of you readers not in the city, that is considered "good"). Our plan for sushi fell through, though, since we found a line at the restaurant running all the way down the stairs; I checked with the maitre d' and he said the wait for a table for two was at least an hour.
So, we went down the street, and found a place neither of us had previously been, at least in this year's declension, a place that once was Pepper's and then Le Pigalle and now it is known as Jack's Restaurant and Bar. The new name is deceptive. "Jack's" evokes a casual, diner-type establishment in my mind, but this new place would be suited to a much more pretentious name, as it's more bistro than diner.
The place was bustling. While the patrons included typical 17th Street denizens, there were also tables full of families with children. Some people were casually attired. Some people were dressed up. Some people were in club clothes. The waiters were all in black trousers and tight black t-shirts, giving the place a little cosmopolitan flair.
We started with cocktails. Mark had some big martini called a "double espresso" that included Van Gogh double espresso vodka, vanilla, Kahlua, and white chocolate Godiva liqueur. That drink cost more than my entrée!
They had rye in the bar, so I had a manhattan. The manhattan felt a little "thin" on the tongue, so I suspect that the bartender fixed a perfect manhattan (with half sweet vermouth and half dry vermouth) instead of a classic manhattan (just sweet vermouth). That wasn't necessarily a problem; he just went to more trouble to add the third ingredient, though I probably would have preferred the classic recipe.
When it came time to eat, Mark picked the roasted free range chicken breast topped with prosciutto ham and mozzarella cheese served on a bed of mashed potatoes and covered with a ruby red marsala wine sauce. I have to confess that when it came out, both of us looked a little shocked. It looked somewhat less than appetizing. I was thinking bloody, uncooked chicken and he was thinking other unmentionable things. Between the color of the wine sauce and the little bits of wine-colored shallot that resembled blood clots, we weren't really sure what to think. But, once he finally brought himself to sample it, he reported that it tasted much much better than it looked.
My meal was safer. I had a steak and Pommery salad with nice slices of medium rare steak tossed in a light, mild Pommery mustard sauce on a bed of European-style assorted bitter greens. It was very good, and my only suggestion would have been to add just a bit more of the greens to the plate. And, I'm not sure if it was an oversight, but we never got any bread or crackers with our meal, and those would have been a nice balance to the salad (plus, there were bottles of olive oil on the table, presumptively as a bread dip).
Mark wasn't really in a dessert mood (with that big, sweet cocktail, I wouldn't have been, either!), but I was intrigued by a couple of things on the dessert menu. I ordered the "sweet potatoes and cheese," not really knowing exactly what it was I would get. When it arrived, it was a beautiful, narrow, rectangular dish with thin strips of candied sweet potato on one end, strips of quince jelly on the other, slices of fontina cheese by sliced fresh strawberries in middle, and all the fruits drizzled with a bit of chocolate syrup and dusted with confectioner's sugar. Not only was it different, it was actually all quite good!
Jack's seems to be a hit on 17th Street. I hope it has better luck than did its predecessors. Service was good, food tasted good, and the menu has quite a number of things I'd like to try, so I'm looking forward to a return visit.
Well, D.C. being D.C., we drove and drove and circled and circled to find a parking place, ending up about half a mile from our intended destination (for those of you readers not in the city, that is considered "good"). Our plan for sushi fell through, though, since we found a line at the restaurant running all the way down the stairs; I checked with the maitre d' and he said the wait for a table for two was at least an hour.
So, we went down the street, and found a place neither of us had previously been, at least in this year's declension, a place that once was Pepper's and then Le Pigalle and now it is known as Jack's Restaurant and Bar. The new name is deceptive. "Jack's" evokes a casual, diner-type establishment in my mind, but this new place would be suited to a much more pretentious name, as it's more bistro than diner.
The place was bustling. While the patrons included typical 17th Street denizens, there were also tables full of families with children. Some people were casually attired. Some people were dressed up. Some people were in club clothes. The waiters were all in black trousers and tight black t-shirts, giving the place a little cosmopolitan flair.
We started with cocktails. Mark had some big martini called a "double espresso" that included Van Gogh double espresso vodka, vanilla, Kahlua, and white chocolate Godiva liqueur. That drink cost more than my entrée!They had rye in the bar, so I had a manhattan. The manhattan felt a little "thin" on the tongue, so I suspect that the bartender fixed a perfect manhattan (with half sweet vermouth and half dry vermouth) instead of a classic manhattan (just sweet vermouth). That wasn't necessarily a problem; he just went to more trouble to add the third ingredient, though I probably would have preferred the classic recipe.
When it came time to eat, Mark picked the roasted free range chicken breast topped with prosciutto ham and mozzarella cheese served on a bed of mashed potatoes and covered with a ruby red marsala wine sauce. I have to confess that when it came out, both of us looked a little shocked. It looked somewhat less than appetizing. I was thinking bloody, uncooked chicken and he was thinking other unmentionable things. Between the color of the wine sauce and the little bits of wine-colored shallot that resembled blood clots, we weren't really sure what to think. But, once he finally brought himself to sample it, he reported that it tasted much much better than it looked.
My meal was safer. I had a steak and Pommery salad with nice slices of medium rare steak tossed in a light, mild Pommery mustard sauce on a bed of European-style assorted bitter greens. It was very good, and my only suggestion would have been to add just a bit more of the greens to the plate. And, I'm not sure if it was an oversight, but we never got any bread or crackers with our meal, and those would have been a nice balance to the salad (plus, there were bottles of olive oil on the table, presumptively as a bread dip).
Mark wasn't really in a dessert mood (with that big, sweet cocktail, I wouldn't have been, either!), but I was intrigued by a couple of things on the dessert menu. I ordered the "sweet potatoes and cheese," not really knowing exactly what it was I would get. When it arrived, it was a beautiful, narrow, rectangular dish with thin strips of candied sweet potato on one end, strips of quince jelly on the other, slices of fontina cheese by sliced fresh strawberries in middle, and all the fruits drizzled with a bit of chocolate syrup and dusted with confectioner's sugar. Not only was it different, it was actually all quite good!
Jack's seems to be a hit on 17th Street. I hope it has better luck than did its predecessors. Service was good, food tasted good, and the menu has quite a number of things I'd like to try, so I'm looking forward to a return visit.
Comings and goings
We noticed the other night a big "for lease" sign across the dark windows of Dakota Cowgirl (f/k/a Hamburger Mary's), so they've apparently gone out of business.
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Also, Titan Bar (a/k/a Ramrod) upstairs over Dakota Cowgirl was dark, too. Guess they're out of business as well. Where ever will the bears go for their Friday evening happy hours now?
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And, out at the Fashion Centre at Pentagon City (a/k/a the mall), the Ruby Tuesday near the mall's Metro entrance is closed, and signs foretell the advent of a Harry's Tap Room. Don't know when Harry's will open. I suppose it's a good thing to have a Harry's there, though they are several notches more expensive than Ruby Tuesday. Budget diners will just have to use the food court.
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Have you ever tried to eat at a Mexican restuarant on a Friday during Lent? Talk about a challenge! About all there is are some cheese enchiladas (sometimes) or fish tacos (sometimes—and the thought of fish tacos is totally unappetizing to me). Eh.
But, Chevy's Fresh Mex has a very nice artichoke and mushroom enchilada entree on the menu. I had them Friday night and was both surprised and pleased.
Also, Titan Bar (a/k/a Ramrod) upstairs over Dakota Cowgirl was dark, too. Guess they're out of business as well. Where ever will the bears go for their Friday evening happy hours now?
And, out at the Fashion Centre at Pentagon City (a/k/a the mall), the Ruby Tuesday near the mall's Metro entrance is closed, and signs foretell the advent of a Harry's Tap Room. Don't know when Harry's will open. I suppose it's a good thing to have a Harry's there, though they are several notches more expensive than Ruby Tuesday. Budget diners will just have to use the food court.
Have you ever tried to eat at a Mexican restuarant on a Friday during Lent? Talk about a challenge! About all there is are some cheese enchiladas (sometimes) or fish tacos (sometimes—and the thought of fish tacos is totally unappetizing to me). Eh.
But, Chevy's Fresh Mex has a very nice artichoke and mushroom enchilada entree on the menu. I had them Friday night and was both surprised and pleased.
Thai Tanic (and Halo), Washington, D.C.
It's always difficult for those who are not attached to another in some sort of amorous way to dine without being alone and/or depressed on the Feast of Saint Valentine. Showing up at a restaurant by ones self draws pointed fingers and stares and whispers of pity, whilst going out with just a friend—male or female—has people thinking that the two of you are a couple; sharing a home-cooked meal in the privacy of one's home has people gossiping even more and conjecturing as to what must be going on to warrant the need for privacy.So, Thursday evening, my friend Ian and I braved the storm of once-a-year lovers, first spending some time shopping down town at several shops (we found a lovely cashmere navy blue overcoat for Ian on half-price sale at Jos. A. Bank), then bussing up 14th Street to arrive at Thai Tanic for dinner.
Well, they were jam-packed with lines coming out the door, so we walked around the corner to partake of the end of happy hour at a surprisingly not-busy Halo. Halo always requires a little bit of time, since they have big cocktails and their happy hour is a buy-one-get-one-free arrangement, meaning one has to devote sufficient time to the responsible consumption of two stiff drinks. Ian got a mojito followed by some kind of vodka, Grand Marnier, and cranberry concoction. I just drank a gin martini so I could have the olive garnish for dinner. LOL My second drink was "bartender's choice" and he made me a Rob Roy, and a good one, too.
Eventually we ended back at Thai Tanic where there was still a tiny wait for a table, but we were fourth in line, and it didn't take long. Apparently, the problem there was a large table of 14 or so (it looked sort of like an office party) that took up much of the dining room and had been lingering over their dinner. Anyway, Ian discovered the cocktail list and ordered a ThaiTanic Thunder, a tall fruity drink with red coloring and pineapple juice and who knows what kind of alcohol. I gather it was good, since it wasn't long before he ordered another.
We did have dinner, though. Sorry for the absence of photos, but I really hadn't planned on dining out when we started our shopping expedition, and didn't bring a camera (the photo here is from Ian's cell phone). Whilst Ian imbibed, I had a papaya salad, a very large plateful of finely-shredded green papaya with sun-dried tiny shrimp in a spicy-hot lime dressing.For his meal, Ian ordered the pad prik king, an unexpectedly large plate of chicken breast strips and thick green beans in red curry. I had the gaeng ped yang, also a red curry, but with sliced roast duck with coconut milk, tomatoes, pineapple, and the Thai-ubiquitious basil leaves. My plate was half the size of Ian's, though I still got an ample serving. Both dishes came with steamed white rice. I also got a Singha, a Thai lager beer, to wash things down.
I wasn't in a dessert mood, but Ian was, ordering the crispy banana, a bowl of vanilla ice cream surrounded by a teepee of deep-fried banana wedges and all drizzled with honey.
After dinner we caught a bus to Georgetown, as it was briskly windy and cold out. I got off at Dupont Circle to catch the Metro home, but for some reason, I ended up walking home. Meanwhile, Ian is in New York City this weekend having a much properer celebration of the Valentine feast.
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