Gordon Biersch Brewery Restaurant, Washington, D.C.

After attending our Scotch tasting downtown Thursday night, we decided to get dinner. After Ian vetoed about half a dozen restaurants and I vetoed his suggestion of Hooter's, we ended up in Chinatown at Gordon Biersch Brewery Restaurant, a fairly high-end national chain with about thirty restaurants coast to coast. They have their microbrewery on premises, and their food was surprisingly good.

Robert got a glass of their Märzen lager, a medium-hued beer they used in cooking a lot of their menu items. Ian and I drank Scotch and water (the well Scotch turned out to be Dewar's).

Since we'd had appetizers at the Scotch tasting, we went straight to main courses. Ian got the linguine marinara with added chicken breast, plus a big side of garlic fries. Often this sort of dish is a restuarant throw-away, but I sampled his and was pleasantly surprised that the linguine was al dente, the marinara sauce had good flavor, and the dish included a lot of fresh mozzarella cheese.


Robert and I both ordered the steak frites. They marinate a flat iron steak in their Märzen beer, then grill and slice it. It's presented atop their garlic fries, then drizzled with their house steak sauce. The steak was good (flat iron steaks are usually always flavorful and tender). The garlic fries were good and skillfully flavored. Robert and I differed in opinion as to the overall dish, though. He loved the barbecue-flavored steak sauce that drenched the meat and fries. I didn't like it. It was sweet and overpoweringly "barbecue-y." I would have preferred my steak unsauced, not to mention preferring plain catsup (or even better, mayonnaise) for my fries instead of potatoes drowned in steak sauce. Should I order this dish again, I'll definitely ask for no steak sauce.


Robert didn't want dessert. So, he ordered the apple bread pudding with vanilla ice cream adored with candied pecans, and after eating the pudding, he used his straw to suck up all the remaining melted ice cream and butter. I guess he didn't like it. But, after all, he didn't want it.


Ian and I split a slice of their double chocolate fudge cake with crème anglaise. Instead of bringing us one plate of cake with two forks, the waitress actually had the cake split in the kitchen and we were presented two separate plates. It must have been an enormous slice, since my half was, I thought, big enough to share.

A wee bit o' Scotch

Have you ever sipped from an $3,500 bottle of Scotch?

Last night we went to a private Scotch tasting at the U.S. Department of Commerce building, put on by Johnnie Walker, the internationally-known Scotch purveyors. They hosted about eighty people, and what a show they put on! Once we'd gotten through building security and their check-in process, they held us in the ornate building lobby until the stroke of 6:30, when the doors to the hall opened.

They had the first half of the hall set up as a dark cocktail lounge space with a big Scotch bar at one end and an exhibit of special edition Johnnie Walkers (the bicentennial blend in the Baccarat crystal bottle [pictured, $3,500], the King George V commemorative blend [only $850 per bottle, with Ian below], etc., etc.); tables with parboiled vegetable crudités and bits of cheeses were scattered throughout the room.

At the Scotch bar, we were given our choice of a Johnnie Walker Black and water, a red margarita with Johnnie Walker Red and a splash of cranberry, or what they called a "zinger" that seemed like a ginger ale highball with the Johnnie Walker Red. Finally, they opened the doors to the main part of the room and we were ushered into seating-in-the-round of low white leatherette banquettes surrounded by large wall-sized projection screens.




We sat down to an elaborate set up with sampling glasses, Scottish spring water [to clear the palate], ice bowls, and mixers, plus our special commemorative "Striding Man" lapel pins. Once everyone was accommodated, their master taster came out to the center of the square to start the program, his commentary interspersed with glitzy, high-energy, multi-media presentations on the screens. We heard all about the history of Johnnie Walker and how Scotches are made.

Then it was time to drink. Johnnie Walker comes in five standard grades (plus the commemoratives, but those are rare and we didn't get to taste any of those), all in the iconic square bottles with the labels applied at a precise 24º slant. The Black Label is their premium blended 12-year-old Scotch that's designed to be savored neat, on the rocks, or with water. The Red Label is blended to be used as a mixing Scotch. When we got to the Red sampling, they had us mix our own cocktails with provided mixers, and they pulled a couple of people from the audience to have a little bartending competition with a full selection of mixers. Then we get to the ultra-premiums. They had their Johnnie Walker girls, all attired in black cocktail dresses, bring us frozen glasses of 18-year-old Gold Label to sip and savor. I think of it more as a special occasion or celebration Scotch for Scotch drinkers who'll drink it straight and without any mixers. The Green Label is a 15-year-old blend of all single malt whiskeys (the other Johnnie Walkers are blends of both malt and grain whiskeys) with an earthy smell to it. This was probably my favorite of the labels, but that's probably because back when I used to be a big Scotch drinker, I stuck with single malts. Finally, the girls brought out for us little miniature brandy snifters of Blue Label, the ultra-ultra-ultra premium blended whiskey (no age declaration, but they say it contains 60-year-old single malts). I've never bought a bottle of Blue Label before, but I think it retails at liquor stores for around $200 a bottle, and it's not likely something I'll keep stocked in my bar (however, I more than happy to accept bottles of Blue as a gift!). It's a very, very smooth drink, and it reminded me rather of cognac. I could get used to it.

To see my Flickr photo album from the Scotch tasting, click here.

Banana Cafe and Piano Bar, Washington, D.C.

We were at Capitol Hill Wednesday night and ended up walking down towards Eastern Market for dinner, but we ultimately walked down Barracks Row in quest of a place to eat. When we got to the actual Marine barracks, I wanted to go in and watch the evening parade, but Robert didn't want to go on base. Alas. So, we walked back up the street and, after he nixed Belga Cafe, we went in to Banana Cafe and Piano Bar, a fun Cuban place that also has some Puerto Rican and Mexican menu items in addition to the Cuban cuisine.

Robert got the Cuban picadillo, a dish of spiced ground beef and pork simmered in Creole sauce he'd never before tried, and he reported good things about it. It came with rice and fried plantains.


I had a Cuban sandwich, the traditional pressed sandwich filled with roast pork, ham, and Swiss cheese, with fries. The picture doesn't do it justice, but the sandwich had a lot of meat and was quite delicious.


Robert also discovered for the first time a Brazilian cocktail, the caipirinha, a deliciously addictive drink made with fresh lime juice, sugar, and a fermented sugar cane liquor called cachaça. Many people think of the caipirinha as a sort of Brazilian margarita, but I think it's a whole lot more like a gimlet, only made with cachaça instead of vodka. They're quite tasty, whatever they remind one of, and I would have liked to have had one instead of my ubiquitous iced tea. The cocktail distracted him from the Hispanic art hanging on the walls, something apparently not very much to Robert's sophisticated Arkansan tastes.

Before we went home, we wandered into a liquor store in a more Hispanic neighborhood and found the cachaça. There's a standard grade that's about 80 proof and not terribly expensive at about $14 for a quart, and then a higher quality variety that's about $32 for a fifth. We may have to have a caipirinha party this summer.

I'm anxious to go back to Banana Cafe. They have a *lot* of things on their menu that sound delicious and I'm anxious to try them. Did I mention the handsome waiters?

Restaurant El Tamarindo, Washington, D.C.

Finally, at long, long last, the Democrats finished their presidential primaries last night. Robert, Ian, and I gathered at the Restaurant El Tamarindo in Adams-Morgan ('twas my first trip to the Adams-Morgan site, and I like it a lot better than the one in Tacoma) as the polls closed, to eat, drink, and watch the returns come in. This was the night of the major thunderstorms and torrential downpours that struck D.C., and I believe it took such a heavy, heavy rainfall to wash away the stench of the primary electoral process.

We picked a Hispanic restaurant, because how the Hispanic vote goes in November is most likely going to decide the election between Obama and McCain.

After we took command of the television in the main dining room, forcing one of the staff members to turn off her Mexican soap operas so we could turn to CNN, Robert and Ian split a pitcher of strawberry margaritas. I drank iced tea all night.

For food, Ian got a bare chicken burrito with rice and beans. Robert got the carnitas (pork) chimichanga garnished with three huge dollops of sour cream, accompanied by rice and salad. I assume they were good, since they both cleaned their plates.



I had the sopa de res, a surprisingly delicious beef stew with big chunks of beef, vegetables, and plantain in it; I'd definitely order it again. It came with lime wedges and a Salvadorean style tortilla, which is thicker and smaller in diameter than the usual Mexican types.


For dessert, we all split a single piece of tres leches cake, and it was so good, I'd like to have had a piece all to myself.



After the speeches, we paid our bill and parted ways, venturing out into the still-heavy rains.

American City Diner, Washington, D.C.

Monday night, we wandered over to American City Diner in Friendship Heights after Ian served as the official scorekeeper for some big congressional softball game. Last time we were there, Ian just raved about the chicken noodle soup. He got that again, and, just to see what the excitement was, I got the chicken matzo ball soup. As I suspected, we had the same soup, only mine had this tennis ball sized matzo ball plopped down in the middle of it. The chicken soup was okay, but not orgasmic. The matzo ball I found a bit dry (though that's rather traditional). It was certainly hearty, though.


For our main courses, Ian had a grilled cheese sandwich and fries. He chose the provolone cheese. Oh, he had a little side salad, too, that I phorgot to photograph. With his "special orders," the salad ended up being a bowl of romaine with a little cup of shredded [parmesan??] cheese on the side, and no dressing or croutons.


I got the chicken liver platter with fries, and it was pretty good. It came with mashed potatoes and green beans. The only problem with the mashed potatoes at this place is that they fix them so that if they have Jewish patrons trying to eat quasi-kosher, so there is no dairy in the potatoes; when I fix mashed potatoes, I melt a stick of butter in a half pint of cream and mix that into the potatoes. But, then, I'm not Jewish.



Alas, we had no room left for dessert!

The Diner, Washington, D.C.

We visited a couple of old standby diners this past week. Late night, of course. It's always late night.

Sunday we hit The Diner in Adams-Morgan (24 hours, remember?). Ian had a bowl of the soup du jour, a chicken and rice. He didn't finish it, so I don't think he liked it; it looked interesting to me, though, with nice, big pieces of vegetables and chicken breast.


I had a plate of French fries with gravy. They were okay, but I didn't like the gravy. It was sort of an insipid, non-descript, brownish stuff. I prefer milk gravy on fries, but a nice, hearty beef gravy can be good, too.

Return

After a week away in the "wilderness," upon my return to Washington last weekend, guess where Ian took me to eat?

Rib Crib, Bartlesville, Okla.

Our second dining excursion was on my last night in town, when we all went to the local store of the regional chain barbeque joint, Rib Crib. May was "all-you-can-eat-ribs month," so I took advantage of the opportunity. They've added a new sauce to their usual mild and hot choices. The new sauce is a Carolina style mustard and vinegar sauce that I didn't like at all.

Anyway, the food came. My dad got the chopped beef brisket plate, with a big house salad and a bowl of baked beans as his side dishes, plus a dill pickle spear and some white bread.



My mother and I both got the ribs. I picked fried okra and potato salad for my sides, plus it came with Texas toast, onion, and a pepperoncini pepper. My mother got okra and cole slaw.

I ordered unsweetened iced tea with dinner. The refills, though, as typically happens in the South, were sweetened tea, as waitresses passing by with tea pitchers routinely fill any empty glasses they see, and they usually are carrying sweet tea.

And, of course, since it was all-you-can-eat, I had to have rib refills. The first refill plate was a little anemic, but the waitress made up for it on the second refill. The ribs were pretty good, with a nice spicy rub on them. I usually prefer beef ribs, but I thought the pork ribs acquitted themselves pretty well.

La Tapenade Mediterranean Café, Chicago, Ill.

On a recent return flight through O'Hare Airport in Chicago, I found a place I suspect is a little more on the chain side, or at least soon to be, than local mom and pop eatery. La Tapenade Mediterranean Café is a brand-new place (as in, I was there the first week they were open) that was developed exclusively for the airport by HMSHost, the international commercial caterers formerly known as Marriott Host Services. I suspect that as it becomes successful and they analyze the diner trends, the concept will be exported to other large airports throughout the country.

I got a turkey berry panino with turkey, feta cheese, grilled zucchini, and a berry mayonnaise. It was actually really good. It came with a rather confusingly little container of hummus dip, and I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do with it. There were no chips or pieces of pita bread, so, being too lazy to get up and go over to get a fork, I merely lapped it up from the container with my tongue in between bites of sandwich.

We'll have to teach HMSHost some Italian......when I ordered a "panino," the person selling/serving the sandwich said, "You'd like the panini?" I responded, "One is enough," but clearly my understanding of Italian plurals was lost on her. If I remember, I'll try to write HMSHost—after all, they are headquartered just around the corner here in Bethesda.

Rib Crib, Bartlesville, Okla.

Our second dining excursion was on my last night in town, when we all went to the local store of the regional chain barbeque joint, Rib Crib. May was "all-you-can-eat-ribs month," so I took advantage of the opportunity. They've added a new sauce to their usual mild and hot choices. The new sauce is a Carolina style mustard and vinegar sauce that I didn't like at all.

Anyway, the food came. My dad got the chopped beef brisket plate, with a big house salad and a bowl of baked beans as his side dishes, plus a dill pickle spear and some white bread.



My mother and I both got the ribs. I picked fried okra and potato salad for my sides, plus it came with Texas toast, onion, and a pepperoncini pepper. My mother got okra and cole slaw.

I ordered unsweetened iced tea with dinner. The refills, though, as typically happens in the South, were sweetened tea, as waitresses passing by with tea pitchers routinely fill any empty glasses they see, and they usually are carrying sweet tea.

And, of course, since it was all-you-can-eat, I had to have rib refills. The first refill plate was a little anemic, but the waitress made up for it on the second refill. The ribs were pretty good, with a nice spicy rub on them. I usually prefer beef ribs, but I thought the pork ribs acquitted themselves pretty well.