Bistro D'Oc, Washington, D.C.

Tonight my friend Scott drove down from Columbia (the Baltimore suburb, not the Missouri college town) to have an early dinner with me at Bistro d'Oc in the Penn Quarter area of town. I Metroed in from Virginia and got off at the Archives station, then nearly got engrossed in the farmers' market they were having on Eighth Street that I didn't even know was happening on Thursday evenings this summer, as I walked to our destination. But, I made it in plenty of time to meet Scott, since the restaurant does not unlock its doors until 5:30 on the dot.

We'd thought about doing a Restaurant Week dinner at one of the few remaining participants, as some of them are very good places, but that's at least a $45 per person investment just drinking tap water (wine at those kinds of places usually runs about $10 a glass, too, and would be extra). I knew, though, that Bistro d'Oc, a dependable place offering bistro-style country French cuisine from the Languedoc region of France, happened to offer a pre-theater prix fixe dinner menu with three courses and a glass of wine for just $22.95, so we went there, as that's a particularly outstanding dinner "deal" here in Washington.

So, promptly at 5:30 (to the accompaniment of neighborhood church chimes), they opened the doors and we entered as the first customers of the evening. Naturally, there was no waiting for a table! We got a lovely space in the front window with a view of Ford's Theater across the street (Scott is a professional stage and screen actor), though it got a little more interesting, since it turned out the restaurant menu was posted outside on the window right by our table, and we often looked over to find people standing there staring at the menu.

Several of the daily specials sounded wonderful, but we stuck to our discipline and got the pre-theater dinner. Scott started with the watercress soup. It was a bright kelly green hot soup and looked nice. He said it was very good, but I'm not so sure; he only ate about half of it before letting the waitress take it away. I began with the house pâté Languedoc, a nice big slice of chicken liver pâté served with cornichons, black olives, dried cherries, and a nice little fig compote. It had a hot, black peppery flavor that was unexpected, but enjoyable nonetheless.

Scott's main course was a beautiful, large slab of Norwegian salmon interestingly arranged on a bed of puréed sweet potatoes with short juliennes of carrot on the side, creating a monochromatic display of orange hues on the plate. A vivid yellow sauce—hollandaise, I would guess—garnished the top of the salmon. This dish met with greater approval, since he ate all of it. Meanwhile, I occupied myself with their free-range chicken fricasée Languedoc. I think my chicken fricasée is better, but this wasn't bad, just different. Presented in a crockery bowl, the fricasée came with broth, boiled potatoes, and green olive, while having no discernable mushrooms or cream in the sauce. The chicken, though, was classically French for a fricasée or a coq au vin, as they used the stringy "old cock" that requires long, slow, stewing to tenderize and release its flavor. Since I always use just plain old chicken from the grocery store, my chicken stews lack that complexity and element of flavor.

A couple of profiteroles floating on a pool of hot fudge sauce made up Scott's dessert, and disappeared before I was even half done with mine. I wanted to savor my choice, though, and enjoy their very custardy version of raspberry clafoutis. We broke discipline during dessert and ordered a second glass of the house white wine. I never did ask what the house wine was, but it tasted of chenin blanc and chardonnay grapes, and it seemed domestic to me, not French. Knowing how so many of the house vins ordinaires go in France, though, I'm probably completely wrong on all counts.

We had a very enjoyable dinner, and our waitress was very attentive, always, it seemed, popping up at the table whilst we conversed to check on our progress and needs.

After our repast, we walked up to Chinatown to people watch a bit before taking our respective subway trains away to be home in time to watch the Obama acceptance speech.

Mio Restaurant, Washington, D.C.

Our friend Peter joined Robert and me for lunch today at Mio Restaurant downtown near McPherson Square as we begin to wrap up our Restaurant Week holdovers. Mio has been open for about a year, and they have a "Mediterranean inspired" menu of contemporary foods.

Peter liked the restaurant and the food a lot. Robert was more jaded, finding the food satisfactory, but not appreciating the decor (he called it "cookie-cutter contemporary restaurant"), and finding the service insufficiently attentive. I fell somewhere in between, though I really liked my food, and I probably have an overall positive impression of the place.

Robert and Peter ordered the same identical menus, so you won't have to look at so many food pictures (thanks, Robert, for taking the pictures during my camera's absence). They started with an unusual appetizer with no formal name, but which was an oval serving plate with toast, littleneck clams, a poached egg, and a large slice of paper-thin Serrano ham that had been flash-fried just crispy. Both of them liked it, and Robert's only complaint was that there was no salt or pepper on the table (or any of the tables, from what I could see) for him to use on his egg.


I wanted to be different, so I got the chilled beet soup with a chèvre (goat cheese) and, I think, crème fraîche blend sitting in the center of the bowl. The soup had a bright beet flavor with the chèvre adding notes of richness, making for a pleasant summer soup.


Their main course was the plancha grilled skate with white corn puree and brown butter. What looked like a big leaf of tempura basil garnished the top of the dish. Skate, of course, is a creature related to the stingray, and it has a nice, sweet, firm, white flesh that is easy to eat and remove from the bone. "Plancha" is a traditional Spanish cooking technique of grilling things on a hot metal plate. Both of them were pleased with their selection.


I, also, was pleased with mine, the Oaxacan-style "arroz con pollo"—chicken with rice—prepared with the chicken marinated with oregano and grilled separately from the rice. A little salad of watercress and curly endive topped the timbale of rice. I was a little nervous on ordering, though, as I wasn't quite sure what "Oaxacan-style" meant. Oaxaca is one of the states in the south of Mexico, and one of their distinctive local delicacies is fried grasshopper. Fortunately, that delicacy did not make an appearance today. Everything was well cooked and had a lovely flavor; a rich sauce adorned the plate tasting almost like a demiglace.


Desserts were also fun. Peter and Robert got the lime tart, a little round individual pie with a small scoop of "fresh cream" ice cream. Peter liked it, though Robert found his rather more mundane. I definitely got the best dessert, a warm circle of brownie-like chocolate cake dusted in powdered sugar with a scoop of chocolate-garnished peanut butter ice cream and a cappuccino-espresso sauce.



Peter washed down his lime tart with a big glass of milk.

And, that was our lunch. I thought it was a fun place, and I hear they do nice cocktails here at happy hour, too.

Rasika Flavors of India, Washington, D.C.

We've often heard how there are only a couple of "good" Indian restaurants in town, and the one remaining place in that very short list at which I hadn't previously eaten happened to be one of the extenders for this summer's Restaurant Week, so off we went last Thursday for lunch. Rasika Flavors of India is that place, located near the Wooly Mammoth Theater near the Archives Metro stop. Rasika likes to distinguish itself from run of the mill Indian places by offering contemporary Indian cuisine.

Inside, the restaurant is starkly contemporary, though with warm honey-colored woods and soft earth tones to complement their modern Indian paintings and sculpture. It was a busy day (we had reservations at 1:45, when it should have been a slower time) and the restaurant was bustling.....bustling rather too much, I thought, because it was very, very noisy and difficult to carry on a conversation; we often had to ask our waitress to repeat herself, since we couldn't hear her. They also pack in the tables and chairs in the space, and we had to squeeze through other diners as we moved in and out of the dining room.

Robert opened his luncheon with palak chaat, a most interesting salad made of flash-fried bits of baby spinach tossed with a little bit of minced tomato and onion and a light amount of sweet yogurt dressing with a tamarind date chutney. The frying gave things a bit of crunch, and Robert found the salad quite enjoyable.

I chose the dakshini chicken tikka, basically a curried shish kebob of chicken smoked and barbecued in a tandoor. A green sauce tasting of fennel and star anise decorated the plate. It was a rather plain selection, and they had what is all too often a common problem with tandoori foods: a few of the smaller chicken chunks were a bit dry and overcooked, while one or two of the larger chunks were not fully cooked inside—something that always worries me with chicken. Fortunately, I did not get food poisoning later that day.

Robert had a much more successful tandoori experience with his main course, a large slab of Scottish salmon spiced with cinnamon and black pepper then cooked in the tandoor. I had a tiny nibble, and it had a lovely, delicate flavor and even with my outside edge, it was not over cooked. What looked like the same sauce as I had on my chicken appetizer also decorated Robert's plate.

I picked the lamb pista korma. Their version puts ground pistachios and cashews in the cream sauce, giving it a distinct green color. It was okay, but I definitely wasn't wowwed. In fact, I found the sauce to be rather thin and soupy, and I've had better korma at "common" places in town.

For dessert, Robert got the gulab jamun (those little dough balls in honey syrup) with cardamom ice cream, primarily, he said, because he wanted to try to ice cream. He decided the dough balls were surprisingly good, though, because, he said, they were light and didn't feel like they had been soaking in syrup for days. I got the carrot halwa with cinnamon sabayon sauce, and it was the only thing in my meal that I really liked. Halwa is a north Indian dish of shredded carrots and chopped cashews sweetened and then simmered in milk and butter.

My camera has decided to hide somewhere, so when and if I should find it, I shall upload the photos of the meal.

And that was our Rasika experience. It's an okay enough place I wouldn't mind going back to eat, but it didn't meet my expectations as one of the top two or three Indian places in town. Service was okay, if not a touch slow. Food was okay, but what I got was not outstanding; I think Robert definitely got the better of the two meals, though!