What's the problem? Well, I think it's a matter of complacency, since the Kennedy Center is off by itself along the river, and there aren't any other restaurants in the immediate vicinity. Aside from one mediocre place across the street at the Watergate, everything else is either several blocks' walk away, or even farther away in Georgetown or in the West End. With a captive audience, they were just used to offering quick, overly expensive food with no real passion or flair. They've recently acquired a new chef de cuisine and a new pastry chef, though, so I thought I would give them a try.
I'm sad to report that I didn't really notice a whole lot of improvement. The concepts were intriguing, but the execution remains cursed with the uncertainties of attendance and the need for immediate food production to turn all those tables before curtain time. Now, perhaps I should try a full dinner sometime (any rich people want to volunteer to take me?), but based on the dessert performance, I'm going to continue to eat before I come to the Kennedy Center.
The bulk of the Roof Terrace crowd is in the 5 to 8 p.m. time slot when people are getting ready to go to a show. After our concert, the place only had a handful of tables occupied, so we had no trouble whatsoever getting a table for five with no reservations. We had a lovely view of the river and the Georgetown harbor from our seats. I thought the hostess and waiters were all very professional and there was plenty of staff on hand to see to our needs. The problems were in the mass production of the food.
Ryan got the milk chocolate banana cream pie with chocolate malt ice cream. The $11 it cost could have bought two entire pies back in Oklahoma, and this piece was a particularly small single serving. When I asked him his opinion, he gave a quick, "It was very good," which, when unelaborated, is his code phrase for okay, but certainly nothing to write home about.
Scott had the crème brulée. He reported that the crème was flavored with maple syrup. It came with some fat little pumpkin and ginger cookies, a few fresh berries, and a dollop of whipped cream. He said it was good, though "different," and I thought it had an attractive presentation. He also reported that the caramelized sugar crust on the top of the crème was cold, a sign that they had all been pre-made and not freshly broiled prior to service.
Where things were really disappointing, though, was with the beggar's pouches Robert and I ordered for our desserts. They looked beautiful on the plate, but they were such a let down. First of all, they were served cold. They really, really needed to have been served warm, fresh from the oven. Cold just didn't cut it. No crispness to them. And, the pastry used to form the cute little bags was tough and tasteless. The fall fruits inside the bag didn't really inspire me either. I think I tasted pear and apple, and there definitely were cranberries, but the thickening agent for the filling was blah, and, once again, really needed to be hot. Along with the pouch, we got a scoop of what was advertised as apple cider-caramel ice cream, but I couldn't really taste anything. It was garnished with a cute, thin slice of crispy, dried pineapple. They used interesting tear-shaped plates on which to serve.Robert had an Irish coffee served in a proper glass that he seemed to find quite satisfactory. I had some delicious regular coffee, though I was rather perplexed at their method of service: it came in a small, individual-sized, French press pot, but there were no coffee grounds in the pot, and, hence, there was no cause whatsoever for the press. Odd.
Oh, did I mention that Laurent was a snob and just sat there texting and refusing to eat with us?
So, that was our Roof Terrace experience. Good thing I'd cooked us dinner beforehand. My fried pork chunks with milk gravy, boiled red potatoes, brown beans with tomatoes and onions, fresh spinach sauteed in bacon grease with minced garlic, and grape Jell-O are what got us through the night.
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