Belga Cafe, Washington, D.C.

To celebrate what will probably be my only Restaurant Week experience this week, my friend Bob and I ventured down to the Barracks Row section of Capitol Hill to lunch at Belga Cafe today. What a fun place!

Belga (the G is hard, as in 'gate') Cafe opened around Halloween last year in that Eighth Street strip of southeast Washington, right by the Shakespeare Theater administrative offices. The chef-owner is the young, tall, and very handsome Bart Vandaele, a Belgian national who has been cooking in various diplomatic venues in the District since about 2000. We saw him quite a bit at lunch today, since the kitchen is designed to be completely open to view so we could see him cooking, and he also came out into the dining room several times, sometimes to greet guests, sometimes to do work (once we saw him straightening askew chairs on the front patio). He was wearing an unusually cut white chef's jacket, but instead of the traditional houndstooth patterned trousers, he wore blue jeans.

The restaurant itself is very deep and narrow, with a patio on the front sidewalk which looked to seat about two dozen. Inside, a large bar occupied the center of a bare-brick wall and on the other side of the bar stretched the large display kitchen. The contemporary tables were bare with geometric-patterned taupe placemats at each seat. Each table also had a bottle of wine (available for purchase) and, rather inexplicably, a single, fresh lemon. The wait staff was clad in black trousers, long black aprons, and black collared shirts with the sleeves rolled up. The bartender (an incredibly cute, tossel-haired, blond boy worth a special trip just to gaze upon) wore a tight pearl gray t-shirt. It was a good thing we had reservations, cause even at 1:00, the restaurnant was completely packed, inside and out, and when we left at 2:30, the place was still nearly full inside.

Our first big decision was picking a beverage. In Belgium, people take their beer very, very seriously, just like the French with their wines. Their beer list had about four dozen Belgian beers! Not being a big beer person, I had to follow Bob's lead on what to drink. He's lived in Belgium before (State Department posting), so he knew his way around the menus. We opted to go with the beers on tap. The first one we had was a Hoegaarden, which was a very pale, cloudy beer with a light taste that was slightly lemony. By the time our entrees were served, we had our second beer, which was a Leffe Blonde, which had a deeper amber color and more of a distinctly hop taste to it (and which was my preference of the two).

While many things on the menu were intriguing, we had gone there to experience the special three course $20.05 prix fixe menu that had been created just for Restaurant Week. The first course was called "Red and Green." We were given long, white rectangular plates. On one end was a cross-section slice of a roulade of romaine hearts with goat cheese and herbs between the lettuce leaves, with a thin, crisp, savory wafer balanced across the top. On the other end was a ball of diced red tomato and tiny little grey shrimp in a mayonnaise garnished with a piece of sun-dried tomato and an artistic wad of long-stemmed tiny clover. In the center was a scattering of tiny grey shrimp resting on a squiggle of sauce which reminded me a bit of a hoisin sauce. The plate was very pretty and carefully arranged. I particularly liked the tomato and shrimp salad.

For the main course, I was very tempted to have the pot of mussels (mussels are a Belgian specialty), but we both ended up ordering the biefstuk van de beenhouwer, which is grilled hanger steak. Lots of Americans are not completely familiar with this cut of beef, and often confuse it with a flank steak or skirt steak (fajita meat), yet in actuality, the hanger steak is the remnant of the cow's diaphragm where it attaches to the muscle wall just below the last rib. I've always found the cut very good when properly marinated and cooked, but the "grain" and feel of the beef is just a little different from standard steaks and roasts. Belga's steak was just what I was expecting--juicy, flavorful, and nearly fork-tender. A bearnaise sauce made with beer accompanied the steak. Along with the meat, there was an ample serving of roasted vegetables, including peas, carrots, green beans, and leeks on the plate, and a paper cone in a unique spiral holder held the hot Belgian fries (what we call liberty fries or "French fries" actually originated in Belgium). People gush about Belgian fries, but I can't say that I was wowwed by these. They were good, though, and I used my bearnaise as a dipping sauce instead of the Belgian-traditional mayonnaise.

A strawberry, peach, and beer soup with fresh strawberries, blueberries, raspberries and cape gooseberries floating in the soup and highlighted with an egg-shaped scoop of very tart apricot sorbet was our dessert. Cape gooseberries are a little bit unusual, and I've not been served them anywhere else in D.C. For those who've never had them, they look a lot like small yellow cherry tomatoes and they have an interesting taste that is sort of a cross between a tomato and pineapple. This was a fun dessert, and I loved the sorbet and how it made me pucker. Dessert was followed by espresso and coffee with cream.

Our waitress was very helpful, pleasant, and informative. There were also a number of other waiters involved in bringing our food to us at various times. My only big complaint with the service, though, was when our salad plates were removed, the waiter took our salad fork and salad knife off the plate and laid them down on the bare table. You would think that a restaurant of this calibre could manage to bring us clean flatware for each course.

We're certainly looking forward to another visit to Belga Cafe. There are lots and lots of very intriguing items on the menu, including foie de canard (smoked and poached duck liver pate), lobster hamburger, leg of rabbit braised in red ale beer, pan-seared salsify, asparagus fritters with asparagus ice cream, and a Belgian endive tart, not to mention forty-some more beers to try.

Belga Cafe, 514 Eighth Street Southeast, near Eastern Market Metro.

Chinatown Express, Washington, D.C.

My Tulsa friend Jeff, who used to be one of my voice students at the college there, popped into D.C. yesterday evening for a whirlwind business trip (I think he leaves this afternoon), and it was so good to see him! He loves Asian food, and since "authentic" pickings are slim in Oklahoma, we prevailed upon Leo to take us to Chinatown, pick a restaurant, and order us some "authentic" Chinese food.



Most of the time, the tourists stay on the main drag around the Chinatown arch, but last night Leo took us way down and then around the corner on Sixth Street to a place I never would have thought to try, mainly because the name—Chinatown Express—sounds so mall food court-y. As we got closer, though, it started to look more and more "authentic." It's very much a hole-in-the-wall kind of place, small, crowded, and noisy, but I'm so glad we went there, and it's going to be on my list of recommended D.C. restaurants.

From the street, we could see all these cooked chickens and ducks hanging, ready either for take-away or for being served inside. They also had roast pork and barbecued ribs hanging, and if you look closely, you'll see in the steam table below pigs' ears (by the red tongs) and on the far right, chicken feet. Not all of the dinner entrees were hanging in the window. There's a huge aquarium right by the front door full of fish, crab, and lobster—they want you to know your seafood is fresh!



Leo and the waitress bantered a bit, though his Cantonese and her Mandarin weren't totally compatible, and they had to negotiate a few points in English, but we ended up with a splendid meal! In keeping with Chinese tradition, food isn't served in courses, but tends to come either all at once, or as the more complicated items get cooked. The first thing they brought (actually, as soon as we sat down) was water and a big pot of hot tea. When the food started coming, we got a huge plate of sliced roast duck, roast pork, barbecued pork, and barbecued squid (it was bright orangish-red; at first, I thought it was strips of red bell pepper) accompanied by a little dish of pungent but addictive pickled sliced garlic and another little dish of a chopped green substance that turned out to be fresh ginger root with chives and a touch of garlic.

No sooner had we started eating when a big plate of "potstickers" (fried dumplings) and a big lettuce leaf-lined bamboo tray of steamed dumplings showed up. The table was getting crowded, but on her next trip, the waitress brought a plate of shredded lettuce salad topped with long thin slices of jellyfish marinated in ginger and rice vinegar with sesame seeds and thinly sliced scallions (the marinated jellyfish was not quite so crunchy as the time I had it before, but this preparation was different and good in its own way), three bowls of steamed white rice, a big plate of lightly sauteed gai lan (Chinese kale, which is sometimes misidentified as Chinese broccoli), and the piece de resistance, an absolutely exquisite shrimp and walnuts in cream sauce. LOL....the waitress had to point to a couple of the nearly-empty dumpling platters and command us to "Eat!" so she could clear more space on the table for the newest food.

Our table was deep inside the restaurant, but from my vantage point, I could see the work station up by the front window, where a chef was preparing many of the rotisserie items, plus hand-making and stretching fresh lo mein noodles. It was fascinating to watch....the dough was stretched and folded and stretched and folded, and eventually he stretched the now-multiple strands as far as his arms could reach, when he some how "popped" the strands, and they fell into dozens of shorter pieces, which were then slipped into the simmering soup broth.

Now, I have to tell you about the shrimp dish. They took a bunch of jumbo shrimp, cleaned and peeled them, then dredged them very lightly in cornstarch before flash-frying them. They were cooked again with big chunks of fresh pineapple in a thick, slightly sweet cream sauce. As it was plated, it was strewn with walnut halves, and the platter was carefully edged with precisely cut pieces of blanched broccoli. The shrimp was perfectly cooked (it's easy to overcook shrimp, especially when the technique requires two cooking cycles), succulent, and ever so delicious!

The three of us absolutely stuffed ourselves, and couldn't quite finish everything. And the best part? The bill for the three of us, including tax and generous tip, was only $60! Not only is that an impressive feat for downtown Washington restaurants, but we ordered some of the most expensive things on the menu, what with the jellyfish and the jumbo shrimp.

We waddled back to the main drag and stopped and looked at the bus stop, looked at one another, then promptly hailed a cab. Getting on a bus would have been too much work!

Chinatown Express, 746 Sixth Street Northwest, near Gallery Place/Chinatown Metro.

Starbuck's, Washington, D.C.

Those of us who are sufficiently geriatric so as to be in the 35 to 55 year old range will no doubt remember the bright pink bubbles and potent sweet scent (which can't be called anything but "bubble gum") of Bazooka Gum. It came in these little one inch long rectangles that were individually wrapped, and inside around the hunk of gum were these inane but wholesome little comics. When I was a wee small boy, my dad used to drive me all the way across town to the barber shop in this place called Oak Park Village, and after my haircut, we'd hit the penny candy cabinet (inflation had hit--things were up to two to five cents), and one of the things I'd get sometimes would be a piece of Bazooka bubble gum.

Well, what brought up this childhood reminiscence this evening? Well, I just got back from shopping in Tenleytown, where I stopped in at the Starbucks (under coersion, of course) and tried their vogue drink du jour, the green tea frappuccino. Twas an interesting drink. It reminds me very much of a cross between Bazooka bubble gum and melted green tea ice cream.

It actually wasn't bad. Of course, I think I got my refined sugar allotment for the week in that one drink. Has Starbucks ever considered using Splenda or doing a diet version of their drinks? Anyway, on those occasions when I'm forced to go to Starbucks, I at least have two possible drinks to order, the Chantico (chocolate) and the green tea frappuccino.

Aroma Indian Restaurant, Washington, D.C.

Last night, Leo called me from his gym, wanted to go out for Indian food after his workout, and asked me to meet him at Aroma Indian Restaurant near 20th and Pennsylvania. This is a restaurant I've wanted to try, since I've seen it recommended in several guidebooks and favorably reviewed in places like the Washingtonian magazine, so I gladly agreed. Aroma is a typically-sized downtown Washington place in a rowhouse arrangment that is narrow and deep and has a large window overlooking the sidewalk. The walls were pleasantly lacking in Indian kitsch. Banquettes line the eastern wall of the dining room and white cloth-covered tables set on the diagonal are arranged in the rest of the space. Several waiters in black trousers, vests, and ties and white shirts scurried busily around the mixed ethnicity clientele.

For our first course, Leo started with two meat samosas stuffed with a slightly sweetly-spiced minced lamb that came on a big bed of iceberg lettuce with tomato and cucumber slices. I had a very nice soup badami, which was a surprisingly simple concoction of peeled and finely ground almonds in a milk and cream soup with a tiny little garnish of fresh coriander leaves in the center. We'd also been brought a basket of peppered papad wafers and a deep greenish herb sauce I didn't really recognize (it wasn't the usual mint sauce most places bring with the lentil crackers). I also had a cup of hot masala tea, which was a lovely light tea that had been lightly and delicately spiced, and came with a pitcher of milk on the side.

For our entrees, we ordered the shrimp tandoori, chicken curry, gobhi paratha (cauliflower-stuffed bread), and paneer kulcha (cheese-stuffed bread). We also had to order our rice a la carte--in this case, the basmati pulao. When the food arrived, we also received an unordered (but not complimentary--they charged us for it!) dish of channa masala (chickpeas and potatoes in a tomato and onion sauce). There was a good quantity of large shrimp, but with the tails still on (one of my constant complaints with restaurant shrimp is leaving the inedible tails on for "garnish"). Leo reported that he thought they were overcooked. The chicken curry was tasty, but I was disappointed that it was very, very mild, especially since the menu advertised "medium" spice and we had asked the waiter to make it very spicy. The channa masala had some kick to it, but it, too, was not terribly hot. The basmati pulao was elaborately spiced, with a tell-tale saffron yellow coloring and multiple whole spices cooked in. Now, basmati rice traditionally is aged, which makes the grains of rice cook up separately rather than being sticky like American or sushi rices, but I thought this basmati pulao to be rather dry. The breads were good, but they were all arranged in one basket, cut into quarters, and I'm not sure what we got—I never found a distinct taste either of cheese or of cauliflower. Since the rounds of bread were smaller than many I've seen at other local places, I wasn't sure if we got one order or two.

While none of our food was bad, I do not find Aroma to be a good buy. Their serving dishes were typically and average "individual"-sized, yet their prices were two or three dollars higher per entree than comparable competitors. And, then, they required a la carte purchase of rice! I was also distressed that our special spice request for the chicken curry was disregarded and that we were charged for an unordered chickpea dish. While I wouldn't object to eating here again, this is definitely not a "destination" establishment for me.

Aroma Indian Restaurant, 1919 Eye Street, near Farragut West Metro.

The Homogenization of America

Once upon a time, cities and towns had character. Not only that, but they had distinct character, and as one travelled across the country, one could experience wonderful, unique, and interesting differences in culture, cuisine, and clothing from city to city. One could taste the difference between North Carolina barbeque and South Carolina barbeque, between Memphis barbeque and Kansas City barbeque. One could recognize certain cuts and certain fabrics in a suit or the design of a pair of shoes and, regardless of where one was in the world, one knew immediately from whence the wearer came (or at least shopped).

Alas, those days are quickly slipping away, and America is becoming one bland, similar, boring melting pot, with everyone shopping at the same stores and eating at the same restaurants.

This homogenization of American culture took another unfortunate step forward this past week when Federated Department Stores, Inc., the survivor of the merger this spring between Federated and the May Companies, announced that they were converting all the regional department store chains in the former May stable to Federated's major store name, Macy's. Now, I have nothing against Macy's. In fact, I often enjoy shopping at various Macy's stores around the country. But, with every merger, with every change, with every renaming, we lose a slice of America.

Our choices are dwindling. It's getting so that when we travel, we aren't going to have a clue where we are, based on shopping and dining; the malls and the strips look the same. Already, we can go to the same big box stores in every major American city, large or small. Best Buy. Staples. Barnes and Noble. Circuit City. PetsMart. Home Depot. One of the 3,600 some Wal-Mart stores in the U.S. alone. And even when we pay for our purchases, whether we write a check or use a credit card, our banks are consolidating, too. The huge Bank of America and MBNA banking corporations announced earlier this year that they were merging, too. Then when we quench our thirsts, we have our choice of the same mediocre coffee at Starbucks on every street corner (they are planning to open another 1,800 coffee shops in 2006) or the same arteriosclerosing Happy Meals at one of the 31,561 McDonald's stores in the country. And what city doesn't have an Olive Garden or a Chili's or a Red Lobster or a Bennigan's? Did you travel to another town to shop? Will you be staying at a hotel in the HIlton group or the Marriott group?

Not everyone is unhappy about our homogenization. Every mall wants a Gap and an Abercrombie and Fitch. Krispy Kreme has to have traffic control for a week when they open a new store in a new city. Anywhere in the country, I can guess a guy's age based on whether he's dressed in Nautica, Hilfiger, or Hollister. We watch television and movies to see what people are wearing, and then we want it for ourselves. We watch music videos to see what the hip-hoppers are wearing so we know that we want North Face winter gear so badly our kids will murder one another for it. T.G.I.Friday's and Denny's always seem to be packed with diners, no matter how bad the food or rude the service. So, obviously, there's something about national franchises that the American public seems to accept, if not crave. We all want to dress alike and shop at the same stores and eat at the same restaurants, whether we are in Atlanta or Seattle, Bloomington, Indiana, or El Paso, Texas.

It makes me sad, though, because when I go home to Tulsa, I don't want Florida stone crabs claws or Louisiana crawfish etouffee or Maryland blue crab cakes, cause they just aren't the same in a town that cooks beef 90% of the time. In D.C., the Amerindian food all has that institutionalized blandness, I don't even want to talk about what passes for Mexican food, and the chicken fried steaks would even shame my high school cafeteria. Yet, we continue our march towards mediocrity, towards our least common denominator; we accept and welcome our increasing homogenization.

Homogenization is for milk, not for stores and restaurants. I just pray that I am not the lone voice in the American consumer wilderness who values what we are losing.

Malaysia Kopitiam, Washington, D.C.

I'm craving food right now. What I want is a salad we had the other day at Malaysia Kopitiam they called a "crispy squid salad with lemon grass dressing," which really wasn't "squid" at all. It was a big mound of long, thin shreds of green apple and green mango with shallots and mint leaves which had been tossed in a mouth-watering hot-spicy sweet and sour vinaigrette scented with lemon grass. Some very crispy small pieces of deep-fried squid were sprinkled on the top, but it was really more of a garnish than a main theme for a salad. The dish really didn't have much of a seafood taste to it at all. Anyway, it's that zesty apple-mango stuff I'm craving now.

El Chalán, Washington, D.C.

In keeping with our tradition of observing international independence days in the month of July, tonight we celebrated the 1821 independence day of Peru from Spain by dining in D.C.'s western downtown area at a Peruvian restaurant called El Chalán. El Chalán is a name which my fading high school Spanish tells me translates roughly to something like "The Horse Trader." Located in a very unpretentious storefront underneath a row of shops across the street from the Uruguayan Embassy, the restaurant is a simply decorated, two dining room operation. The walls were covered with large poster-sized photographs of the Andes, Mayan ruins, and street scenes from Lima, which were approaching sepia-tones with age.

We didn't have a reservation, but were seated immediately at a tiny two-top table covered by a thin white cloth in a niche in the main dining room with a view of the bar and the entry way. I noticed that all of the larger tables were merely arrangements of the same two-tops. There were quite a number of mature waiters and assistants running around the restaurant, and I did see one female waiter. All were clad in black trousers and bow ties with white shirts. When we arrived a little after 8, probably about half of the tables were filled. There was an older gentleman in the other room (he later visited our room) who played the guitar and sang what I would call standard "Miami-style" nightclub music, heavy on the Elvis and showtunes, but with a few Latin standards.

We drank a Peruvian beer called Pilsen Callao while we pondered the menu. The beer was light and pleasant and very much in the pale pilsner tradition. The three-page menu was very straight forward and fully translated into English. There was a page devoted to soups, salads, and simple appetizers, a page with the "better" (mostly seafood) appetizers or first courses and house specialties, and a page with chicken, beef, and steak entrees (I thought the division between "beef" and "steak" was interesting). Many of the offerings looked very traditionally Spanish, while others had a decided South American flare to them. I didn't see anything at all on the menu which was exotic or unfamiliar. As soon as I saw the listings, I saw immediately what I wanted for my entree, since it was something I've not had in years and years.

Our first course was the ceviche mixto, the traditional Spanish raw seafood dish where the seafood is "cooked" by marinading it in lime juice. Their version also included some very hot pepper spice in the marinade, as well as a goodly quantity of sliced red onion rings. The ceviche included at least two different types of fish, plus shrimp, a mussel, some squid, and some conch. I'm usually not wild about conch, but this version was good and not tough or chewy at all. Along with the fish we received a basket of sliced bread with a distinctly sweet taste and a sauce which resembled brown mustard but that was not mustard at all, and which had a very hot, "heavy" pepper taste.

For entrees, Leo had the arroz con mariscos, a paella-like dish with traditional saffron rice and vegetables with an assortment of seafood, including both mussels and clams. Apparently it was good, since he ate the whole plateful (his Atkins diet notwithstanding!).

I was excited to have cabrito norteno, as this is the first time I've been to a restaurant in over a decade that featured cabrito. The cabrito was explained in the menu very simply as being a "goat stew" (a bit of a misnomer, since "cabro" is goat and "cabrito" is kid), so I was totally not expecting what arrived on the table. The cabrito was almost like a gourmet braised lamb shank, with two pieces of large bone with large chunks of melt-in-your-mouth cabrito, all in what was more of a long-simmered, rich, brown, reduction sauce than a traditional stew or soup. The meat was just wonderful, with no tinge of toughness or strong taste (so they didn't cheat and use "young" goat), and I think this was the best meal I've had all week. Also on the plate were a scoop of white rice, some lettuce and spicy marinated onions, and a serving of some variety of white bean that was fully cooked and which had an intriguing butteriness to the flavor.

The dessert offerings were a little limited, with only flan and rice pudding. We were already feeling full from the meal, so we passed on the dessert.

During the course of the meal, the restaurant crowd picked up considerably, so that when we were leaving around 9:45, all of the tables were full and there were people standing waiting for tables. Ten o'clock is a "normal" dinner hour in Spain and many hispanic cultures, so that's not all that unusual. Later in the evening, a lot of big families were coming in, but earlier on, I was noticing a lot of tables with three men and one unusually beautiful and exotic young woman. I assume that most of the patrons were either Peruvian or at least South American, since I was hearing Spanish being spoken at most all of the tables other than ours. Since this is not a weekend night, I don't know if the late crowd is normal for this place, or if people were coming in to celebrate Independence Day. There were no particular holiday food specials, though, and when I mentioned to the waiter we'd come for the holiday, he didn't seem overly excited about it. That may have been more of a language issue, since Spanish seemed to be his primary language.

I'm looking forward to another visit to El Chalán, especially to try some of the other traditional Peruvian specialties such as lomo saltado, lamb in beer, and the chicken in peanut and onion sauce. El Chalán, 1924 Eye Street Northwest, between the Foggy Bottom and Farragut West Metro stops.

Cactus Cantina, Washington, D.C.

After another Summer Music Festival performance at the National Cathedral tonight, my friend Bob from the State Department (who'd dragged me out to the concert tonight) and I wandered up the street a bit from the cathedral close and had a little late evening supper at Cactus Cantina, a "Mexican" place that's a part of a small local chain. For some reason, the restaurant's decor included not only the traditional Mexican-looking stuff, but several posters and a big display case of Plains Indian regalia such as a feather war bonnet, a porcupine-quilled pipe bag, a beaded buckskin shirt, and other articles near the entrance. I'm not really sure why they had the Indian stuff there, since there weren't any Indian food items on the menu, and nothing else at the restaurant referred to it. Odd. Very odd.

The restaurant was loud, noisy, and crowded. The menu was pretty standard "contemporary"-Mex. Service was rather young and untrained, but typical for this type of restaurant. A few times, I noticed our waitress slowly reaching for our table nearly suspended in limbo as she was busy giving the Suzie Sorority fake "hiii-eeee" to other female patrons she seemed to recognize.

I ended up ordering the spinach enchillada platter. It had two enchilladas in flour tortilla wrappers, stuffed with a lot of too-intense spinach (probably from them using a goodly quantity of chopped frozen spinach inside), covered with some kind of strangely flavorless white sauce, and topped with a few slices of avocado. A big helping of plain white rice was on the plate, and a small bowl of black beans came along on the side There was also a mound of salad on the platter, but I wasn't expecting the large amount of shredded cabbage along with the lettuce and tomato.

Bob had a combination plate that looked very good. There was a taco, a tamale, and an enchilada with ample shredded beef on the plate, plus salad like mine, and he got some Spanish rice with a bowl of brown beans. We were tempted to get dessert, but it was late and we really weren't still hungry, though I was quite curious to try their strawberry-almond charlotte.

Cafe Deluxe, Washington, D.C.

Went to a concert last night at the National Cathedral with a couple of friends. Afterwards, we wandered over to Cafe Deluxe for an apres-concert supper. I had a lovely, thick, crab cake floating on a pool of tasty, sweet, cream sauce lightly touched with dijon mustard along side an interesting mix of sauteed sweet fresh corn and clipped bits of fresh asparagus. For dessert I had a strawberry cobbler à la mode with a pate sucreé top crust so thick and sweet it was nearly a cookie dough.

Ben's Chili Bowl, Washington, D.C.

Last week, Baj was headed back to Toronto, so before he left, we got together to see a bit more of esoteric Washington. We started with a late breakfast. Do you know how hard it is to find a restaurant in D.C. that's actually open for breakfast and that isn't a $30+ per person hotel dining room? We started at Dupont Circle, went to 17th, then went to U Street and ended up all the way down by the Cardozo Metro stop, where we landed at Ben's Chili Bowl. Ben's, the fifty-year-old landmark greasy spoon, is actually open for breakfast, and they have all kinds of breakfast foods that don't include chili! Baj had a breakfast sandwich of egg, cheese, and vegetarian sausage, and I had the (regular) sausage and egg platter with a big bowl of grits. Yum yum. Not a good place for the arteries, but I do like diner food.

Mar de Plata, Washington, D.C.

Last week, a realtor friend of mine took me to dinner at a place near his office. He chose Mar de Plata, an Argentine restaurant on 14th just south of P (around the corner from Whole Foods). I've walked by Mar de Plata several times, but this was my first time to go in. They have a very interesting menu with a full page of tapas and then a long page with both Spanish and Argentine classics, including a large grouping of various paellas. We sipped amontillado sherry while we perused the menu.

We started with their summer classic cold gazpacho, which turned out to be a servicable soup of finely pureed tomato and herbs with some tiny, tiny dice of cucumber, tomato, and carrot in it for texture and a good squeeze of lemon juice in it. They brought us a big basket of rustic country bread and a bowl of grated white cheese, roasted peppers, and olive oil as a tasty spread for the bread.

For our main course, he had an interesting vegetarian tower with a spicy lentil patty, longitudinally sliced and grilled yellow and zuccini squashes, broiled tomato, a little frisee, and some thin, crisp cracker things stacked on the sides. I had arroz negro con mariscos from the paella section of the menu. The arroz negro, or "black rice", was a risotto-like dish with arborio rice cooked in squid ink until it was thick and black as tar. In keeping with its paella roots, there were little pieces of diced sausage in the mix as well as a number of shrimp, some squid, some fish, and several mussels in the shell. The seafood had a bit of a doggy taste to it, a disappointment which is something I often encounter when meats have been frozen and then cooked. The arroz was quite good, though, and I enjoyed the dish. We drank the house Chilean cabernet (which the hispanic waiter kept calling a "cab-er-net") that was a little thin, but went well with the arroz.

For dessert, I had a flan which was okay but rather ordinary.

Notti Bianche, Washington, D.C.

A couple of weeks ago, a small group of us headed out to Sunday dinner, and went to the George Washington University Inn on the street behind me to see if their restaurant, Nectar, had reopened after remodeling. Turns out it's open again, but it's now known as Notti Bianche, an Italian-style trattoria. I was kind of amused by the name.....notti bianche is, literally, "white nights" in Italian, but it's also an idiomatic expression in Italy meaning "sleepless nights." LOL

The young chef from Dish at the River Inn down the street is also overseeing this new restaurant. When we arrived, the main dining room was filled with a group of Girl Scouts who were staying at the hotel, so we got the manager to seat us out on the patio for a little more quiet. We also let the manager pick our menu for the evening, and it turned out to be a nice adventure. Here's his picture:



We started with the roasted house olives. They took a mixture of four or five different green and ripe Italian olives, marinated them in olive oil, garlic, lemon zest, and fresh oregano, then roasted them in the oven and served them warm at the table. Hot, juicy olives are really good! We also got a basket of toasted Italian breads and foccacia, and the obligatory plate of olive oil and roasted garlic was poured up for dipping the bread. With the olives, he brought us the first of the evening's wines, and I thought it interesting that all of the wines he brought were reds. We started with a 2002 Capestrano Montepulciano d'Abruzzo. Now, abruzzos are notorious for being pleasant, innocuous little wines, but this one was actually very flavorful and had enough substance and acidity to stand up to the heavy garlic of the olives. There was a nice blackberry touch to the taste and it was a bit spicy for a typical abruzzo.

Next we had chilled tomato soup with tiny poached shrimp, toasted pinoli, and a basil mascarpone. This was a really interesting soup. The base soup was a rough puree of tomatoes and cucumber with multiple other vegetable flavors, and it seemed to have been brightened a bit with a shot of red wine vinegar. The soup was ladled into a soup plate, and then a mixture of the shrimp, quartered cherry tomatoes, pine nuts, and fresh shredded basil leaves were mounded in the center, and the mascarpone cheese sauce was drizzled all over the top of the presentation. It was very pretty, and there was enough shrimp and cheese almost to make it qualify as a fish course.

Our second course was a fava bean salad with a glass of 2003 Mark West Pinot Noir (no, no chianti!). The salad was an interesting construction. On the plate was a mixture of fava beans and pureed fava beans with a hint of mint chiffonade, topped with a thin, crispy, crepe-sized, peccorino romano cracker. On top of the cracker was a mix of bitter salad greens with crispy slivvers of fried pancetta ham dressed in a light lemony vinaigrette. A large thin slice of pecorino cheese rested over the greens, and another cracker crowned the entire oeuvre. It was a nice mixture of tastes and textures. The wine had a nice richness to it with hints of strawberry tastes and a touch of oakiness. It wasn't bad for a Central Coast wine.

We all got separate entrees. One dish was a cannelloni stuffed with poached chicken and sweet Italian sausage and served on a bed of braised baby spinach and shallots, then sauced with a veal stock and chianti reduction and garnished with frizzled sage leaves. Another was a half grilled Tuscan chicken served with a vegetable fricassee and creamy polenta. Both of the chicken dishes came with a glass of 2003 Morgante Nero d'Avola, which I didn't get a chance to taste.

My entree was a skillet-braised monkfish with Sardinian couscous. There were a couple of things I didn't like about the presentation, but when I read the menu after dinner, I saw that those things were specifically explained and set out, so I guess I have to accept them as they were, since we let the manager select the menu without any guidance or restrictions. What I didn't like about the fish presentation was that it was served on the bone, "steak style." It gave it a novel look, but I didn't like having to hack around the big fish bones. The plate was also surrounded by a semi-circle of thin anchovy crackers, and I hate anchovies, so I didn't eat more than a bite of the crackers. The fish itself, though, was very flavorful. Monkfish is one of those fish that strongly takes on the flavors and character of the foods cooked with it, and this dish had been braised with procscuitto ham, anchovies (ick, more anchovy, but not too much), fennel, olives, celery, garlic, Italian parsley, capers, and tomatoes in a shellfish stock. The couscous was nice, though I don't know what made it "Sardinian." My wine was a 2002 Cantele Primitivo-Puglia. It was a medium-weight, slightly peppery wine that was adequate, but didn't really stand up to the complex, strong flavors of the stewed vegetables.

We were too full for dessert, so we segued into coffee and cognac. The manager brought us snifters of a very nice Pierre Ferrano Amber Grand Cru.

Notti Bianchi was a very enjoyable dining experience, and we didn't experience any sleeplessness at all! The prices were surprisingly moderate for the quality of food and service, and we all agreed that it's a place we should put on our regular restaurant rotation.

Bistro Francais, Georgetown, D.C.

Once again it's time to celebrate the French independence day. Or, at least it was last Thursday. My friend Bob and I made a late afternoon appearance at the Hirschhorn Museum (the "modern art" place at the Smithsonian) to see the Visual Music exhibit, then rode the new D.C. Circulator bus into Georgetown. We were walking down the street headed elsewhere, but had to duck into Bistro Francais when it started to rain.

As it turned out, Bistro Francais was hosting a special Bastille Day dinner that evening, with the main seating at 9 p.m. It was a little $45 per person prix fixe thing, but I didn't feel overly impressed with the menu choices. Luckily, though, we were there early, and the bistro has an early bird prix fixe until 7 p.m. for $19 that includes three courses plus a glass of wine, so we opted to do that.

After a Dubonet Rouge on the rocks with a splash of club soda and a twist of lemon (a French cocktail seemed in order to celebrate the holiday), for my entree (in France, the starter course is called the "entree"), I started with the mousse de foie de volaille au sherry, a very tasty liver mousse that was served like a slice of pate on the plate and accompanied by the bistro's crusty breads. It had all the flavor of a pate, yet it wasn't too strong with intense liver flavor, and had a good lightness more appropriate to summer dining. Bob chose the moules Niçoise for his first course, which were mussels baked in a tomato, garlic, black olive, and butter sauce, and he ate them all, so I guess they were good.

We both had the same plat, the bisto's version of Moroccan couscous, which included stewed lamb shank and a big sausage along with stewed vegetables, all resting on a big mound of couscous. While couscous may not be a particularly French dish, it's very popular in France. The first time I ever had couscous was in Paris in a little cafe over the shops on a street across from the old Opera House over twenty years ago, about a week before Bastille Day that year. A glass of the house red bordeaux accompanied dinner.

We were stuffed after this much food, but the dessert is included in the dinner, so our waiter Thierry (should I mention that Thierry made a point on at least two occasions to tell us that he was an exotic dancer at Secrets? I'm sure Bob's kids would have been appalled!) brought us a dessert tray. We picked a pear tart and an almond tart. My almond tart was pretty good for a French dessert (I've always preferred German and Viennese pastries).

It was pouring down rain, so we lingered over coffee with cream and Hennessey V.S.O.P. cognac, and since we had a table right in the front window, we got to watch the Georgetown street traffic. Eventually we found a lull in the rain and dashed down M Street, only to get two blocks and have to take refuge under an office building awning by an art gallery. A Circulator bus came by, so we hopped on it and rode to Washington Circle, and by then, the rain seemed to stop.

Vous avez un jour de bastille heureux!

Market Cafe, Washington, D.C.

My visiting Indian-Canadian friend Baj had never had grits before, so we wandered down to Market Cafe at the Eastern Market and got little tiny bowls of grits with a huge dollop of butter. I showed him how to put salt and pepper on them and stir in the butter.....I think he actually liked it! Of course, he's always very polite, so he might have hated them and was just being gracious.

Bread and Chocolate, Washington, D.C.

My friend Baj and I had brunch at Bread and Chocolate on Capitol Hill, eating al fresco and braving the risk of additional downpours, but luckily, none happened. Baj had a huge bowl of muesli with walnuts and fresh fruits and I had an avocado and cream cheese omelette with some rosemary new potatoes and a slice of canteloupe. He had a tall glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and I had a cafe au lait. I had a refill on my cafe au lait, and the waitress charged me for it.

Pan Am Cafeteria, Fairfax, VA

While I was in Virginia yesterday, I had an interesting lunch at a place in Fairfax called Pan Am Cafeteria. I was kind of tired of all the Asian food we've been eating lately, so I thought that the Pan Am would probably be Mexican or South American or something. One look at the menu, though, with its roast lamb, spanikopita, and moussaka, and I knew I was in a Greek place.

I ordered the calf liver and onions special. The waitress brought me a great big green tossed salad with house bleu cheese dressing that was very tasty. Then the liver arrived, and I was very pleasantly surprised. The liver was not heavily breaded, had been gently sauteed on both sides, and was still tender and juicy when served. One ordinarily doesn't expect such cooking delicacy in a diner-type restaurant, but this was really good. There was an ample supply of cooked onions, and the rest of the plate was mounded with hot, fresh, hand-cut French fries.

I shouldn't have, but I endulged in a piece of coconut cream pie for dessert. The pie had a thick layer of whipped cream with commercial coconut sprinkled on top. It was ok, but I did notice that the pastry was the frozen commercial variety.

From the looks of other tables around the cafe, it looks like they do a lot of good blue plate specials here. If I'm ever in the neighborhood again, I might just have to pop in again.

Panda Cafe, Washington, D.C.

After I danced another show tonight, Leo dragged me out to dinner at the Panda Cafe near us at 22nd and Pennsylvania. I had a big bowl of seaweed salad and the salt pepper squid with white rice, washed down with a couple of Tsing Tao beers. My squid was very nice. The squid was decoratively scored, very lightly battered, and then flash deep fried, after which it was dry cooked in the wok with sea salt and lots of pepper (very spicy!) and some cooked pieces of white onion and green scallions. then presented on a large leaf-shaped plate. Even though the squid was twice cooked, it was still tender and didn't get that rubbery overcooked tooth to it.

Leo was drinking almond bubble teas and had a plateful of half a dozen huge chicken dumplings for an appetizer and for his main course had a sushi and sushi roll assortment platter that was served on a pretty celadon rectangular platter.

The restaurant was very comfortable. It was a deep, narrow space, with little two-top booths on one side of the room and on the other, a room long banquette in black vinyl with triple-level backrests accommodated a series of black laquered four top tables.

Time to go elevate and ice my foot.

Four Wines at Best Cellars, Washington, D.C.

What an unexpected surprise I had this afternoon whilst I was getting my hair cut when the wine shop next door to the barber shop, Best Cellars on Connecticut Avenue, was hosting a little wine tasting and invited me in to join them. Now, this was a surprise because I've never been in that particular shop before, and I don't know anyone on staff. Connecticut Avenue is a very busy shopping thoroughfare with a lot of street traffic, and they weren't inviting all the passers-by to come in and taste, either. I don't know if I look like a lush or if I just have about me the refined air of an established oenophile.

The theme for the tasting wasn't really apparent. I'm not at all sure they had one. They presented four wines, two whites and two reds, which were all mid-range priced bottles costing from $24 to $32. The two reds were both from Napa Valley, with one white from Burgundy and the other from Paso Robles on the central California coast.

The afternoon started off with a Domaine Gerebeaux Pouilly-Fuisse 2003, the only French offering of the day. It was a crisp, clean wine with a clear hay color, and was very classically "pouilly-fuisse-y" tasting. It would probably make a nice aperitif wine, though I daresay it didn't have the substance to stand up to more than a light, simple canape. The second white was a Tablas Creek Vineyard Cotes de Tablas Blanc 2003. This was a very interesting white with a complex array of scents and tastes (no doubt because it was a blend of several grapes--I tasted viognier, grenache blanc, and at least one or two other somethings), and had a good acid content that led me to believe it would be a good wine for stronger cheeses. I might actually choose this wine to serve for a cocktail party, and, surprisingly, it was the least expensive bottle of the afternoon.

The reds started off with great promise with a smooth, buttery Hendry Block 7 Zinfandel 2002. It had a nice level of tannin and wasn't too terribly fruity or floral, as some zinfandels are wont to do. It didn't seem to have much aftertaste or staying power to it, but it did seem to have a strongish alcohol afterburn. This was, interestingly, the most expensive wine of the day. The final wine was the Edge Cabernet Sauvignon 2003. It was a surprisingly soft wine, and I suspect that it wasn't 100% cabernet, but probably had a substantial blending of merlot mixed in with it. It's drinkable now and had very little tannic edge, so I suspect it would be a good choice for immediate consumption and not for cellaring. It seemed a little thin and didn't really have the umpff needed to stand up to a heavy meal, but I'm sure it would be fine for cocktail parties or such.

So, there were four interesting wines, with the two middle offerrings being the best, and the Tablas Creek being my favorite of the bunch.

Thai Place, Washington, D.C.

Leo got home from the gym tonight and announced that he was ravenous. So, he dragged me off to one of his favorite locales for his dates, Thai Place, just a short three block walk through the fireflies to the 22nd and Pennsylvania area. It was a little too humid to sit out on the sidewalk, so we went inside and got the window seat. Didn't make much difference. It was warm and muggy in the restaurant, too.

While I sipped my limed iced tea, Leo started with a Rain Forest, a cutesy cocktail in a mai tai glass made of rum, tequilla, lime juice, and raspberries. We split a Tiger's Tear, a Thai-inspired salad of green leaf lettuce with shreds of carrot, julienned red onion and red bell pepper, scallions, and thin slices of grilled steak in a lime, vinegar, and fiery spice dressing.

For our main courses, he had shrimp in red curry on rice (he liked it, but he said the green curry is better) and I had one of the daily specials, a Goong Pattaya, which was a very interesting square plate covered in a tomatoey sweet and sour sauce with a mound of ground chicken in the middle, eight large tiger shrimp artfully arranged around the sides, and then the entire dish was sprinkled with flaked crab meat and cilantro leaves.

While we waited for dessert, he had a Tango Mango Martini, made from orange and mango juices and some kind of premium vodka and garishly garnished with a huge orange slice and a sugared rim. His dessert was a big scoop of green tea ice cream with a speared maraschino cherry impaling the scoop—one of the "Ice Cream Dreams." I had the Thai coconut pudding, served on a big plate in three tiny bowls which had been steamed. Each bowl had a layer of dense, sweet coconut pudding on the bottom and an upper layer of congealed sweetened coconut milk.

It was a fun, tasty meal. The dining room, though, is very "ordinary," and lacks exotic ambiance. For the same price, I think I prefer some of the Thai places on K Street where there is a greater sense of Thai decor. Leo likes it a lot, though, and it does have the advantage of being a neighborhood place that delivers.

Dupont Italian Kitchen, Washington, D.C.

Had a lovely al fresco brunch with my friend Scott at the Dupont Italian Kitchen today. I know he looks like a teenager, but I swear he's in his thirties! I've seen his driver's license! He had the eggs florentine and I did the omelette au jambon et fromage. We both asked the waiter to bring us little side salads instead of the fruit and fried potatoes that came with our dishes, but I guess since we didn't say it in Italian, he brought the fruit and potatoes anyway. Alas. I hate to waste food.