My feet hurt.
Last night, Leo got home late from work after a hard day with office politics and was too tired to go to the gym, so we decided to walk into Georgetown to find something "non-Asian" for dinner. Our explorations got us onto the wrong road, and we ended up walking down a mile-long expressway with no way to exit. As we walked back towards civilization, we began to see some restaurants along M Street. West of Wisconsin, though, the establishments seemed to be mostly Indian, Lebanese, Chinese, or those crowded, noisy, smoky bars with food, none of which were what we had in mind. Finally, we espyed the tried-and-true Bistro Français and headed straight there.
The restaurant was crowded, but I guess the maitre d' recognized me, because we were immediately escorted to a decent table in the back dining room with an antique wood banquette on one side and an interesting view of the service bar through the window partition on the other. A non-Anglophone female brought our bread, butter, and water, then we met our charming waiter, a tall guy from Ivory Coast. His English was perfect, with an ever-so-slight cute French accent.
What to eat? What to eat? While we were trying to make up our minds, we got a bottle of one of their cheaper house bordeaux-superieurs to sip while we perused the menu. I forgot what it was, but I remember it made the claim to be like a Saint-Emilion (but if it was, it was totally unlike any Saint-Emilion I've ever drunk!). Eh. House wine.
When the waiter came back the second time to take our order, we still hadn't made up our minds, so we just plunged in and made a quick guess. I ordered a bistro salad and a minute steak. Leo asked for the seafood soup and the cold poached salmon.
My salad was a big plate of leaf lettuce with a lot of julienned beets on top and a very ripe and flavorful tomato wedge on either side (where do they get ripe tomatoes this time of year?). Their house dressing is a tasty, thin mayonnaise flavored with a bit of dijon mustard. My minute steak maitre d' hôtel was yummy. It was a large, thin, nearly square piece of sirloin cooked medium rare and topped with two little round pats of parsley-herb butter. A big pile of thin pommes frites, accompanied by a small bowl of dipping mayonnaise, overflowed the rest of the dinner plate.
Leo's seafood soup was a bit of a surprise. It was prepared very much like a French onion soup, with a large crouton in the soup and an ample amount of cheese melted on top and down the sides of the soup crock. His cold poached salmon looked nice. It was served atop a sauce of some kind (mousseline??), but I didn't taste it and Leo doesn't know the names of the classic French sauces, so I couldn't ask. He had a vegetable on the plate, but I didn't think to identify it, since another waiter from previous visits (the French one who's the exotic dancer) came to the table to say hi and chat.
Our waiter brought the dessert tray, but I didn't see anything inspirational in the way of napoleans or fruit or nut tarts, so I opted for a little cheese plate. Leo had a crème brulee. The cheese plate was simple, with a wedge of brie, a slice of a goat milk chevre of some type, and a small slice of a not-very-aged blue, with green apple slices filling up the empty spots on the plate. He brought some thick slices of a nice, crusty, country-style bread for the cheese—much better than the hard rolls served with dinner. The brie was brie. I'm not a great fan of brie, and, thankfully, this one wasn't ripe (the French like brie which has aged so much that it turns brown and runny and smells worse than dirty, damp gym shoes left in the locker all summer). The blue was tasty. It was an edge piece, so it had a bit more character than the center would have had, but it certainly wasn't a premium French blue. My favorite was the chevre, which was light and rich and had a very nice, complex flavor to it.
Leo's crème brulee must have been good, since he ate it all and kept trying to scrape the au gratin dish with his spoon to extract every last morsel. I think, though, for expediencies' sake, the restaurant had pre-made the crème brulees, since Leo reported that the hard sugar crust on the top of the cold custard was not warm.
After coffee with cream, we limped back home, walking the whole way.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Monday, September 26, 2005
Starland Cafe, Washington, D.C.
Last Friday, my financial planner picked me up in his Z4 so we could continue our previously truncated business meeting. We went zooming off with the top down, the wind blowing my hair. It was a great chance to enjoy the beautiful sunshine and warm weather. We headed out to the Palisades area of D.C., way, way out in the far western corner of the district, northwest of Georgetown, and stopped at the Starland Cafe. He said the Starland is popular in the neighborhood because they feature a lot of live musical groups during dinner. It was an interesting crowd, though I'm not so sure the luncheon patrons are the live music set—most of the tables seemed filled with local matrons. We sat out on their covered terrace overlooking MacArthur Boulevard, and we had a very friendly, peppy waitress with wild hair.
I had the Cobb salad and he had a fried crabcake sandwich with French fries and mayonnaise. I also had a warm pot-au-chocolat à la mode for dessert. What they served me was not a pot-au-chocolat. A proper pot-au-chocolat is very much like a dense, rich, dark chocolate flan or creme brulee (without the caramel or broiled sugar); what they brought was crusty on the outside and more like a baked chocolate pudding or baked fudge. Now, it was good for what it was, but I don't like misnamed menu items.
I had the Cobb salad and he had a fried crabcake sandwich with French fries and mayonnaise. I also had a warm pot-au-chocolat à la mode for dessert. What they served me was not a pot-au-chocolat. A proper pot-au-chocolat is very much like a dense, rich, dark chocolate flan or creme brulee (without the caramel or broiled sugar); what they brought was crusty on the outside and more like a baked chocolate pudding or baked fudge. Now, it was good for what it was, but I don't like misnamed menu items.
Port of Piraeus, Washington, D.C.
A few days ago, I had lunch with a financial planner. He was buying, so I let him pick the place. He picked Port of Piraeus in the "Golden Triangle" area of downtown D.C. I've walked by the place before and knew it was Greek ("Piraeus" is a city in Greece), but I was expecting a fairly fancy restaurant, given the substantial square footage it assumes in a downtown office building; it turns out it's nothing more than a big deli serving mostly Greek themed sandwiches and salads. We both ended up ordering their salad special of the day, which was a Greek salad with tuna on top. Our cell phones kept ringing and due to the press of business, our meeting was somewhat truncated, so we agreed to get together again later in the week.
Yee Hwa, Washington, D.C.
Last week we finally got around to trying Yee Hwa, a place I've often walked by in the west end of downtown Washington. Located in the bottom of an office building, it has a large burgundy canopy going out to the curb and heavy curtains in the windows. The canopy and the windows are marked simply with the words "Yee Hwa" and the two Korean alphabet symbols for the same. Now, way over in Chinatown, there's a Texas-style barbecue joint, but I've always had the feeling that Yee Hwa ain't very Texan.
After going through a small entry hall and a second set of doors, one enters a sleekly contemporary dining room that turns out to be much larger inside than the establishment appears from the street. Along the left hand side of the dining room is a long cocktail bar that looks very much as though it used to be a sushi bar. Contemporary, wood-grained tables are separated by low glass dividers discreetly etched with the Korean "yee hwa" symbols. The menu indicates that Yee Hwa is a "Korean-Japanese" restaurant and that the Washington location is a branch of a restaurant in Seoul. They also have a separate menu with a lengthy list of sake and plum wines (some of which were very expensive!) and a handful of Korean and Japanese beers.
Even though the menu featured ribs and Korean barbecue, we decided to be less cowboy, and started with haemul pa jeon, a traditional Korean seafood and scallion pancake. The pancake started out as a very large oval on the grill, and once it was cooked to a slightly crispy, golden brown, it was fan-folded on to a large round plate and then cut into squares. It came with a dipping sauce with soy sauce, chives, and sesame seeds very similar to the sauce for Chinese dumplings. Since the rice flour used for the pancake has different cooking properties than wheat flour, the interior portions of the thin pancake had an interesting, almost "gooey" (yet cooked) consistency to it. We washed this down with a vase of hot "house" sake (the $8 kind, not the $100 kind).
For our main courses, we both opted for different forms of the popular Korean dish, bi bim bap (pronounced "bee-beem-bahp"). Bi bim bap, which means "mixed meal," is an artfully arranged bowl with a huge quantity of shredded vegetables. My bi bim bap was the plain, "simple," cold version with a large bowl of vegetables that included some unusual roots and fern sprouts all topped with a sunny-side up egg, and hot rice in a separate aluminum container. I had to add the special chile-based bi bim bap sauce to taste from a small bowl on the side, then mix up the vegetables, egg, rice, and sauce with a spoon and chopsticks.
My dinner companion had dolsot bi bim bap, which is the hot version that also includes beef. Its presentation is a little different. The bowl was a dark ceramic or stone dish made very hot on the stove. The rice was put directly into the bottom of dish, where the heat from the stone made the outer portions crunchy. With the addition of cooked beef, the rest of the entree was similar to mine with essentially the same vegetables and fried egg.
We were also given nine little bowls of complementary side dishes of various Korean vegetables. Most of these were in the kim-chee family (fermented cabbage with hot chiles...rotten cabbage is an acquired taste), but there were also some shredded white radishes, some preserved slices of what looked like candied jalapeño peppers, and some glossy red mung beans. The kim-chees included radishes and some pretty little slices of a thin cucumber. My friend tasted most of these things, especially the cabbage kim-chees, and thought they were good, but I'm allergic to something in kim-chee and I steer clear (as it was, I had indigestion and was queasy the whole next day, but this happens to me every time I go to a Korean place—I guess I just can't eat Korean food, which is a shame, since the food at Yee Hwa was tasty and elegantly presented).
At the end of the meal, our waitress brought us complimentary cups of Korean sweet rice punch. It's an interesting drink, which I think was non-alcoholic. It was amber in color with a water-like consistency and had a sweet taste scented with ginger. A few little pieces of what my friend said was chopped lotus root floated in the bottom.
Yee Hwa is a very nice restaurant with good food and a lot of amenities. I was surprised at how inexpensive our meal was (my bi bim bap was only $10), especially given the ambiance, quality of service, and complimentary food items. If you're a kim-chee fan, this is the place to go for Korean cuisine.
After going through a small entry hall and a second set of doors, one enters a sleekly contemporary dining room that turns out to be much larger inside than the establishment appears from the street. Along the left hand side of the dining room is a long cocktail bar that looks very much as though it used to be a sushi bar. Contemporary, wood-grained tables are separated by low glass dividers discreetly etched with the Korean "yee hwa" symbols. The menu indicates that Yee Hwa is a "Korean-Japanese" restaurant and that the Washington location is a branch of a restaurant in Seoul. They also have a separate menu with a lengthy list of sake and plum wines (some of which were very expensive!) and a handful of Korean and Japanese beers.
Even though the menu featured ribs and Korean barbecue, we decided to be less cowboy, and started with haemul pa jeon, a traditional Korean seafood and scallion pancake. The pancake started out as a very large oval on the grill, and once it was cooked to a slightly crispy, golden brown, it was fan-folded on to a large round plate and then cut into squares. It came with a dipping sauce with soy sauce, chives, and sesame seeds very similar to the sauce for Chinese dumplings. Since the rice flour used for the pancake has different cooking properties than wheat flour, the interior portions of the thin pancake had an interesting, almost "gooey" (yet cooked) consistency to it. We washed this down with a vase of hot "house" sake (the $8 kind, not the $100 kind).
For our main courses, we both opted for different forms of the popular Korean dish, bi bim bap (pronounced "bee-beem-bahp"). Bi bim bap, which means "mixed meal," is an artfully arranged bowl with a huge quantity of shredded vegetables. My bi bim bap was the plain, "simple," cold version with a large bowl of vegetables that included some unusual roots and fern sprouts all topped with a sunny-side up egg, and hot rice in a separate aluminum container. I had to add the special chile-based bi bim bap sauce to taste from a small bowl on the side, then mix up the vegetables, egg, rice, and sauce with a spoon and chopsticks.
My dinner companion had dolsot bi bim bap, which is the hot version that also includes beef. Its presentation is a little different. The bowl was a dark ceramic or stone dish made very hot on the stove. The rice was put directly into the bottom of dish, where the heat from the stone made the outer portions crunchy. With the addition of cooked beef, the rest of the entree was similar to mine with essentially the same vegetables and fried egg.
We were also given nine little bowls of complementary side dishes of various Korean vegetables. Most of these were in the kim-chee family (fermented cabbage with hot chiles...rotten cabbage is an acquired taste), but there were also some shredded white radishes, some preserved slices of what looked like candied jalapeño peppers, and some glossy red mung beans. The kim-chees included radishes and some pretty little slices of a thin cucumber. My friend tasted most of these things, especially the cabbage kim-chees, and thought they were good, but I'm allergic to something in kim-chee and I steer clear (as it was, I had indigestion and was queasy the whole next day, but this happens to me every time I go to a Korean place—I guess I just can't eat Korean food, which is a shame, since the food at Yee Hwa was tasty and elegantly presented).
At the end of the meal, our waitress brought us complimentary cups of Korean sweet rice punch. It's an interesting drink, which I think was non-alcoholic. It was amber in color with a water-like consistency and had a sweet taste scented with ginger. A few little pieces of what my friend said was chopped lotus root floated in the bottom.
Yee Hwa is a very nice restaurant with good food and a lot of amenities. I was surprised at how inexpensive our meal was (my bi bim bap was only $10), especially given the ambiance, quality of service, and complimentary food items. If you're a kim-chee fan, this is the place to go for Korean cuisine.
Sunday, September 25, 2005
New Big Wong Chinese Restaurant, Washington, D.C.
We had a lovely early supper this evening in Chinatown at the New Big Wong Chinese Restaurant, just a few steps from the Gallery Place Metro stop. This is another one of those "hole in the wall" looking places that turns out to be a good place to eat. Big Wong is a Hong Kong-style restaurant, and they take pride in serving extremely fresh seafood. In fact, a kitchen employee was constantly running back and forth up to the front of the restaurant to procure various live lobsters (with a pair of tongs) and fish (in a big bucket) from an aquairium near the entrance.
Leo ordered, as usual, chatting up the waitress in Cantonese, so I have no clue what we had, so I'll attempt to describe it without the formal names. The first dish to come out was similar to a chow fun, wide noodles with roast pork, shrimp, mushrooms, and scallions with a little bit of brown sauce. After a bit of a wait, we got the other two dishes, one a seafood "hot pot" with shrimp, crab legs, scored blanched squid, scallops, white fish chunks, and a bunch of tofu triangles with some reconstituted dried exotic mushrooms, carrot slices, and scallions in a translucent cornstarch sauce, and the other a dish with beef slices and lots of white onion pieces in a brown sauce. Both of these latter dishes came with steamed white rice, and pots of hot tea were complimentary.
Leo ordered, as usual, chatting up the waitress in Cantonese, so I have no clue what we had, so I'll attempt to describe it without the formal names. The first dish to come out was similar to a chow fun, wide noodles with roast pork, shrimp, mushrooms, and scallions with a little bit of brown sauce. After a bit of a wait, we got the other two dishes, one a seafood "hot pot" with shrimp, crab legs, scored blanched squid, scallops, white fish chunks, and a bunch of tofu triangles with some reconstituted dried exotic mushrooms, carrot slices, and scallions in a translucent cornstarch sauce, and the other a dish with beef slices and lots of white onion pieces in a brown sauce. Both of these latter dishes came with steamed white rice, and pots of hot tea were complimentary.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Tony Cheng's Mongolian Barbecue, Washington, D.C.
We finally went to Tony Cheng's in Chinatown. Tony Cheng is the renowned D.C. Chinese restauranteur made famous during the Carter Administration when Cheng's regular patron Hamilton Jordan succeeded in bringing President Carter to dinner at Cheng's "Szechuan" for the "new" Chinese concept of hot and spicy food. Today, Cheng operates two restaurants in the same building, Tony Cheng's Mongolian Restaurant on the first floor and Tony Cheng's Seafood Restaurant upstairs. Leo had never had Mongolian barbecue before, so we went there.
By tradition, Mongolian barbecue is based on the cooking technique of Mongolian soldiers—Ghengis Khan and the Mongol hordes, etc., etc. They supposedly used their metal shields for cooking, putting them over the fire and heating them up like a grill, then throwing the meat and limited vegetables directly on the metal to cook. Today, Mongolian restaurants all have a large, round, drum-like, stainless steel grill they use instead of shields. Diners go to a buffet-like area to select their meats and vegetables, add sauces and oils, and then give the bowl of food to a grill-chef to cook.
The grill at Cheng's is in the middle of the dining room, and it's large enough for four to six cooks to work around. They have three sets of raw food selections arranged in a circle around the grill area. Most Mongolian barbecues I've frequented in the past have had only beef, chicken, and pork, but this one had lamb as well, plus for a small additional fee, you could have shrimp. They also had a little wider selection of vegetables and mushrooms than others I've seen. I'm used to picking my own sauces and oils, but here, the chefs take things from you (rather abruptly, I thought) and add them themselves, which doesn't always give the diner the chance to create the precise flavor combination they want.
In addition to the barbecue option, diners also have the option of ordering the Mongolian hot pot, where an electric burner is brought to the table to boil a pan of broth and then the diner selects and cooks his own meat and vegetables at the table.
When we were seated, the waiters brought pots of hot tea, a plate of roasted peanuts, and a plate of some really delicious pickled cabbage interlayered with fiery-hot red Chinese chili peppers. The cabbage was slightly salty and very sour with rice vinegar, and I loved it!
The dining room is classically decorated with elaborately carved Chinese furniture and higher quality Chinese art. Our chairs were massive upright chairs, heavily carved, and upholstered with a luxurious red and gold brocade fabric. There were a lot of waiters running around, all dressed in black trousers and bow ties with white shirts.
Tony Cheng's was an enjoyable experience. It's a little bit more expensive than I'm used to for this kind of food ($15.95 per person, all you can eat), but if you're really hungry, the food is good and the service very attentive. I do want to try the upstairs restaurant some time, and the next time I'm at the Mongolian place, I plan to try the Mongolian hot pot.
By tradition, Mongolian barbecue is based on the cooking technique of Mongolian soldiers—Ghengis Khan and the Mongol hordes, etc., etc. They supposedly used their metal shields for cooking, putting them over the fire and heating them up like a grill, then throwing the meat and limited vegetables directly on the metal to cook. Today, Mongolian restaurants all have a large, round, drum-like, stainless steel grill they use instead of shields. Diners go to a buffet-like area to select their meats and vegetables, add sauces and oils, and then give the bowl of food to a grill-chef to cook.
The grill at Cheng's is in the middle of the dining room, and it's large enough for four to six cooks to work around. They have three sets of raw food selections arranged in a circle around the grill area. Most Mongolian barbecues I've frequented in the past have had only beef, chicken, and pork, but this one had lamb as well, plus for a small additional fee, you could have shrimp. They also had a little wider selection of vegetables and mushrooms than others I've seen. I'm used to picking my own sauces and oils, but here, the chefs take things from you (rather abruptly, I thought) and add them themselves, which doesn't always give the diner the chance to create the precise flavor combination they want.
In addition to the barbecue option, diners also have the option of ordering the Mongolian hot pot, where an electric burner is brought to the table to boil a pan of broth and then the diner selects and cooks his own meat and vegetables at the table.
When we were seated, the waiters brought pots of hot tea, a plate of roasted peanuts, and a plate of some really delicious pickled cabbage interlayered with fiery-hot red Chinese chili peppers. The cabbage was slightly salty and very sour with rice vinegar, and I loved it!
The dining room is classically decorated with elaborately carved Chinese furniture and higher quality Chinese art. Our chairs were massive upright chairs, heavily carved, and upholstered with a luxurious red and gold brocade fabric. There were a lot of waiters running around, all dressed in black trousers and bow ties with white shirts.
Tony Cheng's was an enjoyable experience. It's a little bit more expensive than I'm used to for this kind of food ($15.95 per person, all you can eat), but if you're really hungry, the food is good and the service very attentive. I do want to try the upstairs restaurant some time, and the next time I'm at the Mongolian place, I plan to try the Mongolian hot pot.
Famous Luigi's, Washington, D.C.
Sunday evening, we somehow ended up going out to eat yet again, this time walking downtown to Famous Luigi's, near 19th and L. Luigi's is one of those old-style Italian-American restaurants that's been in business in D.C. for over sixty years. All of the tables were covered in red and white gingham cloths, but I was pleased that there were no chianti bottles covered in dripped wax. Our waiter was an older Italian man.
He started us off with wines, a chianti for me and a merlot for Leo, and a big basket of calamari fritti with a marinara dipping sauce. The fried calamari pieces had a layer of raw onion pieces covering them. I ordered a simple green salad and ended up being served (and charged for!) an insalata Luigi, or their more elaborate house salad with beets, hard boiled eggs, long thin slices of carrot, tomatoes, cucumbers, olives, and pepperoncini peppers on top of iceberg lettuce.
For our main courses, Leo had the rigatoni rustici and I had the lasagne alla Luigi. The rigatoni came in a big, flat pasta bowl, and the rigatonis themselves were surprisingly large. They were well coated with a sauce of ground Italian sausage, two cheeses, and herbs in a tomatoey sauce. He liked it, and I had a sample and it was tasty. My lasagne was ok. It was very old style American (there's a big difference between Italian food and Italian-American food), and had the expected meat, mozarella cheese, ricotta, and tomato sauce layered between the lasagna noodles. It was prepared and served in an individual au gratin dish.
For dessert, I abstained, but Leo chose the tiramisu. It looked very good. They used real, traditional ladyfingers dipped in espresso, but I noticed that the whole dessert was assembled with stiff whipped cream and it didn't appear that they used any mascarpone cheese. Nonetheless, Leo loved it, and complained all the way home how stuffed he was.
He started us off with wines, a chianti for me and a merlot for Leo, and a big basket of calamari fritti with a marinara dipping sauce. The fried calamari pieces had a layer of raw onion pieces covering them. I ordered a simple green salad and ended up being served (and charged for!) an insalata Luigi, or their more elaborate house salad with beets, hard boiled eggs, long thin slices of carrot, tomatoes, cucumbers, olives, and pepperoncini peppers on top of iceberg lettuce.
For our main courses, Leo had the rigatoni rustici and I had the lasagne alla Luigi. The rigatoni came in a big, flat pasta bowl, and the rigatonis themselves were surprisingly large. They were well coated with a sauce of ground Italian sausage, two cheeses, and herbs in a tomatoey sauce. He liked it, and I had a sample and it was tasty. My lasagne was ok. It was very old style American (there's a big difference between Italian food and Italian-American food), and had the expected meat, mozarella cheese, ricotta, and tomato sauce layered between the lasagna noodles. It was prepared and served in an individual au gratin dish.
For dessert, I abstained, but Leo chose the tiramisu. It looked very good. They used real, traditional ladyfingers dipped in espresso, but I noticed that the whole dessert was assembled with stiff whipped cream and it didn't appear that they used any mascarpone cheese. Nonetheless, Leo loved it, and complained all the way home how stuffed he was.
Mimi's, Washington, D.C.
After Mass yesterday morning, Leo was finally awake and dressed, so we walked up to Dupont Circle to Mimi's for brunch. I went there primarily for the bloody Marys, which are a bargain at Sunday brunch. They are served in tall pilsner glasses garnished with a thick round of cucumber placed on the rim and a couple of large green olives impaled on a plastic spear and laid across the top of the glass. The rims of the glasses are dipped in spicy red seasoning salt.
Oh, I had some food, too, a gorgonzola bacon burger with French fries. Leo had the eggs Benedict with country fries, and then for dessert, he had a warm banana bread pudding with coconut ice cream. As usual, he drank mimosas.
Oh, I had some food, too, a gorgonzola bacon burger with French fries. Leo had the eggs Benedict with country fries, and then for dessert, he had a warm banana bread pudding with coconut ice cream. As usual, he drank mimosas.
Magic Gourd, Washington, D.C.
Leo and I had an early dinner a couple of days ago at the Magic Gourd, which is in Columbia Plaza just a block south of where we live, and it's right by the Korean grocery store where Leo likes to buy Asian convenience foods and lottery tickets.
Anyway, Leo had some tasty-looking pan fried pork dumplings and the combination fried rice (which he pronounced "too dry"). I had the "velvet chicken corn chowder" ($1.75) and the Magic Gourd Duck with steamed white rice. The chowder reminded me a lot of a Chinese buffet egg drop soup, but with the addition of a few kernels of corn and a few pieces of chicken meat in the soup. And, much like a buffet, it was presented in a small white bowl on a little saucer.
The duck dish was a little disappointing. I'd really wanted the crispy duck, a half duck chopped into pieces and deep fried, but I thought that might not be the healthiest, lower calorie option. The "Magic Gourd Duck" was a typical Chinese entree of sliced, roast duck with snow peas, bamboo shoots, and lots of black mushrooms in a rather insipid, thin, brown, cornstarchy sauce. My rice, also, was rather dry, and hard to eat with chopsticks.
Overall, it was a rather mediocre meal, and somewhat surprising for the Magic Gourd, which is usually a decent restaurant.
Anyway, Leo had some tasty-looking pan fried pork dumplings and the combination fried rice (which he pronounced "too dry"). I had the "velvet chicken corn chowder" ($1.75) and the Magic Gourd Duck with steamed white rice. The chowder reminded me a lot of a Chinese buffet egg drop soup, but with the addition of a few kernels of corn and a few pieces of chicken meat in the soup. And, much like a buffet, it was presented in a small white bowl on a little saucer.
The duck dish was a little disappointing. I'd really wanted the crispy duck, a half duck chopped into pieces and deep fried, but I thought that might not be the healthiest, lower calorie option. The "Magic Gourd Duck" was a typical Chinese entree of sliced, roast duck with snow peas, bamboo shoots, and lots of black mushrooms in a rather insipid, thin, brown, cornstarchy sauce. My rice, also, was rather dry, and hard to eat with chopsticks.
Overall, it was a rather mediocre meal, and somewhat surprising for the Magic Gourd, which is usually a decent restaurant.
Dish, Washington, D.C.
Jeff is a writer for a group of tax lawyers in northern Virginia, so we've been talking for several months, but never met in person. Then, we discovered that we both lived in Foggy Bottom, so we decided to get together for dinner at Dish, the restaurant at the River Inn, which is located roughly halfway between his place and my place. It was fairly late and we weren't really that hungry, so we just had a light supper.
Jeff had the "Dishy Picnic," which was a cute little plate with two pieces of fried chicken, cole slaw, baked beans, and some hushpuppies. He said it was good, but I don't think I could get so excited about paying $19 for what seemed to me just a two-piece extra crispy dinner from Kentucky Fried Chicken.
My meal, on the other hand, was much more satisfying. I started with a bowl of their yellow corn chowder ($7). It came in this enormous, stylized white bowl with a huge, flat rim and a small, but deep, central area holding the soup. Three thin slices of jalapeño pepper arranged to look like a clover leaf and three open mussel shells all garnished the top of the chowder. The chowder was thick and rich, with lots of fresh kernels of corn, just a few potatoes (Yukon gold, I think they said), and lots of yummy bacon. My only criticism was that it was a bit too hot and spicy for what I was expecting.
After my chowder, I had their summer tomato salad, a bright, crisp, lovely dish with a big slice of heirloom yellow tomato and a big slice of heirloom "pink" tomato serving as the base for a mélange of various colors and shapes of cherry- and grape-tomatoes, all halved, and thick, seeded slices of English cucumber in a light vinegar dressing. It was very enjoyable, and probably the last of the fresh, vine-ripened tomatoes for 2005.
Jeff had the "Dishy Picnic," which was a cute little plate with two pieces of fried chicken, cole slaw, baked beans, and some hushpuppies. He said it was good, but I don't think I could get so excited about paying $19 for what seemed to me just a two-piece extra crispy dinner from Kentucky Fried Chicken.
My meal, on the other hand, was much more satisfying. I started with a bowl of their yellow corn chowder ($7). It came in this enormous, stylized white bowl with a huge, flat rim and a small, but deep, central area holding the soup. Three thin slices of jalapeño pepper arranged to look like a clover leaf and three open mussel shells all garnished the top of the chowder. The chowder was thick and rich, with lots of fresh kernels of corn, just a few potatoes (Yukon gold, I think they said), and lots of yummy bacon. My only criticism was that it was a bit too hot and spicy for what I was expecting.
After my chowder, I had their summer tomato salad, a bright, crisp, lovely dish with a big slice of heirloom yellow tomato and a big slice of heirloom "pink" tomato serving as the base for a mélange of various colors and shapes of cherry- and grape-tomatoes, all halved, and thick, seeded slices of English cucumber in a light vinegar dressing. It was very enjoyable, and probably the last of the fresh, vine-ripened tomatoes for 2005.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
D.C. Cafe, Washington, D.C.
After church tonight, I had dinner unexpectedly alone at D.C. Cafe, which is an odd sort of Lebanese cuisine place and pizzaria in one in the Dupont Circle area. I had lamb shawarmas (think flautas or eggrolls made with pita bread) with a tasty tabouli (heavy on the parsley rather than the tabouli, and even had a touch of minced mint leaves), hummus, and that sour cream/yogurt and cucumber thing they use as a meat condiment, and then for dessert some kind of traditional semolina pudding with honey garnished with ground pistachio nuts.
Saturday, September 03, 2005
Charlie Chiang's, Washington, D.C.
Our most recent foray into Asian restaurants was to Charlie Chiang's, a grand old Chinese place on Eye Street east of 20th (we end up in this neighborhood alot because it's near Leo's gym). This is one of those old-style Chinese restaurants that is very formal and where the waiters are attired in black tie, vest, and trousers and white shirts and aprons.
We started with two different types of dumplings, one a traditional pork-filled fried dumpling and the other the house specialty "szechuan dumpling," which were interesting small dumplings wrapped in what appeared to be won-ton and served floating in a bowl of oyster sauce, garnishing with frizzled scallions. For main courses, Leo had some kind of noodle dish (I forget which one) and I had something called Yu-Shiang pork, which was a tasty stir-fry with pork slivvers, onions, mushrooms, and other vegetables. They also brought me a cute, little, alumimum, sleekly designed, covered bowl full of some nicely tender and fresh rice.
Their dessert selection is limited to various kinds of ice cream, so we opted to stick to our diets and abstain.
We started with two different types of dumplings, one a traditional pork-filled fried dumpling and the other the house specialty "szechuan dumpling," which were interesting small dumplings wrapped in what appeared to be won-ton and served floating in a bowl of oyster sauce, garnishing with frizzled scallions. For main courses, Leo had some kind of noodle dish (I forget which one) and I had something called Yu-Shiang pork, which was a tasty stir-fry with pork slivvers, onions, mushrooms, and other vegetables. They also brought me a cute, little, alumimum, sleekly designed, covered bowl full of some nicely tender and fresh rice.
Their dessert selection is limited to various kinds of ice cream, so we opted to stick to our diets and abstain.
Nooshi (Oodles, Noodles & Sushi), Washington, D.C.
We had a lot of fun the other night at Nooshi (Oodles, Noodles & Sushi), a big operation with an affilliated take-away location next door, in the 19th and L Street area. We'd gotten a delivery menu in the mail, so Leo immediately wanted to try it out. The busy dining room is expensively decorated in a very sleet, Asian modern design. Our table had a hammered copper top encased in clear, smooth resin, and one whole side of the dining room featured banquette seating.
I was in a sushi mood, so I started with a very nice seaweed salad that featured five different types of seaweed, each dressed differently with miso, sesame, vinegar, and other dressings. My main course was the "sushi grand" platter, a big round box with luscious tuna, salmon, whitefish, mackerel, yellowtail, eel, surf clam, and shrimp sushis, plus a good sized California roll in the middle. The gari (pickled ginger root) was very fresh, and was not yet fully pink (that is a good thing).
Leo started with the sonomono, which is a cucumber and seaweed salad with shrimp and octopus in a vinaigrette dressing, then had a main course of mee goreng, which is a Malaysian-style fried egg noodle dish with bean sprouts, carrots, cabbage, scallions, shallots, fried tofu, and pork, all with a lot of hot spices. It was very artfully arranged and had a yellow, curry-looking appearance, but I don't think it was a curry, since I tasted one of the carrot coins and didn't detect a curry flavor. For dessert, he had a ginger crème brulee that he pronounced divine. I had a wonderful, huge bowl (more than enough for two!) of fresh strawberries, bananas, mango, and pineapple which I'm going to guess were doused with something like a ginger ale, and there were a couple of little pieces of lemon grass in the mix that I chewed on for an explosion of lemon grass taste, but which were probably just in there for flavor, since the stalks were too woody to actually swallow.
It was a great evening, the waiters were all very attentive, and I'm sure we'll end up back there again sometime.
I was in a sushi mood, so I started with a very nice seaweed salad that featured five different types of seaweed, each dressed differently with miso, sesame, vinegar, and other dressings. My main course was the "sushi grand" platter, a big round box with luscious tuna, salmon, whitefish, mackerel, yellowtail, eel, surf clam, and shrimp sushis, plus a good sized California roll in the middle. The gari (pickled ginger root) was very fresh, and was not yet fully pink (that is a good thing).
Leo started with the sonomono, which is a cucumber and seaweed salad with shrimp and octopus in a vinaigrette dressing, then had a main course of mee goreng, which is a Malaysian-style fried egg noodle dish with bean sprouts, carrots, cabbage, scallions, shallots, fried tofu, and pork, all with a lot of hot spices. It was very artfully arranged and had a yellow, curry-looking appearance, but I don't think it was a curry, since I tasted one of the carrot coins and didn't detect a curry flavor. For dessert, he had a ginger crème brulee that he pronounced divine. I had a wonderful, huge bowl (more than enough for two!) of fresh strawberries, bananas, mango, and pineapple which I'm going to guess were doused with something like a ginger ale, and there were a couple of little pieces of lemon grass in the mix that I chewed on for an explosion of lemon grass taste, but which were probably just in there for flavor, since the stalks were too woody to actually swallow.
It was a great evening, the waiters were all very attentive, and I'm sure we'll end up back there again sometime.
China Doll, Washington, D.C.
A rather unfortunate restaurant we recently visited was a place in Chinatown called China Doll. We went specifically for dim sum, so we were directed upstairs to the dining room there (the downstairs appeared to be much more casual). Rather than bringing a cart around for diners to select their tidbits, China Doll has them select items on a paper menu and then brings them to the table, which Leo tells me is the way it is done in the more elegant restaurants in Hong Kong. I dunno. I kinda miss the cart, cause it's always fun to try new things just cause they look intriguing.
Anyway, Leo ordered us an assortment of dumplings, a big plate of gai lan (Chinese broccoli), a big plate of chow fun (fettuccine-like pasta), and, finally, he talked me in to ordering some chicken feet.
Chicken feet are interesting. Obviously, there's not any muscle or meat to speak of on them, so I think the primarly "food" value is from the skin and the associated brown cooking sauce. The remaining foot bones, though, are attached to one another with cartiledge, and if one has the patience to suck and gnaw on bones for a while, you can extract some flavor from the cartiledge and then spit out all the little tiny foot bones.
The gai lan was great, being cooked to a tender-crunchiness and dosed with a garlicky oyster sauce. The fried dumpling were okay, but I thought the steamed dumplings were a little sticky from being over-steamed.
The chow fun was disappointing in several ways, first because the wide noodles were overcooked and clumpy and secondly because we found a piece of a metal brad or big staple in the food. What's worse, Leo and I both ended up feeling queasy and unsettled for the rest of the afternoon and evening.
Anyway, Leo ordered us an assortment of dumplings, a big plate of gai lan (Chinese broccoli), a big plate of chow fun (fettuccine-like pasta), and, finally, he talked me in to ordering some chicken feet.
Chicken feet are interesting. Obviously, there's not any muscle or meat to speak of on them, so I think the primarly "food" value is from the skin and the associated brown cooking sauce. The remaining foot bones, though, are attached to one another with cartiledge, and if one has the patience to suck and gnaw on bones for a while, you can extract some flavor from the cartiledge and then spit out all the little tiny foot bones.
The gai lan was great, being cooked to a tender-crunchiness and dosed with a garlicky oyster sauce. The fried dumpling were okay, but I thought the steamed dumplings were a little sticky from being over-steamed.
The chow fun was disappointing in several ways, first because the wide noodles were overcooked and clumpy and secondly because we found a piece of a metal brad or big staple in the food. What's worse, Leo and I both ended up feeling queasy and unsettled for the rest of the afternoon and evening.
Friday, August 26, 2005
Thai Tanic, Washington, D.C.
Hit a happy hour after work, where I got to drink nasty Miller beer in big plastic cups and eat cold chicken nuggets, and ran in to my friend William (the DOE lawyer). He, of course, was drinking high dollar beer out of a glass beer glass, instead of the happy hour common swill. You know how those rich government lawyers are. The bar was also passing out free samples of mango rum. Interesting. Very sweet, very little rum taste.
Eventually, he, two of his friends, and I wandered across the street to Thai Tanic for dinner. Even though the Logan Circle theater district is full of a variety of restaurants, some of which I've not yet tried, we ended up there since William is vegetarian these days. As you can imagine, Thai Tanic features Thai food, and I've had their food a couple of times before via delivery, though this was my first time actually to dine inside the restaurant. It was crowded, since it's a popular and economical place, but somehow, once again, we got seated at the table in the front window. I think I must resemble some celebrity or famous politician or something.
I can't remember all the foods that got ordered, so I'll try to hit the highlights. One guy got a blue lemonade cocktail of some type, which seemed to be a rather weak lemonade with blue curacao and he also reported a bit of a Midori (melon liqueur) taste. William had some little fried spring rolls which looked a bit greasy and resembled Mexican flautas. I had a big plate of green papaya salad, with lots of shreds of papaya, some scallion, something a touch starchy (potato?), red chiles, and lime juice. The salad was spicy, but not really hot-hot (on a scale of mild, medium, hot, and firey, I'd asked for hot), and it was not as good as the papaya and apple version I've had at Malaysia Kopitiam.
When we were ordering, we all had this prolonged discussion with one of William's friends to shame him into ordering something different for a change, instead of the dish he always orders every time he goes to Thai Tanic. He acquiesced to our peer pressure and got something different. But I can't remember what it was. The other friend had what looked to be a plateful of pork-stuffed steamed dumplings. William had a bed of white rice with chunks of fried tofu and some kind of brownish, curry-smelling sauce.
My main course was exquisite. I had grilled catfish served on a mound of green tea-infused rice, all resting in a pool of green curry sauce, and with steamed asparagus and steamed baby carrots drifting in the curry sauce. Aside from a bit of bone which had been missed in the filleting process, the catfish was nicely grilled and had no "muddy" or fishy taste to it. I really loved the green tea rice! It added quite a new dimension to the dish, with the strong flavor of the tea and also a touch of sweetness, and it made the rice a nice, deep green tea color. The carrots had been hand-trimmed, and they didn't use the commercially made "baby" carrots which have become so prevalent in grocery stores and salad bars. The green curry was also nice, and I continue to think Thai green curry is my favorite kind of curry. It's always milky or creamy, and I think that takes some of the harsh edge off the spicings.
Anyway, I'm sure I'll eat again at Thai Tanic. They also have the big advantage of being one of the restaurants where I get triple miles from American Airlines for each dollar I spend there.
Eventually, he, two of his friends, and I wandered across the street to Thai Tanic for dinner. Even though the Logan Circle theater district is full of a variety of restaurants, some of which I've not yet tried, we ended up there since William is vegetarian these days. As you can imagine, Thai Tanic features Thai food, and I've had their food a couple of times before via delivery, though this was my first time actually to dine inside the restaurant. It was crowded, since it's a popular and economical place, but somehow, once again, we got seated at the table in the front window. I think I must resemble some celebrity or famous politician or something.
I can't remember all the foods that got ordered, so I'll try to hit the highlights. One guy got a blue lemonade cocktail of some type, which seemed to be a rather weak lemonade with blue curacao and he also reported a bit of a Midori (melon liqueur) taste. William had some little fried spring rolls which looked a bit greasy and resembled Mexican flautas. I had a big plate of green papaya salad, with lots of shreds of papaya, some scallion, something a touch starchy (potato?), red chiles, and lime juice. The salad was spicy, but not really hot-hot (on a scale of mild, medium, hot, and firey, I'd asked for hot), and it was not as good as the papaya and apple version I've had at Malaysia Kopitiam.
When we were ordering, we all had this prolonged discussion with one of William's friends to shame him into ordering something different for a change, instead of the dish he always orders every time he goes to Thai Tanic. He acquiesced to our peer pressure and got something different. But I can't remember what it was. The other friend had what looked to be a plateful of pork-stuffed steamed dumplings. William had a bed of white rice with chunks of fried tofu and some kind of brownish, curry-smelling sauce.
My main course was exquisite. I had grilled catfish served on a mound of green tea-infused rice, all resting in a pool of green curry sauce, and with steamed asparagus and steamed baby carrots drifting in the curry sauce. Aside from a bit of bone which had been missed in the filleting process, the catfish was nicely grilled and had no "muddy" or fishy taste to it. I really loved the green tea rice! It added quite a new dimension to the dish, with the strong flavor of the tea and also a touch of sweetness, and it made the rice a nice, deep green tea color. The carrots had been hand-trimmed, and they didn't use the commercially made "baby" carrots which have become so prevalent in grocery stores and salad bars. The green curry was also nice, and I continue to think Thai green curry is my favorite kind of curry. It's always milky or creamy, and I think that takes some of the harsh edge off the spicings.
Anyway, I'm sure I'll eat again at Thai Tanic. They also have the big advantage of being one of the restaurants where I get triple miles from American Airlines for each dollar I spend there.
Saturday, August 20, 2005
L & N Seafood Grill, Arlington, VA
While we were at the mall (Fashion Centre at Pentagon City) today, we had a late lunch at L & N Seafood Grill, up on the third retail level. It's surprisingly good for a chain restaurant, and the prices were reasonable for a seafood place. Leo started with the mussels and then had shrimp creole for his main course. The bowl of mussels was huge! It must have been one of those appetizers designed to serve two. His shrimp creole was also an ample serving, and he said it was good, even though he's never been to New Orleans and had no basis of comparison.
I had some Maryland crab soup, a dinner salad, some crab-stuffed mushrooms, and a Boston cream cheesecake. The crab soup was excellent, though I thought it odd that when it arrived, it had a little "skin" on the top. The mushrooms were ok—I think I would have given the filling a bit more cayenne pepper to zip it up a bit. I really really liked the dessert. The Boston cream cheesecake is based on the concept of Boston cream pie, which you probably know isn't a pie but a yellow layer cake with vanilla pudding between the layers and chocolate frosting all around the outside. Here, the middle layer between thin layers of yellow cake was a tasty cheesecake, and they still had the vanilla pudding and chocolate frosting, and a couple of big squirts of whipped cream.
Too bad we were lunching and not dining.....they had green, fish-shaped bottles of Pescevino (that's Italian for fish-wine) white wine all over the bar, and we were curious about trying it. Maybe some time for dinner.
I had some Maryland crab soup, a dinner salad, some crab-stuffed mushrooms, and a Boston cream cheesecake. The crab soup was excellent, though I thought it odd that when it arrived, it had a little "skin" on the top. The mushrooms were ok—I think I would have given the filling a bit more cayenne pepper to zip it up a bit. I really really liked the dessert. The Boston cream cheesecake is based on the concept of Boston cream pie, which you probably know isn't a pie but a yellow layer cake with vanilla pudding between the layers and chocolate frosting all around the outside. Here, the middle layer between thin layers of yellow cake was a tasty cheesecake, and they still had the vanilla pudding and chocolate frosting, and a couple of big squirts of whipped cream.
Too bad we were lunching and not dining.....they had green, fish-shaped bottles of Pescevino (that's Italian for fish-wine) white wine all over the bar, and we were curious about trying it. Maybe some time for dinner.
Saturday, August 13, 2005
1789 Restaurant, Georgetown, D.C.
Not long ago, Leo and I went to 1789 Restaurant for dinner, and I've been saving my description of our meal for this special anniversary in memory of the first anniversary of the death of Julia Child, as this was the restaurant chosen for Julia's gala 90th birthday party. I'm always worried when I dine at a restaurant "legend," since most of the time I end up being disappointed. Not only did I go to 1789 knowing about Julia's birthday dinner, but I knew that Gourmet magazine had named it as one of the top restaurants in America, and it appears in all the guidebooks and lists of "top" Washington restaurants, with a long pedigree going back to its 1960 opening. We weren't disappointed, though, and I can certainly see why 1789 received the honor of hosting Julia's 90th birthday dinner.
1789 is located in an old, Federal-era house right by the Georgetown University campus. The rather small rooms are all furnished with period furnishings and art, and there are antiques everywhere, including colonial silver and a wine shelf from a 16th century Irish monastery. Even though we dined on a week night, not only did we have to have reservations, we were only able to get 6 p.m. reservations, as everything later in the evening was already taken. I also took note of the restaurant's dress code, with gentlemen being required to wear jackets. When it was time to eat, we were escorted up a steep, narrow staircase (this old building is most assuredly not handicapped accessible) to the Wickets Room. The walls were done in old, light-colored oak panelling, and 19th century lithographs of caricatures and hunting prints were framed and hung in every niche of the panelling. A large, black, wrought-iron chandelier hung in the center of the room. From our vantage point at a square table near the wall, we could see into the Garden Room, which was painted a light butter-yellow, had floral and botanical prints, and featured a window wall looking out over the Georgetown U campus.
No matter how good the chef in the kitchen, one of the major things that can ruin a dining experience is the service, from the host to the waiter to the busboys, but Chef Ris Lacoste has no worries in this department. Service was not only impeccable, it was impressive. The wait staff was all formally attired in black trousers and bow ties, with the full waiters in white mess jackets (think tailcoats without the tails) and the waiter's assistants in long, white waiter's sackcoats. Our waiter, Micheal, was a young man, but he had eleven years of experience with 1789's owner, the Clyde's Group, and has spent the last five years at 1789. He knew everything about the food, the accompaniments, and the wines. If you had a question about an ingredient, he knew not only the answer but the history. He was intimately acquainted with the wine list and knew what went with what. After we had ordered and I was pondering wines, I asked him about a particular varietal with which I was not familiar and he told me all about the wine; but then, he actually suggested that I consider a different, more complementary white wine for our meal, a wine that was cheaper!
As our food was prepared, we were brought a basket of warm foccacia bread, sufficiently flavored with caramelized onions and cheddar and parmesan cheeses so as to almost constitute an amuse bouche. They make their breads and pastries in house, and the bread was clearly fresh and hadn't been rewarmed. My only criticism of the restaurant for the entire evening is for the foccacia, which I thought was ever so slightly too salty. Historically, though, 1789 was originally a French restaurant before becoming the quintessential Washington "American" restaurant, chef received her training in France, and the French do tend to like a bit more salt than do modern Americans. Along with our bread we received a square of fresh unsalted butter which had been sprinkled with crystals of sea salt and then given a splash of virgin olive oil (Micheal told us which kind, but I've forgotten) to add a little extra richness to the butter.
We chose seafood for our first courses. Leo sampled the Prince Edward Island mussels, which had been poached in a broth scented with garlic and Pernod (an anise- or licorice-flavored liqueur). On the edge of the plate were several grill-marked crostini (think fancy toast) and some saffron-yellow aioli (hand-made mayonaisse). He liked the mussels and even allowed his crostini to "accidentally" drop into the broth so he could eat it, as well. My first course was a large, soft-shelled crab that had been tempura-battered and fried, then cut in half, some green Japanese-inspired sauce inserted, and the two halves were then stood on end on one side of the plate, claws and legs waiving in the air. On the other end of the plate was a salad of mixed seaweeds with a few threads of carrot and some slivvers of mushroom in a lightly spicy dressing. A little bowl of ponzu dipping sauce (think flavored soy sauce) which I didn't use was served on the side. The crab was perfectly cooked and I thought the seaweed salad gave the course an interesting opportunity for crunch.
We stuck with seafood for our main course, though I was quite tempted to try the house specialty rack of American lamb. Leo ordered the New Bedford sea scallops on Thai rice noodles. He received a goodly quantity of large scallops which had been lightly rubbed with a red spice then seared on the grill and served rare on top of the noodles. The Thai rice noodles were combined with shrimp, peanuts, ginger, basil, lime, and spices to make a hot, spicy, delicious pad thai. I had the grilled North Carolina grouper, a thick chunk of fish which was presented on a fried green tomato and surrounded with a South Carolina risotto. This simply prepared fish was delicious. The fish was just cooked through, with no dryness or rareness anywhere. The green tomato was a nice touch. I didn't detect any cornmeal flavor in the breading, so chef may have used fine Japanese bread crumbs, or else white corn meal that was so mild I didn't notice it in the profusion of other flavors.
Oh, I should mention our wines. I chose, based on Michael's recommendation, the Chateau La Mothe Du Barry Entre-Deux-Mers (Cuveé French Kiss) 2004, a nice buttery, yet crisp, white which stood up well to the variety of foods we ate. Leo prefers non-tannic reds, so he ordered the Trinchero Family Selection Merlot 2003, a California wine. I thought it was rather pleasant for a domestic merlot (and Leo had never watched the movie Sideways until this week!).
Now, on to the dessert course. I wanted to do a cheese course first, but Leo is somewhat lactose-intolerant, so I thought a cheese course might not be the most considerate thing to suggest, and we went straight to the goodies. He had a warm chocolate cake with peppermint ice cream that he still talks about everytime we go to dinner. He had a large, muffin-sized, individual dark chocolate cake that was a little crusty on the outside and soft and warm on the inside, drizzled with a tiny bit of chocolate and accompanied by a handmade vanilla ice cream with little bits of fresh peppermint mixed in the ice cream, and garnished with a bright green sprig of peppermint. He didn't share.
Thinking of the warm peach cobbler served in lieu of cake at Julia's birthday dinner, I ordered the warm peach galette, which was a sort of an individual peach cobbler. It came with a handmade vanilla ice cream with a swirl of fresh raspberries. It was lovely, of course, but I was particularly intrigued with the pastry. They used pâte sucreé—pie dough with lots of sugar in it, making it almost like a cookie dough—yet the end result was layered and almost flaky, like a puff pastry! I have no idea how they did that, so I guess I'm going to have to experiment and try to recreate it. Another pastry challenge. Remember how Julia used to do those puff pastries on TV, making it seem so incredibly easy?
1789 Restaurant, 1226 36th Street Northwest at Prospect Street, Georgetown.
1789 is located in an old, Federal-era house right by the Georgetown University campus. The rather small rooms are all furnished with period furnishings and art, and there are antiques everywhere, including colonial silver and a wine shelf from a 16th century Irish monastery. Even though we dined on a week night, not only did we have to have reservations, we were only able to get 6 p.m. reservations, as everything later in the evening was already taken. I also took note of the restaurant's dress code, with gentlemen being required to wear jackets. When it was time to eat, we were escorted up a steep, narrow staircase (this old building is most assuredly not handicapped accessible) to the Wickets Room. The walls were done in old, light-colored oak panelling, and 19th century lithographs of caricatures and hunting prints were framed and hung in every niche of the panelling. A large, black, wrought-iron chandelier hung in the center of the room. From our vantage point at a square table near the wall, we could see into the Garden Room, which was painted a light butter-yellow, had floral and botanical prints, and featured a window wall looking out over the Georgetown U campus.
No matter how good the chef in the kitchen, one of the major things that can ruin a dining experience is the service, from the host to the waiter to the busboys, but Chef Ris Lacoste has no worries in this department. Service was not only impeccable, it was impressive. The wait staff was all formally attired in black trousers and bow ties, with the full waiters in white mess jackets (think tailcoats without the tails) and the waiter's assistants in long, white waiter's sackcoats. Our waiter, Micheal, was a young man, but he had eleven years of experience with 1789's owner, the Clyde's Group, and has spent the last five years at 1789. He knew everything about the food, the accompaniments, and the wines. If you had a question about an ingredient, he knew not only the answer but the history. He was intimately acquainted with the wine list and knew what went with what. After we had ordered and I was pondering wines, I asked him about a particular varietal with which I was not familiar and he told me all about the wine; but then, he actually suggested that I consider a different, more complementary white wine for our meal, a wine that was cheaper!
As our food was prepared, we were brought a basket of warm foccacia bread, sufficiently flavored with caramelized onions and cheddar and parmesan cheeses so as to almost constitute an amuse bouche. They make their breads and pastries in house, and the bread was clearly fresh and hadn't been rewarmed. My only criticism of the restaurant for the entire evening is for the foccacia, which I thought was ever so slightly too salty. Historically, though, 1789 was originally a French restaurant before becoming the quintessential Washington "American" restaurant, chef received her training in France, and the French do tend to like a bit more salt than do modern Americans. Along with our bread we received a square of fresh unsalted butter which had been sprinkled with crystals of sea salt and then given a splash of virgin olive oil (Micheal told us which kind, but I've forgotten) to add a little extra richness to the butter.
We chose seafood for our first courses. Leo sampled the Prince Edward Island mussels, which had been poached in a broth scented with garlic and Pernod (an anise- or licorice-flavored liqueur). On the edge of the plate were several grill-marked crostini (think fancy toast) and some saffron-yellow aioli (hand-made mayonaisse). He liked the mussels and even allowed his crostini to "accidentally" drop into the broth so he could eat it, as well. My first course was a large, soft-shelled crab that had been tempura-battered and fried, then cut in half, some green Japanese-inspired sauce inserted, and the two halves were then stood on end on one side of the plate, claws and legs waiving in the air. On the other end of the plate was a salad of mixed seaweeds with a few threads of carrot and some slivvers of mushroom in a lightly spicy dressing. A little bowl of ponzu dipping sauce (think flavored soy sauce) which I didn't use was served on the side. The crab was perfectly cooked and I thought the seaweed salad gave the course an interesting opportunity for crunch.
We stuck with seafood for our main course, though I was quite tempted to try the house specialty rack of American lamb. Leo ordered the New Bedford sea scallops on Thai rice noodles. He received a goodly quantity of large scallops which had been lightly rubbed with a red spice then seared on the grill and served rare on top of the noodles. The Thai rice noodles were combined with shrimp, peanuts, ginger, basil, lime, and spices to make a hot, spicy, delicious pad thai. I had the grilled North Carolina grouper, a thick chunk of fish which was presented on a fried green tomato and surrounded with a South Carolina risotto. This simply prepared fish was delicious. The fish was just cooked through, with no dryness or rareness anywhere. The green tomato was a nice touch. I didn't detect any cornmeal flavor in the breading, so chef may have used fine Japanese bread crumbs, or else white corn meal that was so mild I didn't notice it in the profusion of other flavors.
Oh, I should mention our wines. I chose, based on Michael's recommendation, the Chateau La Mothe Du Barry Entre-Deux-Mers (Cuveé French Kiss) 2004, a nice buttery, yet crisp, white which stood up well to the variety of foods we ate. Leo prefers non-tannic reds, so he ordered the Trinchero Family Selection Merlot 2003, a California wine. I thought it was rather pleasant for a domestic merlot (and Leo had never watched the movie Sideways until this week!).
Now, on to the dessert course. I wanted to do a cheese course first, but Leo is somewhat lactose-intolerant, so I thought a cheese course might not be the most considerate thing to suggest, and we went straight to the goodies. He had a warm chocolate cake with peppermint ice cream that he still talks about everytime we go to dinner. He had a large, muffin-sized, individual dark chocolate cake that was a little crusty on the outside and soft and warm on the inside, drizzled with a tiny bit of chocolate and accompanied by a handmade vanilla ice cream with little bits of fresh peppermint mixed in the ice cream, and garnished with a bright green sprig of peppermint. He didn't share.
Thinking of the warm peach cobbler served in lieu of cake at Julia's birthday dinner, I ordered the warm peach galette, which was a sort of an individual peach cobbler. It came with a handmade vanilla ice cream with a swirl of fresh raspberries. It was lovely, of course, but I was particularly intrigued with the pastry. They used pâte sucreé—pie dough with lots of sugar in it, making it almost like a cookie dough—yet the end result was layered and almost flaky, like a puff pastry! I have no idea how they did that, so I guess I'm going to have to experiment and try to recreate it. Another pastry challenge. Remember how Julia used to do those puff pastries on TV, making it seem so incredibly easy?
1789 Restaurant, 1226 36th Street Northwest at Prospect Street, Georgetown.
Julia Child (1912-2004)
One year ago today, our beloved Julia Child went to the great heavenly kitchen in the skies.
It is no exaggeration to assert that Julia was one of the greatest influences on American culture in the 20th century. Even today, we benefit from the quality, excitement, and variety of culinary adventures she started in the 1960s.
If you think back in American history, the time of the Eisenhower Administration was when Americans were learning to be peacetime Americans in the post-World War II, post-Korean War era. All of that military scientific and engineering ingenuity was being adapted to domestic uses. Fabulous new inventions helped the housewife save time in the kitchen. Convenience foods began to transform the American palate as exciting things like artificial creamer, frozen TV dinners, frozen fish sticks, Cheese Whiz, Lipton's Soup Mix, Sweet 'N Low, Rice-a-Roni, and McDonald's Restaurant franchises were invented. "Fancy" restaurants were known for their exciting menus of grilled steak and baked potatoes and grilled steak and baked potatoes. Other courses would typically be shrimp cocktail (boiled shrimp arranged around a small bowl of ketchup and horseradish "cocktail" sauce) and a wedge of Iceberg lettuce with a slice of tomato and some blue cheese (for the bold) or orange-colored "French" (for the rest of us) dressing. America plunged into a craving for cookie cutter sameness à la Father Knows Best or Leave It to Beaver. Into this bland conformity came Julia Child with her book Mastering the Art of French Cooking in 1961 and her Public Television series The French Chef in 1963.
Julia was an unlikely vehicle for mass cultural change. Born in 1912 to an upper middle class family, she was educated at Smith College and then joined the OSS (today known as the CIA) in World War II, where she met her husband, another OSS employee. After the war, they traveled the world with his State Department diplomatic career, eventually moving to Paris in 1948 for a new posting. It was their first meal in France after a week of dreadful shipboard food that inspired Julia's conversion to good food and good cooking. The simple goodness of fresh oysters on the half shell, sole meunière, a green salad, some crème fraîche, and a bottle of cold, crisp Pouilly Fuissé sparked Julia's revelation that food didn't have to be bland and boring. Soon thereafter, Julia enrolled in the world-renowned Le Cordon Bleu cooking school in Paris and learned to cook. Eventually she met two French women, the three of them started a cooking school in Paris, and they began a ten-year collaboration to write a French cookbook targeted at the American audience. It was finally published in 1961, and the rest is history.
The French Chef lasted from 1963 through 1966. One of my earliest childhood memories was watching those black and white PBS shows with the big, tall (she was 6'2"), hooty-voiced woman cooking yummy food with funny (French) names. After a round of reruns, a color version debutted in 1970, with Julia staunchly staying with PBS and the "educational people" instead of crossing over to network television. Then over the decades, a succession of Julia Child cooking shows—all with companion cookbooks—hit the PBS stations, including Julia Child and Company, Julia Child and More Company, Dinner at Julia's, Baking with Julia, Cooking with Master Chefs, In Julia's Kitchen with Master Chefs, and Jacques and Julia at Home. Julia was the first television chef and celebrity, and she paved the way for Iron Chef, Emeril, and Martha the Criminal. Her shows—mainstays of Saturday morning PBS programming—inspired Americans to raise their culinary standards and to be more adventuresome in trying and tasting cuisines from around the world.
Eventually, age began to overtake Julia. In 2001, she announced that she was moving to sunny southern California to an assisted living home, and that she was donating her famous kitchen in her Cambridge, Massachusetts, home to the Smithsonian Institution here in Washington. In August of 2002, in time for a grand celebration of Julia's 90th birthday, the Smithsonian opened the kitchen exhibit at the National Museum of American History. There was a birthday party and a special $350 per person tribute birthday dinner created for Julia by Chef Ris Lacoste at her landmark Georgetown restaurant, 1789. Then, last year, just two days shy of her 92nd birthday, Julia died, leaving her indelible imprint on American culture.
Requiescat in pace, Julia. We miss you.
Julia's kitchen at the National Museum of American History
It is no exaggeration to assert that Julia was one of the greatest influences on American culture in the 20th century. Even today, we benefit from the quality, excitement, and variety of culinary adventures she started in the 1960s.
If you think back in American history, the time of the Eisenhower Administration was when Americans were learning to be peacetime Americans in the post-World War II, post-Korean War era. All of that military scientific and engineering ingenuity was being adapted to domestic uses. Fabulous new inventions helped the housewife save time in the kitchen. Convenience foods began to transform the American palate as exciting things like artificial creamer, frozen TV dinners, frozen fish sticks, Cheese Whiz, Lipton's Soup Mix, Sweet 'N Low, Rice-a-Roni, and McDonald's Restaurant franchises were invented. "Fancy" restaurants were known for their exciting menus of grilled steak and baked potatoes and grilled steak and baked potatoes. Other courses would typically be shrimp cocktail (boiled shrimp arranged around a small bowl of ketchup and horseradish "cocktail" sauce) and a wedge of Iceberg lettuce with a slice of tomato and some blue cheese (for the bold) or orange-colored "French" (for the rest of us) dressing. America plunged into a craving for cookie cutter sameness à la Father Knows Best or Leave It to Beaver. Into this bland conformity came Julia Child with her book Mastering the Art of French Cooking in 1961 and her Public Television series The French Chef in 1963.
Julia was an unlikely vehicle for mass cultural change. Born in 1912 to an upper middle class family, she was educated at Smith College and then joined the OSS (today known as the CIA) in World War II, where she met her husband, another OSS employee. After the war, they traveled the world with his State Department diplomatic career, eventually moving to Paris in 1948 for a new posting. It was their first meal in France after a week of dreadful shipboard food that inspired Julia's conversion to good food and good cooking. The simple goodness of fresh oysters on the half shell, sole meunière, a green salad, some crème fraîche, and a bottle of cold, crisp Pouilly Fuissé sparked Julia's revelation that food didn't have to be bland and boring. Soon thereafter, Julia enrolled in the world-renowned Le Cordon Bleu cooking school in Paris and learned to cook. Eventually she met two French women, the three of them started a cooking school in Paris, and they began a ten-year collaboration to write a French cookbook targeted at the American audience. It was finally published in 1961, and the rest is history.
The French Chef lasted from 1963 through 1966. One of my earliest childhood memories was watching those black and white PBS shows with the big, tall (she was 6'2"), hooty-voiced woman cooking yummy food with funny (French) names. After a round of reruns, a color version debutted in 1970, with Julia staunchly staying with PBS and the "educational people" instead of crossing over to network television. Then over the decades, a succession of Julia Child cooking shows—all with companion cookbooks—hit the PBS stations, including Julia Child and Company, Julia Child and More Company, Dinner at Julia's, Baking with Julia, Cooking with Master Chefs, In Julia's Kitchen with Master Chefs, and Jacques and Julia at Home. Julia was the first television chef and celebrity, and she paved the way for Iron Chef, Emeril, and Martha the Criminal. Her shows—mainstays of Saturday morning PBS programming—inspired Americans to raise their culinary standards and to be more adventuresome in trying and tasting cuisines from around the world.
Eventually, age began to overtake Julia. In 2001, she announced that she was moving to sunny southern California to an assisted living home, and that she was donating her famous kitchen in her Cambridge, Massachusetts, home to the Smithsonian Institution here in Washington. In August of 2002, in time for a grand celebration of Julia's 90th birthday, the Smithsonian opened the kitchen exhibit at the National Museum of American History. There was a birthday party and a special $350 per person tribute birthday dinner created for Julia by Chef Ris Lacoste at her landmark Georgetown restaurant, 1789. Then, last year, just two days shy of her 92nd birthday, Julia died, leaving her indelible imprint on American culture.
Requiescat in pace, Julia. We miss you.
Julia's kitchen at the National Museum of American History
Friday, August 12, 2005
Uni, Washington, D.C.
Last night, Leo and I finally popped in to Uni for dinner. Uni is on P Street between 21st and 22nd, next door to Mimi's, a place where we brunch frequently, so we've wanted to try Uni for some time. We'd also gotten a take-away/delivery menu from the place, and it looked intriguing. Taking its name from the Japanese word for "sea urchin,"
Uni is a sushi bar located on the second floor of an old row house. As one enters the restaurant, there is a leopard-print carpeted dining room to the right and a wood floored sushi bar to the left. Smooth, plain, light-colored wood paneling adorns the walls, and the windows are covered with square hangings of green tea ice cream-colored fabric. They advertise free Wi-Fi connections, and we saw several people in the establishment with their laptops. We got to sit by the front window in the overhang over the P Street sidewalk.
The menu is standard sushi bar fare, with the non-sushi items being some appetizers and some of the half dozen or so bento box offerings. Their beverage list included a number of interesting gourmet teas I wanted to try, though I ended up with iced green tea (Leo had dragged me all over downtown Washington on foot, and it was hot and humid out!). We started off with a salad of sliced, seared ahi tuna pressed with sesame seeds and cracked peppercorns topped with thin slices of green onion, and arranged on a plate drizzled with sesame sauce and garnished with a big mound of shredded threads of carrot and a parsley sprig.
I was feeling rather unadventurous, so I ordered the maki mix, a standard sushi roll assortment. They brought me a square, white, ceramic dish with six pieces of California roll arranged in the center, then in each of the corners of the dish were three pieces each of cucumber, tuna, salmon, and eel sushi rolls. Small mounds of wasabi (green horseradish) and gari (pickled ginger) were at the nine- and three-o'clock positions, respectively. All of the sushi was very nice and fresh, and I was particularly impressed with the California rolls. The ubiquitous California roll (cooked crab legs, avocado, and cucumber) is so typically haphazardly thrown together and is one of the "common" sushis that everyone eats, that care is not always taken. Uni's version, though, used real crab meat instead of imitation, and they used flying fish roe to decorate the outside instead of the less expensive masago roe, all lending itself to a very tasty, rich taste.
Leo ordered a la carte, selecting tuna, fatty tuna, eel, and sea urchin roe sushi nigiri. They each were very large pieces of fish, and the uni was served with two pieces of roe instead of the usual one. Leo let me taste one of his unis, and I was impressed with the freshness and smooth richness of the roe. Uni has a rather unique, intense flavor, and I wasn't quite expecting the double dose I got! Leo also liked the restaurant (he usually trashes most Asian restaurants) and said the fish was very fresh.
For dessert, Leo had tempura ice cream, where a long roll of vanilla ice cream was encased in tempura batter, deep fried, sliced in half, then drizzled with chocolate syrup. I assume it was good, since, despite his "diet," he ate the whole thing. I had the sake ice. It was lovely. Now, sake is the the traditional Japanese rice wine, and it was mixed with sugar and water, frozen and mixed, and it ended up coming out very much like a granita, looking like a pile of distinct ice crystals. They took preserved Japanese cherries and plums, put a few in the bottom of a large martini glass, then mounded the sake ice on top of the fruit. As the sake crystals melted, they "marinated" the fruit in sake. It was a wonderful dessert for a hot, steamy, Washington evening.
Uni is a sushi bar located on the second floor of an old row house. As one enters the restaurant, there is a leopard-print carpeted dining room to the right and a wood floored sushi bar to the left. Smooth, plain, light-colored wood paneling adorns the walls, and the windows are covered with square hangings of green tea ice cream-colored fabric. They advertise free Wi-Fi connections, and we saw several people in the establishment with their laptops. We got to sit by the front window in the overhang over the P Street sidewalk.
The menu is standard sushi bar fare, with the non-sushi items being some appetizers and some of the half dozen or so bento box offerings. Their beverage list included a number of interesting gourmet teas I wanted to try, though I ended up with iced green tea (Leo had dragged me all over downtown Washington on foot, and it was hot and humid out!). We started off with a salad of sliced, seared ahi tuna pressed with sesame seeds and cracked peppercorns topped with thin slices of green onion, and arranged on a plate drizzled with sesame sauce and garnished with a big mound of shredded threads of carrot and a parsley sprig.
I was feeling rather unadventurous, so I ordered the maki mix, a standard sushi roll assortment. They brought me a square, white, ceramic dish with six pieces of California roll arranged in the center, then in each of the corners of the dish were three pieces each of cucumber, tuna, salmon, and eel sushi rolls. Small mounds of wasabi (green horseradish) and gari (pickled ginger) were at the nine- and three-o'clock positions, respectively. All of the sushi was very nice and fresh, and I was particularly impressed with the California rolls. The ubiquitous California roll (cooked crab legs, avocado, and cucumber) is so typically haphazardly thrown together and is one of the "common" sushis that everyone eats, that care is not always taken. Uni's version, though, used real crab meat instead of imitation, and they used flying fish roe to decorate the outside instead of the less expensive masago roe, all lending itself to a very tasty, rich taste.
Leo ordered a la carte, selecting tuna, fatty tuna, eel, and sea urchin roe sushi nigiri. They each were very large pieces of fish, and the uni was served with two pieces of roe instead of the usual one. Leo let me taste one of his unis, and I was impressed with the freshness and smooth richness of the roe. Uni has a rather unique, intense flavor, and I wasn't quite expecting the double dose I got! Leo also liked the restaurant (he usually trashes most Asian restaurants) and said the fish was very fresh.
For dessert, Leo had tempura ice cream, where a long roll of vanilla ice cream was encased in tempura batter, deep fried, sliced in half, then drizzled with chocolate syrup. I assume it was good, since, despite his "diet," he ate the whole thing. I had the sake ice. It was lovely. Now, sake is the the traditional Japanese rice wine, and it was mixed with sugar and water, frozen and mixed, and it ended up coming out very much like a granita, looking like a pile of distinct ice crystals. They took preserved Japanese cherries and plums, put a few in the bottom of a large martini glass, then mounded the sake ice on top of the fruit. As the sake crystals melted, they "marinated" the fruit in sake. It was a wonderful dessert for a hot, steamy, Washington evening.
Au Pied Bistro, Georgetown, D.C.
Last Tuesday after I got in from the airport, we walked into Georgetown for a late-night supper at Au Pied Bistro, on M Street near the M and Pennsylvania merger. One of my friends asked me yesterday why I would go to a restaurant called "with the foot café," and that stopped me for a minute until I remembered the history and provenance of the bistro.
Back when I was living in D.C. years ago doing my undergraduate internship at Georgetown, there was a popular bistro on Wisconsin called Au Pied de Cochon, or "with the foot of the pig." It was an elegant French place that specialized in country French cuisine, and in France, braised pig's feet are a popular "comfort food." I remember eating there once, and had some of the most exquisite monkfish in a lobster nantua sauce (which, of course, made the monkfish taste like a great big piece of lobster). The restaurant gained a certain international notoriety back in 1985 when it was the site of a famous KGB defection at the height of the Reagan-era Cold War. It's now the location of a Five Guys burger place. When Au Pied de Cochon closed early last year after nearly 30 years at the prior location, the concept moved to Au Pied Bistro, with much of the old staff moving to the new location, and with many of the menu items remaining the same.
We arrived after ten, and the restaurant had about half a dozen occupied tables. They seated us in the corner table by the front window overlooking the street (why do we always get seated by the windows?). I noticed the walls were covered by large numbers of over-sized canvasses which must have been painted by high school students attempting (badly) to emulate the French post-impressionists. It was certainly colorful, though.
Leo started with an entree (remember, this is a French restaurant!) of baked mussels. He got a plate full of mussels on the half-shell, stuffed with butter, garlic, herbs, and tomato, then baked. I had a nice crock of potage St. Germain, a classic French soup of pureed peas, lettuce, leeks, and herbs enriched with cream. It would have been great with a shot of sherry.....do you remember that old crêpe restaurant national chain called The Magic Pan? They used to serve their potage St. Germain with a small vase of sherry and a tiny bowl of crème fraîche. Mmmm.
As we moved on to our plats, Leo had scallops on a bed of leeks. It was rather different than what either of us expected. A wide band of sauteed, chopped leeks ran down the center of his plate, flanked by bands of white rice. On top of the leeks were a collection of tiny scallops. Looked interesting, though I didn't detect a lot of enthusiasm from Leo. I had a half roasted chicken scented with rosemary and arranged on a bed of caramelized onion-flavored mashed potatoes. My food was very good, and reminded me of the country food of the original restaurant.
For dessert, he had a crème caramel (served in a rectangular piece) and I had a mousse au chocolat. My mousse was thick, dense, and very dark chocolate, with just a hint of espresso but I didn't taste the hint of orange liqueur which is also part of the classic French recipe. That didn't stop me, however, from eating all of it.
We'll likely be back to Au Pied Bistro. While the food wasn't spectacular, it was functional and tasty, and, more importantly, the place is both within easy walking distance and is open late for dinner.
Back when I was living in D.C. years ago doing my undergraduate internship at Georgetown, there was a popular bistro on Wisconsin called Au Pied de Cochon, or "with the foot of the pig." It was an elegant French place that specialized in country French cuisine, and in France, braised pig's feet are a popular "comfort food." I remember eating there once, and had some of the most exquisite monkfish in a lobster nantua sauce (which, of course, made the monkfish taste like a great big piece of lobster). The restaurant gained a certain international notoriety back in 1985 when it was the site of a famous KGB defection at the height of the Reagan-era Cold War. It's now the location of a Five Guys burger place. When Au Pied de Cochon closed early last year after nearly 30 years at the prior location, the concept moved to Au Pied Bistro, with much of the old staff moving to the new location, and with many of the menu items remaining the same.
We arrived after ten, and the restaurant had about half a dozen occupied tables. They seated us in the corner table by the front window overlooking the street (why do we always get seated by the windows?). I noticed the walls were covered by large numbers of over-sized canvasses which must have been painted by high school students attempting (badly) to emulate the French post-impressionists. It was certainly colorful, though.
Leo started with an entree (remember, this is a French restaurant!) of baked mussels. He got a plate full of mussels on the half-shell, stuffed with butter, garlic, herbs, and tomato, then baked. I had a nice crock of potage St. Germain, a classic French soup of pureed peas, lettuce, leeks, and herbs enriched with cream. It would have been great with a shot of sherry.....do you remember that old crêpe restaurant national chain called The Magic Pan? They used to serve their potage St. Germain with a small vase of sherry and a tiny bowl of crème fraîche. Mmmm.
As we moved on to our plats, Leo had scallops on a bed of leeks. It was rather different than what either of us expected. A wide band of sauteed, chopped leeks ran down the center of his plate, flanked by bands of white rice. On top of the leeks were a collection of tiny scallops. Looked interesting, though I didn't detect a lot of enthusiasm from Leo. I had a half roasted chicken scented with rosemary and arranged on a bed of caramelized onion-flavored mashed potatoes. My food was very good, and reminded me of the country food of the original restaurant.
For dessert, he had a crème caramel (served in a rectangular piece) and I had a mousse au chocolat. My mousse was thick, dense, and very dark chocolate, with just a hint of espresso but I didn't taste the hint of orange liqueur which is also part of the classic French recipe. That didn't stop me, however, from eating all of it.
We'll likely be back to Au Pied Bistro. While the food wasn't spectacular, it was functional and tasty, and, more importantly, the place is both within easy walking distance and is open late for dinner.
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