Cafe La Ruche, Georgetown, Washington, D.C.

After attending the world premiere concert with the National Symphony at the Kennedy Center last night, my friend Fr. Steven and I walked over to Georgetown for dinner. Fr. Steven took me to one of his favorite Georgetown secrets, a little French cafe hidden away on 31st Street just above the waterfront called Café La Ruche. It was delightful!

Café La Ruche, a phrase meaning "beehive cafe," is in an old, narrow building up a steep hill from the waterfront. Inside is modern and comfortable though, with relaxing beige walls and upholstery. French art posters, photographs, and street signs decorate the walls. In the far end is a service area and a large dessert case. A singer-guitarist also sat back in that area, and we got to hear him sing a variety of older international pop songs in a variety of languages.

The food here appears to be simple, basic, traditional foods—sort of the equivalent of a French diner. Of course, the French have different ideas of "comfort foods" than Americans, so I saw a lot of things like whole artichokes, bowls of mussels, coq au vin, French style salads, quiches, French sandwiches, pates, lots of soups, and so forth. While we looked over the menus, we were given some of the most wonderful big, round, crusty rolls. I do so love French breads!

We started by splitting an order of lamb sausages. These links had been fried to a nice crispness on the casings, and inside, the lamb meat was highly seasoned with lots of cayenne pepper, and I think I also detected traces of rosemary, anise seed, and French salt. They were served on top of slices of French bread, which caught the flavorful grease and juices, providing an additional treat.

Fr. Steven chose the shepherd's pie for his main course. It was served in a large au gratin dish with the top layer of mashed potatoes broiled to a golden brown, and he reported a strong wine taste in the sauce. It came with a big plate of a romaine salad. I had the Swiss fondue. They brought me a big plate of sliced carrots and zuccini, broccoli florets, and cubes of French bread. The fondue pot device, however, was a little bit frightening. There was no means of controling the Sterno under the pot, so it blazed on "high", putting the pot of cheese and wine into a rapid boil. It was also a bit rickety, and I worried I would knock the pot off the rack, spilling hot wine all over everyone. The pot handle was metal and very hot, so I had to remember to use my napkin when I needed to move or adjust the pot. Eventually towards the end of the course, I had to make the decision to put the cap on the Sterno and completely extinguish the flame, since the cheese was starting to scortch on the bottom on the pot. I guess they were aware of their uncontrolled flames, since they had the melted cheese in what I at first thought was an excessive amount of white wine. It did seem to work out okay in the end, though. I would have used a bit more kirschwasser in the liquid, but it was still good.

For dessert, we had to inspect the dessert case.



Hidden on the right side of the case by Fr. Steven's glasses was a pretty little chocolate almond meringue frosted in whipped cream that he ate. I had an apple dumpling, which is pictured in the very middle of the case. My apple had been peeled and cored and wrapped in croissant dough, then baked. A dollop of French dark chocolate garnished the top. They did, however, commit the ultimate sin with my apple dumpling: they microwaved it. Microwave energy is scientifically known to change the molecular bonds in the gluten in breads and pastries, making them tough and rubbery, not to mention the fact that the microwave often gets food too hot. Had I known they were going to nuke the dumpling instead of warm it in a regular thermal oven, I would have preferred my dumpling cold.

I'm looking forward to a chance to go back to Café La Ruche again soon. Their simple food is delicious and best of all, the prices are extremely, surprisingly reasonable. While we weren't drinking last night, they also had a nice selection of wines by the bottle and by the glass.

City Lights of China, Washington, D.C.

Since we've gone to pretty much all of the restaurants in Chinatown, we decided to go someplace different last night when Leo took us out to celebrate the first night of Chinese New Year. Based on a recommendation from my lawyer friend Will, we decided to try City Lights of China on Connecticut Avenue just north of Dupont Circle.

We had high hopes for City Lights, since a 2002 Washington Post review called it the "best neighborhood Chinese restaurant" in D.C., tourbooks from Frommer's and Fodor's both recommend the place highly, and even the New York Times says it's "a consistent pick on critics' lists."

It was a beautiful day, so we walked up to Dupont about five o'clock. The restaurant has two parts, the old location, and a new dining room two doors down with a big bar and sushi bar; the new dining room wasn't open yet. We walked into the old location, which is slightly subterranean, and were immediately seated in the side dining room in a booth. Decor is very spare and simple. There were one or two Asian patrons in the dining rooms, but the rest were non-Asian (I like places which are packed with Asians—it's a testimonial to the authenticity of the food). We had a Chinese waiter, so Leo did all the ordering. They don't have a Chinese menu, so he had to order from the regular English one.

He selected several dishes for us all to share: a lamb dish, a szechuan seafood dish, some traditional noodles, and a big fried tofu dish (the tofu in honor of Will, a vegetarian). One person had a little bowl of hot and sour soup. Rice was complimentary with the meal, but my hot jasmine tea was not.




Long noodles are a Chinese New Year tradition, representing longeveity, and ours were pretty good. The lamb was a bit disappointing. The meat had been tenderized a little too long, so its consistency was a bit mushy and it was hard to tell if it was lamb or beef. The seafood had a slightly fishy taste to it, indicating to me that the scallops and shrimp had been frozen and were not fresh. The sauce on both the lamb and the seafood was sweet (that's not a good thing). The tofu came in big, thick slices which had been deep fried and by themselves tasted pretty good, but they were absolutely drowned in a way-too-sweet sauce, and quickly became soggy. We didn't finish the dish—it got to be nasty-sweet. Also, all of the dishes had been ordered "spicy," and there was very, very little heat to anything.

If City Lights of China is the best neighborhood Chinese place in town, they sure were having a brownout last night. There's a place on the other side of the circle that's just a notch above fast food that I like way better. The menu is filled with Chinese-American dishes and American-style versions of some of the simpler, more common Chinese dishes. I saw a "shark-fin soup" on the menu, but there was no way it could have been real shark-fin at the low price they were charging. They also had Peking duck on the menu and we saw a nearby table order it, but they served it chopped up like any old duck; other places make a big deal of the skin and some people eat only the skin and ignore the meat. Everything seemed aimed at an unsophisticated American clientele, which I find an odd marketing strategy in a city with a large and accessible Chinatown. The prices are reasonable but not cheap. The food quality is average, if one likes a lot of sweet sauce.

While I'd not reject dining here again, there are dozens more places in D.C. I'd rather go for Chinese than City Lights. I have the distinct impression none of the reviewers have been there in a while. I give the Washington Post and New York Times reviewers only one star.

Vidalia, Washington, D.C.

Okay, okay, mea culpa, I know it's been nearly a fortnight since Robert and I went to the wonderful Vidalia, but here it is at last, my report on what may have been my favorite Restaurant Week/Fortnight experience, way back on January 14, to supplement what Robert already promptly posted on the 15th.

Vidalia isn't quite so brand new anymore having opened in 1993, but it's still one of the very popular somewhat newer places in the West End of Washington's downtown area. Their great claim to fame is that they feature regional cuisine from the American South, but with an elegant gourmet bent. Since their remodel in 2003, they've broadened their menu out a bit to be more generically American, but they still have their Southern flair. CIA graduate Jeffrey Buben is the chef and owner both of Vidalia and its sister French restaurant on Capitol Hill, Bistro Bis. We've tried to get Restaurant Week reservations the past couple of Weeks to no avail, but this go-round we were thrilled to be able to reserve a table in the bar at 10 p.m. on a Saturday night.

We walked to the restaurant that evening in all the wind and cold. The M Street at 20th Street venue has an interesting location in the basement of an office building. Inside their space, everything is designed with a contemporary but comfortable and accessible feel. A maitre d' stand is at the bottom of the staircase, where we were greeted and our coats checked. The bar area with dining tables is separated from a large dining room by glass partions, and I did not feel disadvantaged at all by having to be seated in the bar instead of the main dining room. Our particular table happened to be right by their see-through walk-in wine cellar where they kept their chilled white wines, including a very interesting champagne cart loaded with bottles of every conceivable high-end vintage.

Choosing our meal was challenging because of all the mouth-watering options for us two Southern boys (Robert is from Arkansas) and the fact that Vidalia makes their whole menu available for Restaurant Week, just with a few items having small surcharges. I always make a point to stick to the non-surcharged items during Restaurant Weeks, and I almost violated my rule, because the shrimp and grits on the menu sounded so good; I still managed to put together a fabulous meal, though, without paying more than the fixed price.

For a first course, I selected the five onion soup. The onions had been slowly sauteed and caramelized, then stewed in a tasty duck broth that included some duck confit and shitake mushrooms. I particularly appreciated the absence of a crouton and cheese in the "French" style, and found this version surprisingly good.

Robert, being the wealthy politico, sprang for a surcharge and ordered the oyster pan roast. He got a plateful of Virginia oysters mixed with pieces of Virginia country ham, Swiss chard, and artichoke hearts which had been baked together with mingling natural juices and a splash of cream to make almost a stew, and he said it was quite good.

To accompany our first courses and serve as our aperitif cocktails, we had a little alcohol. Robert had a Dewars on the rocks. Vidalia's wine list included about three dozen wines available both by the glass and by the half pour, so I decided to do wine with dinner, and asked our very solicitous waiter to select appropriate half-pour wines for me for each course, and he (with the assistance of their sommalier) did a fabulous job. For my onion soup, he brought a 2004 Mikulski Gamay/Pinot Noir from the Burgundy region of France. This wine, as with all the others, was nicely full bodied, fruity, and dry and meshed nicely with the accompanying food.

The main courses continued our adventures. Robert had the Carolina rainbow trout which had been crusted in what looked like a cornmeal and chorizo sausage crust and served with an interesting sweet potato, crayfish, crab and vegetable hash; a bright green sauce made from green onions was all over the plate. He washed down the fish with another Dewars. Meanwhile, I was experiencing an exciting pork chop cassoulet. Traditional cassoulet, of course, is a fancy French way of making a white bean and meat stew or casserole, often with goose or duck confit and pork or lamb sausage, and lots of garlic and herbs. Vidalia's version put pork sausage and some wonderful slow roasted pork belly in the stew pot with great big lima beans and then covered the whole thing with an herbed, juicy pork chop just barely cooked to "medium," so it remained incredibly juicy and bursting with flavor. I can't remember when I last had pork this good. Also on the plate was a smear of red wine apple butter to serve as a sauce. With my cassoulet came a 2003 Sattler St. Laurent Neisiedlersee, a surprisingly good Austrian (Austrian, not Australian) red.



For dessert, Robert chose the lemon chess pie with a berry compote. A chess pie (which is very Southern) is essentially a lemon custard, but leaning more towards the filling used to make pecan pies. This particular pie was prepared as an individual tartlet and included an egg-shaped scoop of fresh crème chantilly which Robert said most assuredly did not taste like the Cool Whip-eseque whipped cream he'd gotten earlier that day at brunch at The Grill at the Ritz-Carleton (see their review on January 14). With his tart he had a glass of almond grappa (I forgot which label) that he thought was a bit sweeter than he expected as well as surprisingly citrusy. Grappa is an Italian high-octane drink that is sort of a cross between a strong wine and a brandy, typically running about 80-90 proof.



My dessert was a wonderfully light citrus yogurt bavarian, where the mousse had been layered atop lemon genoise, and a tropical fruits and coconut syrup "salsa" was scatterred decoratively around the edges of the plate. It was accompanied by a 2003 Domaine de Baumard Coteau du Layon chenin blanc from the Loire region of France. This nice white dessert wine managed to be sweet without being cloying, and was a particularly pleasant final wine. It, in particular, had been personally selected by their sommalier, who'd chatted with us a couple of times during the evening, especially to tell us about the champagnes in the wine cooler.



Dinner didn't end there, though. Earlier in the meal, we'd been chatting about the cheese display on the counter near our table, and apparently the chef heard it during one of his trips through the dining room. He happened to be out again about the time we were finishing up, so he went over and cut us a big piece of complementary creme de livarot and served it to us with slices of cranberry bread. Now, livarot is one of those classic French stinky cheeses that is absolutely foul if one just sniffs at it, but it has a wonderful full flavor and the taste more than makes up for the smell. We were most appreciative of their generosity.

Still, though, our meal was not yet done! Our charming waiter brought us a tiered rack of handmade chocolates and gumdrop squares! Again, this was complementary, and, as we were one of the last tables in the wine bar, we had definitely noticed than none of the cheeses or candies had been given to any of the other tables.

Needless to say, both Robert and I came away from Vidalia, impressed not only with the delicious and attractively presented food, but the friendly attentiveness of the staff, from the assistants to the waiter to the sommalier to the chef, and the high standard of service. Prices here were only moderately expensive, which makes it an excellent bargain for the high quality. They also feature weeknight wine sampling happy hours when fun vintages are corked and sold at reduced by the glass prices. Robert and I both plan to return to Vidalia, and I highly recommend it for anyone wanting a nice high-end but relaxed dining experience.

Butterfield 9, Washington, D.C.

Condé Nast Traveller Magazine recent published a list of its "one hundred hottest restaurants in the world," and, lo and behold, one of the hot hot restaurants is right here in sleepy little Washington! Butterfield 9 is the exciting locale, positioned conveniently just a block or so east of the Treasury Department east of the White House. And, even better news, Butterfield 9 was one of the handful of restaurants that extended their Restaurant Week offers a second week. So, last Thursday, off Tony and I went, armed with 1:30 reservations.

As we approached the location, we heard a lot of chanting and noise on the street, and we were wondering what sports team was in town, thinking perhaps there was some kind of rally for the loser-Washington R******s football team (I don't use their mascot name since it it racially insensitive and offensive to Indians) after their unfortunate playoff performance in Seattle. However, as we turned the corner by the restaurant, we saw a huge union picket line circling around on the sidewalk protesting something or another—we never did figure out what they were whining about. This must be the protest week, since the next day on Friday evening, we saw another group of unidentified protestors/picketers parading up and down the parkway by the Watergate complex while we dined at Aquarelle. Fortunately, though, the restaurant windows at Butterfield 9 were thick enough we didn't have to listen to the pickets and we were able to lunch uninterrupted.

We arrived a couple of minutes before our reservation, and the hostesses greeted us, asking us to wait just a moment while they finished preparing our table. They offerred the bar, but we weren't drinking, so we declined and stood in the lobby area. After about five minutes, a manager type wandered through and decided we were in the way and moved us into the bar, anyway. That, of course, created the situation we were trying to avoid, which was making the bartender have to come greet us and take our orders, only to be disappointed that we weren't paying (and tipping) customers and were just taking up space. We sat in the bar for probably another five minutes before the hostess came in to fetch us to our table. We were given an excellent table with an L-shaped banquette in the corner of the restaurant by the window that allowed us a full view of the entire dining room, all illuminated with unusual contemporary wire chandeliers.

The Restaurant Week menu was interesting and varied, with at least four choices for each category. They also offered a three-glass wine pairing for an additional $18 per person, which I passed on, but which Tony, armed with mommy's credit card, chose to enjoy.

We both ended up ignoring the very interesting salad options and started with soups. I got the soup du jour, which was a simple cauliflower potage poured over a center mound of royal trumpet mushrooms and garnished with shavings of al dente cauliflower. The soup was okay, and I particularly enjoyed the unusual mushrooms.



Tony chose the butternut squash soup with maple-cured bacon and young celery. With his soup course he drank a Albarino Salneval 2004, Rais Baixas white, from Spain. They also served us a basket of assorted breads, one of which was a particularly delicious brown bread spiked with raisins and walnuts.



For our main courses, Tony had an exquisitely delicious braised beef short rib on a pool of soft, truffled cheese grits topped by mustard greens and crispy bits of portobello mushrooms. He raved about the rib, so I guess it was good. A glass of Syrah Elsa 2003 Mendoza from Argentina came with his beef.



I had the duck leg confit salad served over warm, wilted frisée with some mustard cream sauced haricots verts green beans. I loved the salad. The confit was rich and exploding with flavor. One of the things that struck me about this dish is that it exploited all of the taste senses, with a salt coating on the duck, a sour vinegar dressing on the bitter leaves of the frisée, and a sweetness to the haricots verts and their sauce, as well as the sauce on the duck. Quite a nice balance.



Desserts were pretty. Tony chose the sorbet du jour, which happened to be three egg-shaped scoops of mango sorbet garnished with a fresh strawberry that he reported had a very pronounced mango flavor. He drank a Moscato D’Asti M. Chiarlo "Nivole", from the Italian Piedmont with dessert.



Meanwhile, I reveled in a warm Mexican chocolate soufflé cake with spiced pecans and a sweet cream sauce spiked with amontillado sherry.



Butterfield 9 was a very pleasant restaurant and we had a very fine dining experience. One thing I noticed, though, was the use of sourness as a theme throughout the meal—sourness in the soup mushrooms, sourness in the vinegar dressing on the duck salad, sourness in the dessert chocolate—and a consistent sweetness in the matching wine flight. The dining room stayed busy our whole visit. Both a floor manager and the hostess checked on us during various parts of the meal, and our waiters and assistants were efficient and well trained. I look forward to going back to Butterfield 9 again.

Cafe Milano, Georgetown, Washington, D.C.

I had to go to a lodge meeting last night and when I got home, I was ready for a late night snack. Tony wanted to go with me to Georgetown again, so we walked over....unfortunately, most restaurant kitchens close at 10:30 on Monday nights, and even the Five Guys hamburger place was already closed. So, after walking halfway up Wisconsin Avenue, we turned around and looked at places on the side streets; the only place we found open was Cafe Milano, since their kitchen didn't close until 11. Cafe Milano is one of the "elegant" spots in Georgetown serving Milanese style Italian food.

Tony was all excited about the cars out front and a big table set up in the middle of the dining room. Apparently some politician from Lebanon was there with his colleagues and their dozen-plus body guards. When they eventually left, they had a nine car motorcade—all big black limousines, SUVs, Explorers, etc., and I thought it odd that they did not have diplomatic license plates. I guess I've lived in D.C. too long to notice or be impressed with politicians and motorcades. What I did notice, however, is how the dining room was buzzing with staff as long as that party was there, but once they left, service dwindled to a trickle.

It was so late, I really wasn't too hungry and just wanted something light. Tony ordered a Bombay Sapphire martini, so I got a glass of their cheapest wine, which just happened to be a prosecco. We ended up with the butternut-squash soup, which was their zuppa del giorno. Large shavings of parmigiano reggiano floated in the middle of the soup plates. Now, many vegetable soups start off with the vegetable being cooked in chicken broth. This soup, however, had an overpowering flavor of chicken stock and chicken fat which I thought obscured the flavor of the squash. It could have used a splash of cream, too. The cheese, while a fun idea, was so thick that it was difficult to "cut" it with the soup spoon. We both also agreed that the soup temperature was rather tepid.



I'd originally planned to have a big salad for dinner, but I was excited to order instead the carpaccio di manzo con ruchetta e scaglie di parmigiano reggiano. Carpaccio, of course, is paper-thin slices of raw beef tenderloin. Tony had never had carpaccio before. It was covered with a big mound of arugula dressed in a lemon vinaigrette and topped with cheese shavings. I thought it was pretty good, though I would have liked it to have had a little more beef on the plate. They get their beef much thinner than I've ever been able to cut my carpaccio.



Along with the meal, we had a basket of excellent country-style hard rolls with a bright green olive oil for dipping. I was kind of amused when the assistant who brought our bread and wielded the peppermill wished us "bon appetit" in French, instead of the Italian "buon appetito."

It's a good thing we weren't terribly hungry. I thumbed through the menu and while it sounded delicious, one would have to bring one's banker along for the financing. Salads and antipasti were all in the teens, pasta first courses were in the twenties, and second courses (fish, meats, etc.) were in the thirties and forties. Vegetables were à la carte and the desserts were mostly $10-12. We also spotted a bottle of wine in the already-very-pricy wine list which was quoted at $8,000 (and yes, I proofread this entry).

I think perhaps Cafe Milano did not make the best impression on me last night. When prices are this high, I expect immaculate service. As I mentioned, once the Lebanese special guests left, the service became practically non-existent. While the assistants were friendly, I didn't feel much warmth or interest from the waiter, and this is an unusual complaint from me, since I'm usually the one who complains that waiters are too chatty or over-familiar. Some of the attention to detail one would expect from this level of restaurant was missing. No one poured our olive oil for our bread, for example, and there was no peppermill to spice up the oil. We were offerred pepper for our soup, but not for the carpaccio, which probably could have used some. No one asked if we wanted cocktail or wine refills. Our waiter brought our check after we'd finished the carpaccio course, without asking us if we wanted dessert or coffee.

And yet, this is a restaurant which is fully-booked days in advance for weekend seatings. I just don't know. Perhaps when (and if) I try their main courses, I'll be more impressed with the kitchen, but I just didn't think the food we had last night warranted the prices, especially with the lack of top quality service.

One Fish Two Fish, Washington, D.C.

We walked up to Pennsylvania Avenue in quest of a late lunch yesterday and popped in to One Fish, Two Fish, an inexpensive generic Asian place Tony liked because it has a bar. Once we got there, though, he decided to drink coffee-flavored bubble tea. I just had a simple plate of pork lo mein, which was tasty, as always. Tony ordered a bowl of egg drop soup and the "royal crown" or something like that, a stir-fried entree with a mix of beef, pork, chicken, and several types of seafood that resembled one of the "happy family" dishes.


Pork Lo Mein


Royal Crown

Thunder Grill, Washington, D.C.

Well, we got Tony to the train station this afternoon to send him on his way to Thurgood Marshall Airport (formerly known as BWI) and then back to Tulsa. Now I just have to catch up on stuff, do laundry, clean house, etc., etc. He wanted to get to the train station early, so we had time for lunch at Thunder Grill, one of the three sit-down restaurants in the Union Station lobby. All three places are owned by the same company, but Thunder Grill is a southwestern food place, so that seemed an appropriate way to segue Tony back into the culinary world of Tulsa, America.

I was actually pleasantly surprised with Thunder Grill. The menu was varied and original, the prices reasonable, and the service adequate. I also saw a lot of interesting presentations at other tables for various dishes. We stayed rather simple, though.

Tony ordered the grilled swordfish. It was an interesting dish with the swordfish topped with a sort of salsa that included chunks of avocado. On the side were mashed potatoes and a huge amount of sauteed red and green bell peppers, onion chunks, and pieces of the green tops from green onions (which didn't get eaten, since Tony is not a fan of peppers or onions). He drank an Australian Bulletin Chardonnay.



I had the Maryland crab cake sandwich with Thunder (a/k/a French) fries and a jicama-cabbage cole slaw and drank a glass of 2004 Thierry & Guy Fat Bastard Shiraz. I thought the slaw was good, but it needed some jalapeño kick. The crab cake was served on a big sourdough bun with lettuce and tomato. While they were doing the standard Maryland-style recipe, since Thunder Grill is a southwestern place, I would have put some cayenne or something in the crab mixture to heat it up a bit.



The dessert selections looked yummy, including fun things like banana tres leches cake, bourbon-spiked black bottom pecan pie, and margarita key lime pie, but Tony finally remembered that he's on a diet this month, so he said he couldn't eat dessert.

So, that was Tony's last meal in D.C. Now he's relegated to Village Inn, Waffle House, and IHOP with his buddies back in Tulsa.

IndeBleu, Washington, D.C.

Last Saturday week when Arkansas Robert and I were having our fabulous dining experience at Vidalia, we determined to take advantage of the few restaurants that were extending Restaurant Week another week, and planned to lunch at a couple of the better places. Well, as it turned out, Robert had an unexpectedly busy work week and couldn't get away until Friday. We were excited, though, to be able to get reservations at the much-talked-about IndeBleu, a French and Indian fusion restaurant over by the MCI Center.

Robert's taxi was caught up in a bit of traffic, so he, houseguest Tony, and I walked in about two minutes past our reservation time. There were two hostesses at the maitre d' stand who greeted us and said they were getting our table ready. It took them about five minutes or so to finish up, so that gave us a chance to look around downstairs. The restaurant is in one of those deep, narrow spaces. To the left of the entry is a large staircase with a coat check underneath. A long bar is behind the maitre d' stand, but that bar was not in use. We noticed off to the side in back was another room furnished in sofas and other lounge type furniture, but that, too, was empty. During our wait, I also noticed something a little disconcerting, and that was that when I was near the door and windows, I got a whiff of something which I can only describe as "eau de street person;" I smelled it again upstairs after lunch when I was passing a cedar bush in a large urn, so I don't know if this was a natural "cedar" smell or something else.

When our table was finally prepared, we were escorted up a grand staircase to the dining room on the second floor. I saw no evidence of an elevator, so if a diner is handicapped, I do not know how they would be accommodated. On what I'll call a mezzanine level, they had a small dining space with a large table set for eight. Farther upstairs, to the right was a wine bar (also unoccupied) and to the left was the main dining room. Decor is starkly modern with lots of etched glass and wood, and walls are painted in deep spice colors.

The Restaurant Week menus were a little limited, featuring just one dessert, a first course choice of soup or salad, and for the main course there were only a fish, a chicken, and a vegetarian (plantains) option. The regular menu was also available, and the prices there looked pretty standard (I always hesitate to use the term "reasonable" for D.C. restaurant prices) for local downtown establishments. While we ordered, we were given individual pieces of small, salted, hot naan, a traditional Indian flat bread, which were quite good.

The soup offering was a leek and potato velouté with curry leaf pesto, which looked to be essentially a cream-free vichyssoise. In the center of the soup, a dollop of what looked to be crème fraîche formed a design that made the soup look like a reverse-color fried egg. The curry pesto in olive oil was drizzled around the sides of the "yolk."



Since the others chose the soup, I opted to start my meal with the salad of shaved vegetables and greens with orange lemon grass dressing and spiced cashew nuts, which turned out to be a lovely starter. They had carved some of the vegetables and then sliced them thinly on a mandoline; the cashews had an interesting hot barbeque flavor. The dressing had been squirted onto the rim of the plate in a circle around the greens, and then dotted with balsalmic vinegar.



For the main course, Tony chose the grilled salmon. It was simply prepared and looked to have been dredged in a spice mix before grilling. They served it on top of a scoop of some kind of chutney (I tasted it, but couldn't identify all the flavors beyond apple and onion) with a flavored oil on the plate, and a handful of alfalfa sprouts on top.



Robert and I had the white cassoulet of chicken confit, boudin blanc, and navy beans. I found the dish to be both wonderfully tasty and yet disappointing at the same time. The "problem," if you will, was the piece of food in the beans which I think was meant to be the boudin blanc. Now, boudin blanc is a type of white sausage usually made in big links. We had a little miniature sausage that was dry and crumbly. It had some good flavor to it, but the texture was very off-putting, and I had the impression that it was dried out. The chicken confit, on the other hand, was exquisite, and I really wish there had been more than just one tiny drumstick. The white beans, also, had a particularly nice texture, seasoning, and buttery flavor.



I'm not sure what our tiny desserts were called. They started with a little miniature muffin of what they called a "French tea cake" and sat it on a squirt of raspberry coulis, then added a scoop of a delicious lychee nut fruit ice cream, garnishing it with a long, thin strip of a sweet sugar cookie. The muffin I could have done without, but I would have loved to have sat down with a big bowl of that ice cream.



So, what was our opinion? Well, interestingly enough, we all liked the place and said we'd come back, even though the serving sizes were tiny and we all found various faults with our food. I suppose I will need to try another meal (selecting my own menu) before I can pass judgment on whether or not the fusion concept works here. Service was attentive and we had a particularly charming waiter from Norwich, England.

Dinner party

Spontaneous dinner parties are always such fun.

After Tony and I ran into Leo and his friend Dale at Dupont Circle Saturday afternoon, we decided to throw together a little home cooked meal back at Leo's and my place. This necessitated a run to the Harris-Teeter grocery store in Arlington for food and suitable wines. Leo and Dale decided they would be in charge of the food and they left the wine selections up to me.


Leo's private chef

Dale has professional cooking experience, not to mention a nifty white jacket, so he took over the cooking responsibilities from Leo.

We started with a soft goat cheese spread with cilantro, lime, and garlic, slices of Asian pear, and crackers. Next was a New England clam chowder. The main course was a roast pork loin studded with rosemary and garlic and a pan gravy, accompanied by mashed turnips with cream, roasted fresh asparagus spears, and braised Swiss chard. Dessert was a white layer cake with pistachio cream and sliced strawberries between the layers frosted with pistachio buttercream and encrusted with chopped pistachio nuts, fresh strawberries, and vanilla ice cream. For wines, I selected Dry Sack sherry (I thought a fino would be too dry for the sherry-beginners) for the appetizer and soup courses, then Concha y Toro's Casillero del Diablo 2004 (a Chilean cabernet sauvignon) for the main course, and for the dessert course, an Italian white sparkling wine: Tenuta Santa Anna Prosecco N.V.


Dinner


Dessert

All in all, it was a very fun and delicious evening, even if I did have to wash dishes and Dale cooks like he thinks a crew of Mexicans is there to clean up after him. And, given how much we spent on this dinner, it also helps prove that at least in D.C., it is often cheaper to eat out than to buy groceries and cook at home!

More wines

After brunch Saturday afternoon, we walked back down Connecticut towards Dupont Circle and wandered into Best Cellars, a wine store, which was having a public wine tasting. It was nothing terribly formal. The manager had set out five wines on a counter near the front of the store and served little sips of wine in tiny plastic cups.

We started with Poggio Le Volpi Frascati Superiore 2004, an Italian wine retailing for $12.50 a bottle. It was a very clear wine with a quite light taste and little substance to it. It would probably be fine as a light aperitif, but it lacked acid and body, so I don't think I would serve it with food. The next white was a 2004 Vine Street Chardonnay. This is actually a private label for Best Cellars, and it's pretty good for a California chardonnay. The $15 bottle held a straw colored wine with good body and flavor, and with enough acid to it that it would be a good wine for appetizers or even an appropriate main course item. It was my favorite wine of the entire tasting.

The first red was La Ferme Gicon Cotes-du-Rhône 2004. It was everything one would expect for a $10 per bottle French wine: thin, tannic, and unimpressive. I poured out the rest of my cupful after a couple of quick, tiny sips. The cotes-du-Rhône was followed by an Argentine wine, Auka Malbec 2003. It had a fuller purple color and was quite a bit dryer with quite a bit of tannin. It costs $15. It's merely okay right now, but I think this wine will age well and should be nice in a few more years. The final red was Mähler-Besse's Toro Oro 2003, from Spain. The wine was a deep burgundy color with good complexity, but a bit of a tannic aftertaste. It was only $12, but I think it was probably my favorite of the reds. This wine should definitely be paired with foods.

Alero, Washington, D.C.

Saturday was a wonderfully warm day in the high 50s (and maybe even the low 60s), though the spectre of possible rain hung over the city all day long. We ventured out to brunch, intending to go to 21P near Dupont Circle, but they seemed to be closed when we got there, even though their website said they were open for lunch. Well, they were open, I guess you could say......we walked into an empty restaurant and stood there for a few minutes before leaving, and no one at all appeared from the kitchen to see who was in their dining room.

We ended up walking along Connecticut Avenue and happened upon Alero, a Mexican place, and since Tony has been craving Taco Bell, I guess Alero was his next best thing. So, that was our brunch spot.

Alero has a brunch menu for Saturdays and Sundays, so we looked both at that and the regular menu. Tony opted for the burrito Azteca a scrambled egg and ham breakfast burrito.



I had a revuelto salad with grilled chicken.



One of the nice things about Alero's brunch is they have sangre de Marias (a/k/a bloody Marys) for just $3.75 a piece.

Aquarelle, Washington, D.C.

We took the opportunity Friday night to conclude our "Restaurant Fortnight" by dining at Aquarelle in the Watergate Hotel.

I'd put off dining at Aquarelle all last year out of nervousness over what it might have become, and I was unfamiliar with the work of executive chef Christophe Poteaux. Why the trepidation? Aquarelle sits in the same spot as the legendary Jean-Louis, the masterpiece of the late Jean-Louis Palladin which was above and beyond the finest restaurant in D.C. during the Reagan and Bush I Administrations. Palladin was internationally renowned: he not only had earned two Michelin stars for his restaurant in France, he was the youngest chef (at 28) ever to win two stars; he was a frequent book and video colleague of Julia Child; he had world-class restaurants in New York and Las Vegas.

After Palladin's premature death at age 55 from lung cancer in November 2001, the Watergate Hotel recreated the spot as Aquarelle, bringing in the French Poteaux from Hollywood to make his own hopefully-famous restaurant, tasking him to serve breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the hotel's up-scale and mostly international clientele.

Aquarelle is in a beautiful venue. The restaurant sits just above the ground level right alongside the Potomac River, offering splendid vistas of river traffic, the Georgetown Marina, the Memorial Bridge, and the Rosslyn skyline. The menus included a page with the Restaurant Week offerings, and we were pleased to see an interesting variety amongst our choices. While we selected our meal, I sipped on a tall Dubonet and soda with a twist and my usually-alcoholic Tony drank merely tap water.

We both started with the escabeche of sea scallop with a Banyuls reduction, garlic coulis, pickled vegetables, and herbs salad. An escabeche is prepared with a Spanish technique where seafood is "cooked" by marinading it in lime juice and spices. Our single scallop rested on a long, rectangular plate and had a nice flavor and texture for an escabeche. I particularly enjoyed the thinly sliced pickled vegetables, and the salad was a mound of tiny clover, alfalfa sprouts, and baby herb leaves.

Tony selected the New York strip steak for his entree. It was covered with a thick relish of sliced and sauteed shallots in a thick cabernet wine reduction which he didn't like, finding it too sweet for his tastes, and he also felt that the steak was overcooked beyond the medium rare he requested (though it looked medium rare to me in the dark and across the table). It was accompanied by hand-cut pommes frites, which Tony liked, and a small bundle of haricots vertes. I thought the steak looked very good, and I would have enjoyed it.

My entree was the Atlantic monkfish osso bucco, two thick pieces of stewed monkfish on the bone, accompanied by black mussels and served over a bed of risotto with Spanish peppers and dry-cured chorizo. Broth from the fish filled up the hollow of the plate. The mussels were good and I enjoyed the monkfish a lot, though I found the risotto to be rather gummy.



One of the highlights of the meal had to be dessert, with both of us opting for the pineapple upside down cake. They were made as individual cakes topped with a pineapple slice and a maraschino cherry, then a big scoop of pink peppercorn ice cream, garnished with a very thin slice of dried pineapple. I loved the melange of unexpected flavors, and the peppery-spiciness of the ice cream really helped to set off the sweetness of the cake. The dried pineapple slice was also a crispy treat.



Regretfully, I wasn't able to take many photographs of the food because the low light levels would have necessitated a flash that would have distracted nearby diners. I did get two shots of my own food, but without a tripod, they are a bit blurry.

So, how did Aquarelle do? The food was pretty good. While I don't think this will be a place on my regular rotation or a destination restaurant for me, if I were ever to be in the neighborhood or attending events at the Kennedy Center, I would have no objection to eating here.

The biggest problem I found with Aquarelle was the level of service; while nothing was particularly bad, they lost points on a number of standard fine dining points. The most blatant problem was that Tony had to eat his entire main course with no water, and eventually had to ask the waiter for some when he came to check on whether we were ready for dessert. Since Tony was actively seeking a refill, the dining room clearly was not being well-monitored by the staff for guest needs. After the water request, we had frequent refills from the assistants, but they did not pick up the glasses to pour away from the table, merely sloshing the water into the glasses. At one point, a big chunk of cubed ice stuck together landed in the neck of my glass, with water then flowing over the ice and spilling onto the table cloth. While the assistant looked embarrased and apologized, he did not mop up the spill. Our bread basket was never refilled during the meal. It took a long time for the waiter to bring our check after dessert and an even longer time for him to come pick up the portfolio to get the credit cards. All of these things together made the restaurant look amateurish, an interesting juxtaposition given their rather steep normal prices.

Friday night wines

In preparation for the onslaught of commercial tie-ins for the upcoming movie release of The DaVinci Code, the Italian winery Cantine Leonardo da Vinci has marketed a chianti red table wine for the American palate. The Da Vinci Toscana Chianti 2004 is available by the case load at the grocery stores and popular wine shops all over the D.C. metropolitan area, and I hear that there will be tasting and parties with the wine when the movie opens. We tried the wine Friday night, so now the surprise is over. It's a deep burgundy colored wine which tastes very much like a standard everyday chianti. There is a touch of fruitiness and only a minimal amount of tannin. The wine has a good full feel on the tongue, but there is really very little substance and no aftertaste to speak of. Verdict? It's an inoffensive little wine that reminds me very much of the ubiquitous merlots ordinaires which are everywhere in trendy American bars and cafes, and while not particularly interesting for oenophiles, the American mass market should drink this chianti right up, especially since it has a pretty bottle and retails for just $10.

Prior to tasting the Da Vinci, we sampled a 2000 Château Mayne Cassan Médoc that Dale had received as a gift some time ago and brought for us to try. This wine was one of the early 2000 red bordeaux said to be an example of the excellent vintage in France that year, though all of the early wines then were surprisingly inexpensive at release. Our bottle was quite drinkable with a very up-front fruitiness, full body, and dense red color, but I think this bottle was either a touch cooked (we don't know its handling or storage history) or perhaps a bit past its prime (though that would be unusual for a French bordeaux only five years old). The House of Mayne Cassan always does interesting table wines, blending in perhaps more merlot with the cabernet sauvignon than many other houses, and also adding some cabernet franc, so their product is usually light and fruity for a médoc.

Cactus Cantina, Washington, D.C.

After church this morning at the Washington National Cathedral, we wandered around a bit so we could kill a little bit of time so we could all go to brunch with my friend John who was driving down from Baltimore after playing a service up there. He also was singing in the Evensong choir at the National Cathedral this afternoon, so we had to have a quick brunch at one of the neighborhood cafes to accommodate his schedule, and landed at Cactus Cantina, since there was a waiting list at Cafe Deluxe.

Food was simple today.....chips and salsa, a bowl of queso dip, three pork tamales for us to split, a Monterrey spinach salad for me, crispy taco platter for John, and a Cuban pork dish called masitas de puerco for Tony. Tony also had a flan for dessert while John and I split a small order of sopapillas.


Masitas de Puerco


Crispy Taco Platter

The food was good.

The Prime Rib, Washington, D.C.

On the way to our afternoon meetings yesterday, my houseguest Tony took me to lunch at The Prime Rib on K Street. It turns out that The Prime Rib has extended their Restaurant Week prix fixe menu another week, so we were able to benefit from their $20.06 per person largess.

The Prime Rib is a very interesting place for many reasons, not least of which is the fact that they are one of the very few establishments in D.C. which actually requires gentlemen to wear a jacket and tie (others, such as 1789, require a jacket but not necessarily a tie). Now, most all men in D.C. dress for dinner and lunch in the higher end restaurants, probably because the law firms, lobbyists, and association offices haven't gone "business casual" here like they have in so many other parts of the country, but Prime Rib's rule is an interesting throw-back to an older era.

And an older era is exactly where we felt we were when we entered the Prime Rib—we were in a supper club from the early 1960s! The dining room has black lacquered walls with gilded architectural detailing for a French paneling and wainscoting look, and art prints featuring greyhounds and naked women with an Arts-Deco, Erté-esque feel; glass room dividers were etched with leaping greyhounds. A leopard print carpet covered the floor. Tightly spaced, white cloth-covered tables had black leather-upholstered banquettes along the exterior walls, high backed wing chairs along interior walls, and low club chairs in the center. A round console table in the center of the dining room held a very tall Chinese vase topped with a large ball of Spanish moss from which a huge display of long, silk, white cally lillies emanated. An elderly gentleman was playing a black baby grand piano with a clear lucite lid. Off to one side was a room with a large three-sided bar packed with drinkers. The maitre d' wore a tuxedo suit (not a tail coat) with a white bow tie, waiters were in tuxedos with black tie, and assistants were in black trousers and high necked black jackets ornamented with black braid. Not counting the staff, Tony was by far the youngest diner in the room and I think I was probably the second youngest (and I'm ancient).

We arrived ten minutes early for our 1:30 reservation, but were taken straightaway to our table. They gave us the regular luncheon menu and called our attention to the Restaurant Week menu on a table tent on the table. The R.W. menu had soup or salad, bread pudding or crême bruleé, and a choice of eight different entrees. We forgot to peruse the wine list since we were just drinking iced tea ($3). As we made our selections, we were given a basket of mixed breads with a large white loaf, slices of a tasty multi-grain bread, and a bunch of heart-shaped matzo crackers.

Tony started with the roasted tomato soup. It was presented in a cute white soup bowl featuring wolves' heads on each side as handles. The soup had a deep red color, and while Tony said it was good, I don't think he thought it was anything special (he tends to gush when he does). I had the house salad, a large serving of a chopped salad with romaine, cucumber, egg, pepperoncini, and grape tomatoes in a mayonnaise-based dressing scented with dijon mustard and a touch of cayenne, which I liked (the lettuce was crisp, so it had been freshly tossed).

Tony had the luncheon-sized prime rib for his main course. If that was a luncheon size, I'd hate to see what constitutes dinner size—the beef took up the entire oval plate! Rather than serving creamed grated horseradish as an accompaniment, there were thick shreds of horseradish mounded on the edge of the plate which could be used with each bite. For side dishes, he had mashed potatoes and long green beans in a tomato-green pepper espagnol sauce, both served in individual au gratin dishes. Tony said the prime rib had some unexpected bits of gristle, but was "excellent" and had a "very nice flavor."

I chose the grilled calves' liver and onions, which was absolutely delicious. They brought me a large, hot plate with a base of fully cooked onion slices and two long strips of liver which were grilled to just over medium rare. The liver was very tender and flavorful, lacking any unpleasant harshness. There's nothing better than good liver prepared at a good restaurant. For sides, I had the mashed potatoes, which were rich but rather over spiced with white pepper, I thought, and the broccoli rabe, which was oddly dry and topped with a grating of a white, semi-soft cheese.

We both had the bread pudding in bourbon sauce for dessert. It was a small serving with large bread chunks baked to crunchiness on the outside with a soft custardy inside; the bourbon sauce definitely had bourbon in it! I saw a crême bruleé at a nearby table and was happy not to have ordered that; another table had a big delicious-looking wine goblet full of fresh berries which looked wonderful, but that wasn't a Restaurant Week option.

On the whole, I liked the Prime Rib. Service was attentive and efficient and food was served in a timely manner. The only service faux pas I noticed was that our waiter refilled our tea glasses by pouring directly into the glasses on the table without picking them up and moving them to the side; he splashed a little bit of tea onto the tablecloth and on my knife. He regained points, though, for crumbing the table before the dessert course. I thought the food was good, though rather old-fashioned (that isn't necessarily a criticism, since old-fashioned can be good at times). For people wanting an old-style, elegant, steakhouse experience, I can recommend this place highly.

Penang, Washington, D.C.

Last night my Tulsa friend Tony and I went to dinner at Penang, a Malaysian restaurant on M Street in the West End. It turned out to be quite a nice place while still maintaining the affordability common to other Malaysian places in town. The restaurant is on the corner of the intersection in an interesting low building with a Mexican quasi-fast food place on the half-below ground floor and Penang half a flight up. One enters the restaurant through a dark but very contemporary feeling bar area. To the left is a small raised seating area where diners have a view of the kitchen through large windows. Straight ahead through the bar is the main dining room, where a wide variety of contemporary table and chair designs were scattered spaciously throughout the room. Pendant lights and other interesting fixtures provided soft lighting, and a window wall gave a view of the street half a floor below. We were seated at a banquette table along one wall, and I got the free-standing chair, finding it comfortable once I was in it, but it was really quite a bit too low for someone of my great height and advanced age.

Menus were several pages, featuring mostly Malaysian items, but also foods inspired by the cuisines of India, Thailand, and other Asian countries. Tony started with the seafood tomyam soup. It was a pretty red curry broth filled with interesting pieces of mushrooms and an assortment of shrimp, scallops, and squid, served in a deep square bowl. I had the Penang salad. This was a very large plate filled with an assortment of very interesting greens, including a lot of the "bitter" leaves, including raddicchio and frisee, tossed in an usual sweet-sour dressing. A few slices of tender, cooked octopus were tossed in with the greens.

For our main courses, Tony had a seafood chow fun, a large bowl of flat rice noodles with shrimp, scallops, squid, vegetables, and eggs in a whitish-clear sauce they called an "egg gravy."



My dish was fascinating: sarang burung. This was an intriguing dish where they had taken taro root, cooked it some, formed it into a sort of bowl or hat shape, and fried it so it would be able to hold other food items. Inside the taro bowl were scallops, squid, shrimp, baby corn, carrots, black mushrooms, purple onions, cashews, and red and green bell peppers and all of this sat on a scattering of crispy rice noodles with really long strands of carrot threads garnishing the whole dish. It was delicious. That fried taro root had the texture of potatoes and the lightly fried portions had a great crunch and flavor. If you've never had sarang burung, you've got to go to Penang.



It was just a quickie meal, but Penang turned out to be so nice and with such delicious food, there are several people I'm going to have to take there to experience their cuisine. Looking around the other tables, there were a lot of beautiful and unusual looking plates, so I've a lot to look forward to.

Circle Bistro, Washington, D.C.

We were supposed to do an early brunch on Sunday, so I punted morning Mass. As it turns out, we barely made it to a restaurant at two o'clock. Leo and I, joined by his friend Dale, wandered up to Washington Circle to the Circle Bistro with no reservations and managed to get seated right away. We've wanted to try Circle Bistro in the Washington Circle Hotel for some time, since it's one of the three hotel restaurants in the neighborhood owned by George Washington University, and the other two (Notti Bianche at the GWU Inn and Dish at the River Inn) are both quite enjoyable. Of course, what I'd forgotten is that while the other two share an executive chef, Circle Bistro is completely independent and different.

The Bistro has a separate street entrance from the hotel. It is simply decorated in a pleasant contemporary theme, and each table had a square glass vase with glass pebbles and a single flower head floating in the water. We were given menus which had both the Restaurant Week luncheon offerings and the regular weekend brunch menu.

Leo and Dale both started with the smoky cannellini soup with bits of duck confit garnished with a drizzle of chive oil. Cannellini are Italian white beans, and the beans had been cooked down and pressed through a food mill to produce a smooth, creamy-looking potage. Little chunks of duck confit were mixed in. Both of them enjoyed their soup quite a bit. A big basket of simple, sliced French-style bread came to the table and we all thought it was surprisingly good. Even though the first courses came quickly, there was quite a long wait for the next course.

For their main courses, Leo opted for the pan-fried trout and Dale ordered the roasted chicken breast. The trout looked very good. It was a whole trout, prepared meuniere and presented splayed open, with the body cavity filled with haricots verts (French style, long, skinny green beans) and the plate was strewn with chopped tomatoes and chopped almonds. The chicken was also well prepared, with the chicken served atop a mound of braised kale which in turn was on a bed of mashed sweet potatoes.

After my huge dinner the previous evening, I was still not ready for a big meal, so rather than doing the Restaurant Week menu, I opted to order a simple eggs Benedict from the brunch menu. My plate contained the usual two English muffin halves topped with Canadian bacon and some obviously hand-poached eggs, all covered with an unusually pale hollandaise sauce. There was also a serving of chopped fried potatoes and a huge serving of undressed salad. The eggs Benedict was good enough, though I noted the hollandaise and fried potatoes were almost cold; while I would not have used it, catsup for the fried potatoes was not offerred.

While I didn't get one, desserts came with the Restaurant Week lunches. Leo had a very pretty and unique apple tart with macademia ice cream and caramel sauce served on a cookie base.



Dale had the bittersweet chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream, marshmallow sauce, and a sprinkling of candied walnuts. While I liked the apple tart, I thought the cake was rather dry and a bit overcooked.



Incidentally, Leo's mimosa only cost $6 and my iced tea only $2.

The overall impression? Well, first keep in mind that the Circle Bistro doesn't charge anywhere near the prices of any of the other high end places we visited during Restaurant Week. Remembering that, the food was servicable, flavorful, and adequate, with the occasional unexpected gem. They had some kitchen issues which need to be resolved. On the whole, though, the price was right, we got full, and there's no reason we would avoid Circle Bistro in the future.

The Grille at the Ritz-Carleton, Washington, D.C.

It's always a bad sign when one has to wait at a restaurant's maitre d' stand for over five minutes before one is noticed by an employee.

My friends Robert from Arkansas, housemate Leo, and I walked in precisely on time for our brunch reservation at The Grille at the Ritz-Carleton today, and we stood there in plain view, occasionally popping in to the dining room to look around more in quest of a host/hostess. Finally after we'd been there seven minutes, a waiter noticed us. After fumbling with the reservations book to find our name, he led us into the main dining room to seat us in a cozy alcove (had it previously been a coat closet??) with a table for three overlooking the dining room and with a view out the plate glass window wall onto the street.

We'd only been there a minute or two when an older manager-type came up and said they were going to have to get the dining room ready for a private party, so he was going to have to move us to another room—all with appropriate apologies, of course, but still, we were having to move after having just gotten settled.

The manager seated us at a very interesting granite-topped, rectangular table with a love seat along the long side and two chairs at either end, then presented us with menus he'd grabbed as we followed him to the other dining room. Rather than being Restaurant Week menus, though, they were regular breakfast menus. When our (different) waiter arrived to fill our water glasses, we had to ask him for the correct menus. As he took away the breakfast menus, he noticed that our table setting did not have napkins, so he brought the correct menus, then made an extra trip to bring napkins; he only brought two napkins, however, so he had to make yet another trip to bring the third.

And thus the meal went.

After bringing our drinks (a mimosa for Leo and an iced tea for me; Robert stuck with water), the waiter announced he was ready to take our orders. Then, he discovered he'd not brought a pad on which to write the orders, so he had to go get one and come back. The Restaurant Week menus were very limited. First course was either soup du jour or Caesar salad, main course was salmon or chicken breast, and dessert was cheesecake or a charlotte. Good thing I hadn't brought my father here, cause if it doesn't moo or oink, he won't eat it.

So far, no one had announced the specials of the day or stated the contents of the soup du jour, so when Leo started to order, the first thing he asked was "what is the soup du jour." Well, the waiter didn't know, so he had to go ask. When he returned, he said it was "pepper.....red pepper soup." None of the usual flowery adjectives to describe the wonderous deliciousness of the restaurant's offering. So, that's what Leo ordered. Robert and I both opted for the Caesar salads.

While we waited, we were brought a very interesting bread basket with a huge assortment of breads, breadsticks, cornbread, and lavosh crackers. One particularly interesting piece was cut open, spread with a pesto-looking substance and topped with a tomato slice, black olive, and cheese and then broiled to melt the cheese. Another interesting piece was a small whole wheat olive roll with a whole black olive baked into the edge.

Our Caesar salads were okay, but terribly ordinary. They used commercial croutons and there were disgusting little anchovy filets on top of the romaine. Yes, I know that there is anchovy in a proper Caesar dressing, but that's all smushed up and there's not that much fish. Robert ate his dead fish, but I gave mine to Leo, since he likes that sort of thing. Leo's soup was served in a flat, double-handled soup cup on a service plate, and the first thing I noticed is that when it was put down in front of him, the handles were not parallel to his body but were askew. He ate it without much comment. Once he was done, there was a tiny bit left in the cup, so I asked to taste a little bit. I dipped the tip of my (clean) butter spreader into the soup and sampled it. There was very little red pepper taste to the cream soup. What I did taste, however, was shellfish—crab or lobster.

Leo is allergic to crab and lobster.

So, I asked the waiter on his next pass to check with the kitchen to see if there was shellfish in the soup, since Leo has an allergy. He took his time about it, but eventually a different, younger manager-type came out and explained that there was a little bit of lobster in the soup. Oh, my God. Well, Leo was okay, apparently not having ingested enough lobster to get his rash/hives, and he also said that alcohol (as in his mimosa) helped counteract the allergy. He's lucky. I have another friend who, had he eaten a cup of shellfish soup, would have been critically ill and in the emergency room on the literal verge of death. One would think that a restaurant in a major, high end restaurant chain like the Ritz-Carleton would know that there are people with serious allergies to shellfish, peanuts, and wheat, and would disclose those ingredients in menus and menu descriptions!

There was one bit of amusement. The nice young manager who discussed the soup problem was nattily attired in his three-piece navy blue suit, but he missed one little bit of sartorial detail: his fly was fully unzipped. After he left the table, we had a bit of discussion about it. Then, Leo announced he was going to tell him. Robert and I both chimed in simultaneously, "No!" and we tried to explain to him that in American culture (Leo is from Hong Kong, remember), we don't tell strangers such things in public. Our main courses arrived, and who should bring out the three plates but that manager! After he set the plates down, Leo said, "Sir, I need to tell you something," and Robert and I both said "No!" again as the poor manager turned to Leo, expecting to hear a comment about how the food was so wonderful or something. Leo said across the table, "You need to zip up," and after that was met with a look of confusion, he continued, "Your pants." Robert and I were mortified.

We all had the same main course: Cajun spiced grilled salmon. I thought my salmon was quite good, even though I've never beeen a big fan of the Cajun or "blackened" spice craze of the '80s. A couple of peeled, steamed asparagus spears decorated the plate. The fish rested on a thick smear of what I thought might be grainy, thin mashed potatoes, but which Robert insisted was grits. We still aren't sure what it was.

The waiter lost service points because our entrees arrived before he had given us appropriate flatware. And, when we were all three done eating and had placed our knives and forks in the traditional "four o'clock position," he interrupted our conversation to ask if we were done and could he take the plates.

Both of the desserts were a visual surprise and quite unexpected. Leo had the vanilla bean cheesecake with banana chocolate sauce. As you can see, a light, fluffy cheesecake mixture had been put in a rounded mold, then set on a circle of pressed, molded cake and dusted with cocoa. The banana chocolate sauce included nuts of some kind, and that strip laying across the top of the cheesecake was a very thin, unsweetened cracker of some sort. Leo reported the cheesecake to have a very pronounced vanilla flavor (I could see vanilla bean seeds in the mix), and, since he prefers the heavy, dense, cheesy, New York style, it wasn't his favorite, though he said it was good.



Robert and I both had the strawberry charlotte. Now, a traditional charlotte is made by lining a charlotte mold (this is a traditional charlotte mold) with either lady fingers or slices of genoise (a type of cake), then filling the mold with alternating layers of filling, fruit, and cake. A typical strawberry charlotte would include fresh strawberry slices as garnish and there would be a strawberry puree to add to the layers, with the primary filling being strawberry puree folded in with whipped cream and stabilized with a bit of gelatin. Well, here at the Ritz-Carleton, they took the banquet caterers' route out, filling a big sheet cake pan with a thin layer of cake and using what tasted to me like strawberry Jello whipped with whipped cream and a very gelatinized strawberry puree, then cut the dessert into squares. The garnish was a raspberry, not a strawberry. On the plate you'll also see a smear of what we think was minted sour applesauce (though I thought I tasted a bit of grape) and an egg-shaped dollop of what Robert called "the most artfully presented Cool Whip I've ever seen." This dessert was tasty enough for what it was, but it certainly was not what I think of as a strawberry charlotte.



Having entered the restaurant from their on-street door, we opted to walk through the hotel's lobby on the way out. It was, as expected, quite luxe. We noted in the main lobby a huge round console table fully covered with containers cram-filled with expensive white and cream flowers, including a lot of long-stemmed white tulips, white roses, and white symbidium orchids.

So, what was our over all impression of The Grille? Well, the food was fine for a $20.06 prix fixe menu, though nothing special. Our waiter was attentive and nice, but poorly trained. There are some definite management service issues here. And, they are unwarrantedly very expensive—Leo's average sized flute of mimosa was $12 and my iced tea was $4.75! We'd also noted during our long wait to be greeted several flyers advertising future dinners, such as a Valentine's Day dinner for $95 per person and a Scotch and cigar dinner later this month for $125 per person, so this is not an economical place to eat.

I'm afraid that The Grille at the Ritz-Carleton falls into the category of the typical, severely over-priced, faux-elegant hotel restaurant. If you're on somebody else's expense account, it's okay enough food, but one should never equate priciness with gourmet dining.

The Caucus Room, Washington, D.C.

How wonderfully convenient it has been this week to have to have business luncheons during Restaurant Week. Today I got to lunch with a friend who's in the midst of party politics here in D.C. working for a certain politician-not-to-be-named, so it was so appropriate that we got to go to that seat of lobbyist largess in Washington, The Caucus Room. The Caucus Room is conveniently located about half way between the White House and the Capitol, just north of Pennsylvania Avenue. Its owners include big name politicos intentionally from both parties, and when Congress is in session, the place is usually packed with lobbyists and politicians. It's long been on my list of restaurants to experience, but places that cater to lobbyists always have what we call "expense account prices," meaning us normal people usually can't afford to eat here outside of Restaurant Week.

We walked in a couple of minutes prior to our 2 p.m. reservation and were immediately whisked in to one of the main dining rooms, walking through passages lined floor to ceiling with rack after rack of wine. Demi-round banquette tables with high backs lined the walls and tables in various configurations filled the center of the room. The dining room was tastefully appointed with no real theme or decor concept; black and white photographs in black frames were hung all over the walls. The most striking design element in the dining room, though, was the table settings: at each place was a tall, slender water glass and an enormous wine glass nearly twice the height of the water glass! The menus were presented in large vinyl folders, with one menu for the host with prices and the other menus with no prices. The Restaurant Week menu was a separate card.

We both started with the open-faced wild mushroom ravioli for our first courses. The design was unexpected; they had taken a large sheet of pasta dough and fashioned a single, large, bowl-sized raviolo with large tender chunks of assorted chopped mushroom in a beefy broth, topped with long, thin pea pods and shavings of peccorino cheese. It had a wonderful flavor and I think it was probably my favorite dish of the meal.



Both of our main courses were simply prepared and basic, but very tasty. My friend had the medallions of beef, which had two pieces of tenderloin cooked medium rare and presented on a mound of mashed Yukon gold potatoes all on a mirror of red wine reduction sauce and with several stalks of steamed fresh asparagus on the side, which he reported was "excellent."



I had the seared sea bass presented on a bed of roasted fingerling potatoes and lightly sauteed broccoli rabe and with a tamarind-flavored thin brown sauce, which I also enjoyed alot, especially the slightly bitter, hot zestiness of the rabe.



With the first two courses we had a big wire basket of bread featuring slices of French loaf and of a nice multigrain sunflower loaf.

I was pretty full after the first two courses (you'll recall how skinny and dainty I am), but dessert was part of the prix fixe menu, so I forced myself to eat more. My friend had the coconut pannacotta with roasted pineapple sauce. He'd not had a pannacotta before, so he said the texture surprised him a bit (pannacotta is a sort of eggless custard, solidified with gelatin), and he liked the pineapple sauce because it wasn't too cloying.



I ate the individual pecan pie with vanilla ice cream and a rum caramel sauce dusted with little granules of caramelized sugar and garnished with a chocolate "twig." Now, being somewhat of a pecan pie afficianando myself and having made ennumerable pecan pies in the past, I was not overwhelmingly impressed with this offering. It was good, but not great. My biggest concern was that I only had a fork and the caramelized top of the pie made it very difficult to cut into the pie without a knife. I also noticed a honey taste to the filling; the ice cream was very, very soft, almost melted.



Service was attentive throughout the meal, and I was impressed that the waiter crumbed the table after the main course plates were removed. The waiter was rather chatty, though, and they also lost points for charging us for a coffee and a hot tea that we hadn't ordered (incidentally, the iced tea here costs $3). I also thought it interesting when the assistant removed the extra two place settings from our table, he did not remove our two imposingly tall wine glasses, even though we'd already said we weren't ordering alcohol.

All in all, I kind of liked this place. It was a comfortable place to dine. While the food was not exotic or overly fancy, they did a good job of preparation and presentation of simple, basic foods, and I imagine it does well with the target audience, being "down home" politicians and lobbyists. I forgot to look at their wine list, but judging from all the different labels I was seeing in the bins along the walls, it must be very nice. The Caucus Room is a good place to meet and eat.

Galileo, Washington, D.C.

After trying unsuccessfully for the past two Restaurant Weeks, at long last we were finally able to procure reservations for dinner at Galileo da Roberto Donna Ristorante Italiano, an establishment which seems to be on most everybody's list of the top five restaurants in the District. Chef Roberto Donna is one of the stars of the D.C. culinary scene. His Galileo provides diners with three venues: the main dining room, the laboratorio, and the kitchen. The laboratorio is for tasting menus and the kitchen is for small groups of connoisseurs for whom Donna personally selects menus and cooks. I noticed through the windows that there were lots of fresh ingredients (they use brown eggs) and cooking equipment in the laboratorio, so I guess they do some cooking demonstrations in there.

The thing which struck me most about this restaurant was the high standard of service; not only were the employees well-trained, efficient, and attentive, they were actually friendly, something we seldom see at high-end, expensive restaurants.

Galileo is located in the ground level of a West End downtown office building. They have their own canopy and valet parking. As we entered, a large bar on our right occupied most of the street window space, and coat check and the attendant were on the left. A hostess was in place at the maitre d' stand to confirm our reservation, and immediately we were greeted by name by the dining room manager and a waiter led us to our table. The dining room was teeming with male waiters, all dressed in dark navy blue suits with an assortment of shirts and ties. During the course of the evening, I found it interesting how cooperatively the waiters worked, with everyone helping everyone else, regardless of whose table it was. The restaurant's dress code is business casual, but I'm glad I had on a sports jacket and tie, because almost all of the men in the dining room were in jackets and ties.

For some reason, the three of us were all on an economy binge tonight, so we opted to have cocktails here at the condo before walking over to the restaurant for our 9:15 reservation. A couple of years ago, I was given a bottle of 2000 R. H. Phillips Toasted Head Chardonnay which I'd been saving for a special occasion, and it seemed appropriate to cork it for tonight. It was an excellent chardonnay. It was very full bodied, rich, and toasty-tasting with substantial oompf to it, yet it was wonderfully creamy, smooth and buttery going down. Leo claims an allergy to white wine (but not red), so he drank a glass of it, and then switched to Wild Turkey and water on the rocks, leaving that much more of the delicious wine for Dale and me. Of course, once we got to the restaurant, what was the first thing Leo ordered? A glass of house chardonnay—a white wine!

The menus at Galileo are lengthy. I got the impression that they were one of the handful of restaurants that put their entire menu on the Restaurant Week list, especially since there were a couple of meat entrees which indicated a supplemental charge. Now, a typical Italian meal would be four courses, but they arranged things in such a way as to accommodate the Restaurant Week concept of three courses. If you go to Galileo at a time outside of Restaurant Week, be brave of heart: this is a pricey place, warranting its designation as "very expensive" in several guide books. In fact, my first course alone cost more than the $30.06 special price, and had I paid full price for everything, my three mid-priced dishes plus bottled Italian spring water would retail at $83.50, exclusive of taxes and gratuities.

I started with the risotto alla pilota con costine di maiale al forno, a creamy rice risotto with tiny pieces of fresh salami and cabbage in it, scented with black truffle oil, and with a little crispy, roasted pork rib on top. The risotto was exquisite. The flavors were so nicely melded and the rice was perfectly done. Everyone at the table sampled it and liked it. Dale had I gamberoni saltati con sedano rapa e carote brasate con salsa all'aglio, which was one, great big, head-on shrimp sauteed and served with a nest of shredded, braised root vegetables; a garlic beurre blanc sauce was drizzled all over the plate around the shrimp and vegetables, which he said he liked. Were I paying individually for this first course, I'm not sure I would have felt that $27 was a good value for just one shrimp, but I guess that wasn't an issue tonight. Leo had il cotechino con lenticchie e salsa verde, an interesting homemade Cotechino sausage served on a a bed of lentils and drizzled with salsa verde. He didn't like the sausage at all, so Dale and I each got to taste it. I actually liked it, even though I'm usually not a fan of the anise seed taste that is so common in Italian sausages; it was juicy and exploding with flavor; because it was a freshly made sausage, it wasn't really firmly solid and it had a texture reminiscent of a not-yet-set terrine, so I think that was the aspect that Leo didn't like. It was surprising that he ordered this item in the first place, since he tends not to like the more exotic western European spicings and he usually orders seafood instead of pork.

Edit: Leo says: "The sausage wasn't bad at all, but.....the whole dish was a bit too 'home food' for me."

Our second courses were equally interesting. I had il branzino con cipolle brasate, pignoli e uvetta allo zafferano con spinaci saltati, the sautéed filet of Mediterranean sea bass, which came with braised onions, raisins, and pine nuts flavored with saffron and sautéed spinach. I thought the sea bass was nice, though perhaps the serving size was a bit on the tiny side. I don't know whether or not that was the usual size, or if there was a reduced size for Restaurant Week. Of course, we Americans do tend to eat way more food that we should; still, at these prices, I expected more than a square only two or two and a half inches wide. Leo had the spezzatino di cappone di mare con verdure al curry di madras, which seemed to be an interesting stew of monkfish, eggplant, potatoes, pears, zuccini, and sun-dried tomatoes flavored with Madras-style curry and lemon, garnished with a handful of flash-fried carrot shavings. Dale's second course was the star of the evening: costoletta di vitello alla griglia servita con patate, bietole brasate e salsa all'arancia. This was a large grilled veal chop with a dramatically frenched bone resting against a mound of mashed potatoes with an orange tomato sauce and some braised Swiss chard. A long sprig of fresh rosemary was stuck flag-like in the potatoes. We all got to taste a little bit of the veal, and it was quite tasty. My only criticism is that I thought I heard Dale order the chop medium rare, yet the taste I got was decidedly on the medium side; the menu indicated a $12 upcharge for the veal chop, and perhaps the slight overcooking is why they didn't assess the upcharge on our check.

Before our food began to arrive, we received a large, long board with three breads: slices of a large country loaf (my favorite), slices of a baguete, and pieces of plain foccacia. The waiter poured a good quality olive oil all over our bread and butter plates for us to use for dipping. Foot and a half long, pencil-thin breadsticks were also in a vase on the table for us to nibble on.

Desserts were fun. Dale had the tiramisú, rather interestingly presented in a large cocktail glass.



Leo opted for the stunningly presented torta di nocciole, a warm hazelnut cake served with hazelnut croccante ice cream and zabaglione sauce, with a tangle of spun sugar on top.



I had Le Mele, a warm apple tart in puff pastry with mascarpone ice cream and a little date and almond "barrel", with a light almond sauce all over the plate. My apple tart was very pretty (sorry the photo is overexposed) with the center of the puff pastry cut away and used as a cap over the finished tart. There were just a few apple slices in the tart, all "artfully" arranged; the mascarpone ice cream was particularly delicious.



All of the desserts normally retail for $11. I think next time I'll try their cheese sampler.

I wanted some after-dinner espresso, but neither of my companions were interested, and I hate to drink alone, so we skipped the demitasse course and paid our check. I thought it was sweet that so many of the staff thanked us for coming.

Galileo was quite a fun restaurant. The crowd was lively and diverse. I would love to come back, particularly to try the tasting menus, or, when I win the lottery to reserve the kitchen for a private dinner with the chef. Perhaps later in the year, eh? If you like high-end Italian food in a formal setting, this is the perfect place. Be sure to bring your banker.