Thai Place, Washington, D.C.

Last night Leo had had such a busy day at the office he was too tired to go to the gym and I was hungry after a full day of sitting at a desk with no lunch break, so we decided to head out to an early dinner at Thai Place, our West End/Foggy Bottom neighborhood place. It was a good choice, since I'm being vegetarian for Lent and Leo is doing a no-carbohydrate Atkins diet right now.

A lot of people say that Thai Phoon and Thai Tannic are the best Thai restaurants in town, but we've always been happy with Thai Place. Not only do they have food which seems to be just as good as the more popular places, they have the extra advantage of being very inexpensive. So, off we went, and, even though it was a Friday night, we were there earlier enough we didn't have a problem getting a table. Thai Place has been getting very popular these days, especially since they've added an upstairs dining room where I understand they have a sushi bar—I've yet to be up there.

After our personable waitress brought Leo his Diet Coke and me my hot jasmine tea (I gave up alcohol, too!), she discussed the menu and took our orders. Leo started with a shrimp tom yum soup, which had lots of tail-on shrimp and small mushrooms in a clear lemongrass soup broth with herbs and a hint of pepper spice. For his main course, he took advantage of the new sushi bar and ordered an assortment of sashimi. I chose from the vegetarian menu and selected the panang tofu with a bowl of steamed white rice. My panang tofu was a huge serving of fried cubes of firm tofu and steamed brocoli florets in a panang curry sweetened with coconut milk; a big sprig of basil garnished the top of the food. I thought it quite tasty, though it was almost more than I could eat by myself. The only problem with coconut milk-sweetened foods is that I'm not a great fan of sweet entrees, so it would have been nice to have had a second entree to be able to split with someone else; perhaps another trip.

The nice thing about last night's dinner was the price—where else in D.C. could you get a nice, sit-down, Friday night dinner for just $10 (well, $11....I thought the waitress was sweet, so I over tipped).

Maslenitsa—Pancake Week

Our Russian friend Svet cooked dinner for us last night, starting out with big glasses of carrot-green apple juice he juiced himself, then he made these big, thin pancake-thingies and got out the good Russian caviar—a red caviar, in this case—so we could have blini. Of course, the first thing he made me do was learn to pronounce the word correctly. I've always called them BLEE-nees, but the correct pronunciation isn't plural and puts the accent on the last syllable: blee-NEE. He started off with several eggs (and several pieces of accidental egg shell!) in a blender, eventually adding milk, oil, flour, and a pinch of salt, not really following a recipe or doing any exact measurements at all. He poured the thin batter into a large, oiled skillet and cooked the pancakes there, turning them several times. When it was time to eat, he spread a pancake with butter and added a couple of generous spoonfuls of caviar, spreading it around the middle of the pancake. Then he rolled the pancake up into a tube and proceded to eat it. For the second blini, instead of caviar, he used fruit preserves (he seems to be quite partial to black currant). Since this is Maslenitsa, the pancake week which is the Russian Orthodox Church's pre-Lenten equivalent to Carnival or Mardi Gras, it was an appropriate and traditional meal.

The Orthodox don't start Lent until Sunday, unlike those of us from liturgical denominations of the Western church. So, while I've already started my Lenten discipline, Svet wasn't the least bit sympathetic, and on the second day of Lent made me break my food rules already! I'm being vegetarian and giving up meat, fish, alcohol, and desserts for Lent, but he insisted that I had to eat some Swiss milk chocolate infused with orange essence, Lent or not. And, the jury's still out on the issue of whether or not eating caviar violated my prohibition on meat; I submit that it did not, however, on the grounds that I'm being an ovolactovegetarian and can eat chicken eggs, which means that caviar (fish eggs) is just another "ovo" food. Fortunately I'm not Orthodox like Svet; according to strict Orthodox tradition, meat, fish, dairy, and eggs are all forbidden during their Great Lent!

Benjamin French Lodge, Georgetown, D.C.

Last night, Svet Metroed over after work and we walked into Georgetown to go shopping on Wisconsin Avenue. Since we were in the neighborhood (as in right across the street), we decided to pop in for dinner and a meeting at Benjamin French Lodge. Very friendly and impressive group of guys. They had a great dinner, too, with a tasty all-you-can-eat buffet featuring a chopped salad with romaine, vegetables, and chickpeas, a caprese salad (slices of tomato, mozzarella, and fresh basil leaves), pork chops, chicken breasts, poached salmon, a vegetarian penne casserole, and an interesting "pilaf" made with orzo pasta. For dessert they had an assortment of individual cakes, bars, and cookies. Beverage choices included canned soft drinks and some bottles of red bordeaux superiore. And the best part was that it was free!

Lent

Today is the first day of Lent, so my restaurant visits will slow down considerably until Easter. I'll still be going out now and then for the usual business meals, so there won't be a total drought, but it will be much simpler fare, and I'm toying with the idea of being vegetarian, though the jury's still out on that one.

Making cheese

Tonight I went over to my Russian friend Svet's house, as it was time to tend to the "tvorog" Russian cheese we started making Thursday night. It's actually been amazingly simple. We started by putting two gallons of whole milk and one-half gallon of buttermilk into a big kettle, and then left it out on the kitchen cabinet, covered, for at least twenty-four hours. In this case, we poured it up on Thursday night about 11 p.m. and then didn't tend to it again until noonish today, so that was about thirty-six hours.

Then, the milk, which looked pretty much like the consistency of commercial eggnog, got put in a preheated 350-degree oven for one hour. Then, the oven is turned off and then kettle was left inside to cool down. It was about tenish tonight when we got back from our shopping expedition, so I guess the baked milk cooled for about eight hours. Then, Svet took the kettle out of the oven and removed the cheese with a slotted spoon to a colander, where the cheese drained.

After gravity draining for maybe an hour, Svet served some tvorog in a bowl with a couple of big spoonfuls of black currant preserves, then stirred the tvorog and preserves together. It is actually quite good. The taste and texture are very reminiscent of ricotta cheese with that special buttermilk tang.

Here are some pictures of the cheesemaking process tonight:

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Exchange, Ltd.

We went to a place called Exchange, Ltd., just around the corner from the Old Executive Office Building for dinner. It's a "saloon and lounge" with an attached dining room. Eugene had a bowl of the clam chowder du jour, which looked pretty normal. Svet had a strip steak topped with grilled onions and served with a side of cheese fries, which he said was good. I had a hamburger with blue cheese and grilled onions and a side of French fries. It was very tasty, though I thought the thick burger was cooked more than the medium I had requested. The food is okay here, and it's a simple place, but this establishment is mainly a downtown bar.

Harry's Tap Room, Arlington VA

Forgot to mention our brunch Sunday morning at Harry's Tap Room in Arlington. Svet and I were meeting friends of his, and while we waited for everyone to arrive, we sat in the bar cocktailing. I had a bloody Mary; it came in a tall pilsner glass; it was garnished with enough vegetables to make a complete salad, including a foot-long stalk of leafy celery, a jumbo olive, a cocktail onion, and a cherry pepper, plus a wedge of lime. Once everyone had arrived, we were escorted to the upstairs dining room with a lovely view of Clarendon Boulevard and all the shoppers.

I ordered a Cobb salad, which was made of an unusual assortment of greens including bitter greens like curly endive, and had large fingers of panko-breaded chicken strips on top, served in an unusual bowl with the rim on the sharp diagonal. The greens were pre-tossed in a tasty, creamy bleu cheese dressing, allowing the toppings to remain unhidden by dressing for the presentation. Svet had an individually wrapped baked brie en croute accompanied by a mound of red grapes. Svet's two friends both had different variations on eggs Benedict, one an "original" (though they used shaved ham instead of the "original" Canadian bacon) and the other using a lot of smoked salmon as the meat, both accompanied by little square bowls of creamy grits. The serving plates for the Benedicts were very interesting: they looked rather like a large bow tie. We also got a big basket of assorted biscuits and muffins including some delicious blueberry muffins and some scones or biscuits I thought looked like they were full of raisins but turned out to be chocolate chips. I liked this place, and I'm looking forward to returning.

Dukem, Washington, D.C.

As they continue their whirlwind tour of D.C., my friend Joe and his family decided to be brave and stretch their culinary horizons, and wanted to try Ethiopean cuisine, something which isn't available in their home state of Florida. We made plans to eat at Dukem on U Street, which I've always thought was one of the very best Ethiopean restaurants in the District. I showed up at the appointed time, however, and found only Joe and his daughter Mary; the teenaged boys decided that Ethiopean was too weird, especially since there was some basketball game on television last night that they could watch in their hotel suite at the Hamilton.

So, it was just the three of us.

We had our waitress Yodit select our foods, since I've always found that to be the best way to introduce "Ethiopean food virgins" to the wonderful cuisine. While we waited, she brought us glasses of tej, a very sweet Ethiopean wine made from honey, very similar to European mead.



Our food arrived on a big sheet of injera, the traditional Ethiopean bread made of sourdough from teff flour, served on a big platter for everyone at the table to share. You can also see a plate of folded injera, which we would later use to pick up and eat our food—Ethiopeans don't use silverware!

I wish I knew what all the food names were, but we had several beef dishes, some lamb, some chicken, some cheese, some lentils, and a whole bunch of different vegetables. It's all good, some mild, some hot and spicy, and I've always found the foods at Dukem to be very artfully prepared and delicious.

We also had a nice visit, and I'm looking forward to Mary's next visit to D.C. without the kids.

I Ricchi, Washington, D.C.

This weekend my friend Joe is in town from Florida, bringing with him one of his daughters and three of his grandsons to Washington so they can see the sights. They graciously invited me to join them for dinner tonight, and we had reservations at Christianne Ricchi's place, I Ricchi, just south of Dupont Circle. Ordinarily I don't think of the elegant I Ricchi as a "family" place, but tonight I noticed not only Joe's family, but two other tables with older children.

I Ricchi has taken a ground-floor office building space and converted it into an Italian trattoria, complete with open kitchen. Walls are painted stucco-yellow and the art and decor tastefully evoke a comfortable yet upscale Italian feel. Tables and chairs are big and comfortable, but closely spaced, as the restaurant is usually full and buzzing, as it was tonight.

After bringing the three of us legal adults glasses of wine, our obviously Italian waiter took everyone's orders, and I followed the family's lead in ordering an appetizer and a main course. It was a little hard to chat with five other people and take food notes at the same time, so I'll have to concentrate on my food and then try to recall what the others ate.

I started with the polenta tartufata ai funghi farciti, a nicely done timbale of polenta (think Italian cornmeal mush) scented with truffles and surrounded with sauteed sliced wild mushrooms brightened with splashes of balsamic vinegar. A bright strip of roasted red pepper lay across the top of the polenta as a garnish. Joe had the zuppa di fagioli bianchi, a thick, rich white bean soup, and the others shared a couple of caprese salads (slices of tomato and fresh mozzarella with fresh basil leaves and olive oil).

I chose the large veal t-bone steak as my main course. It was a very thick steak, nicely grilled to the requested medium rare. It came with some al dente green beans and mushrooms and a unique chunk of deep fried polenta. Joe had the risotto del giorno, which tonight was a shrimp risotto; his daughter had the spiedino di mare, a skewer of enormous grilled shrimp with peppers and onions; the middle grandson had the bistecca all'arrabbiata, which was a big thick New York strip steak; and I didn't hear exactly what the other two grandsons got, but they were both pastas.

We shared a bottle of Sant' Elena pinot grigio with the main course, and it was a nice wine with the food.

It was fun talking with the family, hearing their comments about the museums they'd seen, and trying to explain some of the additional important sights and locations of key restaurants. They are going to have a busy Sunday if they are going to hit all the highlights! Of course, with Washington, one can play tourist for weeks and never have to repeat a museum or monument.

Restaurant Kolumbia, Washington, D.C.

As many of you have heard, roommate Leo and his date had a fancy, expensive dinner at Restaurant Kolumbia prior to their breakup on the walk home (was it the food's fault?). Fortunately, I was able to get their notes and opinions before the breakup. Here are the details of the meal.

Valentine's Day can be one of the most challenging days of the year for any chef and restaurant, and it was no different for the Middle Eastern-Asian fusion Restaurant Kolumbia in Washington's downtown West End. Unfortunately, the staff wasn't quite up to the challenge of the crowds and the food was disappointing, as well.

For Valentine's Day, Chef Jamie Stachowski created a special five course tasting menu with an optional associated wine flight. The food was $90 per person and the wines were $25 per person; credit card deposits were required to secure the reservations for either the 7 p.m. or 9 p.m. seatings. A live jazz band played during the course of the evening.

As diners were seated, they were offered an angel-deviled quail egg as an amuse-bouche. Quail eggs, as many of you know, are tiny little things, maybe one inch or less long. The deviled eggs used Cajun-style spices and lots of green herbs. Amusingly, the amuse-bouche was only one half of an egg. Along with the amuse-bouche, they served the wine for the first course, a Domaine de Martinolles Cremant 2000, which is one of those non-champagne French sparkling wines.

The Cremant, which had been so nice by itself and with the amuse-bouche did not fare so well with the first courses. One was a salmon Napoleon, layers of crackers and smoked salmon in an "avocado goat cheese embrace," and the other was three warm oysters in an artichoke covered with a sesame-tasting black sauce called "black knight sauce." Leo liked the oysters but thought the overall dish hard to eat (artichokes can be a pain in a formal setting).

The second courses were early salads. The "Breakfast in Bed" was an ordinary spinach salad topped with a soft poached egg, bacon, and grapefruit segments, and the alternative was an endive, fennel, and blood orange salad with beet carpaccio and an hazelnut emulsion. The blood oranges were a bit crunchy, so perhaps they were insufficiently ripe and out of season. Paired with the salads was a Domaine d'Elise Petit Chablis 2004, but instead of serving it, they served a red wine.....perhaps the Domaine Charvet Moulin a Vent Beaujolais 2004 slated for the third course?

The third food courses got mixed reviews. On one hand, the porcini mushroom timbale with crispy sweetbreads and perigord sauce was good, but the fish "pot au feu" made of balls of sole with winter white vegetables was "horrible" and "not fresh." No wines were served with this course.

The highlight of the fourth course was the wine, a 2000 Montenidoli Chianti Colli Sensi. The food, on the other hand, demonstrated the kitchen's stress. When taking the intial orders, wait staff did not inquire as to desired doneness on the beef. Consequently, Leo's date was chagrinned that the filet mignon arrived extremely rare. The internal lobster stuffing in the filet was okay, though. Leo suffered a similar but much scarier fate: rare, greatly undercooked squab. I told him regardless of the slowness of the evening's service, he should have sent that back to the kitchen. The squab was very sweet, having been basted with lavendar honey, and came with a quince and date pate Leo thought reminded him of sweet potato chunks.

They both chose the baba amour for dessert, which they decided was the lesser of the two evils. The vanilla pillow cake was a small, very sweet, marshmallow-tasting cake served with rum syrup and what was supposed to have been tropical fruits with passion fruit foam, but which they described as merely a strawberry-banana sauce. They were glad, though, not to have ordered the chocolate fondue, since what they saw on other tables was just strawberries with chocolate sauce. The wine for the desserts was excellent, though; they poured a 2003 Domaine Larredya Jurancon "Selection" with a sweet, green apple flavor.

The bill for two, including tax and tip? $305.

As an overall impression, the food fell well below expectations, but more annoyingly, the service was dismal and understaffed. They were only poured four of the five wines in the wine flight (something they only realized in retrospect), and the wines weren't served with the food on a timely basis or with the correct courses. In fact, they had a long wait after getting the dessert wine before the dessert ever showed up. Then, most annoyingly, after requesting a check, they had to wait over fifteen minutes for the bill to arrive. They've pledged never to return to Restaurant Kolumbia.

Well, I can't say I didn't warn them before they made their reservations.

Lei Garden, Washington, D.C.

Chinese people eat chicken feet. As a matter of fact, it's a pretty popular snack. There really isn't much to eat on a chicken foot, but they cook it anyway—twice, actually—and then savor the item. One of the more popular ways to prepare them is to boil or bake them in some kind of barbecue sauce, then they fry them. Then when it's time to eat, you sort of nibble the skin off the feet and suck the bones. They're really not that bad.

Where did we have chicken feet? Well, this week we went to Lei Garden in Chinatown for their luncheon dim sum offering. Dim sum is a meal made out of a series of appetizer-like small dishes, coming in quite a variety, and featuring a lot of dumpling and balls, as well as other things. As with many Chinese meals, foods are shared around the table. We've gone to several dim sum places in D.C., and Lei Garden pretty consistently has the best dim sum in the District. Some have told me there are some good places in Virginia, but we've not been yet, so I can't compare.





Here are some of the dim sum dishes we had. A couple of carts circulate around the dining room with fresh food, and diners get to pick which items they want.

You can see in the first picture a dish of chicken feet, some cooked pork chunks, and couple of different types of fried dumplings, and an interesting daikon radish dish in a sort of custard. In the second picture are steamed items, including some spinach dumplings and a fun shrimp dish enrobed in a thin pancake. The third picture shows some taro items, one a sort of croquette filled with bean paste and the other a seafood fritter coated in shredded taro.

Our waiter Min was very helpful and he directed the several waitresses pushing the carts around the dining room to keep our plates full and check for special requests. Service at Lei Garden is always very attentive. Hot tea is complimentary.

Dim sum is offered in the upstairs dining room at Lei Garden every day for lunch. Full menu service is available in the downstairs dining room.

Maté, Georgetown, Washington, D.C.

Last night one of my lonely married friends whose wife is in Europe this Valentine's Day rang me up at the last minute and wanted to go to dinner, so he took me to Maté, a trendy sushi-tapas bar across the street from Washington Harbor. I enjoyed our visit.

Maté is a brand new place on the corner of the building where the Loew's Theater is located, and everything is very vogue and modern. It's a noisy, vibrant place; a live D.J. was actually in a sound booth above the bar to play music for the dining room and bar area, but, interestingly enough, there is no dance floor in the place. The one thing I didn't like was that it was smoky, and I couldn't identify a specific "no smoking" area anywhere; we were seated in the dining room area, but some female at the next table was smoking like a chimney.

There is a small sushi bar in line with the liquor bar, but no one sat there; most people chose to sit in the low, modern tables and chairs in the bar or in the dining room area. They had some striking contemporary light fixtures in the place, notably some shiny spiral metal chandeliers in the dining room and a fascinating large fixture in the lounge area that looked like a lot of multi-colored Easter eggs suspended on individual wires.

We started at the bar. I had a glass of Morandé Casablanca Valley Pinot Noir from Chile, which was a lovely burgundy color and had an unusual sweet taste to it without the wine itself actually being sweet. My friend doesn't drink, so he just had pineapple juice. The restaurant is named after the herbal tissane "maté," a popular drink in South America that's packed with the stimulant xanthine (chemically related to caffeine and theobromine); several of the bar drinks included maté in the blend, such as maté martinis ("matinis") and maté mojitos.

As we moved to the dining area, we got these very original round menus with the pages riveted to the bottom half of the circle. Choices were limited mainly to sushi rolls and ceviche, but they also had a few salads and appetizers. We shared several different kinds of sushi rolls including one very spicy tuna roll and another one recommended by the waitress that was covered with shreds of crab meat the name of which escapes me. While I dared not endulge, my friend had the molten maté-infused chocolate cake.

On the whole, the food was adequate and the prices were consistent with average Georgetown prices. My main complaint with the place was that the service was rather lacking. The waitresses acted much more like cocktail bar waitresses than dining room waitresses, and some basics, like refilling water glasses, were forgotten. As long as one doesn't have any higher expectations, though, I kind of liked the place, and it would be a fun place to go before or after a movie when one is just wanting some drinks and some nibble food.

Zengo, Washington, D.C.

Zengo just opened this year right by the Chinatown Metro stop after multiple delays and bills itself as "Asian-Latin fusion," a project of the Mexico City-born Chef Richard Sandoval. Sandoval initially made his fame in New York with Maya and the "modern Mexican" concept that he later took to San Francisco, and then with Pampano, a Mexican seafood restaurant in New York he co-owns with opera star Placido Domingo. After opening a casual Mexican establishment in Denver, he created the Zengo concept and opened the first Zengo in Denver. Domingo is also an investor in the D.C. Zengo.

Last Thursday, Leo and I decided to stop by and try out the new D.C. location. The entire ground floor of the restaurant is a high-design, trendy cocktail lounge and it was crowded with the denizens of the young professional set. A modern grand staircase leads to the dining room upstairs (incidentally, I did not see an elevator anywhere). Even though we began to go upstairs, the downstairs hostess acted as a not-terribly welcoming gatekeeper (strike one for public relations), and called on a telephone to the hostess upstairs before allowing us to pass. Once upstairs, the hostess there sent us with an assistant to our table. The designated table was a small two-top along the banquette wall of the dining room, ordinarily not a problem, but it was in between two occupied tables and the chair side was right on top of a large structural pillar, so it seemed too crowded for us. Seeing a lot of empty four-top tables in the middle of the dining room and one over by the window, we asked for table by the window or one in the middle. The seater refused, though, and said they were for larger parties. Well, not fifteen minutes later, she seated a party of two at the four-top by the window. Strike two for public relations.

The dining room is large and sleekly modern, clearly the product of a trendy designer. On the major side wall is a huge art installation featuring a room-long painted rectangle. On the rectangle a series of plastic "rocks" on pegs are stuck into the wall in an organic design, with a few rocks scattered on the wall outside of the rectangle towards one end. Another wall has a series of standard windows looking out over the busy Chinatown streets. A third wall has a series of tables in curved booth areas, and then a large, long, glass-walled private dining room. The fourth wall heads off to the kitchen and restrooms.

Speaking of restrooms, they are quite interesting in this establishment. There are no doors. Facilities are down a long hallway, with the women's room first and the men's room farther down; a busy service area for the waiters and a much used doorway into the kitchen lines the side of the hallway opposite the restroom entries. Inside the facility, everything is in its own small room or pod (the toilet pods did have doors, thankfully, but the individual urinal pods did not). Both floors and walls are stone and fixtures are very modern; it did take me some time and experimentation to figure out how to wash my hands. On the way back to the dining room, as I passed the open, extra wide entrance to the women's room, I had a lovely view of several ladies primping in front of mirrors.

The menu is an interesting mix of Mexican dishes with a Japanese flair and Japanese dishes with a Mexican flair, probably leaning more towards Japanese with the appetitzers and Mexican with the main courses. Some things sounded interesting; other things sounded a bit on the yucky side. Nevertheless, there were several things we wanted to try.

For starters, Leo chose the gyoza dumplings and I picked won ton tacos. The menus talk about encouraging people to share their dishes, and they seem to enforce this "suggestion" by bringing dishes out one at a time, instead of together, not only with our table, but with other nearby tables we observed. The first dish to come out was the won ton tacos. It was an interestingly creative dish made by taking won ton wrappers to fashion small taco shells and frying them until crispy. They were filled with vinegared sushi rice, pickled ginger, and diced bits of barely-seared ahi tuna, then drizzled with a little bit of mango salsa and then each of the four tacos was placed in a little individual pool of guacamole on the long rectangular plate. They were quite unusual and I enjoyed the unexpected taste combinations. After a rather long pause during which we finished our rather small cocktails (a mango mojito ($10) for Leo which he didn't like cause it was too sweet and a regular margarita ($9) which I thought was rather ordinary for me), the dumplings finally arrived. These were the typical "potsticker" steamed dumplings, only with the unusual filling of pork, shrimp, and foie gras, a little ginger, and a sweet passionfruit-mustard sauce. I ate one and it was okay, but it didn't wow me.

When the main courses came, they did not come simultaneously, but there was only a short space between. Leo had a grilled salmon on shitake mushrooms and cabbage in a sweet mango sauce; he complained that the shitakes seemed to have sand in them. I had Chinese-style braised beef short ribs (I'm not sure what made them "Chinese") which was served on top of a mound of mashed potatoes that had white Mexican Oaxaca cheese melted on top; the entire presentation was decorated with a huge handful of frizzled green onion tops and crispy cross slices. The beef itself was very tasty and flavorful, but the sauce poured all over everything was way too sweet.


Salmon


Beef Shortribs

While we saw some pretty desserts at nearby tables, we opted to skip the sweets.

There was an uncomfortably long delay waiting for the waitress to receive dessert menus, to hear our dessert decision, then to receive our check. Considering the fact that our waitress personally removed our empty main course plates from the table, there was no excuse for the very long delay getting dessert menus. Fortunately, Leo paid cash, so we didn't have to wait around even longer for a credit card transaction.

Now, our waitress was a very pleasant, friendly young woman, but we just didn't seem to get the attention from her one would ordinarily expect for a restaurant in this rather expensive price range (our total check with an average tip was $110, and all each of us got was a cocktail, a mid-priced appetizer, and a mid-priced entree). It appeared that she had too many tables and was overworked, but I refuse to make excuses for a brand new restaurant that charges as much as Zengo does. Many of the waitresses, all of whom (men, too) were wearing black trousers and black t-shirts, were wearing little black purses on long thin straps over their shoulders to carry their ticket folders and what have you, but as the waitresses were maneuvering between the tightly packed tables they frequently bumped patrons (including me) with their purses. When considering the big picture of the waitress's performance, the fact that food expediters from the kitchen didn't know who ordered what (the won ton tacos were even inititally offered to the adjacent table), the less than warm welcome from the downstairs hostess, and the snippy attitude of the staff member who seated us, I have to say that the greatest failing of Zengo is service.

I'm not quite sure what to think of the food, either. Everything we ate Thursday night was sweet. The cocktails were sweet. The appetizers were sweet. The main courses were sweet. I think that's probably the main reason we didn't order a dessert. My understanding of the art of Asian cooking, especially Japanese cuisine, is that all five of the tastes—sweet, sour, salty, bitter, and earth—should be represented in a meal, and all we got was sweet.

Judging from the trendy crowds, it appears the general public isn't quite as particular about their dining dollars as are we. Whether the healthy bar crowds translate into dining room success is yet to be determined. While I won't veto a second trip for me (especially if someone else is paying), I won't likely suggest it the place and I doubt that Leo or I ever recommend Zengo as a restaurant option for our friends.

The Cheesecake Factory, Arlington, VA

Five of us ended up planning an impromptu dinner Wednesday evening. We drove into the Clarendon neighborhood of Arlington, where we ate at The Cheesecake Factory.

The Cheesecake Factory is part of a national chain with over a hundred restaurants around the country, mostly concentrated in major metropolitan areas in California and along the east coast. They are pretty up-scale for a franchise, concentrating on updated versions of American cuisine with a few popular international touches in large, spacious restaurants. The Clarendon store was no exception. We were seated in a big six-person booth in about the center of the restaurant.

One of the trademarks of the Cheesecake Factory, and actually one of my major complaints about them, is that all of their offerings are huge. Americans are already predisposed to try to clean their plates, and they don't need anymore encouragement to eat oversized portions and increase their obesity. While many people would say to either eat half and waste the rest (an idea which makes me cringe) or to get a doggy bag and take the leftovers home for lunch the next day, the doggy bag option is just not practical for people out on a business meal. The solution is that the restaurant needs to downsize their portions.

One of the guys at the table was eating light, so he ordered an herb-crusted salmon salad; the mountain of lettuce and salmon he received in a huge, oversized bowl would easily have made two entree salads at another restaurant. A couple of guys ordered quesadillas as appetizers, but what arrived was a huge serving of too-thick cheese quesadillas with what had to be well over a pound of cheese!

Our friendly waitress took our drink orders and was kind enough to mention when I ordered iced tea that it was adulterated, flavored with mango and other fruits (they call it "paradise tropical"), a nasty combination I find particularly noxious and disgusting, especially when restaurants serving it don't have an unflavored alternative. We eventually worked it out for her to use some cold, about to be discarded, coffee to make me some iced coffee, and that was quite satisfactory.

Knowing of the large portions, I avoided first courses and just ordered the pecan crusted catfish. As expected, my serving was enough for two, but it was good and I ate it all anyway (considering I'm trying to diet, see why I don't like this place?). I had two large catfish filets probably the equivalent of an entire large fish which had been rolled in ground pecans and very skillfully sauteed (not deep fried!) just to doneness. The fish rested against not one but two enormous mounds of nicely flavorful mashed potatoes. On the end of the plate was a big serving of a white corn succotash kind of vegetable that was crunchy and exploding with a melange of flavors.

No one had room for dessert.

Breadline, Washington, D.C.

Things started off yesterday with an unexpected last minute invitation to lunch at Breadline, a popular downtown lunch spot on Pennsylvania Avenue near the White House, and because of the usual throngs of lunchers, the invitation was pointedly for 11:30, or we'd not be able to get a table. It was well-timed—we were able to walk directly to the counter to order our food, then pretty much had our pick of decent tables in the long, deep dining room off to the side, and not fifteen minutes later, the cafe was packed and there were lines of people going out the door to order and end up having to do take-away.

As you may have guessed by now, Breadline is another of those blended self-service bakeries/sandwich shops/coffee shops, and, in keeping with the tradition of the best of them, they have absolutely excellent sourdough breads and rolls, and in this case, it's not a national franchise, it's a local bakery. Their breads are so renowned that they are purveyors to some of D.C.'s finest restaurants, including Michel Richard's Citronelle in Georgetown. The local ownership gives them the opportunity to do a lot of intriguing daily specials in addition to the usual fare, and interesting indeed they were. Wednesday's special was "dalliah chicken," a spicy, spicy West African dish that includes a well, but thoroughly seasoned chicken breast redolent with hot pepper spice and stewed tender with caramelized onions, fried plantain strips, and peanuts.

The other guys at the table also had sandwiches, but the order-your-own situation didn't permit me to hear details of their orders. The only thing I didn't like about Breadline is that the iced tea comes in lidded plastic cups with no urn for self-serve refills (and being a Southern boy, I love my iced tea!), but that's a small complaint given the value, the taste, and the wonderful bread.

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.