Banco

I'm dining at Komi tonight with my wife and a colleague. My first time there, and I notice they don't have a website. Any suggestions from recent visitors?

I finally saw Mondovino last night and came away from the film feeling rather depressed about the wine scene in general. The strength of the film is that it allows interpretations based on various dichotomies of the wine world: globalization vs. regionalism; big business vs. small producers; new American money vs. old European tradition; rationalism vs. romanticism. Nossiter has also been criticized for a bias toward the latter half of all these dichotomies. I don't think there's any doubt where his feelings lie, but generally his approach is simply to let people talk about wine in the way that comes naturally to them. When they do, it's very difficult to have a great deal of hope for the future of wine as a drink that says something unique and profound about the people and the land that produce it. So we have Michel Rolland being chauffeured in his Mercedes through the French countryside like an itinerant doctor, prescribing micro-oxygenation to "winemakers" who have left the task of making wine essentially up to him. The arrogance of this man, especially his disdain for small producers who cling to the notion of terroir ("hicks," "peasants"), is sad to behold. His “good friend” Robert parker is interviewed in his home in Maryland. What was arrogance in Rolland becomes a peculiarly American brand of zealous anti-elitism in Parker, which in the film almost seems to spring from some deep-seated resentment and sense of inferiority in the former Maryland farm boy. I found it also rather unsettling that the single most influential wine critic in the world lives with a farting bulldog in a home that looks like it came out of a John Waters movie. Nossiter also introduces us to adherents of the Parker/Rolland approach in France, Brazil, and Italy, who wax nostalgic for the likes of Mussolini and Peron. In California we meet the Staglins, whose notion of terroir does not seem to go any deeper than how they’ve landscaped their estate. I found the breathtaking shallowness of these Napa “winemakers” to epitomize everything that’s wrong about big wine, especially in the US. The Mondavis come off looking little better. The few rays of light in this dreary landscape are shed by small producers in Italy and France who have resisted the homogenization of wine (including collaboration with Mondavi) and cling to wine as the product of a unique history, place, and culture. When they talk about wine, you want to sit down with them and have a few glasses. Their views are forthright, uncomplicated, and sincere; they are not surrounded by press secretaries. They worry about the future of their wine in the hands of their sons and daughters and its vulnerability to the homogenization proselytized by the likes of Parker and Rolland. One of the most revealing aspects of the movie is that these old, aristocratic wine-producing “elites” show more honesty, integrity, and modesty in their approach to wine than their self-consciously anti-elitist counterparts in America and elsewhere. The message of this film can be summed up in the remarks Michael Broadbent made in a segment that was unfortunately all too short: It’s preferable to drink an average wine with regional character and style, that says something about where it comes from and who made it, than a technically polished wine that could have been made anywhere.

Some recent additions to the menu are a nicely charred morsel of Rockfish over a tangy "potato salad" of small, carefully cut cubes of potatoes; and a balsamic-honey-mustard glazed quail served over some delciously fresh greens. I had both last night and they were excellent.

I heartily agree. I rushed in right at 5:30 yesterday because I had to get out again by 6:15. I would have preferred to come earlier. Nevertheless, despite being somewhat slammed by a line of cell-phoning staffers at his bar, Mick kept things coming my way. My heirloom tomato salad was sweet, fruity, and just all-around excellent. The lamb chops with mint-yoghurt sauce were good, but not as good as I remeber them last time; the herbs tasted a little tired. It went very well with a deep Piemonte red, though. I'm almost glad Sonoma doesn't open until 5:30; otherwise they'd soon end up with my son's college fund!

Wonderful post Joe, not only on dining alone, but on the pleasures of that part of Germany. I lived for four years in Bonn and could picture your scene perfectly. My last truly great experience dining alone was also in Germany, at Tantris in Munich. Unfortunately, it did not involve an intriguing woman on a terrace, but it did include three hours of perfect food, perfect service, and a 1986 Mission Haut Brion.

Monday: Half-price burger night at Mr. Henry's (6th and Penn, SE).

No need to apologize. It's really a question of proportion. Could the post have been more informative? Of course. Did it lack detail? Certainly. But the reaction it provoked, IMO, was disproportionate to these "offenses". People's view of this will differ depending on their approach to discussion sites like this generally. Should it be more controlled or more laissez-faire? There are good arguments on either side.

I love Eve, but add mine to the voices that dislike how TJaehnigen was treated on this board. While I agree with Jacques that more specifics would have been helpful, the post's criticisms were expressed with courtesy and were far short of anything even approaching a "slam." Certainly nothing in TJaehnigen's remarks merited the drubbing he received here. (Also, a contributor should feel free to post whenever he likes, regardless of who happens to be posting in another thread or discussion.)

Have you consulted the Vatican about procedures for beatification ?

Thanks for the tip, and for reminding me about something I left out of my remarks: Ceiba's wine list is an interesting read, with a broad selection in terms of both geography and varietal. We had a Torres Esmeralda, which paired beautifully with the ceviche and other fish dishes. Mark-up is also fair; the Esmeralda was $36.

Mrs. Banco and I had dinner at Ceiba for the first time last night. The space and the mood of the restaurant appealed to both of us, and already at 6:30 it was fairly full. The prelude of delicious tortilla-like wafers with a dipping sauce of (I think) pumpkin seeds and cumin proved addictive. I began with two appetizers. The yellowfin tuna ceviche was flavored with lime and cashews, which gave it a somewhat Thai-like flavor. It was excellent. The fish was immaculately fresh, and the dish was served beautifully over ice. Next came an appetizer special, a rockfish bisque. It was creamy and flavorful, but insufficiently hot. Meanwhile, my wife had a yellow-tomato gazpacho that was the best I had ever tasted: bursting with the sweetness and tang of ripe tomatoes and garnished with a succulent crab ceviche and a dollop of tomato sorbet. As my entree I chose the tilapia special, crusted in pumpkin seed and coconut, served over cilantro-flavored rice and with a sauce containing green beans, artichoke hearts, and corn. The fish was carefully cooked, with a crunchy and flavorful crust, but this dish proved heavy going: the many flavors and textures, though tasty and appealing individually, competed for attention on the plate and made it overall a bit of a muddle, a problem exacerbated by the huge portion size. This dish could use some streamlining. By contrast, the braised pork shank with black beans and rice had a deep and complex flavor. It was meltingly tender and had fully absorbed the flavors of its Brazilian braise. No streamlining needed there. Desserts were pretty and carefully presented; the Key-lime custard was refreshing. But after that huge tilapia dish I was not in a good position to appreciate them. Service was thoughtful and polite, despite the place being full (and it's a big place). I'll definitely return to Ceiba, but next time I think I'd just do a few apps at the bar.

That's right... Forgot about the deck, which has a great neighborhood feel when the weather cooperates.

La Lomita is our default choice when we're too tired to cook and want someplace close by where we can take our four-year-old. We've been going to it and to Lomita Dos for nearly ten years now. The area has not been "ghetto" for quite some time, but the best part of town it ain't. I'm not a connoiseur of Mexcan food, but my impression is that both Lomita and Lomita Dos are standard American imitations of Mexican fare and have very little to do with Mexican food. My favorite dish is the burrito al carbon, but everything tatses the same after a while, and I really see no difference between the two locations. They were at one time under the same owner, I think, but are now managed separately. We like going to either place and the staff are truly wonderful, but we've been so often over the years that we always try to think of something else first (which has become much more possible on the Hill recently). Oh, margaritas are excellent at both places. Not too sweet, and nice and boozy.

Whew! It's been sad to read the wailings and protests of Baltimore gastronomes who have lost one of their few really good chefs (Kim) and one of their few good restaurants (Soigné) to what sounds like a very shaky experiment in DC.

My thoughts and fears exactly. (I think Don was cleaning up some off-topic crap to which I, unfortunately, also contributed. )

I'm doing Ceiba for dinner on Aug. 7 and have never been. Suggestions from those who have would be welcome.

We're flying to la belle France tomorrow, where we'll stay in Alsace and eat at L'Arnsbourg! (Mich 3*, not that that means anything anymore

Clubs...now there's a whole topic of its own. Must food at such institutions always taste institutional? I know that people don't covet membership at these places because of the food, but still... I had a pallid, overcooked lunch with my former boss at the Cosmos Club a few years ago, and the whole time I kept asking myself, "Why are we here?"

Blueberries were definitely part of it, but I think some other kinds were also included, perhaps rasp- and/or blackberries. (I wish I had taken a menu with me!)

The Congressional dining rooms in the Capitol are of course candidates for "power restaurants". I had lunch at the House dining room a while ago. It was like being transported into a distant past, and not necessarily a better one. Our waiter was an elderly black gentleman who had been a porter on the railroads back in the fifties. I couldn't help thinking of all he must have experienced in his long life. A fat, pink-faced politico was yakking on a phone at another table. The food was worse than mediocre: warmed-over vegetables reeking of the steam table; tough, gristly steaks; and for some reason, bad American plonk when this country can do so much better. But the worst was seeing "Freedom Fries" on a menu for the first time. The entire room (like the entire Capitol) is a derivative of European art and architecture. As I looked at the dados along the walls, the dentil molding, the ornate ceiling rosette, and every other little "Euro" element of my surroundings, I had to laugh at the notion of "Freedom Fries." What's really scary is to think that most restaurants in Washington were at one time like the House dining room: pompous places without culinary substance or taste, for fat cats who didn't know any better and cared even less.

Despite living on the other side of town I've had dinner at Palena's bar several times now and have always enjoyed it. Last night I had the foie gras terrine with aspic as a starter and then the skate. I'd give more details but their website still has only menus from winter 2003. The terrine, which was also served with a kind of poultry gallantine, was firm and moist--perfectly prepared and not overchilled. It was accompanied by wildberries and fennel shavings that tasted as if they had macerated together in a wonderful ambrosia of wine and/or pastis. The skate was a perfectly cooked morsel served (if I remember correctly) over a fine bean or vegetable purée of some kind. A Riesling Spätlese by the glass went very well with both dishes. A desert of wildberries, creme anglaise, and housemade (shortbread?) cookies almost upstaged everything else. The color, aroma, and taste of the berries nearly converted me to the notion of intelligent design. It certainly reigns in Palena's kitchen. I walked in at about 5:20, shortly before dinner service started. Despite still setting up for the evening, the staff were very accomodating and made me feel welcome. And they helped me get out before 6:30. Bravi. Now if only Palena would open a branch on the Hill... One can dream.

I'd be honored to join such an august group.

Brava. I must try Komi soon, even if it is a man.

Had the first chance to cook a decent dinner in quite a while last night: Chicken breasts from TJ's (which I think are quite good) poached in finely minced onion and butter in the oven under buttered parchment a la Julia. The butter had been previously used to sauté some mushrooms, and after cooking the chicken I added them to the reduced poaching liquid with cream, stock, a dollop of mustard, and a dousing of Savennières. I sliced the chicken into medallions and served everything in the pan, a Bourgeat copper oval fry pan that my wife gave me for my birthday. Very old-fashioned, very bourgeois, very comforting. Tonight I'll try my hand at some Szechuan shrimp.

I'd be interested to hear more about Kinkead's from those of you who have visited recently. Of course, it's a Washington institution and therefore hardly obscure, but it's one of those places one seldom reads about on this site or elsewhere. I've had oysters, drinks, and entrees at the bar recently. Everything was good--especially the oysters--but I remember being wowed by this kitchen's cuisine in the past; now the menu as a whole seems a bit tired. Is it just me?