Joshua Grinnell

Indeed! Again, freshly made (I imagine from the bakery next door) they're fantastic. After the witching hour, not so much.

Branching off from the discussion of the 29 Diner, the other go-to late night place when I was in college was Amphora Diner in Vienna. It's never a good idea to rate a dining establishment while simultaneously only having $3.75 in quarters to spend, so I was pleasantly surprised when I returned with a friend for dining during daylight hours. Then: 2 AM, a man who looked like a Greek pirate (or roadie for Yanni) gently leered as he cut off the free water and bread to the impoverished drama students. The end piece of a slice of lemon cake is served, with one half quite delicious and the other half petrified from all-day exposure to the air. A generous tip is left because I was waiting for a police car to stop looking for my tattered gray oldsmobile. Ah, college. Now: I sit down to brunch with a copy of Scientific American, waiting for my guest, and am served by the embodiments of various muses. It's greek diner food and a little greasy, not terribly flavorful, but is exactly what I wanted. The burgers tend to be a little overdone, but there are some places you probably shouldn't get an undercooked hamburger. My guest, who had only eaten there at 2 AM previously, was also pleasantly surprised. There were honest, decent people eating there during the day. I had my water glass refilled at least three times without asking. Anyone else been?

Haven't been in yet, but from the outside: The Broiler Good BBQ, half smokes not as good as Ben's: Weenie Beanie The best diner in the area, IMHO: Bob and Edith's The difference between this place at 12 noon and 12 midnight is amazing: Amphora- no entry for it yet, though there is one for the bakery. I'll have to start one. Good dive bars are harder to list, as this year has seen the sad passing of The Childe Harold(e)?, Dr. Dremo, etc. You're also more likely to get a good divey food fix from the wide variety of food carts.

We used to hold our college newspaper editorial meetings at the Denny's across the street and I would always make huffy sounds and point at the perfectly good horribly bad trucked in and left on cinderblocks shiny 29 diner, but to no avail. I suppose Denny's has the right journalistic ambiance. Feh. I, too, admit that I haven't been in about three years, but it was pretty serviceable diner fare. Bob and Edith's kind of spoils you, as far as diner food goes. 29 Diner is more "destination dining." They had scrapple AND spam at one point, hope that hasn't changed.

I would like to state first and foremost that I have a crap palate from a love of whiskey and spicy food. Sometimes a potato chip, even those handcrafted with tender care and a pedigree, is just a handy salt delivery device. There are easily a thousand people on this board and I imagine every one of them could taste and describe that grog better than me. What I mean by "not getting it" is purely a state of mind. If one doesn't care about why PX, Ray's, ...hell, the dearly departed Dr. Dremo is special, if one is just out for a margarita to take the edge off of all the voter fraud that got you this job but you want to pay $12 for a mixed drink at someplace exclusive and in Playboy, that's the worst kind of snobbery I can imagine and that's saying something given the epic screeds against Rachael Ray I've seen on this board. All that group cared about was getting in and nothing about anything afterwards.

Here's a question about food evangelism that might spark some discussion; Went to PX Friday night to cap off a late Valentine's celebration. They were finishing a private function, so we hung out in Eamonn's with a fried snickers and lurched up to the door out of our diabetic stupor when our reservation was ready. Classy all the way, love the little window, the bar was gorgeous and I oohed and aahed over the liquor cabinet. My wife loved the corner room we were directed to, the beeswax candles really set the mood well. I ordered a grog and milady got a fig concoction. Both were amazing. The grog could launch a thousand pirates into the Bertuccis across the street. Then a foursome of hill staffers from Georgia came in and they did nothing but bitch. They mocked the reservation system, exclaimed that "they didn't see the big deal," impugned the hostess's honor, scanned the menu and complained that "I just wanted a margarita or something," when the hand-made drinks didn't come out fast enough one of the darlings said something along the lines of "Jesus, don't they just use a mix?", etc. The potato chips were "all right, I guess." The hostess was actually nice enough to ask if everything was all right when we left when our drinks were done. My wife said that the room had gotten too loud, which was politely true. The question, then, is what was keeping us from gently guiding the people in that room to some sort of sense of what makes the PX work. If a place is good enough, at some point you pass from being a diner to being a participant in the general atmosphere. I wore a three-piece suit that, honestly, no longer fit me because deep down we wanted to play dress-up and go to a speakeasy. Who's job is it to keep that atmosphere going? The diner has to be at least moderately knowledgeable about what they're getting into; who in that party made the reservation without knowing where they were going? I don't think the staff has to do anything extra, as they've got enough going on and no restaurant staff should be called on the enforce "who gets it". We were both too sleepy and too moderately pissed off to do what may have been our job, then, in bringing the good news of handcrafted drinks to these other diners. The other option, which was briefly considered, would be stabbing them in the forehead with a mint julep spoon and snorting around for brains.

Normally when my wife has a craving for lamb shank, it means me swinging by Layalina on the way home from work and getting an empathetic look from the owners as I grab the carryout ("ah, pregnant wife" the look says. wrong wrong no wrong no. some ladies just want lamb) and rush home. Me Jana definitely gives Layalina a run for the lamb shanking money. Even the bread condiments alone, with homemade lebneh and zaatar for dipping, are worth going for. We did, unfortunately, have one hiccup that was bad enough that my wife doesn't want to go back and I'm definitely more forgiving of: the lamb shank comes in appetizer and entree portions, $14 and $28 respectively. My wife wanted the appetizer but only said that she wanted the lamb shank, to which the waitress asked "the appetizer?" and my wife heard "an appetizer?" to which she answered "no." Hence a slight shock when the bill came, as I thought maybe we'd been charged for two, but the waitress explained what had happened. Milady thinks that if identical items are present, the waiter should be extremely careful in ascertaining which was ordered. I think responsibility rests heavily on the diner to make oneself clear, so I'm hoping that she'll come around if not by the power of my argument then at least by the power of lamb. I suppose a quick solution would be to give the two items different names. The larger portion should be the lamb shank and the smaller could be the lamb shiv.

Also of interest, there is supposed to be an auction of various Dremo's paraphernalia Monday night at 7. For the practical among you, it may be a good chance to grab some cheap industrial kitchen equipment. For the whimsical, put in a bid for the polynesian-themed totem pole or one of the beer brewing vats. I'm likely to bid on the Homer Simpson's Chocolate Donut Stout tap pull, just to infuriate my wife. I can't help feeling a little schadenfreude for whoever has been trying to develop that lot for the past three years or so. Another tower of condos probably seemed like a can't-miss investment three years ago. Perhaps the housing market will change by the time its built, but here's hoping that they're biting their nails a little.

Trader Joe's also sells an interesting "Harvest Grains" blend that has quinoa, israeli couscous, lentils, and... orzo, I think, that gives you your quinoa goodness, but cuts down on the scum. It's wonderful, very hearty- especially cooked in stock. I leave it cooking two minutes longer than the package suggests, otherwise the lentils can be a little more crunchy than I like them.

Unless there is some magical reprieve (property values in Arlington falling precipitously overnight?) Dr. Dremo, the glorious dive bar and pool hall, will be closing after last call tonight. I believe they're having a live band and some cheap drink specials tonight to mark the sad occasion; I'm holding out for "hey, we can't take the Guinness with us, might as well give it all to Josh." Come see the place that Don Rockwell said looked like "a junkyard run by Ed Gein."

Due to the vagaries of retail employees I can't promise this would ever happen again, but my Pentagon City cashier pointed out that the chickens were two for one, didn't ask for a coupon, and let me run back to grab another pack of chicken while she watched my cart after I paid. So, yes, it's a surly worker grab-bag anywhere you go, but I'm a sucker enough that I would prefer to shop where I know the workers are treated well. Even if the Pentagon City Costco has to be the closest thing to parking in Beyond Thunderdome... after the Trader Joe's lot in Seven Corners, of course. Two go in. One comes out.

For the next week or so, the two-packs of whole chicken are buy one, get one free. This means four chickens, which can strain fridge/freezer space for some, for around $8. I'll cook three, maybe dress the other one up in a gingham frock and put it on flickr.

I've never had anything other than the chilidogs and fries, but where else could you sit down at a sticky table, surrounded by ex-spooks and truckers, and get served by local high schoolers? The Inn is about my halfway point when I cycle to work, perfect for waiting out a storm and refueling. My dad took my mom here on a date. I hope my kids can say that about Ray's, actually.

Birch beer on tap at Vienna Inn, Ms. Heather. I wouldn't wash down a chilidog with anything else.

My wife grew up in Richmond and on special Episcopalian days would get to put on special Episcopalian clothes for reenactments of the first sacrament in the new world. The only thing that could make her frantic childhood self sit still through hours of pageantry in the hot sun was if her mother would stop in colonial Williamsburg on the way to Jamestown to pick up a sack (they come in real sacks!) of ginger cakes from the reeanactor bakery. They're fantastic, but are apparently made authentically enough that they go stale in a day. Tossed in the blender, they make excellent pie crust crumbs.

I'm a little puzzled by foodler- putting in my Clarendon/Court House zip mostly brings up places in DC that will deliver out here, but misses all the delivery standbys (Delhi Dhaba, etc.) that are right down the street. It's wonderful to know that there are some DC places that will cross the Potomac Sea for delivery, but if you're new to an area it seems that it will miss your neighborhood gems.

Overall, it was very much better than we expected from the motley crowd of cheerfully damned people waiting in the bar. Milady had the shrimp with grit cakes, which were more like spoon bread but were very good. She said it was had been a long time since she had eaten perfectly cooked shrimp. I had the sesame tuna salad entree, which was also good but could have had more tuna. The most important thing, however, was dessert. She had the white chocolate bread pudding, the key lime pie for myself. I thought the key lime was fantastic- it wasn't too sweet or sour. My wife thought it may have been made without sweetened condensed milk and liked it very much. Her bread pudding was also very satisfying, with a hidden volcano of caramel in the middle and topped with vanilla ice cream. She had gotten a large piece of brownish skin on her fork out of the ice cream and thought that it was great that someone had used real vanilla beans in the ice cream, even leaving a little of the seed in. When she found a second one that was more green than brown, I got up the nerve to munch it. It was a scallion. Both pieces were scallions. We started straining the ice cream through our forks, trying to find more scallion pieces. It's a testament to the power of sugar that our taste buds were so smacked around by then that we didn't notice any scallion taste in the ice cream, though I imagine they just ended up there from the various flying and chopping in the kitchen. The waiter saw us scourging our ice cream and laughing maniacally and we told him why. He looked horrified, as he had the check in his hands and was dropping it on the table. Random scallions in non-scallion friendly food would generally earn one free dessert, but what to do when they've already had dessert and you've printed the check? We told him it was fine and it truly was- we were there on a gift card from work, so it really didn't matter. We had a great time. I would definitely call ahead to get put on the list, otherwise you're looking at a long wait in Barnes and Noble trying not to punch twee teenagers in the throat.

I hadn't realized this before reading this thread, so I'm a little ashamed, but I do put on food to match what I'm cooking. All my comfort food gets Jimi Hendrix (either Ultimate Experience or Jimi Blues), ethnic gets M.I.A, and baking always requires Sepultura. I can not cream butter by hand without it.

Excellent pizza, though it comes steaming out of the oven so it's more of a "buy and take back to the office to infuriate the bag lunchers" sort of thing. I ate all the prosciutto off of mine while I waited for it to cool. The buffalo moz was very tangy and the grilled eggplant was perfectly done. It will have to be a sick day/day off place, though, as I second or third the working far away problem. Lucky NSF/DARPA folks get it, I suppose. It's also amazing how much is crammed into that cart. It's like getting pizza cooked on the space shuttle.

Mainly for the sake of trying, but also because of the "best eggs ever" testimonials. It's actually worse to have discovered that these are pretty good but in need of work, as I could have just let it go if they were sub-par. I'll also keep vigilant for any stray eggs shooting back into the machine, but it's strange to think that an attachment created for steaming milk could be so easily defeated by milk itself.

Feeling experimental this morning, I tried following up on a persistant rumor I found on the internet while working out the kinks of our espresso machine: the milk-frothing attachment "makes great scrambled eggs" or "amazing, light and fluffy scrambled eggs." It's always left as that, which makes me feel like it's a canard close to the sausage-stuffing attachment ("I can stuff my own sausage!" "Yeah, but do you?" "Hush, you strumpet") for a standing mixer. I gave it a shot and there are some hits and misses. One, the eggs do indeed come out very light and fluffy. Secondly, they're sitting in about an inch of water from having steam shot through them. So, once they're drained they're actually quite good. We only have market eggs at the moment and they're too precious to experiment with more today. I'm using a ceramic mug, which may be too insulated to work properly, and I tried to keep the tip of the steamer from hitting the bottom of the mug. I'm using my usual scramble mix (egg, dash of milk, salt). Any ideas? Is anyone waking up to a heaving cup of steamed scrambled eggs in the morning?

Jesus... we just got a mandoline as one of our wedding presents and you've all convinced me that I might as well sit on it naked and get it over with. I also have an "accidentally eating crisco" story that my wife is telling me doesn't count as an injury.

I may have already put this in a "comfort food" thread, but I do get high marks for it from hung-over people in the morning: -Breakfast Pasta- Fusilli or some other pasta that grips sauce well. One egg per person Milk or cream, depending on what you normally use in your scramble Parmesan Salt and Pepper Rooster Sauce (Sriracha [sp?]) Boil pasta to about a minute past al dente Mix eggs and dairy in your traditional scrambled egg quantity. (I do a splash of milk into a coffee mug filled with eggs and beat vigorously, but people have killed over scrambled egg ratios, so do as you please) Grate a liberal amount of parmesan into the egg mixture, along with a squirt of rooster sauce. Salt and pepper egg mix to taste. In a non-stick skillet, add a small amount of olive oil and put on medium heat. Drain pasta and add to skillet for about a minute, giving it a little fry-love. Empty egg mixture onto pasta and stir to coat. Once eggs firm up inside the pasta crenelations, plate and salt a bit more if necessary.

We'll certainly be back, though the chicken and fried brie salad and marinated chicken pasta we had were the safest things on the menu (we were sleepy and pre-paychecks) and still pretty good. The bread pudding for dessert was amazing- pecan praline topping and ice cream on the side. It was the vibe that means we'll be back- nice nieghborhood place, comfortable decor, little touches (teacher discount on Mondays!), and the waiter and bartender genuinely seemed pleased to have us. It's just really, really nice to eat there. No adventurous cooking, no spectacular motifs, just the nice place down the block that you would take someone on the third date.

We actually got yanked in off the street one night by our noses during a blackout because the power had just come back on at Ray's and they had just started on the bread. Not the steak, not the carmelized onions. The bread.