Tujague

Was last night the breaking point for me? I don't know for sure, but I think I'm over tasting menus. Don't get me wrong; Anthony Chittum and crew provided me with a lovely birthday meal. It was a pleasure to reacquaint myself with Jeff Faile's expert cocktails (mine the Negroni Bianco, Bob's the Boulevardier), and as ozgirl notes above, the tasting places were mostly a success (our mutual favorite was the burrata with lemon marmalade; only the frittata fell flat for both of us). I was more enthusiastic about Bob's luscious tuna crudo than with my second course of ricotta gnocchi, which were fine, but not the most pillowy I've had. Bob liked his Pekin duck with polenta croutons and morel sauce, and my single scallop with a pair each of hen-of-the-wood mushrooms and melted-cabbage tortellini was good (my reaction when it was set in front of me: "And here comes the foam!"). Desserts--Gianduja and goat-cheese cheesecake with rhubarb--were excellent as well. Top if off with a light and flavorful bottle of 2011 Tuscante Ghiaia Nera, Nerello Mascalese ($48) and friendly (if somewhat slow) service, what's not to love? That's what I'm trying to figure out: I came out of the meal with more respect than love for what Iron Gate is doing in its tasting menu (in the dark, rather wintery-feeling main building). Part of me really wished we'd had a more substantive meal a la carte meal in the sparkly courtyard on a warm spring evening. I wanted to do more than simply admire what was being set in front of me; I wanted something to tear into and savor over more than a few bites. The tasting menu doesn't allow you to do much of that, and I am finding that is increasingly the case in other such offerings around the city. Perhaps the G Spot's menu is a bit more substantive; I'd like to try it, but overall, this feels like we're nearing the end of our trying out tasting menus. (And note, while IG this week started offering some early reservations in the courtyard for dinner, we didn't want to take our chances on a special-occasion meal of not getting a table or waiting a long time; otherwise we might have done that. But given how relatively empty the tasting room was for most of the evening, I hope that IG will rethink its concept a bit to allow diners more flexibility in how they choose to dine; they have so much going for them in the spaces, kitchen, and bar.)

Keep in mind that two Circulator buses run out of Union Station, one toward Georgetown via the north side of downtown (Mass Ave), the other to Nats Park via Eastern Market/Barracks Row; at a buck a ride, they're an easy way to get to some places that are a bit out of the way or if weather/time is a factor. Besides Sona (as mentioned above), you could hang at the Eddy Bar at Hank's on the Hill or have some small dishes/drinks at Cava or Ambar.

Every fall, my mom would make homemade egg noodles in preparation for her annual Christmas Eve beef noodle soup. I don't remember watching her make the dough itself, but she would roll out it out paper thin and lay it out on newspapers across the dining room table to dry out. The soup itself was deceptively plain--I have no idea how she made it--but had a depth of flavor I have never since experienced. As I grew older and my palate developed, I came to crave that soup every year and when she died in 1997, I could barely get through Christmas because I just wanted to taste that fucking beef noodle soup one last time, and I still do.

To Jeffrey Glenn Miller, Allison B. Krause, William Knox Schroeder, and Sandra Lee Scheuer. May 4, 1970. Never forget.

Bibiana would be a good bet.

I've wondered if Cleveland Park is being hurt somewhat by the continuing/growing frustrations with the Metro Red Line. I know for myself that I have tended to avoid using it, having been burned in recent years by delays and annoyed by the crowds, and so I only occasionally have tried to get to CP for dining. Other places along the Red Line and upper Northwest I can easily enough reach by other means (if more slowly), but CP feels just far enough removed from those means. Do others regard the Red Line that way?

Joe, I can say the same for you--your writing makes me want to eat at so many places, so even if I can't afford them, I can enjoy them vicariously through you. (And, BTW, I have more problem with the M St. strip than the Washington Harbor, which as you show, is more of a haven from the rest of what makes me crazy.)

Snippy? Maybe so. But G'Town can be an extremely enervating place for many people or personality types. It's the part of town where I most frequently encounter the behaviors I hate the most and have been treated the most rudely. Some people may be able to be indifferent to this stuff or even thrive on it. But I can't, so I avoid it, and I don't apologize for describing HOW I experience it, even if that description is offensive or off-putting to some. I'm sure many feel the same way about Barracks Row, and other "new" neighborhoods. Lion's point about generational shifts/differences may well be valid. As a low-income gay boomer who works from home and is carless, I don't recognize that behavior in myself, really, but I can't speak for other generations (though I don't grant very high credence to broad generational generalizations). But I don't think it has to do that much with a reluctance to venture out or encounter new areas. For some, there are real financial issues, but for more I think it has to do with forming community and putting down roots. Sure, that can devolve into isolation and parochialism, but I think for most it's about creating a sense of home for themselves. I don't know why that should be something we need to bemoan.

I'll go further: I freaking HATE Georgetown, whether on foot or public transit. Whatever charm it had--or may still have--has long since been mitigated by the noxiousness of the human environment of entitled students, tourists, and need-to-be-seens who have no concept of two-way sidewalk traffic, politeness and civility, and shops that mirror the worst excesses of vulgar American consumerism. While I don't question Joe's paean to Fiola Mare and the glory of the waterfront, Georgetown triggers so much of my vitiriol that I do whatever I can to avoid it. And yes, I know many will find that petty, overwrought, too far-reaching, or absurd, and yes, I do know there are many lovely people and fine businesses there. But, irrational or not, it is a really hard area for some people to spend time in, period. Really? You honestly think that other people are that parochial? Or just compared to you? If you have to ask that question, maybe you're the one who needs to get out more and meet the real people who live in these "new" neighborhoods.

Bearnaise began brunch service on Easter Sunday, and yesterday I decided to check it out--admittedly with a bit of trepidation given my shaky previous experience here, and this being Spike's first foray into this meal. I needn't have been nervous, however--this was a fine meal worth checking out. I sat at the bar, ordered the Montreal Caesar bloody Mary (good flavor) and ordered the French bennie--essentially eggs benedict served on a croissant with French ham. The gossamer poached eggs just missed being undercooked, and the hollandaise had the right balance of eggy and lemony. The "petite salad" on the side was actually a nice size also. The meals I witnessed around me also were attractively served and looked well prepared. Perhaps a tad pricey--almost $29 with tip--it nevertheless left a good impression. I should also say that, despite my criticisms of Spike over the years, I actually admire that he has stood firm in not opening We the Pizza and Good Stuff on Sundays. He could surely do big business if he did open them--I've witnessed many cries of dismay when walking past them on Sundays, and Saturdays are madhouses there--so taking this kind of break does deserve some respect. But opening Bearnaise for Sunday brunch makes sense, and it's welcome new option for that part of the Hill.

Gotta agree with this; the last few sandwiches there have been very underwhelming. And the last order I had of the risotto balls, which I used to think were terrific, were mushy (even if they looked outwardly perfect).

Since Central doesn't normally do brunch, I decided to check out what they were offering this past Easter Sunday. The brief brunch menu, offered alongside the usual lunch menu, offered few surprises, but one can usually count on this place to offer some interesting twists on the tried and true. I actually strayed from the brunch menu for my starter, the asparagus tartare--a cocktail glass filled with minced vegetables in a mustardy sauce and topped with two poached quail eggs. Delicious, and a nice compliment, color- and flavor-wise to my refreshing cucumber-mint gimlet. Eggs "basquaise" turned out to be a small frittata-like dish, with an andouille-spiked ratatouille filling, accompanied by roasted fingerlings and a tomato salad. Good enough, but not particularly special (for outstanding roasted fingerlings, go to Montmartre for brunch and order them as a side with their black pepper aioli). Rather than a dessert, I ordered the creme brulée French Toast, two large disks of eggy toast with a custardy center, drenched in a raspberry couli and berries. Nice, but again, not exceptional. Where Central continues to stand out is in its service; my server was warm, helpful, and friendly without being overbearing, and all other staff were terrific as well. So, anyone who wishes that Central would offer brunch should stay content with its ongoing strengths. This was a solid effort--not as half-assed as some other one-off meals can be elsewhere--but not so fine to suggest that this is a regular meal they should offer on a regular basis, unless they can bring it up to the caliber of the rest of the menu.

I never really knew of Steven Shaw, but I found my way to DR.com because of eGullet"”which I suspect may be the case for many of the long-timers on this site"”so I am glad to learn of the accomplishments of, and sad to learn of the untimely death of, this impressive man.

To Jesse Winchester. A too-unsung songwriter, whose songs have been undersung--but an American classic.

Well, I waited long enough to try this place, and I went in with an open mind, based on recent good reports from Don, Sietsema, and others. Unfortunately, I left somewhat disappointed. For my first meal here, I decided to stick with the core menu item, the steak frites, with the onion soup as my starter. The flatitron came out looking beautiful, and was cooked to a perfect medium rare. But the steak itself was rather flavorless, a problem that the kitchen's aggressive overseasoning could not overcome. A few bites in, it was clear that I was going to be tasting mainly salt and pepper, and stupid me decided to power through it rather than complain. My taste buds are still out of whack. Fries were okay but not good enough to demand that I take advantage of free seconds. The onion soup was decent, and the bread would have been improved if served warm (at least the butter is not rock-hard). My glass of Bordeaux (Chateau de Parenchere) was good, but the pour felt small. I will give props, however, to the pleasant, unfussy space, and the friendly, competent service. But for $50, which includes tax and tip, I left kicking myself that I didn't just stick with one of my old stand-bys for half the price even if not ostensibly as respectable. That said, I would go back to try some of the menu items--duck confit, mussels--before passing any judgment. The flaws I noted were fixable, and maybe even flukes. But for a guy like Spike who's looking for some culinary respect, this sort of inconsistency on his core product doesn't help his cause.

The online menu looks more or less the same, but will be curious to see what's new. Part of what keeps me away from here is that I don't particularly like the space; it's not especially comfortable, well-decorated, or a place I want to linger in. I wish they'd give it an interior makeover.

To The Alban Institute, 1974-2014, the outfit that brought me to DC 16 years ago. Thanks for giving me a new start on life when I most desperately needed it.

Casa Luca, Acadiana, and Del Campo are all close by and all have private spaces for a group.

Definition #5 from the Urban Dictionary. You can figure out the rest, I'm sure.

J.O. mayo? Favorite new euphemism EVER.

I'm tickled to see Archie's Waeside in Le Mars, Iowa, garner yet another semifinal nomination for Best Wine Service. Judging from what they list online, the wines are nothing special, so they must have an impressive reserve list they aren't showing. As for the restaurant itself, it's a somewhat decrepit Midwest supper club (I'm being generous, at least considering the section where we were seated) that serves sensational steaks with utterly routine sides. Le Mars itself is a town of around 10,000 people about 20 miles from Sioux City, known as the "Ice Cream Capital of the World," as its the home of Wells Blue Bunny ice cream. I bet others have odd or interesting stories about some of the other more obscure places listed. And, for what it's worth, I also note that Portland, Oregon, so often listed as a food destination, gets very little love in the national awards.

Or, to paraphrase Bryce Harper, "That's a clown claim, 'bro.'"

When Bob and I were here for dinner last Wednesday, our server suggested to us as we were leaving that we should return soon, as the family-style option was going to be rolled out shortly. She didn't have any details, but heard that catfish was being mentioned as a possible dish. I don't know how this will differ from what they currently list as "family-style" with the pork schnitzel and brisket, but assume it may be to serve larger groups. I like your line about "keeping the neighborhood pleased." While Rose's obviously has become a "destination" restaurant, it's nevertheless operating with a neighborhood mind-set, and the no-reservations/no-valet-parking policy fits that, and to my mind, much better than many of the Barracks Row establishments who are offering those services. By the way, Bob loved Rose's (his first visit), particularly the bread, the grilled romaine salad (which he described as "steak-like), the drinks, and our apple-cider donut dessert. I stuck with the pork-lychee salad I loved so much on my first visit, as well as the "gnocchi" (very tasty, but a rather small portion for the price); we were both indifferent to the pommes puree, and he agreed that the fried chicken was good but particularly special. Only downside was sort of disjointed, poorly paced service--we wanted to order wine, but were essentially done with our main dishes before our server returned. Friends who were also there that night on their first visit had the pork schnitzel and were disappointed with it, finding it over-breaded. Still, they seem to remain remarkably consistent overall.

Yes, but what kind of freak puts animal crackers in her soup? (But wouldn't it be terrific if there were a chef out there who would love to take up that challenge in tribute?)

The Boulevardier is making a comeback, says the New York Times.