starfish

cashion's late night menu is available from 12-2am on friday and saturday. the bar stays open until 2:30ish.

has anybody else noticed the severe drop in the number of whims? I will be having a beer and a cigar at Cafe Berlin. Stop by if you are on the Hill.

The lobby cafe at the Mayflower Hotel serves a good cup of joe.

Friday night: Goat Roti, Jerk Chiken Sandwich, Rice and Peas, Loaf of Coco Bread, Three Ginger Beers - $20 bill and got change. Everything was as good as it always is here. On my way out the door, I gave myself a V-8 slap for not eating here more often.

Having tasted all of the aforementioned, I unequivocaly concur. Also in the recommended category: Weyerbacher.

Speaking of first grown-up date - I was 16 and it was my first day with my first car, a white Fiat Spyder with a tan top. It was June 1st and weather for the evening was supposed to be the kind of late spring balminess that is the reward for bitter winters. Finally decided to ask out Toi Robertson*. I had been crushing on her from a distance for months but I couldn't ask her out until I could take her out properly - in a car that is. I get to her house, survive her old man's roasting and finally make it to the car. I am feeling like I have the tiger by the tail as the really pretty girl settles into the seat of my convertible, the car I had been saving for a year to buy. I came crashing back to earth when she asked me to put the top up. I should have known better than to keep going; but my first real date could not end like this. So I drove to dinner with the wind that was in my sails, now passing all around but not in the car. I took her to dinner at Houston's in Georgetown, hoping that the really pretty girl would be impressed that we were having such a grown-up evening. No. Our conversation was non-existent. I was hoping that it was the difficult shy conversation of soon-to-be star gazing teenagers; but no. I kept asking questions only to receive the minimal number of words in response. I tried everything in my paltry 16 year old arsenal, but all romantic weapons were firing blanks. After dinner, we walked around Georgetown, all the while I was hoping against logic and hope that something would spark. Walk-Away Sundaes from Hagen-Daas - nothing. Continue to ask questions in an attempt to display my earnest interest in her - nothing. The only weapon left was the Declaration of Independance Memorial, a small island on a man-made lake that is romantic overkill. Surely no one could stand in the presence of the most romantic space in all of DC and be nonplussed. As we drove to my last chance of an island, I teased the view to come. She actually showed a hint of interest for the first time. After the brief search for parking we are walking in the moonlight towards the island, under a canopy of trees, in the midst of a young summer night until we arrive. They had drained the lake for cleaning. OK, Karma, message received. * not her real name

Dolce Finale - for a place that was so frequently used as an optimistic end for a first date, the name could not have been more apropriate. The confections and coffees I barely remember. The exposed birck, old wine racks, tiny tables, and intimate conversations I had there I recall every detail. DC needs another sweets only destination (I have a full glass of liquid ventworm nut for the first person that mentions cakelove in response to that statement.)

Chef, Thank you so much for taking the time to participate here. As many people on this board are aware, I have been a long time fan of your restaurants and the people that work there Cashion's Thread. I cannot count the number of memorable evenings I have had at Cashion’s. As I read this chat, I am struck by the recurring themes of your enlightened style of management, loyalty to your staff, commitment to their professional development, and familial nature of all of your operations. In an industry plagued by high turnover, the fact that most people who are a part of the Half Shell or Cashion’s families have been there for years speaks volumes to the type of organizations that you and Johnny run. For years I have told anyone that would listen that you are one of the nicest, most engaging, and erudite chefs I have ever met. I am delighted that the rest of the dr.com community is having the opportunity to experience that as well. I suppose I should ask a question here… When you were at Eat Place daily you hand wrote the menus. Some people might describe your hand writing as a challenge to read in low light. What was the impetus for the decision to hand write the menus? Did anyone ever give you grief for the handwritten menus?

I think a very serious argument can be made that Hung's empty-shirted effort should have gotten him the boot. Sure Howie's dishes were hideous, but the lack of respect that Hung showed to the food and his guests was equally bad in my book. My prediction for the sub-title of one of the next three episodes "Hung's Hubris Heads Home to Roost"

also not on the menu but usually available if you ask are the "jerk drummies" or "drumettes" depending on who's working. they are the most satisfying wings in the area to my way of thinking. they come with the side salad and rice and peas described up thread; add some coco bread and a ginger beer and you are still walking out the door with change from a ten.

Mike Tilch, owner of Silesia Wine and Spirits in Fort Washington, a true bon vivant and lover of all things passed away last night. It was my pleasure to get to know Mr. Tilch while I was the GM of Notti Bianche. He was possessed of such spirit and mirth that he brought a smile to the face of everyone on staff just by making a reservation. He was a great regular guest, an ambassador for all restaurants, and a trusted mentor for me. If there is an afterlife, I know that the wine just got better, and the conversation more entertaining. Mike, I will miss you terribly; and drink splendidly in your honor this evening.

congratulations to the groom and best wishes to the bride. may the best of your past be the worst of your future.

Farewell Mr. Jackson. The world of spirits and beer just got a bit less interesting. I'll be drinking a Signatory 25 in your honor tonight.

Sounds like a fun ride - I'm in.

I wish it was a joke.

I remember when Takoma Station was serious about food – pub grub but good pub grub. I remember when they had a rightful place in the conversation about this areas best fries and wings. I remember when Takoma Station was serious about Jazz. When Wynton Marsalis would stop by every time he was in town and more often than not sit in with the band for the last set. I remember when Chuck Brown’s first jazz album (the Godfather of Go-Go actually started as a jazz musician) debuted more than 10 years ago the impromptu premier party was at Takoma Station. I remember when this areas young jazz lions wanted a gig at Takoma Station almost as badly as they wanted one at Blues Alley. I remember when the spoken word community and those young jazz lions started to collaborate that Takoma Station was the epicenter of the movement. I knew that they had abandoned that legacy long ago. What I did not know until last night was that after leaving that legacy in the rat infested alley behind them to suffer for a decade they decided to pour liquid ventworm nut on it and set it ablaze. The food, which was from opening day “all fried, all the time”, lacked even the salty satisfaction that can come from that type of menu. Wings had visible hairs and feathers still attached. The fries tasted like they were frozen…last millennia, and of all of the other things I saw, nothing looked even remotely edible. And the music…played at ear blistering volumes was low hanging fruit wrapped in a cliché. It combined the worst elements of “Smooth Jazz” with the subtle as a sledgehammer rhythm of contemporary R&B. Just painful. At least the Stella was cold.

Max Roach died yesterday. He was the most significant jazz drummer ever to pick up sticks. I am going to raise a glass in his name this evening. If you are a jazz fan and happen to have a drink tonight, you might want to toast his legacy too. Washington Post Article on the Life of Max Roach

--> QUOTE(Mrs. B @ Aug 16 2007, 12:50 PM) <{POST_SNAPBACK}> Food Matters, People Do Too.? Food Matters, People Matter More. ?

“Sell Out”, in this context, is a very polarizing term – fighting words for some. I do not think it appropriate to either Bourdain or Dispiritto. I do, however, agree with HungyProf’s point that Rocco’s career took an unfortunate turn – although I would argue that it is more disappointing than unfortunate. It is disappointing when someone of such obvious talent chooses to squander it for whatever reason. Though not knowing either man well, I will not second guess their life choices. My only quibble: stop calling yourself a chef. Chef’s cook. Many people spend the better part of a career to earn that title but it is not an emeritus position in my mind. I think it a misrepresentation when TV Personalities continue to use the title.

i too read that as a joke, a poorly written joke, but a joke nonetheless.

congratulations to all three of you.

How is Cashion’s since it has changed hands? I have eaten at Cashion’s at least three times since the sale was finalized; last night was my most recent visit. I giddily report that the most often good, occasionally brilliant, cuisine is still a standard bearer for this class of restaurant. Which is to say that it remains a great neighborhood restaurant that is worthy of destination status when one is in the mood for soulful, lusty, unpretentious, yet high-end American cuisine with a southern (and now Mediterranean too) influence. I sat in the dining room last night, and I never sit at a table I always prefer the bar. Our server, Nicole, was great – one of the best I have ever seen, actually. With her warmth, knowledge of the menu and wine list, and overall demeanor, she has the ability to elevate an experience just by showing up. We started with the grilled octopus and heirloom tomato salad. The octopus was served atop a toasted crostini and dressed with a tomato and basil salad that was dotted with chickpeas. The thickness of the bread made it difficult to eat with a knife and fork, but all of the flavors were there and focused. This dish was well worth the effort to put the pieces together. The caprése salad was the best I have had all season. Gorgeous tomatoes of varying hues, fresh mozz, olive oil, and a light touch with maladon (sp?) salt. My dining companion had the roasted halibut – I would love to describe it but it disappeared too quickly for me to say anything other than it was pretty. I was told that it was quite good. I had the bison rib-eye and I lack the appropriate vocabulary to describe how good it was. Tender, meaty, juicy, perfect were the only words I could mumble at the time. All of this washed down with a 2003 Martin Michele Grand Cru, and 2001 Yarra Yerring Pinot Noir. p.s. there have been three substantial changes since the sale: 1 – Good wine glasses for those ordering by the bottle, 2 - Cashion’s is now on OpenTable., 3 – Late Night Menu available after midnight (I think) on Friday and Saturday; despite being open late on those nights and being in Adams Morgan, the bar is still a place for grown-ups. eta: my previously disclosed bias for Cashion's

Every time I walk into a Starbucks I know a bit of my support small business street cred slips away. Yet while conducting some retail therapy this past Sunday I popped into the Starbucks at Pentagon Row Shopping Center. I entered with my arms full of therapeutic purchases. After I ordered, the charming young lady behind the counter asked “Would you like me to bring your Americano to the table so you can put all of those bags down?” I was so stunned that I muttered something about being able to handle it myself, paid her and moved along. Twenty minutes later I am mostly through with my drink and the A section of the Washington Post when another Starbucks employee comes to my table and asks “How is your drink?” followed by a “May bring you anything else?” Starbucks is still all of the things that it is, but this one really impressed me.

I have deliberately stayed out of this conversation as I have never dined at Bebo. However, Jake’s point runs counter to a basic principle of management which I have always held to be true. It costs the same amount of time and money to train staff well as it does to train them poorly. Worded another way, good service is free. The process of providing good service is the same at a well run casual restaurant as it is at a four star temple of cuisine. In both places the costs are the same for serving a plate properly, making a request of the chef, greeting guests warmly, and all of the other things that can encompass good service. The organizations that are known to provide good service, generally, have a philosophy for service that is taught by those charged to do so. The ability to embrace and teach a philosophy, any philosophy, is limited only by ones creativity and communication. This is not a criticism of Chef Donna or his staff. It is simply a differing perspective about the comparison itself.

As some have alluded, this is a matter of context. The things that made this, ahem, gentleman an ass were his intonation, posture, interactions with others, etc. And therefore what is a charming gesture in the appropriate hands is an affected and most likely controlling maneuver conducted under flimsy gauze of chivalry. That having been said, I will occasionally, and after consultation, order for a date when the situation warrants.