Meaghan

Weeping Willow Looking back, my expectations were somewhere along the lines of BalckSalt or Tallulah. I expected to find an outpost on an otherwise hollow corridor, at least culinary-wise. Ask my dining companion, I even said in an e-mail before dinner that I was in the mood for "ham-fisted", feisty food. I wanted salt, I wanted starch, I wanted the opposite of Palena, Komi or Sushi-Ko... I really dislike writing with so much ire, but actually this time, I think it's in your favor. The meal started with appetizers, as usual: Fried Zucchini & Ricotta Fritters, $ 7, oddly had an essence of lemon custard and came with a nutty-tasting dipping sauce of tomato and red pepper romesco. It was akin to something you'd find passed at a rather large book party catered by a corporate entity. Willow’s Clams Casino, $10, were the best of the starting courses (I liked the clams themselves well enough). They're traditionally prepared with applewood smoked bacon, leek fondue (translation: leeks that looked and tasted liked scallions*) and lemon bread crumbs. I will say this, there is a huge abuse of something wonderfully simple at this place: lemon juice. Trailing behind was the signature (Willow) flatbread, $16, which is matzah meets Cosi with wild mushrooms, lemon (a-fucking-gain), fontina, chives and white truffle essence. This dish reminded me of drinking a $200 bottle of wine with a microwaveable chicken potpie. Why? Because it was missing a huge element of acidity. It was screaming for really well-aged red or perhaps pickled fiddleheads. And there's a point where you just want to give the person with the bottle of truffle oil your middle finger... That flatbread is way overpriced. The main we shared was the best dish of the night, but I can list at least two dozen places I'd go to get scallops again before this place. The dayboat scallops were properly cooked and extremely generous in size. Three scallops, each resting on a slice of red-skinned potato with applewood smoked bacon and more wild mushrooms, afloat an overly buttery sauce. I think they were fine, but priced in the mid-twenties, there are other places I prefer to patronize. Dessert (the pastry chef is one of the co-founders of Firehook Bakery, and I'm sure many of you know the history of Tracy O'Grady) was a pineapple semolina cake with ginger ice cream. It's essentially pineapple upside-down cake made with semolina flour, and I found it tasty, but a touch on the dry side (could perhaps use some alcohol). Aye-yay-yay. The space itself, the ambiance and Ballston are too depressing to touch on right now. The service at the bar, particularly one guy, was small town-enthusiastic, and he kept calling us grown adults, "kids." I'm not weeping, I just won't go back. The more apropos name might be Billow. *whatever

"I've always wanted to own my own restaurant..." is awkward, but there's nothing wrong with the quote. In the first instance own is the verb and in the second it's an adj. Nothing wrong.

"The humble pumpkin gets star treatment at 1789 (1226 36th St. NW, 202-965-1789) under chef Ris Lacoste. She fills ravioli pockets ($13) with two types of locally bought pumpkin as well as fresh and salted ricotta cheese, and serves them with a rich wild mushroom sauce studded with cranberries and walnuts. Deep-fried strips of pumpkin add a finishing touch." -WaPo Tonight, I had this dish along with some other 1789 traditions. As Lacoste put it, "it looks like leaves on the forest floor," and that it does. It's a bright dish, an excellent way to wake up the season. A meal full of soul, followed by a walk across the Key Bridge to home... I owe that 1789 thread a bump to the top.

The soup was the one I sketchily reported on this Saturday (see above). It's a delicious lentil soup with shrimp and muscles. It truly hit the spot, but didn't shine quite as much as Grandma's tomato n' egg soup-- it's more of a Grandpa kinda thing. The shrimp floating around in the soup were divine, full of flavor, not over-cooked or drained out by the starch in the lentils and the accompanying veg.

I can't stand anything "-fisted". I'm tired of cooking and fists. Use "pawed" or "clawed" instead of "fisted" or "handed"... "....the classic Silk Road dumpling that suggests a ham-fisted adaptation of delicate Chinese wontons..." -Robert Sietsema February 2001

Hi! It's me again.... Being added to my list of Best Things Eaten in 2005: The tuna salad on the menu at Palena right now. The sexiest meatiest-tasting bite of tuna (think sushi, not sandwich) I've ever had in my life, atop shaved fennel, broccoli rabe and some other good stuff which you'll have to find out for yourself (or maybeI'm a lame reporter who forgot to steal the menu again). I'm not lying, it's wicked-good. You tell me it's not.

"No, I think that's the Chef's wife or something."

Hey Nadya: Is that you in your avatar? ...and since you're from Russia*, you love the cold, right? *or nearby

My impression of baked & wired has always been that it only does catering and sells to restaurants. So, it's a shop? In a city full of PR whores, where's one for that place? Maybe there's side operation there. Baked and Wired.

Pumpkin custard goat cheese cake at Palena with pistachio brittle, it turns out (I mistakenly said candied pumpkin seeds in another post). It's something else, but hard to give undivided attention when flooded with other yummies like cookies and caramels. Nectar (still clear as day in my head) had the best pumpkin soup in all the land. Nora has a dish on their tasting menu: Lobster with pumpkin risotto, red chard ribs, baby spinach and leek froth (or something like that). Not sure about loster and pumpkin, though. Who's going to make Cinderella some pumpkin ravioli with madness like foie gras (I have a sick imagination)?

Like this will do jack shit. Though, their stock did go down a bit. Hahaha.

How about some Funfetti on a nasty rainy day? Call in sick.

I like Kinkead's. There I said it.

Olives. Because it's fucking horrible. I went there tonight to get out of the rain... I couldn't get a cab and my umbrella was turning inside out. Big mistake. Even the minstrone soup (which oddly had meatballs in it), made the thought of clam chowder at McCormick & Schmick's seem priceless. And for a place that advertises as Mediterranean and has $30 entrees, can't they source bread that has a little less in common with Bounty (The Quilted Quicker Picker-Upper) and some decent OLIVE oil instead of industrial-tasting tapenade? This is very disturbing to me. I spend $50 bucks on rubbish and still couldn't get a fucking cab. (Drinking there is nearly impossible if you're in the mood for something nice, so it's not like I didn't leave sober) Dang!

I forgot what I'm supposed to say when all I have is unbriddled passion for a place? As one with a somewhat creative drive, it's troubling that I cannot come up with original words to naturally convey my true love and appreication for the lifeblood of Palena. Even the fruitflies, I think they're handsome and honest. Last night I walk in from the Seattley spit, and the first person I see is fantabulous Lily Rubin, who designed the place, dining with her family. She called out my name and welcomed me in, and then I remembered that she too has contributed to my euphoria. Why, I never scrutinize the design or think twice about what's around me in the room because I'm too much at home. At this point, I'm so relaxed, so able to just chill and let my hair down at Palena, I've forgotten that I'm not in someone's living room being spoon fed, followed by foot rub. Or watching Ali G and eating pistachios in a bathrobe, for that matter... It's my unpretentious spa, however I'm in the mood to patronize. So, this time I'm going to make a somewhat different observation: You know that painting on the wall of a man's face at the far end of the bar where the fruit flies like to hang? Look at the portrait near the sunflowers at the end of the bar. Remember him? Everytime I'm there (at the bar), I look at him early in the evening and feel like he's watching me and that he's intruding a little bit. And then as the evening progresses, I become more and more fond of him and make it known. By the end of the meal, I'm just mad for the guy. So, I'd like to know the story of him. Why is he there? And what's with him? New to me tonight was the the outlandish and wonderful lentil soup with flavor-intense little shrimp and later, pumpkin goat cheese cake with candied pumpkin seeds. I'll admit to being a BLT virgin. Here are just a handful of wonders that made it in my pie hole: Golden raisins, apple jelly*, lobster*, lentils, flavor-intense little shrimp, porkbelly, braised cabbage, bite of veal lollipop, olives and their residue, sheep's milk, delicious foamy stuff, rav, pumpkin, tomatoes, bread, goat cheese, brown sugar on the rim of a glass, cookies, caramels, artichokes, pine nuts, I think, cauliflower*, baby panda, mushrooms, more mushrooms, shortbread, buttersticks, jamin' syrah from a paper bag, tiny slivers of rooty veggies, chocolate chips, bread crumbs, baby carrots, micro greens, cannelli beans, etc. (mediterranean and lobster salad, kitchen's treat*) I'll be back... Frank! PS: There was a dog growling from a carry-on bag near a table in the low teens. I liked this very much and mistook it for my vibrating cell phone once or twice.

At any rate, Ruta sure knows how to highlight those rooty veggies and make them equal parts of a dish. Mmmm, shoots and leaves.

I have an issue with tongue. As a favor to my tongue, I try not let the little guy know I'm eating one by not not letting them touch eachother. Yeah, it hard to taste that way, but I don't want to offend my tounge, you know?

What's up with Cafe 15? And what's that place called near the Spy museum? Zoloft or something. Is that place a goner?

I'm frightened of men who can bake. They're usually tough cookies!

Don't suffer through boredom at work anymo'! DUI chats: Against: Council Member Phil Mendelson For: Council Member Jim Graham

This is classic, old-school DonRocks! I love it. Whichever of you finds the microwave: I'll buy you a glass of wine and a Stouffer's pork cutlet to heat up at home.

I wanna go to Vancouver, by golly! That looks goooood.

Crack Cafe (and half a tea cake).

Cool! Thanks for taking one for the team. I wish they had bubble tea.

As huge fan of Heather Chittum: bloop. Sweet!