Waitman

I think they have the best Indian food in the city, but I rarely dine in there because of the same service complaints you mentioned. We usually phone in an order and pick it up.

For one of the most pleasant dining experiences in the city, go to Bombay Club, instead.

The time has come to create the Don Rockwell Cocktail (aka the Fancy Pants).

I submit that the Don Rockwell Cocktail should begin with a Cognac base. Perhaps some Champagne as well. It is up to all of us to determie what next and exactly what Cognac and Champagne we should use.

Thrasher, if you're up there, we need your help.

Not until you finish naming MY cocktail.

I am shocked, shocked I say--as shocked as Claude Rains that gambling occurs in Casablanca--that someone would knowingly not pay the full share of what he owes...

One can only hope that the proceeds of this theft go, in true "The Bicycle Thief"-style, to something humble, worthwhile and poignantly necessary--like a brand new Hummer.

Whoa. He not only belts out great steaks, he's an afficianado of Italian neorealist cinema. A double threat, indeed, almost Rocksian in his depth.

Last time I ate in the back room, the food was grand but the service...

not so much.

MIA waiters, bad wine service, courses that took eons to come out, coffee coming out at the wrong time, and a bit of "how lucky you are to be here" attitude.

On the other hand, service in the front room has always been great. Go figure.

I was bored at work one day and started googling old high school friends (one is an avalanche expert for the Swiss government now), and it turns out that my old high school cross country captain, an excellent guy named Steve Wecker is an owner of this place. Glad to read good things about it, I'm hoping to have a chance to try it this summer. (Possibly in concert with the Petty/Black Crowes show).

I had a couple of glasses of Bonny Doon Big House Pink at Firefly yesterday evening.  Very nice, dry, little acidity, notes of strawberry.  It is priced at $10/bottle on the Bonny Doon website.  I plan on seeking out a few bottles for the fridge.

The more widely read, if not more delicately-palate-ed, wine columnist for the Washington Post seconds your praise for Bonny Doone in general, but was unimpressed by the Big House red, preferring the tasty and slightly more expensive Vin Gris du Cigare.

Details here.

Based on this statistic, I'm carrying the burden for 51.14 other people.

Wow...man.  You did so say that I was basking in my glory. Right here at this post...which I later quoted.  You are a piece of work    Are you out playing with puppies?

Will you gladly pay me Tuesday for a Hamburger today? I am stunned...that's right stunned that you took your post away.

You're right about the basking thing. I apologize. I'll knock that out. I wrote that larger post, of which it was a part, when I was angry and took it down as a peacemaking gesture. No intent to hide anything; it just didn't seem to be moving the discussion in a productive direction.

If you want, I can put the post back.

And the "stunned" the thing -- not the content of the little notes. I just thought it was funny that someone would put so much time into little commentaries that struck me as so oddly pitched. That someone would make their first impression to me with a lecture. It was kind of a "what are they thinking?" moment.

Puppies, as you might guess, will not play with me.

Mea culpa.

I confess.

I have a "bloated sense of self-importance." I am Veruca Salt.

I am "something," (ain't I?).

When I write, people find the word "gestapo" hidden in the letters. I should be more careful.

I may have "an agenda" (and who doesn't, these days?)

I'm desperately sorry I mentioned the wine, it was meant as an illustrative detail not a major complaint. But that's beside the point now, the anecdote has a life of its own and I trust that it will be a long and happy one. The Fume Blanc, btw, was pretty swell. I found the Semillion flat, but props for putting an unusual wine on the list.

The Nixon anology was a cheap shot, and I retract it (though I continue to think that writing about yourself in the third person is odd.)

I'm not "fair."

I expect "white linen and a service crew that came from a world-class hotel."

I pick nits.

I "love to hate" Colorado Kitchen. I go to restaurants "looking to be rushed." And I have nothing better to do with my life or money than follow Woodleygrrrl's cyber footsteps through the Washington restaurant scene in a desparate attempt "to prove WoodleyGirls point."

It's clear that any problems I may have imagined that I had are solely the result of my own poor powers of perception and I regret having given them life in this forum.

cheers.

Nicely done, Mike.

Heather, there shouldn't be any sacred cows here. Reasoned criticism is good. Drive-by shootings are bad.

easy for you to say. But last time I was at Citronelle it was...

OK, spectacular.

But, dammit, I'll drive-by your place sooner or later. I just need to eat there a couple more times...

Edited. I stand by my posts, but I'm going to take my end down a notch.

Martins Tavern.

The first place ever to serve me a beer, me having driven down from Howard County for a Big Date and my date's boobs so big that no waiter was ever going to card her.

"Are you 18?" the grey-haired guy with glasses and green jacket asked.

"Uhhh, yes."

"Good. Because sometimes kids try to order beer, and we have to check."

Never asked to actually see the ID (which would have proved conclusively that I was NOT 18), brought the Heiniken, made me look good in front of my date (not that it helped) and earned a big tip.

Martins Tavern.

You know, truce and all that.

I'm not going to get into to death spiral thread about the waiter and the wine list, or whatever. In return, it would be nice nice if the details I seize upon are credited as being emblematic, if you will, of my experience, as opposed to dismissed as "nit-picking."

OK, Robin here (the other half of CK).  I thought for a long time that if we ignored all this it would go away...but NOOOOO.

Let's all be honest...for whatever reason we're the restaurant you all love to hate.  I think if you come looking to be rushed you are indeed going to feel rushed.  I have no doubt Waitman felt rushed.  It reads that he came to prove WoodleyGirls point.

Well, there is my 2 cents   

No no no no no no no. Don't get all projecting on me. I didn't come there looking to be rushed; I just got that way after I sat down. Good lord, as fun as it is to take cheap shots at famous restaurants, it's much more fun to have a relaxing dinner with the kids. Unfortunately, that didn't happen.

And, as a knee-jerk lefty, I thought that WoodlyGrrrl was getting a bit beat up, wrongly, so I got her back for the momoent.

Let me begin by repeating my respect for anyone who can take build a restaurant -- especially in a challenging neighborhood -- and make it work. Let me ask, in return, that I and others get the same respect, and that our opinions be heard instead of dismissed out of hand.

But, I checked with the wife and kids and we're unanimous: the service the night we were there was unfortunate. Waiters lunged over my shoulder to seize barely empty dishes. Nobody on CK payroll smiled the whole time I was there. The waiter had to consult the back of his ticket book to remember what wine was available by the glass, and he was visibly distressed when we weren't ready to order on his schedule. And the endless notes...they're not funny; they're patronizing as hell. Though I agree with the sentiments, I was stunned at how poorly they read. Stunned.

As for this response: "Don't go to a restaurant looking for something to go wrong so you can run home and anonymously rake a restaurant over the coals. If you're looking for a bad experience you'll find it." Well, PM if you want. Or call. Charles Sweeney, I'm in the book.

Finally made it to Colorado Kitchen the other night and found it to be a mixed bag. The crab cakes were very good, the veal was very bad, and the crab-corn fritters that came with the veal were delightful. I like the onion tart quite a bit, as well, though it (like the crab cakes) was every-so-slightly burnt. The onions and cream were rich, sweet and toothsome; the pastry crisp and light. I wasn’t too keen on the cold tomato soup – I don’t think anyone’s really got good tomatoes yet, so no surprise – but my son liked it quite a bit and I liked it enough that I found the little trick of giving everyone a taste as they sat down to be a pleasant combination of amuse-bouche and suggestion-selling.

I’d suggest, however, that WoodlyGrrrl’s point about feeling rushed is well taken. Though there was no line, grim-looking waiters dashed to and fro as though some geek in the corner was doing a time-and-motion study on them, with an eye to firing the slowest server. Plates were snatched away the instant a fork got set down – whether others in the party were finished, or not. Committing the faux pas of wanting a glass of wine before deciding on food got one of those body-language eye-rolls from the waiter -- best be ready with your order food by the time he got back, I felt, lest I get an audible sigh or, perhaps, a tongue-lashing. And the many directives on how to care for your children, order your meat and time your small courses were a bit oppressive.

Clearly, it’s Chef’s boat; you can sail where she wants to go or you can walk the plank. And it's her place and she pays the bills. The food’s good – sometimes very good -- people line up to eat there, the room is delightful and everyone likes to see a talented and committed chef do well. But, I found the atmosphere a little too “big city bustle” for what I’d hoped would be a more relaxed and comfortable neighborhood joint.

What the hell was that thing about Bistro Asiatique? I didn't understand a word of it. Am I the only one who didn't have a ticket for that train of thought?