turbogrrl

So we went back this evening, and took nick's parents with us. I'd say at least 1/4 of the restaurant was filled with people who had been there on opening night. We were also not the only couple to have returned with asian parent(s) in tow. No wait right at 7, but the place filled up shortly after I walked in. The bulgogi buns were almost as good as the chasu buns. They are both really really good, and very scallion-y. Nick's dad wanted some sriracha to put on them, which they didn't have, but they brought out a dish of the spicy paste that goes in the spicy miso ramen. The oshinko was slightly different this evening, but still very good. Three types- one was a sweetish vinegary taste, another more smoky-tea tasting, and the third was savory with a hint of vinegar. The kimchi was fairly mild and accessible, but nibbling on it while having the ramen really punched up the flavor of the broth. All of us had the shoki bowls this time. Dessert was mochi- we had an order each of the green tea and the vanilla. They both came out on long plates- two decent-sized mochi to an order (we were able to split them in half fairly easily), and scattered raspberries and blueberries on the plate with a drizzle of chocolate sauce (on the berries, not on the mochi). Very pretty, well balanced, not overwhelming. Atmosphere is still good, staff seem to be getting into a decent groove. Parents enjoyed themselves. Food was delicious. I agree that this is likely to become an eat-once-a-week, even if some weeks are only "grab three orders of buns on the way home." Please go here. I need need need this place to succeed.

It was closing on 9pm and Nick was insisting he wanted dinner but wouldn't make any suggestions. Suddenly, I remembered that Sakuramen was supposed to be opening tonight. Our mission was clear. Walked over, put our name on the list, and 20 minutes later we were seated. Woo! (There were seats for about 8 people to wait; we didn't have to leave the restaurant.) Ordered pork buns and pickles to start, Nick went for the Shoki bowl and I had the Spicy Miso and added an egg. The buns that come out may be visually reminiscent of the Momofuku buns, but they are not attempting to be a Chang imitation. The pork belly was tender, but not strongly barbequed. The pork was balanced nicely with greens and scallions. We rather inhaled them, and I did not get a picture. Nick surprised himself and ate a good third of the pickles. The spicy miso bowl was more miso than spicy, but I made it through the entire bowl happily. The soft-boiled egg was very good. The Shoki bowl, though, was magnificent. I kept stealing bits of bulgogi, and Nick glared at me. The Shoki noodles were also thinner and not curly; Nick ordered extra noodles halfway through. (This was the only reason I was really able to try them.) It's my understanding that the Shoki bowl is something of a chef's special, so the base and ingredients may change from week to week. Service was hopping; I didn't notice any real kinks other than sheer volume. People were still waiting for tables when we left at 10. All in all, it was a *very* smooth experience for an opening night, and I'm really excited about having them in the neighborhood. Decor is pleasant, everyone was nice, it seemed like everyone in sight was having a good time. Yum!

Um. Well, I've only ever gone here for happy hours. They're not thrilled about doing individual checks for large crowds, otoh, it's a decent place to fit 10+ and not have to worry about management accidentally walking in and overhearing a bitchfest. (Corporate overlords are *never* going to accidentally make it to Relic.)

A couple months ago, I scored tickets to Next's Childhood. I'm notoriously bad about planning anything in advance-- just ask anyone who knows me!-- which meant that picking a date (especially one in December) was terrifying. But somehow it all worked out. Fares dropped a few weeks ago, we lucked into a special at the Sax Hotel, and so Thursday morning saw Nick and I at DCA, waiting for our flight to Chicago for a couple food-filled days in the Windy City. We landed, checked into our room at 12:30, and then immediately hopped into a cab to get to Blackbird for lunch. Because, you see, Nick had forwarded me a link to an article on Blackbird's shortrib burger, and I wanted it. ( http://aht.seriouseats.com/archives/2011/11/blackbird-burger-review-chicago-il.html ) We both wanted it. Nick got his with the garlic fries, and polished them off- I got the regular fries, and only made it about halfway through. But the burger! Oh, god. And those red-wine shallots. That was one hell of a good burger. Dinner saw us at a nearby Lou Malnati's, consuming way too much of a deep-dish butter-crust sausage pizza. *Why* does no one make deep dish around here? I don't get it. Walking back to the hotel, some incredibly good smells were wafting over the street from XOCO. I filed that notion away for later. Already starting to have a food hangover, we missed breakfast Friday morning, but I decided we'd have XOCO for lunch. I had the shortrib red chile soup, which was warm and flavorful and hit the spot, but Nick was the winner with a Cubana torta. The churros were great, and my aztec hot chocolate was fantastic. We tried to walk off lunch for the next few hours, but eventually had to get back to the hotel to warm up and get ready for Childhood. We had reservations at 9:15, but decided to head over early to see if we couldn't get into Aviary for a few drinks. Luck favored us, and we were ushered in at around 7:45. Nick got a flight- the standout was the Horchata. I started off with an Oolong, which was warm and subtle and all sorts of awesome. Even Nick really liked it, and he hates tea. We had a few of the bites; the duck rilettes and the foie gras were the standouts. Somehow an unordered Cranberry ended up on our table, so I took one for the team and drank it. It started off as a punch in the face, but got much better as the ice globes melted. I really liked the metal straws. I finished off with a Pear, which was light and refreshing but definitely tipped me over into tipsy-land. A fine place to visit Childhood from. I'd ordered the wine pairing for Nick, but the non-alcoholic pairing for me. This had the unfortunate effect that I got more sober as everyone around me was going completely blotto; I really wish they'd do a cocktail pairing. The wine pairing, unfortunately, was primarily reds, and reds that I couldn't drink at that. Childhood, as far as I can tell, is heavily dependent on one's frame of mind going in-- if you're feeling testy, or looking for things to complain about, you'll find plenty and not enjoy it. If you go in willing to be enchanted, then you will be. We had a lovely time. My main complaint n retrospect is that the alcohol pairing really cuts through some of the richness and sweetness-- I could not finish either of the last two courses because they were just too sweet when combined with my drinks, but Nick did not notice any excessive sweetness at all. One kudo- while Next only would honor a very limited number of allergies in the reservation process, our server ensured that my meal was entirely dill-free, for which I was very grateful. We stumbled back to the hotel around midnight, fat and happy. But somehow, saturday morning, I woke up with Nick's rightful hangover. Argh. We stumbled down to Bin 31 for breakfast, and the yogurt parfait hit the spot. Nick's eggs and sausage seemed entirely adequate, though I'm not sure I'd be happy about paying $12 for them. Fortunately, breakfast was included in the hotel reservation. Finally, we packed up and headed back to the airport, stopping in Irving Park to visit Smoque. I got a half-and-half; I favoured the brisket half over the pulled pork. Nick got a half-rack of ribs, and was very happy with them. (Though, he thinks that B'z BBQ ribs rate higher in his book.) Then we finished heading back to O-'Hare. We thought our food odyssey was at an end, but no. Turns out there was a Tortas Frontera right next to our gate. Nick couldn't help it- he picked up a Cubana for the plane ride home. I didn't need it, but that was a damn good half-sandwich. Thanks, Chicago! We had a good time.

Well, I suspect the egg guy's ducks won't give us eggs until next spring, which makes me very sad. But eco-friendly has a giant slab of bacon that they're willing to sell for $250. Nick looked longingly at it, but we left it as a prize for some other bacon fiend.

this is just to say I drank the beer that was in the ice box which you were probably saving for your breakfast masturbation forgive me. it was lovely. so hoppy, so cold.

Wandering around H Street, we were looking for a place to have a few drinks and some snacks before indulging in 11pm ramen. The words "Pork Shoulder Tacos" scrawled on the glass underneath the image of a fruit bat stopped me mid-stride. "Nicky- Fruit Bat!" I'd made my decision. The place is pretty darn tiny, and I have to image the kitchen is the size of a postage stamp. At 9:30pm on a Friday, they were more than struggling with kitchen stock. They were out of the tacos. They were out of the guacamole. They were out of the blueberry caipirinhas. I didn't really care. The music was great, the drinks were really great, and I was enjoying a date with my husband in a cozy bar while H street thronged with people. I had an "Old School Player"- Old Overholt with orange juice, and liked it quite a lot. Nicky had something with grapefruit and coconut which sounds like an awful fruity mess but was actually really drinkable- we had two of these. And then there were the surprises. Suddenly, pork tacos showed up! I think someone ran out for tortillas- the tortillas were not at all in the same class as the pork, cabbage, and sauce inside them. But the effort was definitely appreciated. Then the bartender came by and explained that the doughnuts were taking so long because they had to make another batch of dough. Freshly-fried doughnuts sound great to me, thank you. And they were. Warm bits of freshly-fried dough on a bed of chocolate mousse with a dash of coffee and powdered sugar. We inhaled these. And then I tried to get up every last bit of chocolate with my spoon. It's got to be incredibly hard to try to run a kitchen out of there. But the place is very warm and welcoming, and I liked it a lot. Given that many dinner destinations down on H street come with two-hour waits on a friday or saturday, you could do far worse than while away your time here.

Right. I live in adams morgan, so of course it seemed like it would be a brilliant idea to drive over to H street for ramen at 8:30pm on a Friday night. The friday night before the big street festival, even. The party district gods decided to be kind to me and I found a quiet parking spot just off H on 11th. We found The Pug, then found the door to Toki, and stumbled our way up the pitch-black staircase. Two time-travelling asian skateboard kids were in front of us. (I wondered, suddenly, if I'd climbed a staircase to 1991.) The verdict: two hours. Sure, why not? Put our name down, gave the nice man our phone number, and then we set out to explore. Ambled around the neighborhood for a while, then settled in at Fruit Bat for some drinks and doughnuts, and then wandered around some more. Spotted the time-travellers taking their leave of the locals that had gathered to watch them on their skateboards, and figured we'd be up next-- just then my phone buzzed to tell me that it had been an hour and forty-some minutes since we put our name down. We slowly strolled back towards Toki, and I poked my head in to make sure we were still good. Yup, up next. He'd come get us downstairs. Sounds good. So, after the two hour wait, was it worth it? Well, I wouldn't want to hold up a wall for those two hours, and I think if I had I'd be much less happy. But I'd had a great evening. We started with the pan-fried pork dumplings- they were good, but my mouth is still craving the dumplings I'd had in Hong Kong. Not Toki's fault. For the ramen: I got the Miso, Nick got the Classic-- he got his with the chashu, and I got mine with an extra egg. (i'm greedy. Also, it's really fun to crack a cooked egg into one's soup.) I really liked the miso base; there were intense flashes of ginger hidden somewhere in there, but it wasn't constant-- the effect was that each spoonful had a slightly different flavour. Made it like a treasure hunt- 'what am I going to get in this bite?' Space is definitely at a premium. The bathrooms don't have sinks- the sink is hidden in the dark wall by the entrance; my only clue was the soap dispenser, next to this dark cave that I gingerly extended my soapy hands into until the water turned on. Yay, I got my hands back, and they were clean! The Mr. Brown canned coffee woke me up enough for the drive home, and Nick's Marble soda was fizzy and fun to rattle around. We had a great evening. But in the interests of science I'm going to have to have several more bowls here and at Ren's to figure out which one I like better. Woe is me.

So, we pretty much never go to Pete's. But once a month or so, the idea of facing a stove or walking out for dinner is too much, and we pick up that phone and call for a large pepperoni pizza. A trip to CT last year convinced us that if we could just get the Pete's Pizza *crisper*, we'd be much happier people. So we started ordering the pizza "well done." And we were happier. BUT. It turns out, if you actually read the delivery box (what? read?), it tells you to reheat slices in a hot, non-oiled saute pan for a minute or two. I don't know what sort of strange alchemy goes on in my sauté pan for that minute or two, but it works. The pizza slices are like night and day, just out of the box versus just out of the pan. But I keep burning my fingers.

Actually, after reading don's review, it jostled my memory that the appetizers were actually the highlight of the evening when I went there. But I watched an entire party sit for 40 minutes without being served drinks or appetizers, and they eventually left without eating. I think I waited over an hour for my entree; fortunately, the alcohol had been ordered in bottles and refilling wine glasses kept most everyone else happy. The food was fine. Nothing stood out, and service clearly becomes overwhelmed with a crowd (there was a 200-person wedding going on elsewhere), but if you want to have dinner with 20 other people, they've got the seats to accommodate. Just prepared to enjoy the company more than the dinner.

After a week plus in Hong Kong last month, I'm craving chinese bakeries. Why did I not come here before? Anyway, rectified now. I got to Bread Corner late in the day yesterday, and there were only two lonely croissants left: a regular one and a seaweed one. With a shrug, I went ahead and got them both. Nick declared the regular one quite good this morning. But the seaweed one that I had was excellent. The effect was (to me, at least) really quite subtle-- just a hint of savory, in amongst the layers of buttery goodness. The bubble tea I had was also quite good; they asked upfront how sweet I wanted it, and made it accordingly. as a result, my bubble tea was just right. I should make my way through the rest of the buns first, but I'll definitely be back.

Bump. Went here again last week; still the same comforting food. They'd been experimenting with late-night hookah for a while, but I didn't see any in evidence this last trip. The shrimp chip appetizer is no longer the large dense chips, but that's ok. I like shrimp chips any way I can get them. And, no matter how long it has been since my last visit, the charming GM knows exactly what I want to eat, asks how my school is going, and asks after Nicks parents. These are good folks, and this is good food. Go.

Seemed like a good evening for a stroll, and the boy was coming in from VA, so we met and checked out the hullabaloo. Line out the door was ~15 deep, but we still had our food in 25 minutes or so. Burgers were juicy and flavourful; pretty much what my mouth has always wished five guys would taste like. Mouth was happy. Forgot to get fries, don't think we missed much there. $5 milkshake did not live up to pulp fiction standards, but was tasty nonetheless. (Nick disagrees, and says he'll stick with soda in the future.) May have to spring for the "insert burger here" onsie for a certain cranky baby I know. Great space, everyone seemed happy, chatting with other people in line. I'll be back, but my craving for guilty burgers like these doesn't tend to hit me all that often.

B'z, despite their perpetually "coming soon" website, is in fact running full-tilt out of the Paeonian Springs Grocery. Go around to the side to order your ribs, pulled pork, or brisket, then take your ticket inside to grab a drink and pay. I had the opportunity to pick up some of each yesterday, and all three were great even after a three-hour journey in the car and subsequent reheating. I picked up a bit of Wegmans pulled pork for a head-to-head comparison, and there was no contest... the drive is definitely worth it. Good location for a weekend drive or motorcycle ride. And I suspect I'll be making the detour the next time I am out at the track.

I was disappointed the one time I ate in. However, I do like their drunken noodles, and it's very reliable and predictable for delivery. I probably won't dine in again any time soon (the drinks seemed tempting but none of them were worth it), but I will definitely keep ordering drunken noodles to show up at my door.

Went in for a quick dinner the other week; quick, because my friend had a train to catch. This was poor planning on my part, I confess. We ended up on 17th a little after 5, to notice that they didn't open until 5:30. I say "notice", but what I really mean is that there is no signage of hours at all, and I had to bring up the webpage on my phone. We elected to wait; my friend was craving sushi, and I was curious to see how things had changed. 5:30 came and went with no sign of motion. I called the restaurant. "Hi, when do you open?" "We don't open until 5:30." "Um... what time is it now?" ".. 5:30" "..." The door eventually opened a few minutes later; I really don't think they expect diners right at 5:30. The space is lovely, although I am kicking myself for not stopping by when they closed and asking to buy all of the old perforated-metal screens and dividers. Bathrooms are relocated to behind the hostess counter, and it looks like they have a private dining room in what used to be part of the kitchen on the P street side. Our waitress was a familiar face, and she'd definitely been studying up on the various dishes. I felt somewhat bad for just wanting to look at the menu and not have everything described to me. Also, while I enjoyed talking to her, I was there to talk with my friend, so much of it was lost on me out of impatience. Clearly, the a-la-carte menu is more of an afterthought; they really really really want you to order the fixed-price menu, and they really really really want you to order alcohol. Unfortunately, my friend does not drink, and I was driving him to the train station, and we did not want the fixed-price menu, nor could we linger for hours. The biggest loss for me was the seaweed salad; they do not have it. "You can still get edamame!" Well, I could, but I didn't really want edamame... I miss the seaweed salad. On the plus side, refills of soft drinks are now gratis where before they were not. The fish was excellent, and had been delivered that afternoon. We didn't get anything exotic, just some sashimi and nigri. We *did* however linger for dessert, which was as excellent as ever. The green tea ice cream was now a toasted green tea; it came out a golden color, with an incredibly complex flavour. I also got matcha ice cream mochi, which was very intense. Alternating between the two was interesting. My friend initially thought he did not like the toasted green tea ice cream, but it quickly grew on him. When our waitress ascertained that he was from out of town, he was quick to assure her that he felt the restaurant was a worthy destination for a New Yorker; but I suspect that the desserts might have in fact stolen the show from the fish or the space. It was good, but I am still sad to have lost my neighborhood sushi restaurant. I *am* pleased to note that they still have soups at lunch, and will probably be over for lunch soon. Dinner, however, is likely off this college student's menu for a while. There were several more tables occupied when we left, but I suspect that the recession means I am not the only person regretfully finding another sushi restaurant. I hope in the end this works out for them, I really do. But, oof. Expensive. Afterwards, I hurtled across town with liberal application of horn and bravado, and my friend boarded the train with two minutes to spare.

When I wake up most Sundays, I unfortunately keep forgetting about this place. Having driven by the last several weekends *after* eating lunch, I resolved to go this weekend. And so we did. Nearly every outdoor table was taken on this lovely afternoon, but I didn't mind sitting indoors. The chilled sorrel soup with salmon was very very good; tangy and refreshing, and adorned with chive flowers. I also opted to have a waffle with compote, whipped cream, berries and ice cream. The ice cream was too much; the waffle would have been perfect with just the strawberries, powdered sugar, compote, and cream. Freshly whipped, the cream was dangerously airy, and went down far too easily. They've got savory waffles, too, as well as grilled sandwiches and savory puff pastries (variations on leek and ham). For all that the shop is tucked away on the corner of florida and u, this has a nice view, lots of light, and a wide range of brunch options. And, of course, chocolates. Lots of chocolates.

As it happens, I went here a few weeks ago with a crew of 20-somethings and one droll raconteur. (Otherwise known as: my creative writing professor took our class out to dinner.) Service was friendly and patient. The roast chicken was actually fairly tasty, if a smidge on the dry side. The rest of the entrees did seem fairly hit or miss, and a bit more expensive than I wanted to subject the prof to. The desserts were on a cart, and ended up being slightly more attractive than they were compelling. I ate about half of my dessert, but my prof somewhat guiltily finished it as it languished in front of me. ( I knew he would, though. He also uses my pens when I place them strategically on the conference table. ) I think the charm of Arucola lies in the fact that it is a long-standing neighborhood joint that can deal gracefully with all sorts of characters. Even a bunch of college students. It's not a destination, but I suspect their patrons wouldn't want it to be.

Fast and Furious opened last night; there was no question that I was going to see it. The first question was *where*... until I realized that it was showing at the Uptown. The only question left was... how many drinks to have beforehand? We ambled into Dino 30 minutes before the movie started, and settled in at the bar. Our last venture through Scott's cocktail menu declared the The Undertaker a clear winner, so we started off with two of those. Princess declined to drink, no matter how I wheedled and implored. With 15 minutes left before the show, we elected for another round; Scott offered to make us a Corpse Reviver, the inspiration for The Undertaker, so we hedged our bets and had one of each. There was no contest; The Undertaker was the winner by a clear mile. (Hrmm, maybe there needs to be another in the series: The Grave Digger?) Finishing our drinks rather a bit more hastily than was polite, we said our farewells and dashed across the street to settle in for the show. It was no more and no less than expected. (cars, explosions, explosions, cars, scantily clad girls, brawls, girls, explosions, cars) Princess and I enjoyed ourselves hugely, Nick sulked. But another drink would have made it better.

The Beer, Bourbon, and BBQ festival is on Apr 4 in Timonium: http://beerandbourbon.com/maryland/show-info No idea how good it is, but hey! mechanical bull rides!

Hey, wait! You sent us to the BBQ place you gave a *zero* to? Man. OMGWTFBBQ. I'd totally not be talking to you, except that the coarse browns plate was fantastic, as were the hushpuppies. Apparently I like Lexington-style BBQ. (but I still don't like slaw.) The parking lot was a nightmare, even at 1:15 in the afternoon in the middle of a rainstorm; we didn't even try to go in the lot but ditched the truck and trailer on the neighborhood streets up the hill. Fortunately, our friends got there 15 minutes earlier and had made it through the long line out the door to snag a booth just before we got there. The line was a fast-moving constant over the next hour. Service was great and friendly, with frequent refills and occasional checks to make sure we had everything we needed. And fortunately, we made it up and back with no tickets. Whew.

FYI, a man in a chicken suit dancing in the median of Rte 1 handed me a card to inform me that Cluck-U is under new management. I'm not sure I've ever eaten at Cluck-U, so I wouldn't know how to compare. Don, feel free to make this a new thread.

eeeep. Fell in bed, woke up, still tipsy. There was a plethora of alcohol, you see. We ran into Madame et Monsieur Porcupine as soon as we walked in the door, and had a lovely impromptu coze, and then some time later we wended our way to our languishing table. And promptly ordered cocktails. No sooner had the cocktails arrived, when the lovely B, with a bit of a shimmy and a throaty voice, delivered two glasses of birthday bubbly and a song, courtesy of M/M P. I'll never refuse bubbly. Nor B, come to think of it. I couldn't resist the Summer Tomato Panna Cotta; even though I have tomatoes in my kitchen year-round due to an exuberant houseplant, there really is nothing like the essence of summer tomato. Nick had the Scamorza, which was smoky and cheesy and spicytomatoy. I only stole two bites, really! Nick also managed to score the last Orata Arrosto, thanks to the efforts of our fantastic server Tina, which was entirely worth her extra effort- that is one fine fish! (well, rather... was. You know that caricature of a bit of a fish head and the bones trailing past it? Yeah, that. We demolished that Fish. Victorious.) It quite cast into the shade my Il Peposo alla Fornacina, though I should note that I mopped up every last bit of brisket and sauce with my bread. Seriously. Plate clean. Which was fortunate, as it was dessert time, and our two splashes of moscato were on the way, and I was only halfway through my cocktail (a Very Fine Five Families, aka the Sicilian Manhattan). And then Nick pushed the rest of his glass of white at me, and ordered me to finish that, too. What was a girl to do? I drank them, of course. I also had to rescue him from the last little bit of his moscato, as I wanted him to be in fine fiddle to drive me home. The sacrifices I make. I managed to deviate from my norm and try a different dessert, a warm eggy breadpuddyingly delight with gelato. And then there was the extra dessert, because I couldn't make up my mind: the intensely intense Nico. Nick had our usual, the Affogato. (Had to perk him up enough for the drive home somehow.) The only thing that would have made the evening better? If there had been a nice Firehouse Pole right by our table. With a giant poufy cushiony high-jump landing area (but covered in a featherbed instead of that awful vinyl) surrounding it at the bottom. It would completely disrupt the flow of traffic in the bar, of course, but some sacrifices must be made in the pursuit of awesome. So yeah, that would have been nice. I spent some time fantasizing about that, and then eventually stumbled down the stairs and out into the night. The car was much farther away than I remembered. I think gnomes must have moved it and then told Nick where it was, since he wasn't surprised to see it where it was, totally at the wrong end of the block. Did I mention I'm tipsy? But happy. Oh, yes. Also, Restaurant Week is a complete and utter steal. I just hope Dean doesn't go broke before it's over.

mmmm, dino! What to do when one has a mid-week birthday (on Ash Wednesday, no less) and an early class the next day? Go to a place that feels like home! Very much looking forward to my dinner tonight. I know, I'm supposed to be fasting or something.... feasting is close enough to fasting, right? Right!

I don't get it. I mean, I *get it*, but it's not for me. The Bistrot was jam-packed with the after-hours K-street crowd: loud, big earrings, bigger hair, and louder makeup. Plunging cleavage that even I didn't want to look down, and voices that could shatter glass. The reward for suffering through this was limp frites, a tired stew, and an even more exhausted waitress. I didn't hold it against her, though; by the end of the meal all I wanted was to go home and fall in bed. Oh. The Gratinée des Halles was fantastic, though. So there's that.