StephenB
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Yes, we paid for it. And in fact there were people in the group who kept it going by asking idiotic questions, such as, "Where in Spain did you go to cooking school?" The chef said he was going to talk for 25 minutes because that's how long it takes to boil the rice. At least I think that's what he said. It could be that the sogginess of the rice was due to the endless extension and revision of his remarks. But we got even. As a token of our appreciation, we gave the manager a subscription to the Harvard Business Review. Poor guy. He'll probably get as weary pouring over that as we got from listening to him. -
I am an aficionado of this place and have had several excellent meals there. It therefore pains me to report that a banquet I attended last night was well below par. My main complaint has to do with the paella marinera, the main course. The rice was heavy, soggy and bland. And there was a stingy accompaniment of shellfish, couple of mussels, couple of clams. The tapas were rather more successful: Jamon Serrano y Queso Manchego/Serrano Ham and Manchego Cheese Croquetas de Gambas]Shrimp Croquettes Calamares Fritos/Fried Squid Tortilla Espanola/Traditional Spanish Omelette Gambas al Ajillo/Garlic Shrimp partcularly the squid, served with a pungent sauce. And the dessert was excellent, leaving us, as you might say, with a good taste in our mouth: Flan Casero/Creme Caramel Tarta de Santiago/Almond Sponge Cake with Pastry Cream We gathered at 6:30 and were subjected to an hour and a half lecture on the history of the restaurant and the nuances of making paella. The latter was delivered by the 27 year old head chef spoken incomprehensibly in a mélange of Spanish and English, both of which I ostensibly understand in some circumstances but not this time. While this was going on, we sat there with no food or drink. Some at my table, including me, had skipped lunch to be ready for this meal and it was Bushlike torture to endure the endless pronouncements with no sustenance. I shared my displeasure with the manager as I exited, and he asked me what I had enjoyed there in the past. I said grilled fish. He said, "Ah, but it's different when you're cooking the same dish for 40 people." But I have had more palatable banquet food elsewhere. Taberna is still batter up, but one strike has been called. They need a home run on the next pitch.
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Congratulations to cucas87 and Scott
StephenB replied to curiouskitkatt's topic in Events and Gatherings
Claudia and Scott: you are a lovely, lively couple and the rest of us are proud to be part of the community in which you fell in love amid sumptuous repasts. You are not the least of Peter Chang's good works. I hope to convey personal congratulations soon. -
Great report, Kat. Is that really all from memory? Remarkable.
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The change in time works in favor of my body clock. I'm going to try to join you.
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When I received an inheritance of 169 bottles mostly of 50 year old Burgundies, I consulted the wine guy at Andy Bassin's MacArthur Wines & Beverages. I'm sorry to say his name escapes me at the moment. After I showed him a list, he graciously came to my house and gave me an estimate on each bottle, several of which I sold at the level he suggested or a bit better. After a couple of dozen went out the door, I ended the sale and started presenting them to friends, who, after imbibing the contents, filled them up with Two Buck Chuck and put them out for show. My best customers were Vietnamese, who wanted products from their birth years. There are still 60 or 70 bottles in the basement.
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It is absurd to think that there is, or should be, a conspiracy of silence, an omertà, among people who style themselves journalists, or at least are part of the business of journalism. And yet, as you indicate, Don, there is a kind of cloying professional courtesy. For example, very few reporters are willing to say what a dud Gwen Ifill was on the VP debate. She failed to ask probing questions, didn't follow up, and generally acted like she was on sedatives. Only James Fallows of The Atlantic had the gumption to point that out. For your part, you must exercise your critical faculties wherever they lead you. Pulling your punches on one aspect of the dining industry disqualifies you from commenting on any other.
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Fall Picnic 2008 - Sunday, October 19th (?)
StephenB replied to Heather's topic in Events and Gatherings
I'm up for my usual deviled eggs with caviar. They seem to go pretty well. It's really the only thing I know how to make, anyway. -
The chef has just returned from Szechuan and is augmenting the menu. Unfortunately, none of the new stuff is in English. It's up on pastel sheets on the wall. Today, with the help of Melony (who runs the place), we ordered: --Squid with garlic sauce. --Fish in broth with vegetables and peppercorns --Preserved pork (ultimate bacon) More than enough for two people, enough for significant carryout. Melony says she can't do an English translation because the list changes every day. I might contend that it's no more energy than writing it in Cantonese. But I'm too busy working my chopsticks.
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Escoffier, Grover and I arrived yesterday, Saturday, at 5:30 when only one other table was occupied. By the time we left an hour later, the place was teeming, with several people waiting on line. The place has definitely been discovered by the local Chinese community. We had the sliced pork with garlic sauce, the spicy wontons, that crispy chicken with dried chili that's advertised in Mandarin on the wall (luckily, Grover can read it), and the fish in hot, peppery broth, which they refused to admit is a soup. Thus we had to ask for soup bowls. Then we had to ask for soup spoons. What is the problem anyway? The only other way to consume it would have been with a straw. Anyway, everything was spiced to the max, and made us happy (and me sweaty). Moral: Joe's Noodle House doesn't know about noodles and Hong Kong Palace is far afield, tastewise, from Hong Kong. But good.
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I have nothing but praise for the food, particularly the tuna with wasabi and the melt-in-your mouth pig. There were two porkies for the 14 of us, and we cleaned the platters. It got to a point where taste trumped hunger. I heard the chef mention "five days" but I didn't catch the context. Could he have been referring to how long the pigs had been simmering -- or marinating -- or what? The restaurant went out of its way to make us comfortable. All but aaron were present and waving our forks ten minutes early. Let future banqueteers beware.
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My friend John and I pulled into the lot at 12:45 today, Friday. No parking spots. On the first weekday RHB has ever been open for lunch, people somehow know, despite no announcement, no advertising, and that pathetic little sign in the window. I had the New Jack special, a dollar uptick, but Michael can sink the extra cash into his ongoing expansion. John, who comes from the watermelon capital of the world (Hope AR), sadly didn't save room for the watermelon slice. The gents at the next table were chortling over the rumor that the place is "working" on a barbecue sauce -- they imagined a scientist in the back room in a white coat shuffling his test tubes -- no standard off the shelf stuff for Ray's.
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Zora, I remind you that Stephen does not rhyme with schnorrer. No, I have not finagled my way into parties. But as a legit guest at many of them, I often observed how simple it would be to sneak in. The closest I came was when I inadvertently followed the wrong crowd at the Cosmos Club and ended up at a memorial reception that was better catered than the one I should have been at. When somebody asked me, "How did you know Jim?" I gulped and then quickly finished the excellent corn chowder and went across the hall, where the food wasn't as good, but at least I knew the honoree. I'm surprised no one has mentioned the endless receptions on the Hill, particularly on the ground floors of the Rayburn, Cannon and Longworth buildings (all on the House side). But they are mostly watering holes, and the food would not satisfy a hungry drop-in.
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First, invest in a plain, dark suit and a satchel with a plastic lining. Get a calendar with the national days of all the countries in the world. Go to the embassies on appropriate dates for their parties. Check out major organizations, such as the AMA and the ABA to see if they're having conventions here. If so, go to the hotels around 5 p.m. and follow the odor of refreshments. In fact, case the better hotels anytime for open parties and gatherings. Meld into the wedding, bar mitzvah, anniversary or memorial service crowds at the Cosmos Club, University Club and other private venues. Wander around Costco, Whole Foods and Trader Joe's, accepting free samples. If all else fails, gather some loose change and go to someplace run by Michael Landrum.
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The one thing that has gone unremarked about RHB is the light, airy newness of the place, spanking clean, shadowless, with the submissive, gaily-costumed dwarves toiling away behind the counter, while the ogre, bearded and bare-handed, decked in orange, grinds away at the command post, the flesh of his darlings churned into strings of meat and gristle. The ogre looks entirely refreshed, having survived ordeals and rites of passage in another county many leagues away. And the population is fully in attendance to celebrate his renewal.
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RW review: noisy, crowded room with uncomfortable straight-back chairs. Almost too loud for conversation. Good service. Superb cuisine, esp the crisp, crusty, savory main-course scallops (with pasta squares), which my companion compared favorably to those he'd had at a famous seafood place in Vancouver. The pound cake dessert was something of a concoction, with fruit, syrup and ice cream. If you're going to go over the top, I say, do it at dessert. They've got the RW spirit -- lots of choices, generous portions. This visit was an incentive to return at a less hectic time. I've been to two restaurants now, after six weeks of medically-induced hibernation. It's a great world out there!
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Years ago, when I was a graduate student at Columbia, I entered a local Chinese restaurant for lunch. The waitress asked me if I wanted chopsticks or a knife and fork. Because I was feeling like a wise guy (a tendency I'm still struggling with), I said, "Knife and fork, please -- they're more technologically advanced." I should have known that the waitress in that environment would be a Ph.D. candidate. She said, "The knife and fork may be more technologically advanced, but the chopsticks are more anthropologically advanced, since they require an opposable thumb." I'm still reeling. The other point that it's important to understand is that the use of chopsticks differs markedly from culture to culture. Are they made of wood, ivory or metal? Where do they weigh more and what is the function of length? What does the writing on them mean? What's the best way to hold them? When is it rude to separate the two sticks? In what countries is it forbidden to use the left hand? Under what circumstances can you dip into the "family" pot and then raise the food to your mouth? Japan, Korea, Vietnam and China all have different chopsticks traditions. There is no such thing as a catchall chopsticks philosophy or technique.
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I'll be there, especially if I can drag my somewhat recalcitrant lower extremity out of the house.
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Et Voilà offers no choices, zero, for RW, endive soup, a piece of steak and a candy bar. Screw them. I had planned to go, but that's not what RW is about.
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Of the places listed in the Post ad, I have been to 32. I presume that's a rather paltry number for the regulars on this board, no?
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Thanks to Grover and Escoffier, and esp Michael L, for the delicious vittles. The Hellburger was the first real food I've had in a month. GW Hospital fare is honest stuff but tasteless. At the moment, I'm officially homebound, meaning that I can step out only for doctors' appointments and religious services. Maybe I can make the case that Szechuan dishes are a religious experience for me. Anyway, I'm grateful to several on this board for cheerful messages of support.
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It would be helpful if we had a mission statement from Mr. Rockwell. Don, we have a very interesting but amorphous organism here. Like Topsy, it just growed. Where would you like to position it in the spectrum between PR and journalism?
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All right, I'll be serious for a moment and admit that I don't think anyone was being malicious. Thoughtless, perhaps. An unwillingness to connect the dots. It has to do with my sense that the staff wasn't paying full attention. Couple that with a waitress who can't read her own handwriting, and who asks if we want to see the sah-moh-lee-ay (that would be the wine guy). As for the suggestion that I should have made my situation clear before we were assigned a table, no, that doesn't work. Tony, do people at your place know precisely where they're going when someone says, "This way, please"? My walking stick does all the explaining that's needed. And by the way, for those who are interested, I'm hoping to correct the impediment surgically next month. If I'm lucky, this particular gripe will be off the table. Interesting that no one has commented on the differential between the advertised prices online and the ones actually charged.
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They put me at the far end because they wanted to see me hobble. I can't think of another reason. And after the marathon, all I could see from that placement was a service station, a blank wall and the smiling faces of my companions.
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When I was a boy, I went to Ebbitt's Field. Now I am a man and I go to Old Ebbitt's Grill. Back yesterday for another go at the Orca Platter at Happy Hour. What a deal. The hit obviously is the shrimp -- larger, juicier and tastier than versions I've been served recently at Black Salt, Restaurant Eve or Sea Catch. There is a nice variety of oysters you can choose from. My favorite this time were the ones from PEI. The clams are littenecks, tiny but bursting with flavor. I think the next time we'll forgo the lobster and relatively tasteless crab claws. Maybe a couple dozen of everything else. Oh, and we also had bean soup, oyster chowder, the so-called oyster shooter and bloody marys.