KMango

Canning 8-ounce jars of apple butter. Yes, I know it's Spring, not Fall, but with six pounds of lackluster fruit and zero desire for smoothies, whatelseyagonnado?

Mom's Organic Market just tweeted this one yesterday: http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Roasted-Radishes-with-Brown-Butter-Lemon-and-Radish-Tops-364609

Little City Gourmet should be renamed Little Gorgeous Foods. We stopped in mid-afternoon, and the entrance is deceiving. It appears to be a spartan cafe and coffee shop, nothing special, but the treasure chest is just past the doorway on the right. The enclosed pictures, in my attempt to be surreptitious, appear blotchy and unfocused, probably not doing any of the food justice. It's beautifully displayed and a showcase of seasonal splendor. Ready to eat selections included carrot hummus, lobster rolls, grain and green leaf salads, vegetable dips, charcuterie plates, salmon filets, crab cakes, arancini, cakes and tarts. It is a small space, efficiently organized. Shelf-stable sea salts, pastas, and grains will tempt the casual shopper. The small plates will encourage a lingering visit at the handful of tables. The cold case with artfully presented, boxed, and appealing take home dishes (not pictured) will enrapture the neighborhood. Granted, I have not tasted anything, but from an ingredient and careful preparation perspective, it all looks phenomenal. I'm a sucker for edible flowers, and the cakes almost had me ditching my bike helmet for a fork. Next time! From a foot traffic perspective, we saw only families with small children enjoying sodas and small fare. There were no big-ticket purchasers on this visit, but we did our part procuring Roland arborio rice ($4.95) and (gasp! the shame! a fraud! I know!) black truffle oil ($16). A toolbox re-purposed as a pot for fresh herbs serves as a doorstop. On the way out and across the street, we encountered a musician loading his car after wrapping up his set at One More Page bookstore. We asked how it went, to which he replied with a bit of awe and delight, "that was *fun*, those people are great!" May his sentiment be a harbinger for more to come on the growing list of Westmoreland Street small businesses.

Thanks lperry and goldenticket for the recommendation. My first foray into Cafe Shiraz spooked me away from trying again until last night, but I'm glad we did. Bonus #1, live music! Friday night's acoustic guitarist is a charmer, playing to a mere handful of tables and perhaps a dozen bar patrons, an atmospheric mood-booster. The warm, dark wood interior enhanced the experience, along with blissfully dim lighting. (Public Notice Of Future Thread Rant: Is it just me, or are restaurants evolving into optical glare incubators? Musings on the confluence of energy efficient bulbs, rushed electricians, an aging population requiring more light to read, and other nonsensical theories, KMango, 2013.) Bonus #2, we enjoyed the Super Combo with rice ($16.99), described above, and the Mezza Combo Platter ($8.99). Like lperry, I was over the moon about the yogurt dill sauce which arrived with the Barbari bread, a fresh and righteous tang not available in mass-produced varieties. For the platter, the chick pea salad, hummus, dolmeh (stuffed grape leaves), tabbouleh, falafal and mast-o-khiar (cucumber, yogurt, mint) would delight any vegetarian diner. The stand out were the falafal, deftly pan-fried, a parsley-rich, fresh and flavorful rendition that would be a marvelous meal as a larger order. The tabbouleh had a higher grain-to-herb-and-vegetable ratio than I prefer, and the entire platter would have benefited from a lemon wedge. However, I am generally a wheat-dodger these days, and was likely drinking the wrong accompanying wine (a Shiraz/Syrah, $6). Rice pudding, a smartly efficient use of the restaurant's abundant, fluffy rice ($6), touched with rosewater and cinnamon, satisfied a dessert craving while dodging abhorrent gluttony. And our third bonus, when the check arrived, was a $2 per entree discount coupon for our next visit, encouraging us to bring friends. Website and menu are out here.

Fan-flippin-tastic. The past two times I’ve ventured to Society Fair, I’ve not been a huge fan. Circumstance has found me dressed more casually, a choice for which I should admittedly be more willing to bear the social consequence. That being said, I have been treated with indifference, ignored in favor of diners who appeared to be bigger spenders, dulling my overall impressions. Tonight's experience flipped that impression on it’s head. The Light Horse was hosting a beer event in the dining room, so we needed another local and casual option. We were once again dressed in post-apocalyptic/gym world fashion, but ventured into Society Fare to see if we could grab a few seats. Not only were bar stools ample, but we encountered friendly, enthusiastic service and a parade of masterfully executed dishes. Whiskey and Wine ($13) is a B&B lover’s dream, served room temperature, heady with cardamom and warm citrus fire. I definitely agree with Lovehockey's assessment that this drink evokes Autumn. My palate adores this exact flavor profile, and fell in deep admiration. Pork rillettes ($9) was far better when paired with the mound of bitter frisee than the accompanying baguette. Was that a whisper of horseradish in the mix? A revelatory carrot soup featured a thick shock of orange color, mysteriously deep flavor, and perfect serving temperature. Mussels chowder ($9), an immense portion, showcased sweet cream, brine-enhanced potato, and Virginia ham, with fascinatingly congruent micro-diced chives. Beef bourguignon, a triumph, mirrored an enticing shellac of red wine reduction surrounding fall-apart tender beef. Deftly seasoned, perfectly caramelized cioppino onions held accompanying court with braised, thinly sliced carrots. Today’s seasonal cake, all by itself, would be worth the visit, a butter and bay leaf layer cake barely kissed with sweetness, edging into savory and unstoppable. A minor service quibble in that our second course arrived well before we finished our first course, but it happened to result in no temperature or other flavor consequences. A cocktail, glass and a half of wine, several beers, three courses shared for two, $110 plus tip. Monday is the day to fan-up and get reacquainted with the Fair. From a personalized service perspective, I think the day of the week dramatically matters here. (no mole bitters in the store, alas) (but on the way out the door) (we saw several more)

To benevolent, helpful, tech-savvy gardeners. The Zoo (also known as Home Depot on a spring weekend) ran out of the organic soil I needed. I quickly checked reviews of a competing brand which received an emphatic thumbs down across several gardening forum websites. It will be better to shop elsewhere or wait for a replenished stock. Those folks saved me a summer of total hassle. Cheers, green thumb community! (with a mint sprig garnish) (2013 garden's first yield) (too cute and astute)

Several guests have been digging the following concoction lately. In a clear tumbler with ice (unless ingredients already well-chilled), combine: Inexpensive Malbec ($10.99 for 1.5 liters at Harris Teeter for the Argentinean variety pictured here) Splash of San Pelligrino Blood Orange Soda ($6.99 for a 12 pack at BJs) Two or three or more drops Bittermen’s Xocolatl Mole Bitters (bought ours online, but have seen at Society Fair and elsewhere) Stir with ice, then place thinly sliced orange to float atop the mixture (aim for organic since you’re using the rinds) Inexpensive, fizzy, fun, not too alcoholic, convenient to make a glass at a time, and no palate fatigue/saturation after several sips. This is more in the punch realm, and not so food friendly, but ideal for a guest or two lingering on the patio.

Last weekend, Episode #7 in the series of MUST EAT NOW (brought to you by your friendly neighborhood triathlon training) found me near Fort Belvoir. Siri suggested Kimchi House, and who am I to argue with my phone when I'm lost in the maelstrom of glucose crisis. The empty parking lot worried me, where were the workers and other dining patrons? It was mid-afternoon, a quiet time, but suspicion arose. Raging hunger shoved any lingering doubts into the next county, so I headed to the door. I opened it, tentatively, and... Breathed a sigh of relief. As others have noted above, the interior is nothing like the exterior. It's charming and comforting, simple and clean. I noticed one table enjoying a diversity of dishes. I walked up to the staff relaxing at a table in the back, who assumed I was seeking takeout, but then seated me with a smile. I ordered nakji bokkeum (spicy octopus with vegetables, around $14), picture enclosed. Five panchan arrived, including the usual suspects of spicy cabbage, cucumber, mung bean sprouts, and thinly sliced sweet pickled daikon radish. I requested ggak du gi (kimchi of fiery cubed daikon) be added to the mix, which they obliged. Panchan hit the spot, not stratospheric but savory. Not a bad rendition of the main dish followed, tender octopus and tender-crisp vegetables. I prefer the sauce to have a bit more smoke and pungency, and this one edged to sweeter. Tips from FourSquare suggest that during the summer, the restaurant grows many of it's own vegetables. Which is easy to believe, given it's location adjacent to a plant nursery business. I intend to return in summer to see if ultra-local sourcing transforms this into a destination-worthy find. Odd Moment of Intrigue: Midway through my smoky smackin' tentacles, a mid-30s blonde woman came into the restaurant. She did not experience the same reception I did. A staff member said "are you alone?" before they sat her, she said no, she was waiting for someone, and they gave her two menus. She seemed like she had not been there before, and kept looking at the door once seated. Twice, other staff came up and said, harshly, "you waiting for someone?", which she confirmed. After that second inquiry, and the server walked away, she headed out the door. I have no idea what to make of this scene, except that if she was new to Kimchi House, she will not be back. And if she was not new, they know something I don't.

One more tip about this neighborhood. If you head to Little City, make sure to duck around the corner to this tiny-but-organized, new-releases-plus-classics bookstore with a surprisingly accessible selection of company-friendly wines: One More Page Books I've been taking a break from WO&D biking via Chasing Tails for a year, but only discovered this store last week. It's two shops away, incredibly easy to miss, but well worth a visit.

KMango + 1 Dish TBD

<here comes the psychology> Those diners are having a "sell it to me" moment. They want to hear something tantalizing, possibly privy only to the few who ask, and then be in a position to decline or accept the offer. The disappointment you see is the lost transaction of choice in the moment, or a loss of opportunity to be surprised and delighted. An intuitive server, when detecting such disappointment, would immediately point to something on the specials menu and say "not everybody knows this, but..." then point out something interesting and tantalizing about the dish. The verbal interaction here is key. I am in the "Recite Me Not" camp for daily specials. It drives me completely batty when the server overrides my intention to have meaningful dialogue with my dining companion by performing a monologue of options and ingredients. Multiple servers chanting multiple specials only adds to the din in most venues. A half sheet of paper would prevent this auditory deluge and allow to me return to my conversation more quickly. The server could, and should, offer to recite the specials for anyone who wants verbal interaction, there will always be some tables who prefer it. ("Why Don't Most Restaurants Do This") (a possible new thread name?) (time will tell)

Tidal water has a presence, a cadence, a palpable feeling of being. You know the moment you arrive, without looking, that you're there. The water pulse is in the air, and it's more than witnessing the sudden drop off landscape behind a row of buildings. You can feel it. The enduring rhythm, ions, and humidity are also nature's sedative. People residing in a small seaside town live several steps lower on the anxiety scale. Shallow life worries are replaced by the constant reminder of nature and the broader world, with an ever-present hum of liquid life bigger than ourselves. Occoquan lived for me on a recent Friday morning. I arrived around 9:30, early for a breakfast appointment, and walked the empty, main drag on Union Street. Damp, chilly, counter-intuitively dense air embraced me, emanating from the river as a thief of the heat. Union Street is the stuff of my wish-for-the-world business dreams. The avenues showcase small mom and pop shops, cafes, boutiques, and services, many with hand-painted signs and the other personality tells of an owner carefully expressing the hopeful art of selling. I considered each storefront, made a quiet wish for prosperity and happiness, and sent virtual smiles to any new patrons who would enter their doors that day. The Blue Arbor Cafe, tucked away on Union and Mill streets, was my destination. Recommended by a friend, the website seemed promising of a good experience, reinforced by the enthusiastic reviews on FourSquare. I opened the door to perhaps a dozen tables, via two small rooms, and greetings from nearly every staff member. My dining companion had chosen a table adjacent to a bay window. It encompassed a stained glass interpretation of the building, providing a cozy, sunny environment. I received an attractive menu of surprisingly enticing soups, sandwiches, and breakfast fare, a good-value price range of $4 to $12. The daily specials board indicated a lobster roll option, and at least one soup of the day. Paralyzed by good choices, I wound up mirroring my companion's selection, berries and cream crepe ($5.95). I dined lightly with the intention to order a couple of sandwiches for takeout. Unfortunately, our lively conversation ran overtime, and I was unable to do that, so I must return in the near future to try the French Orchard (ham/apple/brie/pepper jelly) and the Not A Reuben (which read very much like a Reuben, there must be a story there). The crepe was immensely delicate and flavorful, graced with honorably treated fruit and rich, whipped cream. Split this as a dessert when you go, if you can look past the homey options such as Bourbon Street pecan pie and peanut butter bomba. Service was attentive and caring. The friendly owner shared his smile with us, and every table, halfway through the meal to ensure complete satisfaction. We lingered far longer than we should have for such a small repast, and business was picking up dramatically by 11:30, but we felt zero pressure to "turn the table". And the thoughtful server literally ran out to my dining companion's car with alarm when she realized he left his phone on the table. These are signs of authentically caring hospitality, leaving each patron a bit more relaxed than when they arrived. I noted the small town lull only goes so far. On the quiet street, no strangers passing by made eye contact nor uttered "good morning" as they focused intently on their destination or data devices. The pulse, ebb, and flow of the calming river tide followed me to my car, out of the area, and evaporated back towards it's source as I merged onto the crowded highway to return to the city.

An insightful, quick, and well-articulated read----Chef Ed's recent blog post on OpenTable.

Lucky you! Have fun with a risotto. As you reach the end of the stock, use a leftover ladle as the steaming liquid for homemade pot stickers or other dumplings. A smoky/sweet best-of-winter squash puree could be fascinating. And you can always freeze ice cubes or small containers of stock, investing in the flavor of many future meals.

Heck yeah, with at least +1

Is that, by chance, young lotus root stem under the salmon?

Yes, plus one, anytime. Awesome opportunity.

One other stop to add to the Culpeper itinerary above... Begin or end your day at Belmont Farm Distilery, about 15 minutes south of the main drag. Take the tour April through December, especially worth the trek because: (1) The opportunity to see the Prohibition-era copper kettle and (2) The ability to procure Virginia corn whiskey-soaked oak and apple chips ($6 or $7) that will wow your flavor performance on the charcoal grill. We've used them for chicken, salmon, vegetables, an impressive transformation. When you plan your Culpeper day trip, most of your stops are mom-n-pop small businesses, so call ahead or do research to verify hours of operation. Not sure how old it is, but a tear-off map of Culpeper is available out here.

Much more later, but WOW, tour guide, your knowledge is astonishing! We learned more than we thought would be possible, with historical and sensory stimulation on overdrive. Infinite thanks for the infinite perspectives and your masterful tour. You are very good at what you do, and we are very lucky to have you in the community. LauraB: Egads! So sorry to miss you today after all your exceptional planning. If she's game, I'm going to book a "mini-reunion Capitol Tour group" happy hour for our guide's place of choice so we can thank her and you in proper fashion. High five to both for an amazing day.

Freezing is a great call. So would be a day-long jam session (OK, technically jelly), and testing the limits of your VacuVin to tide you over until the weekend. And, yes, I've boiled pasta, including stuffed varieties like ravioli, in week-old wine with positive results. If the wine has become a tannin bomb (ha! a 2013 Christmas carol is born), a pinch of sugar helps cancel the bitter, which evolves greatly via tomato sauce and rich olive oil.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ol_ironstomach! (and to seanchai) (but i don't know you) (well enough to pick on you)

Stir-fry with maifun (rice vermicelli noodles) featuring shrimp, scallops, broccoli, red and green cabbage, carrots, and a visit to the flavor stratosphere thanks to quickly-composed teriyaki sauce. Being too icy to grill, we missed the "yaki" intention, but garlic/ginger/sweet mirin magic transformed this dish to exceptional. Pic enclosed, not a good shot, but a marvelous meal. This followed an afternoon of making pork and vegetable wontons and egg rolls for the freezer. Second pic, a better shot, freezer now full of the makings for wonton soup, steamed dumplings, baked eggrolls, and impromptu appetizers.

YAY for the snow that caused so many to cancel! Our wait list slots opened up, and we attended tonight's canning seminar. Thank you thank you thank you lperry for enabling this learning experience by posting about it here. Myths dispelled, vinegar inhaled, facts and practicalities revealed, and we're well on the way to becoming canning addicts. The instructors mentioned future Loudoun and Reston workshops; I will post that info once it arrives. Highly recommended. Links to the docs they provided: Freezing Fruits and Vegetables: http://pubs.ext.vt.edu/348/348-596/348-596_pdf.pdf Boiling Water Bath Canning: http://pubs.ext.vt.edu/348/348-594/348-594_pdf.pdf Dehydration: http://pubs.ext.vt.edu/348/348-597/348-597_pdf.pdf Pressure Canning: http://pubs.ext.vt.edu/348/348-585/348-585_PDF.pdf (pop) (goes) (the world)

Spilling the beans.

The "cafe" seems to be more of a menu timing concept than a designated seating area. Cafe refers to the cold case and breakfast item menu, and self seating. I've had lunch a half dozen times (warmed up quesadillas, pot pies, sandwiches, etc.), breakfast (muffins, pastries, etc.) more frequently than that, and the seating is the same as the dining area. During busy dinner times, the dining area then expands to an additional room in the very back of the venue. The bar is in the middle of the main dining area, the "cafe cold case" (my phrase, not theirs) is adjacent to that, the shop extends behind the bar, leading into the wine racks, and then the kitchen.