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Does anyone have any details on this? Neither Irving Street Restaurant Group nor Lou City Bar both returned anything on Google for me.

Just ate one of the twelve savory breakfast muffins I pulled out of the oven this morning. I can safely say that these are exactly why people don't like health food. Ew. I'm now debating whether the remaining 11 would be better used as doorstops or loofahs.

Peanut soup cookoff!

This is really such a good time. I've enjoyed my last two DR nights so much that I've signed up for a shift on my own next week. (And Curtis said I can just show up any time he's working. ) A HUGE thank you to DanielK for heralding this great organization and giving us the opportunity to participate! PS--that peanut stew was AWESOME.

...Tofu? What happens to tofu when you freeze it? I like the stuff, but I can rarely make it through a block on my own. I'd love to be able to freeze half if it would come out in decent shape. Experts, what say you?

I'm headed here in about a month, probably a few days in Seminyak, with maybe a night or two in Ubud. Can anyone tell me anything about the food style here? I know a bit about Indonesian food, but if there are any specific, uber-local specialities to keep my eyes out for (like Cambodia's fish amok), I'd love to hear about them. Thanks!

Yes! I've been remiss about posting about this place because I'm about to start getting my mail delivered there, so it has started to live in my subconscious like my own kitchen. I can't remember if it was the Times or the Post that wrote that the best cocktail trend of 2010 was the return of friendly hospitality in bars. Room 11 personifies this trend. Whether I'm recognized as a local or not, I am unfailingly treated with indulgent neighborliness. I knew this place was for me when on a chilly November night, the heaters on the patio weren't quite keeping out the cold, and the server brought us blankets. BLANKETS. I was sold. The servers and bartenders WANT to serve you what you want--whether you know what that is or not. Their cocktail specials usually have something interesting to tempt me away from my regular drinks, but if not, they're willing (when not swamped) to flip back through previous nights' specials to find something new that hits the spot. Or if I want to stick to a regular, the rendition is solid. I've gotten a couple of duds on the wine list, but they have been rectified neatly and quickly (when not swamped). While I haven't eaten through the menu, the olives and almonds are a great, high-quality (and surely high-profit, but I don't care) bar snack, and the charcuterie (usually featuring a Stachowski product) and cheese are well kept and well presented. The gnocchi was a little sweet and unsatisfying for my taste, and the short ribs are good (not great). The cupcakes are ordered in from somewhere and are delightful. For a small menu, they've done an excellent job at making sure everyone can find something to nosh, no matter the appetite. Swamped. Yes, they get swamped. You need to get there before 6:30 or earlier to get a seat, and after that things run more slowly and give less time for neighborly discourse (as it were). But unlike many joints, I don't mind waiting for a drink here because I know I'm going to be rewarded with something tasty. And the bottle of filtered water they leave every table means you won't ever be parched. I think the drinks at the Passenger might be a bit better, but--and maybe it's just that this place is now my local--Room 11 wins on the full package.

As I lay incapacitated by day two of monster cold, I am NOT simmering the tom yum mix I brought back from Chiang Mai. It's a big, beautiful bag of dried chilis, ginger, lemongrass, herbs, and spices that I know in my heart of hearts will make a soup that will make me feel better. But aside from this here bag of baby carrots, I have no veggies (or tofu or meat) to add to the broth once it's done. And that would just be a waste of what promises to be some yummy tom yum. Then again, I'm heading back to Thailand in a month and could get some more. Worth the waste? Sniff.

I am!

Stovetop. It takes about five minutes to heat through to the toppings. I suppose it'd work just as well in the oven, but I never want to bother turning on the oven for just a slice.

I love dining out with my brother, a food and wine guy with great taste. And I love that he's been coming to town so often on business lately because not only do I get to see him a lot, but I've also been able to show him a wide swath of DC's dining scene and branch out myself to places I don't get to often. For no particular reason, I'd only been to Palena once, and it was years ago. Despite recent grumbling over the restaurant reconfiguration, reviews are almost entirely positive, so it was at the top of my list for his next visit. I don't really remember well what it used to look like, but I was kind of surprised by the sort of corporate hotel look, or, as my brother said later, "It's a restaurant in a strip mall, and, uh, it kind of looks like it." The bartender made me a fine manhattan, and after a spell we ordered some munchie dishes and a split of bubbles. A waiter (not the bartender) presented the bottle, opened it, and poured my brother a taste. "It's fine, thanks, but it's room temperature." Okay, this could have gone any direction. Later that night at Ripple, it went in the right direction. But at Palena, the waiter's response was, "We keep all of our wines at 48 degrees sir." Period. Stare at us, expectedly. Um, okay. But there's no chance in hell that bottle is at 48 degrees. It's room temperature, dude, which, since you're holding it in your bare hands, you should be aware of. By this point the bartender popped over and said he would put it on some ice. Unfortunately, we ordered the bottle to go with the food, which had just arrived. The bartender kind of looked at us dispassionately, and no other options were suggested. Bro said, well, maybe just pour us a wee bit to start and put it back to chill? Sure. [brother said later that he just should have sent it back, but he said it was the only bubbly split on the menu, the bartender seemed totally in the weeds, and since I'd talked the place up so much, he didn't want to make a big deal about it (ouch).] The busy bar and tender made it difficult to get refills for the rest of the bottle; much time was spent with empty glasses. The house-made burrata with olives and sweet potatoes (!) was incredible. Who'd think to put those things together? And who could make them all work together in a bowl? Awesome. What a dish. The fry plate was expertly cooked--the fish, especially, was beautifully moist--but unfortunately the batter and the sauce gribiche lacked any seasoning at all. By this point, the very small bar was packed, so we asked the host, who was behind the bar directly in front of us, for some salt. Rather than handing us one of the salt shakers we pointed at that were RIGHT THERE NEXT TO HER, she walked across the dining room to the kitchen, and brought us a mise dish of sea salt crystals. Which is thoughtful, but our fry plate was rapidly getting cold, and I don't think large crystals are the best way to season non-liquidy food at the table. That's when we gave up the ghost, finished our food, and got our check to test our fortunes elsewhere. Nothing was terrible, but nor was anything--except the burrata--satisfying. And that place is way too expensive for meh food and detached, DIY service. Looks like it'll be another few years before I try again.

Ripple has officially moved up in my estimation from a place I'd go if I were in the neighborhood to one of the top contenders that spring to mind for a fun night out. Though we'd planned to spend the evening wining and dining at Palena, an hour of generally disappointing food, service, atmosphere, and wine (yeah, I said it) pushed us to cut our losses and head down the street to Ripple. Where we were greeted by a warm, friendly host in a warm, fun atmosphere. I've said it before, and it's worth repeating: the redesign of this place is spot-on, retaining great elements like the layout of the front room and quirky bartop and adding improvements like a bright paint job and other elegant touches. Every person we talked to that night, from the hosts and the bartender to the server and the owner, had an easy smile and a friendly chat; as opposed to some places where friendliness can seem forced and arm's length, these folks seemed to genuinely enjoy their jobs--and genuinely happy that we were there. Cocktails were almost as yummy as my last visit. That Oscar Madison is just a winner, though the bartender didn't flame my lemon peel like he had the previous time, or like he did for the neighboring table, which really pushes the drink into top-notch territory. Eh. No biggie. Still a damn good drink. The charcuterie and cheese we chose were well-made and well-stored, with a French bleu being the standout, holy-shit-can-I-rub-this-on-my-body item. I wish there were more vegetable options on the menu, as we would have liked to shared something lighter to supplement the meat and cheese, and the one salad option wasn't really blowing my skirt up. But, again--eh. No biggie. The seem to have fixed the execution problem with the fresh baked cookies and milk, which were freaking awesome. Strangely, for the second time that night (!), we were served a warm bottle of white wine. I don't mean we ordered it and the server came back and said, "I'm sorry we don't have that chilled. Would you like us to throw it on ice?" I mean that he brought the bottle, poured a taste and then was about to serve it when we had to intervene and mention that it was warm. But kudos to him. Not only did he put it on ice, but he brought us each half glasses of a similar wine to sip with our food until the bottle was cold, and which we found out later were unnecessarily comped. Classy. And considering that we were sitting in the front of the restauraunt and how busy and long that bar is, he did an impressive job of keeping our glasses from emptying from then on. Two thumbs up. Full-on fan. Note: the owner says they're expanding into the space next door, and the new room will have a slightly different vibe and include live music on the weekends.

I really dig this place. Service is casual and incredibly friendly, as are the prices. The antipasto board was surprisingly yummy, with two kinds of meat, four kinds of cheese (including a ricotta that I assume is house-made and made my knees buckle just a little), roasted peppers, marinated olives, and cherry tomatoes, all drizzled with a thick balsamic that elevated the whole shebang. And of course the pizza is a knockout. The boar sausage on a special pie was phenomenal, but the overall winner was the Cipolla. It seems like lots of pizza places lately advertise caramelized onions as a topping, which unfailingly turn out to be a flaccid, white clump of watery tastelessness; RedRocks' caramelized onions are the real thing, all brown and sweet and allium-y, playing nicely with the savory sausage and (maybe a bit too) salty crust.* Columbia Heights and I are lucky to have this place in our neighborhood. *A hearty thanks, too, to Pete's Apizza for suggesting on their boxes that leftovers be reheated in a skillet. I used to be swear by the toaster oven, but on pizza this thin, the skillet magically brings a slice back to life, almost indistinguishable from one that was fresh from the oven the day before.

The Columbia Heights Giant has peaches but no cara cara oranges. Did I wake up in July today?

What a fantastic evening--thanks you guys! After a rough week, I'm feeling quite zen from hours of cheerily chopping with some good people. I'll have to work on my knife skills for next month though; I went to town on those grapefruit and have a huge blister to show for it!

Aside from the service? No.

If today isn't as soul-sucking as the preceding ones, I might be in for a cocktail. But then, if it IS as soul-sucking as the preceding days, I might NEED a cocktail. Only time will tell...

To John (still), and to all the others who gave so much of themselves to make the Sudan referendum happen. This is important, and hopefully, worth the sacrifice.

The Big Hunt was serving these burritos, tacos, and nachos on their menu last time I was there, a few months ago.

I just find his insistence at using twee synonyms excruciating and his (completely unnecessary) reliance on folksy narrative tools like parenthetical asides to be overly precious. (See what I did there?) Neither of these is a big deal on a case-by-case basis, but I find his employment of them to be such a constant, unrelenting crutch in his writing style to drive me to distraction. It seems to me that he spends a great deal of time crafting phrases and sentences as discrete parts without rereading the piece as a whole and then dialing back the syrup. (I have no idea what his writing process here, and am just projecting an opinion.) I also find it irritating that he will often explain an entire dish without actually sharing whether or not it was good--which is kind of what I'm looking for in a restaurant review. Writing is subjective, and I know many people who enjoy him, but I'm just not one of them. I'm not saying I could do a better job or that I disagree with his assessments; I'm saying that I don't read his reviews anymore because, like Tom Cruise movies, the tiring personality tics overwhelm and overshadow the content.

NO KIDDING. I had a big bowl of mangoes and blueberries for breakfast and felt like I may finally be starting to heal. Of course, in that vein, this here glass of whiskey is probably negating any progress...

Never Said About Restaurant Websites: "Why would anyone want to skip this intro? I think I'll watch it again."

In! (This will be my first time, so can you tell me where to be and any other details? Thanks!)

To John

I can't even begin to tell you what an amazing recipe is the Washington Post's Spicy Cheddar Thumbprints. I generally hesitate to cook something I haven't tested for a time as important as a holiday, but this looked so good I had to try it. The recipe is pretty futzy--it requires you to do this and that and this again--but the work pays back in spades. This was an utter, uncontested success. Really, I've made good stuff before, but I've gotten this level of homina from anything I've made. And from me too. They are spectacular. (And I swear they are the delicious evil twin of Aunt Kay's Butter Cookies.) Recipe notes: I forgot to put the cayenne in the dough, and it's still wonderful--maybe better because it makes cookies just a jubilee of cheese. But also, I'm not a spicy gal--'medium' is about my limit--so I balked a bit at the call for habanero jelly. No matter! I had no time to shop, so all I could find was Dickinson's Hot Pepper Jelly. Make no mistake, these cookies were still awesome, but even my non-spicy palate thought it could have used something with a bit more heat. I very much like what the sugar in the jelly did for the taste, but there wasn't enough ... spice, oomph, whatever. I think next time I may try onion marmalade and not be so conservative with it. Or I may make sure to remember the cayenne and stick with Dickinson's.