Demvtr

I went to college in Fredericksburg, and the one restaurant I have to visit every time I'm in town is Sammy T's. The chicken (or tempeh) stir-fry with rice is outstanding; the peanut sauce used in the stir-fry is like crack. Further, Sammy T's has the best falafel anywhere within an hour's drive of D.C. I will take the Pepsi challenge on that. And, finally, the fries are always fresh-cut and freshly fried (but are intentionally "soggy," as opposed to crisp).

I have Old Ebbitt reservations for tonight, but you may have a hard time landing them at this point because of the sold-out Shins show (which I'm heading to after dinner). I went to Chef Geoff before the Death Cab show a few months ago, and that walk is not bad at all. Butterfield 9 is also a fairly easy walk, particularly since it's nice out.

The Il Mulino location in Dallas referenced earlier in the thread has subsequently closed.

D.C. restaurant critics (and maybe even bloggers and posters) should, however, be aware that the Dallas location (presumably with the knowledge of the chain's owners) sued the Dallas Morning News for libel following an ill-received restaurant review. I'm glad the litigation that is highlighted in this New York Times article has not become a trend, particularly in D.C.

Four of us had dinner at Farrah Olivia last night (1/11/07), and the restaurant's pluses far outweighed its minuses.

Regarding the Restaurant Week menu, I agree that the format of the menu is unnecessarily complex and requires an abacus to calculate what one's bill will be. There are a number of items with upcharges, but I prefer having the entirety of the menu available, with upcharges, to being limited to two or three options per course. I think it worth stating that if the restaurant had chosen this latter (easier) option, it is doubtful that anyone would have thought twice about it. (I do hope that the restaurant, in the future, does away with the asterisks denoting "regular" Restaurant Week items; simply listing the upcharges indicates, by default, which items are part of the "regular" Restaurant Week menu).

The food. The bread basket is filled with sourdough and raisin-walnut bread. I ate only the raisin-walnut bread, which was good, but not amazing. The spreads were, as noted elsewhere, pumpkin, sun-dried tomato, olive, and bok choy. The pumpkin went best with the walnut-raisin bread, but the bok choy was the best of the bunch (and is sweeter than one expects). The sun-dried tomato spread tastes exactly as it sounds. I did not try the olive spread.

The amuse bouche was a curried pear soup, and my girlfriend and I agreed that it was the best part of the meal, not because the rest of the meal was mediocre, but because the curried pear soup was so amazing that I wanted to dive-tackle the next waiter who walked by with a tray of the little soup cups. The soup was thick, rich, not too sweet, not too spicy, and completely satisfying. Really, it would be an act of culinary criminality if the curried pear soup does not eventually find its way to the standing menu at Farrah Olivia.

My butternut squash soup was fine, but it could have been better if it had less going on within the confines of the bowl. The soup itself tasted like standard butternut squash soup, which one either normally finds worth ordering or does not, and the creamy froth complemented the soup well. The pecan pie crumbles, though, while adding an interesting, crunchy element to the soup, were overly sweet and made the dish far too akin to dessert.

My girlfriend started with the black-eyed pea fritters. I tried one, and while I liked it, I believe that the frying may have been a little heavy-handed; the flavor of the black-eyed peas bordered on being overwhelmed. Good, but not necessarily worth ordering again.

Our friends ordered the "shocked tuna" and butter-poached lobster appetizers. Both spoke well of their dishes. The person receiving the shocked tuna later deemed it the best part of his meal, though he lamented the Lilliputian serving size.

The salmon entree was perfect. And by "perfect," I do not mean it was the best salmon entree I have ever eaten. I just mean that it hit all the points the kitchen wanted it to hit, and did not generate a single complaint in my mind. The waitress told me that the salmon would be cooked medium, and it was cooked exactly so. The meat was moist. The anise-spiced exterior added a subtly complex note, but was in no way so strong as to overpower the flavor of the fish itself. (I note as an aside that while I cannot stand the flavor of licorice, I never find anise offensive, despite the flavors always drawing a comparison.) The yuca couscous was Grape Nuts-crunchy, as opposed to the soft couscous one might expect, but actually made for fun eating. The flavor was, however, subdued to the point that I would not have known its origins had the menu not labeled at is being yuca. The smoked shrimp essence was, presumably, that little reddish-orange conical-shaped mound on the corner of my plate. It had the consistency of a thick spread, and added a distinct, pleasing flavor to my forkfuls of salmon.

My girlfriend's eggplant casserole, served in a small, kettle-shaped bowl, was outstanding. It was, essentially, my favorite Indian dish, baingan bharta, a spicy mash of tomatoes and eggplant. It was by no means a pioneering dish, but it was delicious. Our companions got the steak (labeled a "New York strip" on the check) and the lamb (labeled a "lamb chop" on the check). I tried neither, but both diners said they loved their entrees. The recipient of the lamb specifically stated that it was in no way overcooked.

Desserts were a pineapple-beet cake, two fig cakes with mascarpone cream and caramel ice cream, and a chocolate mousse dessert with vanilla ice cream. I did not try the pineapple-beet cake, but the chocolate mousse dessert, of which I had more than a few bites, tasted as good as it looked. The chocolate mousse was encased in a brittle shell and covered in chocolate sauce. Classy. My fig cake was a modern twist on cheesecake, consisting of a layer of cake, a layer of spread fig, and a light, creamy, and tall layer of mascarpone cream. The ice cream was just a bonus.

The hostess was appropriately welcoming and our server was pleasant and knowledgeable about the menu. There were a few service bumps, such as a cappuccino given to the wrong diner, an appetizer erroneously set on our table as we awaited our entrees, and the length of time between courses (which led our waitress to offer an unprompted apology), but these little issues did not detract from what was, in sum, a very good first impression.

My girlfriend and I have been there two or threee times. Of the appetizers, the tempura is perfectly competent, if not memorable, the eggplant dengaku is amazing, the asparagus and avocado salad is good enough to be worth ordering again, the gyoza was not worth ordering again, and the sushi was fine, but not exceptional. We really just go for that eggplant dish.

Stunning. I just received a text-message on my cell phone from Posh. I have never been there, and the only way I can think of that Posh obtained my number is through OpenTable. The message, which originated from "Poshdc@c.nitetxt.com" (that's not a misspelling on my part, by the way), states: "(Restaurant week at Posh) Amazing 3 course fine dining meal at $30.07. Limited reservations available! 202-393-0975 (January 9th - 14th)"

Amazing?

I will, of course, be completely and utterly damned if I will respond to this text-message spam, and Posh now drops to the absolute bottom of my list of restaurants worth trying. If any other restaurateurs are contemplating using this form of advertising, please decide in the negative.

Not that I mind paying for something I won't put to use (which happens all the time when I'm dining out or, say, attending a wine tasting), but will any allowance be made for those who do not drink alcohol?

A friend of mine is helping organize a benefit dinner for the Alexandria Boys & Girls Club.

Date: Friday, January 19, 2007

Time: 6:30 p.m.

Where: Belle Haven Country Club (Alexandria)

Featuring: A multi-course dinner prepared by chefs Mel Meadows of the Hollin Hall Pastry Shop, Bryan Moscatello of Indigo Landing, Tracy O’Grady of Restaurant Willow, and Max-Phillipe Knoepfel of Belle Haven Country Club.

Cost: $200.00 per person

If you are interested in attending the dinner, please PM me, and I'll send you a PDF document better describing the event and containing the pledge/ticket form.

You can also contact Dave Woodbury, President of the Alexandria Boys & Girls Club, at 703.867.5570 or by e-mail at 70thAnniversaryDinner@cox.net.

My girlfriend and I stopped by buzz (I will respect the intentional lack of capitalization) around 10:45 p.m. on Thursday night after dinner at Restaurant Nora. I’d been looking forward to one of the plated desserts, as the sample list on the web site notes some potential winners. When we got to buzz, however, it turned out that they weren’t yet serving the plated desserts, and did not have any ice creams available to go with any of the displayed desserts. We did not particularly mind, as the display desserts looked plenty luscious without added ice cream or whipped cream. We ordered four cupcakes and two small truffles to split. The four cupcakes were carrot cake, red velvet cake, lemon cake with yellow curd filling, and yellow cake with chocolate filling. The truffles were labeled “salted dark chocolate caramel truffles.”

The truffles were far and away the best part of our dessert. I could have done without the bittersweet cocoa dusting, but the not-too-solid exterior was judiciously studded with a few bits of salt, and gave way to a creamy, rich filling. The filling, though, was not caramel. It was chocolate. I was surprised, and even double-checked with my girlfriend, who said that the truffles were definitely labeled “caramel.” Regardless of the little surprise, the truffles were high-grade.

The cupcakes were unimpressive. The carrot cake cupcake was possibly the greatest disappointment. Either the cake or the cream cheese frosting was too salty, to the point that we both almost simultaneously vocally identified the problem. The red velvet cake cupcake was dry, and the frosting (which also seemed to be cream cheese-based) was not as rich or sweet as it should have been. The lemon cupcake had good flavor, but, again, it had a parched texture, and the lemon curd filling was a faint note, and weirdly lacking in moisture. The yellow cake was (sorry for the repetition) dry and not very sweet, though the pudding-like chocolate filling was fine.

The experience was not wholly unpleasant. The two gentlemen who helped us were welcoming and friendly. Our cappuccinos were delicious. The interior has a fun, retro-hip feel, with its bright colors and wall-sized art. And we essentially had the place to ourselves late on a Thursday night.

I gather from other posts in this thread that people have generally had good experiences at buzz, with some reservations, and the implication I draw from one or two posts is that people are taking a wait-and-see approach to the young coffee shop. I think this is wise, as the Neighborhood Restaurant Group has not yet had any misses (though I say that with the caveat that I’ve not yet tried Rustico), and buzz is still getting itself off the ground. But, to the extent that buzz intends to make cupcakes one of its marketing strengths, it may want to reevaluate whether great concepts are translating into worthy treats.

I visited Bazin's on Church in Vienna for the first time last night and had an almost wholly positive experience.

Bazin's was, as expected, packed when my party of three showed up for our 7:30 p.m. reservation. We were led directly to our table and, after a noticeable wait, received bread and water (in that order, and with a slight lag between the two). But the people that greeted and seated us were very pleasant, as were all of the servers, the restaurant was clearly jumping during the peak dinner hour, and we were in no hurry, so we did not mind the lag.

The menu is largely the same as the one shown online, with a few seasonal changes. The crab cakes are no longer available, the miso-marinated fish is now cod, the tuna tartar was gone from the appetizer menu (and replaced by a seared rare tuna entree), and there seemed to be one or two differences in the available salads. And an additional ravioli, filled with butternut squash, was available as an appetizer.

Two of us started with the jumbo-lump crab meat "spring roll." I put that phrase in quotes because the crab meat is actually sheathed in crisp phyllo dough, as opposed to a more traditional spring roll wrap. It makes for a dramatic presentation, with phyllo dough tendrils jutting crazily outward from the roll, which is nearly as large as a hot dog bun. The spring roll is almost greaseless, and contains a respectable amount of crab meat. The Asian slaw it is perched on is enjoyably tangy. I was hungry enough by the time the spring roll arrived that I had eaten maybe a quarter of it when I realized that it was barely warm. I politely asked the server whether the spring roll was supposed to be served close to room temperature (for all I knew, the dish was given to me exactly as intended), and he said that it was not. He took it back and reappeared fairly promptly with a whole new plate. I protested that there was no need for the kitchen to send out a new spring roll, as I had really just wanted it heated, but the server insisted, and I am glad he did. The spring roll, when hot, was ten times more enjoyable.

One of my dining companions and I decided that we would each order the potato-onion ravioli with lobster cream sauce appetizer and split one order of the butternut squash ravioli appetizer. Both dishes were stunning. My dining companion and I both physically broke into smiles when we tried the potato-onion ravioli. The lobster cream sauce was unabashedly rich and flavorful, and chunks of lobster meat were strewn all over the five medium-sized ravioli. My manners ebbing (I was amongst family), I actually used a piece of bread to get up some of the lobster cream sauce left after I finished eating the ravioli. It is a clean plate-club dish.

I ordered the butternut squash ravioli we were splitting minus the Parmesan cheese that the menu states normally adorns the pasta. The kitchen, in an abundance of caution, also withheld Parmesan cheese from both orders of the potato-onion ravioli, which briefly disappointed my dining companion until the server brought a side of Parmesan cheese out for him, but saved me from having to send the potato-onion ravioli back. I am unsure why the menu omits the Parmesan cheese normally served on the onion-potato ravioli, but the omission is something that should be remedied.

The butternut squash ravioli were the equal of the potato-onion ravioli in appeal, though they were sweet, as opposed to savory. They could have been dessert. The sauce flowing through the plate was warm, buttery, and sweet, and the ravioli were sprinkled with crumbled amaretto cookies. I have tried ravioli filled with pumpkin or butternut squash at a few restaurants in the area, and this was easily the best version of the dish I have tasted.

The third diner ordered the stuffed flounder, a roasted flounder rolled around crab meat served atop rice, with an "almond lemon sauce" that was not quite the equal of the ravioli sauces, but was still excellent. The fish, when I tried it, was a bit dry, and the person who ordered it thought so, as well, though she still found it a satisfying dish overall. It was good, in her estimation, but just unable to equal the ravioli in terms of pure indulgence.

A woman I assumed to be Julie Bazin stopped by our table a couple of times just to see how we were enjoying our meal, which was appreciated. When the issue of dessert arose, she joked that she had eaten the chocolate tart "every night for the last six months," which was enough of an endorsement for us to give it a chance. The tart is thin and shaped like a slice of pie, and is served with a small scoop of chocolate sorbet and a small, raspberry-topped mound of Chantilly cream. The chocolate was warm and had a consistency somewhere between creamy and fudge-like. I have not seen (or tasted) chocolate put to better use in a long, long time.

It is truly a rare dinner that prompts me to go straight home to make another dinner reservation at the same restaurant, but besides a few service stumbles, including multiple occasions where water and soda glasses (and my coffee mug) went unfilled and the long period before the check was brought (and collected), Bazin's proved to be a gem in Vienna's rough. I'm looking forward to round two.

Equinox is mentioned in passing in a New York Times article today. A Connecticut candidate may have endangered his standing with the caramelized banana tart fan voting demographic.

I finished up Restaurant Week on 8/20 at Vidalia with a party of six, and while all of the dishes were either good or very good, the vichyssoise (which is not listed in the chef's post above or on the online menu) was excellent: cool, creamy, sweet, and full of chunks of apple and vegetables. If I hadn't been with my girlfriend's parents, I might have ordered it again for dessert.

As it was, I was more than satisfied with my lemon chess tart with sweet cream. The dessert cannot be compared on a one-for-one basis with Morrison-Clark's stop-the-presses lemon chess pie, because Vidalia's version is a tart, and thus has a higher pastry dough-to-lemon filling ratio than Morrison-Clark's pie. But Vidalia's lemon chess tart is still top-shelf.

Sette Bello is not quite "American" fare, but Italian is generally a noncontroversial option. I've enjoyed it both times I have eaten dinner there, and it's in Clarendon, very close to Harry's Tap Room.

Great first post dgf! It sounds like our parties ordered differently and had different service experiences, which is not surprising. I'm sorry you disagree with my take on Morrison-Clark, but I'm glad to have prompted you to start posting. I hope you'll continue. Enjoy the rest of Restaurant Week!

Morrison-Clark should not be participating in Restaurant Week. The servers need to attend restaurant service boot camp and the kitchen needs to start trying some of its dishes.

I'm going to leave the turn-of-the-century mirrors-chandeliers-ugly-wallpaper-gambling-steamboat surroundings of the main dining room alone, because part of Morrison-Clark's reputed charm is its "lost in time" atmosphere. Gaudiness is, apparently, timeless.

My girlfriend and I showed up on Tuesday night promptly at 8:00 p.m. and were seated immediately. The host was polite, our waiter came to our table fairly quickly to greet us, and water was poured in an acceptable amount of time. A server with a tray of sourdough rolls and squares of unremarkable cornbread came by to offer us bread and sweet, soft butter. That about did it for the positive service.

We analyzed the menu. There are approximately eight appetizers available during Restaurant Week. Two stuck out to me not because I was interested in ordering them, but because of their upcharges. The shrimp and grits appetizer had a $5.00 upcharge, which I thought bordered on unreasonable. I don't care if the chef went out and harvested the shrimp himself, $5.00 is a big appetizer upcharge during Restaurant Week. (By way of comparison, certain appetizers at Corduroy the night before had $3.00 upcharges. My Corduroy entree of incomparable scallops had a $5.00 upcharge.) The other appetizer that made me hold the menu at different angles to see if I was misreading it was the foie gras, which denoted a $10.00 upcharge. Ten bucks. Did they force feed the duck beluga caviar? Is the portion size akin to a Big Mac? Were the ducks of royal lineage?

Regardless, neither of those appetizers appealed to us. I ordered the crab bisque, featuring a crab fritter, and my girlfriend ordered the tomato combo appetizer, consisting of two smallish slices of fried green tomatoes and a small heirloom tomato salad. The appetizers did not take too long to come out, and I dutifully answered the runner's question about who got which plate.

As difficult as it is to fry something inexpertly, the little slices of fried green tomato had the sort of soggy, unappealing batter one expects at a take-out restaurant in a strip mall. The fried tomatoes' only saving grace was the small amount of truffle mayonnaise desperately trying to endow the bland ovals with flavor. The colorful heirloom tomato salad, however, was perfectly competent, and the yellow tomato, in particular, was fresh, sweet, and clearly embarrassed to be on the same plate as its unripened, flavor-impaired green cousin.

The sheen of oil on the surface of my crab bisque shone subtly in the chandelier light, its level surface broken only by a sad, beignet-sized ball of fried crab, its whitish-brown batter attesting to the chef's premature transfer of the ball from the oil in the fryer to the oil in the bisque. The bisque was unsatisfactorily thin, and its meek flavor demanded half the pepper shaker's contents in a life-support effort. The crab ball had as blank a taste as its appearance foretold.

I could have taken the bisque's general low-end-of-mediocrity flavor with enough water to continuously cleanse my palate, but water was apparently being rationed. Two service staff acknowledged my request for water without actually getting me water, and I finally had to catch my waiter's attention to get a water refill. The (Folger's?) coffee, served in a dainty cup only a few sizes removed from a thimble, was in equally short supply.

The staff took away our finished appetizers and then tried to force more on us. We managed to stop the runner from setting another couple's appetizers down on our table by explaining that we had just finished appetizers, for better or worse, and really could not stand any more, thanks. The runner seemed hesitant, as if we might be lying in hopes of successfully rejecting the restaurant's appetizers, but I explained that we were now on to our entrees. The runner wandered off to find the appetizers' proper victims.

A dry wind blew through my water glass.

Either the same runner or our waiter wandered over a few minutes later with entrees. We thanked the gentleman for offering us the plates, but politely declined the two entrees, as we had ordered neither. Off the plates went in search of other unfortunate diners.

The somnambulist with the water finally bumped into our table and filled my water glass.

Our entrees came out and I, once again, politely directed the plates to their proper recipients. The menu featured six entrees: beef, fish of the day (mahi mahi), pork, lamb, chicken, and crab cakes. (The kitchen apparently keeps up with the times, if the times in question are about one century past.) My roast Amish chicken was a sad, wan little bird. It, too, had suffered the same lack of water during its lifetime that I had suffered in the Morrison-Clark dining room. It was not as dry as jerky, but not as moist as a cold cut. My girlfriend tried the chicken and gave me a look of pity that made me feel bad for having caused her such angst. I stopped a runner and pleaded for a small side of the truffle mayonnaise which, in this situation, I viewed less as a condiment and more as a food defibrillator. The handful of under-roasted vegetables languishing near the chicken looked oddly naked against the white plate, and they tasted like the kitchen had lost the key to the seasoning cabinet.

I focused on the mini-dome of corn pudding on my plate. This had to be the plate's bright spot. I tapped it. It shook like Jell-O. I forked it. The gelatinous substance oozed through the tines. A couple of kernels of corn could be seen suspended in the mold's cross-section, starkly yellow in contrast to the pale pudding, reminders of the untold number of kernels that perished in vain in the kitchen. A taste of it triggered exactly no physiological reaction. My taste buds continued napping, my neurons kept me breathing, my salivary glands played dumb. The corn pudding, devoid of flavor, slowy swayed on the plate.

I looked up to see my girlfriend happily plugging away at her entree. My eyebrow raised, I inquired about how she was enjoying the crab cakes. Initially unsure how to deconstruct the cakes' stacked presentation, my girlfriend had finally separated the crab cakes and was unreservedly taking in equal parts risotto and crab cake bites. A small taste of the risotto actually impressed me. I did not like its slightly cheesy aftertaste, but it was at least properly creamy and initially pleasant. My girlfriend did not have room for the (nicely-sized) second crab cake, so I pushed aside my mummified chicken and indulged in the only competent savory food so far that evening. The crab cake was nicely browned on its exterior, with crab meat bulging out its sides, and had the right ratio of crab to breading. Someone in the kitchen had even found the key to the seasoning cabinet.

Water...

Four desserts were offered. We passed on the strawberry shortcake and ice cream dish and ordered the dark chocolate cognac pots du creme and the lemon chess pie.

Our waiter, who I hope did not play the lottery on Tuesday, again took a 50/50 shot at giving us the correct plates, and again failed.

The pots du creme, served in a wine glass with caramel whipped cream and chocolate garnish, was so rich that my girlfriend, who treats chocolate like edible gold, could only eat a quarter of it before giving up. The one-note dessert was not bad, but the cognac mixed into it is likely appealing to only a small class of diners.

The lemon chess pie, served with blackberry compote and an airy whipped cream, was brilliant. The large slice had a smooth texture, dense consistency, and a lush, full-bodied flavor that was slightly more sweet than tart. It rocketed to a place in my top five desserts of all time.

As I scraped the plate for a last bite of the wonderful pie, I thought to myself: I wonder where they bought it?

I introduced my girlfriend and two friends to Corduroy tonight, and Tom, Rissa, and Ferhat did everything they could to make me look good. Quite successfully, too; everyone complimented me on the restaurant pick afterwards.

Appetizers:

Northern neck corn soup (x2): This was smooth, creamy (but not too thick), and wonderfully flavored. I ordered it, but ended up having to trade with my girlfriend after she sampled it.

Local tomato salad: I didn't try this one, but it was beautiful, and my friend tore through it like it was the last food on earth.

Chilled Thai tomato chili soup: This was my girlfriend's pick, though I ended up eating most of it (see above). I enjoyed it; there was slightly less kick to it than I thought there would be, but the medium-to-thin consistency was right on target, the temperature refreshing, and the cherry tomato slices made for a nice presentation.

Entrees:

One diner ordered chicken (small and seemingly expertly roasted, it could be mistaken for a slightly oversized Cornish hen) with, I think, sauteed spinach and a small "tumbleweed" of crisped onion. I did not try it, but the person who ordered it picked the bird clean and could not stop talking about how good the sauce was.

Lamb: Served rare with goat cheese ravioli in some sort of broth. My friend left not a bite on his plate and said he loved it.

Melange of vegetables: An attractive plate comprised of mashed potatoes, mushrooms, asparagus, coconut-lemongrass rice, carrots, squash, beans and possibly one or two more veggies.

Scallops: Three robust scallops served atop mounds of the creamiest mashed potatoes I have sampled in recent memory, ringed with what I believe were morel mushrooms and a brown, buttery sauce. This plate is rich to the point of indulgence, and has probably ruined me as to any other restaurant's scallops. It is worth every dollar of the upcharge.

Dessert:

The sabayon was not available, but Ferhat advised us to try the chocolate hazelnut "Kit Kat" dessert (and Rissa seconded his recommendation), so three-quarters of us ordered it. I tried a few bites, and though I'm usually ambivalent about chocolate, I thought this was an innovative, classy, and fun dish. I ordered the pistachio bread pudding, which is a medium-sized slice of pistachio-flavored bread soaked in vanilla sauce and served with a scoop of vanilla-bean flecked vanilla ice cream. Heart. The serving size was perfectly appropriate, but it was so good that I wanted to walk back to the kitchen and ask for more, please.

There was no downside to the meal. Thanks to everyone for kicking off Restaurant Week on a very high note. Enjoy your upcoming vacation.

Dupont Grille has two vegetarian entrees that are fantastic. Arborio-crusted eggplant napoleon served over lentils consists of a layer of black lentils in a broth (the menu says ginger-carrot, but I do not remember the broth having such distinct flavors; it was good, though) with thick fried slices of breaded eggplant forming the top and bottom of the napoleon and roasted vegetables (largely tomatoes, I believe) forming the middle. I had this dish last year, and again last month, and it sticks out in my mind as one of the most thoughtful (and enjoyable) vegetarian entrees available in area non-ethnic restaurants. My girlfriend also loves it. The online menu still uses the word "napoleon," but the menu I got last month dropped the word. Regardless, same dish.

The other superb vegetarian entree is the wok-fried tofu. The entree is fairly simple: basmati rice with watercress and peas threaded throughout supporting a large, battered piece of soft, moist tofu. The carrot-cardamom curry heaped on top of the tofu and rice is starkly orange, creamy, and delicious. The online menu correctly states that the leafy green is watercress; the menu I got last month said "bok choy," but the plate came with watercress. (I'm fairly sure I can tell the difference.)

The vegetarian entrees are only $15.00 a piece, and are sizable enough to warrant bringing home leftovers (particularly after chowing down on the breadbasket's raisin bread). I agree that this place is normally deader than Elvis in terms of diners. Considering Dupont Grille's great location and, in my limited experience, good food and service, I'm surprised that it is not busier.

As noted in a prior post, I was in Urbana for drinks a few weeks ago. I ended up having to make a last-minute choice for dinner for a group of six on Saturday night (8/12), so I called Urbana around 7:15 p.m., and the hostess told me that she could seat my party at 9 p.m.

We showed up around 8:45 p.m., and the hostess seated us immediately. She informed us that we were being placed in the private dining room, an enclosed rectangular room in the rear of the dining floor, close to the lounge area. I did not ask, but I would guess that the long table seats about a dozen people. Our waiter informed us that we were only the second or third party to sit in the room since Urbana opened. He was apologetic, saying that the restaurant was still calibrating the lighting and sound system in the private dining room (though we noticed no problems with either).

I've already posted about Urbana's atmosphere and crowd so I will focus on the food and service.

The menu is fairly long (though still, unfortunately, unavailable on the restaurant's web site). The different menu headings include appetizers, salads, crostini, pastas, pizzas, and entrees.

We ordered the following:

Corn battered figs with Gorgonzola cheese: I did not eat any of these, as I generally do not eat cheese. No one was impressed with this appetizer, though no one actively disliked it either; everyone seemed to feel that it was an interesting concept, but the actual execution was not something anyone deemed worthy of ordering again.

Brandade beignets: Six fried, battered balls of pureed potato and cod served on a thin, white, rectangular plate, the beignets were universally lauded by the four of us (including myself) who tried them. Admittedly, it is difficult to mess up anything that involves battering and frying, but the beignets' filling had a soft texture, savory flavor, and enough fishiness so as not to betray the taste buds of fish fans, but not so much fish flavor that hesitant fish eaters will reject them. The garlic aioli accompanying the beignets was a good rendition of a now-ubiquitous condiment.

Crostini: The crostini plate is a simple piece of well-toasted bread that, though I may be wrong, seemed to be French bread, based on its flavor and thickness. Diners have a choice of three spreads. One involves heirloom tomatoes, though I do not remember in what form, another mushrooms, and the last one, which we ordered, was a white bean-garlic spread. The white bean-garlic spread was slightly cold and had a texture slightly thicker than I expected. It did not have a strong flavor, though the garlic was not completely mute. I did not mind the crostini, but, in light of a bread basket with both better bread and a better spread, I would not order it again.

Chilled Gazpacho with tuna tartare: I infrequently order gazpacho, so I am not going to compare Urbana's gazpacho to any other restaurant's. Our server, in answer to my pre-order inquiry, told me that Urbana's chef's version does not have any chunks of vegetables in it. The gazpacho came in a very shallow bowl and was thin, sweet, and well-served by my addition of ground pepper. I was ambivalent about the gazpacho, but recognized that it largely served to prettify the small mound of tuna tartare in the center of the bowl. The tuna tartare tasted exactly as it should, though it does not differ in any noticeable way from any other restaurant's version. Please note that this dish normally comes with black olives as a garnish, which I asked the kitchen to hold.

Heirloom tomato salad: This was one of the most attractive dishes in terms of presentation. It is served on a very long, white rectangular plate and features sliced heirloom tomatoes (green and red, from what I observed), mozzarella cheese, and a caramelized onion vinaigrette. I did not try this salad, but the diner who ordered it liked it enough to clean her plate (though we had to ask the waiter to clarify that the menu referred to a vinaigrette, not actual caramelized onions on the plate).

Bread Salad Nicoise: Crouton salad with lemon vinaigrette and minimal mixed vegetables, including cherry tomatoes. Really. If that sounds good to you, super, order it and you'll love it. If it sounds like a questionable use of nine dollars, order the crostini, break it up, and order a side of dressing.

Watermelon and fava beans: This is a relatively small, simple salad. Two large squares of seedless, sweet watermelon serve as the foundation for bitter greens and a white, sheet-like cheese. Fava beans ring the plate, tracking a thin ring of olive oil. I tried this salad (avoiding the cheese) and found the sweet/bitter contrast really appealing. I did not, however, see how the fava beans fit into the picture, though I enjoyed them separately.

Entrecote of beef: I did not try this entree, but the diner who ordered it said it was outstanding, appropriately tender, juicy, and flavorful. It came with an interesting potato side shaped to look like a cross-section of bone.

Quattro Fromaggi and Heirloom Tomato pizza: This is not a personal pizza. Served on a long, rectangular wooden board, this was a sizable pizza appropriate for two, or for splitting as an appetizer. It smelled great (and this coming from someone who does not eat cheese), and the person who ordered it and another diner said that the pizza was firing on all cylinders.

Pea Agnolotti Chorizo and Lobster: Urbana has four types of pasta available in half or full orders. Two diners ordered the agnolotti half-orders, and both enjoyed it. One, in fact, loved it so much that she was still talking about how good it was an hour or two later. The pasta actually plays a very small role in the dish. Served on a medium-length rectangular plate, the pasta pieces make intermittent appearances throughout small-to-medium sized chunks of lobster and thin discs of chorizo. The peas' green is a nice contrast to the reddish-orange sauce running the length of the plate. I had one bite of lobster, and it was delicious, not too chewy, and well-complemented by its sauce. I rarely eat pasta, but I would happily order this dish in the future (sans sausage).

Summer vegetable aronchini: My girlfriend and I ordered this vegetarian entree with zero idea what to expect. The menu description is brief, indicating that the dish involves carrots, peas, and asparagus. What we got was similar to risotto croquettes: creamy rice mixed with chunks of fresh vegetables and fried into brown cylinders, then halved. The kitchen was nice enough to split the entree into two (again, rectangular) plates for us, completely unprompted. The dabs of sweet tomato sauce on the plate are nice, but the aronchini was better paired with the aioli left over from the beignets. This entree was good, but unabashedly deep fried, to the point that the frying bordered on overwhelming the food. It also could have benefited from more veggies and less risotto.

Mushroom risotto: This dish made an unexpected appearance on our table (more on this later), but I can guarantee that the next time I eat at Urbana, it will be at our request. This risotto was of a different kind than the fairly standard risotto in the aronchini. Far creamier and more enjoyable, the risotto was grayish in color and packed with similarly-colored mushrooms. A few steamed chunks of carrots (and less colorful leeks) added a balanced solidity to the otherwise creamy dish. Thin sheets of fried zucchini rind gave the dish flair, and tasted very much like Rasika's famous fried spinach palak chaat. My girlfriend and I were already full when this dish showed up, but did not hesitate in putting a significant dent in it as soon as we had our first taste.

The six-dollar duck fat fries came highly recommended by our server, and were good, though maybe not worth their price, in light of the smallish serving in a shallow round dish. One diner mentioned that the duck fat fries reminded her of her father's home-cut fries: medium-thick, soft, with not much difference in texture between the interior and exterior, and colored a deep, dark brown. They were minimally salted and served without a condiment. Unlike Nage's truffle fries, Urbana's duck fat fries are actually good enough to be served unaccompanied.

The service last night is deserving of special note. The hostess who answered the phone was pleasant and accommodating, even though I was forced to call during what was, presumably, the busiest part of Saturday-night dinner (and this after reading Nadya's specific advice not to do so!). The hostess who greeted us (possibly the same person) was appropriately welcoming and made us feel special by notifying us that she had placed us in the private dining room. Our waiter, Joseph, was absolutely the most enjoyable waiter or waitress I have dealt with in memory. He was enthusiastic about the menu, knowledgeable about every dish we inquired about, gave us his advice about the highlights of each section of the menu (and noted the few dishes he felt were sub-par), and encouraged us to let him know our thoughts on everything we ordered, as the menu is still evolving, and he likes giving the kitchen feedback. He kept my coffee cup filled (and ended up not charging us for the coffee), sounded genuinely interested in how the dishes were received, and generally made us feel like he was dedicated solely to our table.

As I noted above, we did not order the mushroom risotto. The kitchen, as I mentioned, was nice enough to split the aronchini into two plates for my girlfriend and me. When the runner brought the plates out, he dropped one of the croquette halves (each plate originally had one croquette angularly sliced in half) on the floor, so that my plate ended up with only a half-croquette. That was absolutely fine with me, as I was near-full at that point, and I told the runner, who was apologetic, that it was nothing to worry about. Joseph noted what had happened and told us that the chef wanted to make it up to us by sending out an order of the mushroom risotto. We politely declined, not feeling any sense of entitlement over such a small error, but the chef ended up sending the risotto out anyway, and, as I said, the risotto very much ended the meal on a high note.

My brother and I split the check, and we had no reservations about tipping Joseph slightly more than 25% (after tax) on a $235.40 check (which included about $50 in cocktails and wine). He earned every cent and, though some dishes were better than others, Urbana's food and service combined to make this one of my better dining experiences of the year.

I don't know if, in advance of Restaurant Week, Don is going to put together another list of where everyone will be throughout the week, but here is my schedule:

Monday (8.14): Corduroy, 8:00 pm.

Tuesday (8.15): Morrison-Clark, 8:00 p.m.

Friday (8.18): Mie N Yu, 8:30 p.m.

Saturday (8.19): Agraria, 8:30 p.m.

Sunday (8.20): Vidalia, 7:00 p.m.

Sterling is not a dining mecca, but my parents and girlfriend live out there, so I occasionally find myself leaving Arlington and heading west on Route 7, knowing that I am going to have to try and find the diamonds in the rough. And there are absolutely a few diamonds out there.

A Taste of Burma is a relatively new restaurant in Sterling. I read about it in the Post, saw it while visiting my parents, checked out its menu online, and finally had a chance to try it last night. It is located in Countryside Shopping Center, directly across from Dulles Town Center Mall on Route 7, in eastern Loudoun.

While Sterling is becoming increasingly ethnically diverse, it is still, largely, a sleepy suburb with less-than-adventurous diners. A Taste of Burma takes the place of a Thai restaurant, Big Mango, which was both high-quality (best massamun curry I’ve ever had) and affordable. If the space couldn’t support a good Thai restaurant, I don’t know how the owners of A Taste of Burma think they can make it there. Maybe they’re banking on the notion that Thai restaurants are fairly common along Route 7, while a Burmese restaurant is unique to that area. Based on my dinner there last night, Sterling diners will be losing a very good thing if they let A Taste of Burma fall victim to lack of traffic.

My girlfriend and I got there around 9:30 p.m., and we were the only people in the small restaurant besides one diner finishing up his dinner. The interior reflects the owners’ pride in their restaurant: modern lines, beautiful Burmese art hung on the walls and displayed throughout the dining room, and light blonde chairs and tables. Our server was a young male who, after seeing that his customers were young and in good cheer, was relaxed, friendly, and helpful.

We each ordered a salad and then split one appetizer and one entrée. The appetizer, “fried yellow Burmese tofu,” came out first. This is a simple, but satisfying, appetizer. Seven medium-sized, thin triangles are served minus unnecessary decoration on a white plate with a long, thin bowl of chili tamarind sauce. The menu describes the tofu as “chickpeas tofu,” which is new to me, but which explains why this tofu was nothing like the tofu I’ve tried at Vietnamese, Chinese, Thai, Indian, Malaysian, or American restaurants. The tofu triangles were almost potato-like in texture and flavor, and were airy, as opposed to dense. They came out hot, crisp on the outside, and with a thin layer of soft, mashed chickpea tofu on the inside. The chili tamarind sauce was sweet, with a pronounced, spicy tang attributable to the chili flakes.

My girlfriend had the “Chickpeas Burmese tofu salad.” Despite the menu’s long description of the salad, its appearance is simple. It looks like a small structure built of medium-thick beams of yellow tofu (the flavorful, potato-like tofu found in the appetizer) supporting the other salad elements: garlic, cilantro, cabbage, and chili flakes. The sweet tamarind sauce is used sparingly. Both of us enjoyed the dish.

I ordered the fermented tea leaf salad. I’ve always understood the tea leaf salad to be a Burmese specialty, and the description on the menu was enticingly complex. The salad is served as a big, pyramid-like mound, and it looks as involved as its description sounds. The salad incorporates pickled tea leaves, shredded cabbage, slivers of roast tomato, sesame seeds, peanuts, lime, garlic chips, and “seasonings.” I cannot say that I loved the salad, but I did enjoy it enough to clean my plate and would consider trying it again. I think I was unprepared for the matured taste of the fermented salad ingredients, but found myself enjoying the taste more as I delved further into the salad. The garlic chips and peanuts added a satisfying crunch to the salad, though the garlic flavor was a bit overpowering. I will know, next time, to set aside some of the garlic chips.

I order pumpkin at Afghan restaurants as a rule, as I enjoy its sweet flavor, soft texture, and usual yogurt accompaniment. I had not had pumpkin at an Asian restaurant, so ordering A Taste of Burma’s “Asian pumpkin curry” entrée was a given. The dish is not very big, more like a big appetizer than an entrée. But, for $8.95, and in light of all the other plates we were trying, we did not mind the portion size. A Taste of Burma’s version is not as dessert-sweet as the pumpkin found on most Afghan menus. The pumpkin’s texture was solid, but soft enough to mash with a fork, and slightly pulpy (but not stringy). The green rind of the pumpkin is roasted along with the rest of the fruit, and reminded me of the flavor of its acorn squash cousin. The lemongrass and scallions served with the pumpkin were simply for appearance, as their flavors did not infuse the dish. I liked this entrée a lot, but I wanted more of a contrast between the pumpkin’s sweetness and the curry, which was not as spicy as I had assumed it would be. But the burden was on me to ask about the dish’s spiciness, and I will know, next time, to ask for the pumpkin to have a bit of fire to it.

The check (including one glass of wine and one cup of coffee), with tax, came to less than $40.00, which is more than reasonable for a pleasant, and interesting, break from the norm. A Taste of Burma looks to be another diamond in Sterling.

My girlfriend and I tried out Sweet Tooth Ice Cream in Sterling last night, and I have nothing but good things to say about this little mom-and-pop shop.

We had a late dinner, and I expected Sweet Tooth to be closed when we got there around 10:40 p.m. (Note that the location is not visible from the street. The store is in the back of Sterling Park Plaza, behind the Big Lots store, on Sterling Blvd.) The sign on the door indicated that the store closes at 10:30 p.m. on Fridays, but we saw all the lights on, a customer in the store, and a girl behind the counter. We paused momentarily as I remarked on the posted hours, but a gentleman sitting at one of the outside tables told us not to worry, that we could still get ice cream. (I recognize him now from this article as the owner, Nouhad Hamdan.) I was appreciative of this flexibility, particularly in light of a recent disappointment downtown.

As noted in the above post, one of Sweet Tooth’s strengths is its diversity of uncommon flavors. Despite the Lebanese origin of the family that owns the shop, the ice creams (all, according to a newspaper article, made in Sterling) reflect the increasingly Latin American palate of the Sterling Park area. Guava, tamarindo, horchata, papaya, mango, coconut, lucuma, guanabana, and other fruit-flavored ice creams populate the display freezers. There are other, more common, flavors, too: vanilla, coffee, strawberry, orange-cream sherbet, Oreo, dulce de leche (I know, dulce de leche is Latin American-influenced, but it has achieved American ubiquity), mint chocolate chip, chocolate, and other standbys.

I can vouch for the quality of a lot of these flavors, because the girl behind the counter (the owner’s daughter, Noora Hamdan, according to the article) was so enthusiastic about the ice creams that she offered us samples of a number of the flavors, almost unprompted. She was the most pleasant person I’ve dealt with behind a food-service counter that I can remember, and her attitude was a significant factor in how much we enjoyed our visit.

I cannot remember every flavor I tried, but I found the guanabana to have a sweet and pleasantly tart flavor and the lucuma to be akin to passion fruit.

The pastry array is impressive. As can be expected, there are multiple baklava-type pastries in different shapes and sizes. I brought one home with me that I have not yet tried. The treat is sweet cream-filled, wrapped in phyllo dough, sprinkled with crushed pistachios, and drizzled with rose water syrup. My girlfriend got the last cream puff in the shop, based on the recommendation of another customer. I tried it, and found that the rich, not-overly-sweet filling had a texture somewhere between custard and frosting. Ms. Hamdan was nice enough to pour some chocolate syrup on the cream puff at my girlfriend’s request. Other desserts include cookies and a caramel flan that I want to try to see how it stands up to my Peruvian mother’s version.

The shop offers all of the toppings one can expect in an ice cream store, but I ended up ordering two scoops with no extras. I enjoyed the dulce de leche, which was creamier and more flavorful than Haagen-Dazs’ (perfectly competent) version. The horchata, however, was nothing short of amazing. Horchata is a Mexican cinnamon rice milk drink that I see on menus with some frequency, but have never actually order. I will remedy that oversight in the future. The horchata ice cream, which is light brown and flecked with spice, was lush, smooth, and wonderfully cinnamon-flavored. I worked at Baskin-Robbins for years in high school, and if we would have had this flavor, I would have talked it up to customers like a traveling salesman.

If you are heading out to Loudoun for any reason, stop by Sterling Park to indulge your sweet tooth. You should probably stop en route to your destination, because you will want to stop again on the way back to bring some of Sweet Tooth’s desserts home.

I did a series of complex mathematical calculations with my abacus and all ten fingers, and decided that there is no way in hell I can run off seven straight nights of three-course meals. I am therefore canceling two Restaurant Week reservations:

Wednesday (8/16): Kinkead's, party of 4, 8 p.m.

Thursday (8/17): Oya, party of 4, 8 p.m.

Both times/group sizes are currently unavailable on OpenTable.

Oya is apparently kicking things off early and then drawing Restaurant Week out. I just checked Oya's web site, and their RW specials ($20.06 lunch, $30.06 dinner) started yesterday (8.1.06) and will continue through 9.9.06.

I had a fantastic dinner there in June; I'm curious what they are offering on the Restaurant Week menu.

I ate at Andale a few years ago, and always meant to get back there. In fact, I passed by it on Sunday and specifically mentioned to my girlfriend that we had to go there sometime. I guess it should have been within the subsequent 24 hours! My best wishes to Chef Swope.

Separately, I am sad that Oyamel may leave Crystal City. I knew that they could not be doing as financially well as they predicted, as I am never concerned about getting a table there (and the prices have crept up while portion sizes have, in some instances, decreased), so I am happy to hear that they have a shot at getting into a space guaranteeing higher traffic. But the Crystal City location is beautiful, and, if they move, I will (totally selfishly) miss the guaranteed seating at a great restaurant.

Welcome to DonRockwell, lggl! We're happy to have another posting member.

I've been to Portabellos a few times (most recently on Friday evening after foregoing CityZen), and I think it's a bit of a hidden treasure. Its got an expansive menu (and I mean "expansive" both in terms of number of items and in terms of geographically meandering), good to very-good food, lower-than-average prices, a comfortable, neighborhood atmosphere, and, in my limited experience, very friendly staff.

I've tried the Southwestern Grilled Chicken Tortilla Salad, which is a straightforward, no-surprises entree salad (but its cilantro honey vinaigrette makes it worth trying sometime), the crabcakes, which were not amazing, but not by any means disappointing, and the Moroccan-spiced lentils, which is the entree that keeps bringing me back. This is a vegetarian entree that puts all the meat entrees on the menu to shame. The lentils are cooked with Moroccan spices that give them a wonderful, complex flavor (though not "hot" spicy), and are made creamy by a coconut citrus cream sauce. Bright green broccoli surrounds the mound of lentils, and the lentils are mixed with cooked vegetables, sweet raisins, and tofu squares with a very appealing texture: crispy on the outside and hot and soft on the inside. My girlfriend and I decided that we didn't want to risk problems in our relationship at dinner on Friday, so we each ordered the spiced lentils entree instead of trying to split it.

The only appetizer I've tried is the fried green tomatoes (which is not on the online menu yet). This was only the second or third time in my life having fried green tomatoes, so I don't have a "gold standard" by which to judge Portabellos' version. The fried tomato slices were not particularly flavorful; in fact, if I had been served the dish blind, I don't think I would have identified the fried discs as tomatoes. That said, the tomato slices were served with stellar accompaniments: a mango-black bean salsa, ring of olive oil, and creamy, remoulade-like sauce (though not quite as thick as remoulade) that absolutely made the appetizer. The tomato slices are normally served with pepperjack cheese on top, but the kitchen was nice enough to split the appetizer into two plates, as I did not want cheese.

The other thing that keeps drawing me to Portabellos is the sweet potato spice cake, a trademark slice of warm, soft, gently spiced cake with a cream cheese-based frosting, whipped cream, caramel orange sauce, and thin, decorative wafer cookie. My girlfriend rarely opts for non-chocolate desserts, but even she concedes that the sweet potato spice cake makes dessert a mandatory course at Portabellos.