Quite Foul: A Story of Weird Service

Great service is rewarded by generous tips, genuine “thank yous” and smiles. Bad service can certainly ruin a dining experience. And most of the time, we hope, service is forgettable—you get our food in a timely fashion, you have a pleasurable experience, and that is that. But then there are times when there’s no designation for the kind of service you get. I had one such experience in the DC area.

I was with a group of friends, and our waitress, seemingly peppy and friendly, began a silent commentary on some of the items we were ordering. For example, I ordered sweet tea (forgetting they only served the regular brew), and she responded NOT by saying “I’m sorry, we don’t serve sweet tea, but we have natural and artificial sweeteners for your convenience.” Instead she nodded “no” in quick, nervous shakes. I, looking at her askance, said, “oookay, I’ll take regular.”

When she returned to take our orders, I inquired about the beet and potato soup they were offering as a special. I asked, “Is this a cream-based soup?”
She said, in a very hyper “Gilmore Girls” fast-talking kind of way: “Oh, well, usually we try the soup, but today we were afraid.”

Me: “Okay.” [Soup base aside, I’ve obviously already decided I’m not ordering the soup.]

Her: “I’m going to go ask the chef.”

So before taking any other orders, she dashed off to the kitchen to do some forensics on the soup. She came back and said “It’s kind of creamy, but kind of not. But, actually, it looks really good.”

Me [not falling for this obvious act of back-pedaling]: “Okay, thanks. But first I’d like to know why you were afraid to try the soup today.”

Her: “Oh, well, you see, yesterday, the chef made this soup from Peruvian potatoes, and it was purple! And, well, it was quite foul.”

Me: “Foul, okay.”

Her: “But today’s soup looks really good.”

Me: “I’ll skip the soup,” and I placed my order.

Later when we were ordering dessert, she reprised her nervous shaking syndrome when one of our friends ordered a particular dessert. “Oookay,” he said “I’ll have the pie instead.”

Laughing at the experience, we all agreed honesty is valued from a waiter, but that there’s a classier way of saying “quite foul” when you’re trying to steer guests toward something they might like better. Still, our meal was pleasant, and we enjoyed ourselves. And if nothing else, this case of bizarre service was fodder for good cocktail conversation. So, I suggest you pull up a chair, pour a glass, and tell us about a weird experience of your own.

—AK

We Ate the Whole Thing

I was in Atlanta for work recently and had the chance to dine at the newest installation of the B.E.D. restaurant chain, which is located in the boutique hotel, the Glenn. Normally, I wouldn't succumb to such a overtly cheeky trend, but they have beds, which reminded me of a rather fun nightclub in New York called The Apartment, or APT. And there are times, rare times, when submitting to hype doesn't bother me (too much).

My colleagues and I went on a whim, so we didn't have the luxury of dining on one of their beds, but perhaps that was a good thing. Gingerly cutting into a steak while balancing plates and sides on a mattress doesn't sound easy or fun. Still, we enjoyed a delightful meal that included a rather weird twist on a Southern favorite: a WHOLE fried green tomato stuffed with an andouille sausage corn sauce and a side of bacon jerky.

The menu description isn't clear, so we waited for our starter, expecting the small rounds of golden, crispy tomato, until we received what looked like a mangled Granny Smith apple. Naturally, we dove right in. The tomato was bizarre, as it was a bit harder than the soft fried slices I'm used to, but it was still pleasant and refreshingly tomoatoey. The stuffing, on the other hand, seemed to be a mismatch even though it tasted wonderful. The sweet and spicy ragout of sausage and corn seemed like it would have fit better over rice or pasta than stuffed into the green fruit.

The vanilla-braised short ribs with crème fraîche mashed potatoes and haricots vertes was an amazing dish—basically a haute cuisine version of meat-n-potatoes, a combo that never disappoints. Just the right amount of vanilla was used, as it came through in the beef, but didn't overwhelm the olfactories or the taste buds. The mashed potatoes, as you might imagine, were velvety rich, and the green beans were perfectly seasoned and had just the right amount of crunch.

If the notion of eating a whole fried green tomato excites you and you happen to be hanging out in downtown Atlanta, go for it. But much more can be had here—juicy pork chops, excellent filet, and some pretty awesome sides such as polenta fries and cornbread mac n cheese. So while I would recommend trying the tomato for its novelty factor, don't expect it to be the highlight of the meal.

Go to B.E.D. Atlanta:

110 Marietta Street
Atlanta, GA 30303
(404) 222-7992

—AK

Remembrance of Hoagies Past

Every morning as I drive to work, I always seem to hit the stoplight right before Table Talk. Even at 8 a.m., their parking lot is already stuffed with cars, and as I idle at the light I like to imagine that the scene inside must be a veritable who’s who of old school Alexandria.

After three years of feeling pangs of nostalgia at this stoplight each morning, I recently made time to hit Table Talk again, so that I could experience one of my childhood delights for the first time as an adult.

Table Talk is just up the street from my parents’ office building, so it was a frequent destination for breakfast and lunch when I was a wee one. While most of the menu is standard diner fare, their version of the hamburger hoagie stands out as their great contribution to the sandwich canon.

Sure, it sounds kinda trashy, but twentysome years ago I spent many a happy summer afternoon in some spare office in my folks’ office building hunched over a hamburger hoagie and a copy of Bridge to Terabithia (yeah, I shed a few tears at the end).

I don’t believe that the hamburger hoagie is a widespread phenomenon, but then the sort of places that offer it aren’t likely to turn up on Google. But even if the hamburger hoagie is common in other parts, I’m confident that Table Talk’s rendition would trump all others.





Their genius move is to simply stuff a couple of fried hamburger patties into a sandwich that otherwise has all of the same accompaniments as a standard Italian hoagie: lettuce, tomato, mayonnaise, red onions, red pepper flakes, oregano, oil and vinegar, and a sandwich-sized slice off of one of those enormous dill pickles.

And just so there's no confusion, this is not like an ordinary hamburger, where the meat itself takes center stage. The patties themselves are unremarkable. Rather, it's the totality of all of the elements taken together that's the key to appreciating this sandwich.

Indeed, as far as the meat goes, I would have actually preferred it to be a tad greasier, as the patties were a bit too dry. And I’ll definitely ask for extra oil and vinegar next time, so that the bread is properly saturated. Still, it was pretty much identical to the sandwich that I enjoyed as a lad, and I’ll likely be back a few more times before Table Talk’s inevitable demise. If you happen to be in the area around lunchtime, go ahead and take a chance on it. At the very least, you’ll appreciate the quaint diner atmosphere.

As a side note, I’ve noticed a placard in front of Table Talk for the past couple of years touting some future office development in its stead. I asked the woman at the counter how much longer they were going to be around, and she seemed surprised. “Do you know something we don’t know?” she asked. I mentioned the sign out front. “Oh, that sign has been out there for five years now,” she replied. “These things take time.”

Check out Table Talk’s hamburger hoagie:

1623 Duke St.
Alexandria, VA
(703) 548-3989

—AC

Curtido Bandito

During my year and a half of living in the Mt. Pleasant neighborhood of DC, I got quite an education about Salvadorean food, as the area abounded with taquerias and pupuserias, my favorite of which was Haydee’s. My standard order was a cheese pupusa and a side of fried plantains (okay, and a few Tecates), which were served with refried beans and fresh crema. Over the years, I’ve certainly enjoyed more than my share of pupusas and plantains, but none as perfectly prepared as those at Haydee’s. 

But as it turns out, Mercado Latino Pupseria, a hole in the wall in Annandale, just outperformed Haydee’s by a long shot. This tiny place in a nondescript shopping center is easily missed. It is flanked by a shuttered Korean joint and a Chinese herbs purveyor and doesn’t make much noise about its superb offerings. Just a lone sign, “Pupuseria Newsstand” lets you know of what’s inside: magazines and pupusas. But the sign really should say “Plaintains Fried to Perfection and Pupusas to Be Rivaled by No Other” and just leave it at that. No menu needed.

We each ordered a cheese pupusa, and we shared a plate of tacos (one al carbon and one chorizo) and a plate of fried plantains with fresh crema. Normally, I am not picky about pupusas. If it’s a fried tortilla with cheese in it with a side of pickled slaw, I’m happy. But after enjoying of the newsstand’s expert creations, I now realize that I’ve been settling for sub-par preparation. My past pupusa experiences have involved tasty but somewhat hard cheese. The pupusas we had on this day oozed with soft, cheese lava that tasted fabulous and went down the hatch smoothly and seamlessly, instead of hitting the bottom of my stomach like a brick. Also the curtido, a lightly pickled cabbage slaw that comes on the side and which is usually an afterthought, was made fresh at Mercado Latino. The cabbage had a nice cold crunch, and the salsa ladled on top was homemade and refreshing. This is a critical detail to the pupusa experience, as it perfectly complements the fried cheese-filled tortilla in substance, texture, and taste.

Though we enjoyed the generous tacos, served with ample filling on a single, thick tortilla (at first we thought it might have been a pupusa), we’ve enjoyed superior al carbon and chorizo tacos elsewhere. Plus, we prefer an alternative presentation at other taquerias in the area—the filling is piled on two thin tortillas, the second to be used to make an extra taco with excess filling. Next time, we will skip the tacos in favor of the sopa de res, which was the entrée of choice of most of the other patrons. A piping hot beef soup featured a prodigous portion of corn on the cob and a generous serving of vegetables.

Far too often plantains are under cooked, forcing us to chew and chew and chew on a lukewarm chunk of green/yellow fruit. But not here. The plantains came to our table charred to all hell, the look of which pleased us immediately. Because a blackened, dangerously hot plantain can mean only one thing: a very soft, yellow, and sweet inside. The crema was a refreshing topping for each sizzling bite, and the refried beans were a fine salty companion.

We washed this feast down with a couple of our favorite authentic beverages: horchata, a drink of rice milk and cinnamon, and tamarindo a somewhat sweet and sour agua fresca.

We have learned over the years that it’s very easy to screw up horchata; it’s usually way too cinnamony, rendering the drink cloying and a bit like drinking sand. Gross. But here, we have discovered the second best horchata north of the border (the first of which is served in a shack somewhere on First Avenue in NYC). Just enough cinnamon in a glass of cold rice milk is simply heaven.

Enjoy a great Salvadorean meal at Mercado Latino Pupuseria at:

6653-E Little River Turnpike
Annandale, VA
(703) 333-5242

—AK

Notes from Chicago: Healthy Food Lithuanian

As our weekend in Chicago drew near, I figured that we would have just enough time to hit each of the three archetypal Chicago foods: Italian Beef, Chicago-style hot dogs, and deep dish pizza. While we’re normally all about experiencing obscure ethnic delights, I was determined not to deviate from our tour of Chicago’s great contributions to culinary Americana. But then I happened upon a reference to Healthy Food, a Lithuanian restaurant that was decidedly not very healthy at all.

At first, I thought it was skippable. After all, I had lived for many years near Veselka in NYC, had certainly had my fill of starchy Eastern European grub, and figured that Lithuanian food would only be marginally different, and, therefore, hardly worth the extra schlep (this joint would end up requiring us to endure a lengthy combination of Elevated and bus).

After poking around Google for some extral intel on this place, I happened upon their exceedingly charming (if barebones) website. True, I found their menu intriguing, particularly the references to kugelis, but if you ever need a portal into my personal insanity, then note that the following paragraph from their website turned out to be the decisive factor for me:

Be sure to see Gina's collection of Amber, displayed in the showcase by the cashier. She will be glad to show you her favorite pieces. All pieces displayed are for sale. We have miscellaneous small antiques available too. Be sure to look around when you are dining, because you never know what you may find! Your Host--Gina

That’s right. I was ultimately swayed by the amber collection next to the cash register. If you don’t make time to check out the website, it’s important to note that the text is accompanied by a photo of Gina marveling over the glories of her favorite pieces.

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Healthy Food is situated in a dusty blue collar neighborhood sprinkled with repair shops, diners, and dive bars. There’s a taqueria and panaderia (Mexican bakery) across the street, so if you aren’t disgusted by the mere thought of food after your Lithuanian feast, then the panaderia may be worth checking out.

The restaurant itself is very much the wood-paneled time capsule (“authentic ‘50s style”) that it proclaims itself on the website. They have some capital wall hangings, showcasing their Lithuanian heritage. And yes, this icon of the Virgin Mary has been rendered with tiny bits of amber.

We started off with a cup of their Lithuanian yoghurt, homemade, rather tart, but refreshing. They offer their yoghurt in a smoothie, as well, but I figured (perhaps wrongly) that this was some sort of well-meaning concession to recent food trends. This was accompanied by a tall glass of fresh and frothy carrot juice. They also offer fresh vegetable juice, but I was imagining the horrors of a cabbage juice induced coma and overruled it.

Their borscht was easily the highlight of the meal. It was a vivid shade of pinkish purple, undoubtedly the result of blending sour cream and beets, and flecked with green bits of dill. In fact, the borscht was more a showcase for the dill than it was for the sweet and starchy beets. Healthy Food had a true stroke of genius when it came to its tweaking of the traditional borscht format: a side plate of boiled potatoes accompanied the soup so that we could determine the proper ratio of soup to potato.

Thus ends the comparatively healthy portion of our meal.

The entrees were enormous.

We had their blynai, which were mildly sweet, crepe-like, blanket-sized pancakes, ladled with a blueberry compote, and folded over dried cottage cheese curds. I figured that the fruit and cheese option was the way to go with their blynai even though it turns out that they would have been better on their own, accompanied by just a dusting of powdered sugar. I had been expecting a sweet farmer’s cheese, but the dried curds were truly a surprise. They were basically little ball bearings of cheese, dry in the sense that they weren’t melted at all, and mild in flavor. I’m not sure that they really add anything beyond texture and nutrition.

Of course, we had to try kugelis, which is supposedly the national food of Lithuania. Typically, we opted for a gutbusting platter featuring a slab of kugelis, accompanied by an enormous homemade Lithuanian sausage, and a side of sauerkraut. The sausage had a nice snappy casing, but was a bit mild for my taste, almost like a slightly heavier version of weisswurst. And the kugelis is the sort of comfort food that you probably have to have grown up on to appreciate. It’s a dense and creamy slice of potato casserole studded with smoky bits of bacon. Even when paired with sour cream and apple sauce, it’s a bit too intense for me.

We inquired about their “bacon buns”, but were told that they had already run through their supply for the weekend. It turns out that “bacon buns” are basically dinner rolls stuffed with bits of bacon. Sounds enticing, but after all that kugelis and sausage our guts were considerably busted, so it was just as well that bacon buns weren’t on offer.

Though Gina tempted us with an apple pie that was fresh from the oven, we were at capacity.

And in case you were wondering, I did, of course, take a moment to check out the amber collection before we rolled on out of there.

Check out Healthy Food Lithuanian Restaurant:
3236 S. Halsted St.
Chicago, IL
(312) 326-2724

-AC

Notes from Chicago: Wedding Food

A couple weekends ago, we attended a lavish wedding at The Four Seasons in Chicago. At a place like The Four Seasons, it's incumbent upon the party-giver to go all out and make the most of the location, and so the decorations, entertainment, and all the little details were first class, but the food took center stage (okay, the bride and groom did, but this is a food blog, okay?).

First of all, we love it when people theme the party food. In this case, everything was Chicago or Italian themed, even down to the hotel gift-baskets. When we arrived, an overflowing bag filled with Chicago treats, such as Mazel Toffee, Affy Tapples, and Wrigley's gum awaited us. AC was particularly freaking out over the caramel apples, as he told me before we left the airport that "I must have an Affy Tapple before we leave." Thank you, TA, for helping to fulfill a dream.

After a lovely nondenominational ceremony, guests filed into the foyer set up for cocktails and appetizers. But let's be honest here, these were not appetizers, these were Italian mini-meals. Three types of fresh handmade pastas (lobster ravioli, butternut squash ravioli, ricotta-stuffed gnocchi) were being served to salivating guests, many of whom returned for repeat visits (I'm looking in your direction RC, CC, etc.). Another station offered thin-crust pizza, the best of which was the carmelized onion and goat cheese pizza.

Unrelated to anything Italian was the unusual addition of a pretzel bar where the staff were slinging warm salted and unsalted pretzels with a choice of four different types of mustard. AC is a serious mustard enthusiast, so I was pleased to see him rushing over with a plate garnished with a dollop of all four.

Even after all of this consumption, it took every ounce of restraint I could muster to not continue sending AC back for more of everything. But we were sure that the dinner would be just as outstanding. Luckily, more surprises. Dinner featured an enormous chicken breast dredged in an herbed bread-crumb mixture, accompanied by sauteed seasonal vegetables and dauphinoise potatoes. It was a meal fit for two people (which is perfectly fine, because we each usually eat for two...each), and that's to say nothing of the ample bread display. The flatbread, pretzel bread, and mini-baguettes were delicious, and we made quick work of the flower-shaped pat of butter.

Most weddings feature a cake—this one was a two-in-one. Each slice featured moist chocolate layer cake on the top and banana layer cake on the bottom. Also placed on each table was a tiered tray of homemade Italian cookies, our favorite of which was the pignoli cookie—the perfect companion to the extra-strong cappuccino we ordered from the espresso bar.

At the end of the night, we were certain we had consumed our weight in food and beverage. And for that, we thank the As.

—AK

Notes from Chicago: Mr. Beef

AC and I were in the Windy City this past weekend for a most fabulous wedding at The Four Seasons. In fact, the food at the wedding alone is worth a post, and we'll certainly get to that. But it would be wrong and, frankly, impossible, for us to do a post about Chicago without talking about a couple of great indigenous finds during our short time there.

Sure, pizza and hot dogs are a no-brainer in Chi-town, but we decided, ultimately, that we need to do two things: 1. have Italian beef at Mr. Beef (Jay Leno's favorite) and 2. find at least one wacky (preferably ethnic) thing that we've previously been missing from our culinary repertoire. And, folks, we did both. I will regale you with our beef tale, while AC will discuss the finer points of Lithuanian cuisine in a future post. Here goes:

Fresh from unpacking, we immediately headed out to the bus that would take us to Orleans Street, where the famed Mr. Beef is located. A small, old-timey, oddly clean shack, Mr. Beef is a spare space with a long ledge for stand-up eating in the main area and an "elegant dining room" in the back. We went for the ledge, which turned out to be a great method for Italian beef, as this sandwich is the messiest thing I've ever had to manhandle in my life. One needs two hands and a lot of leverage to keep things under control.

Ordering our meal was a no-hassle experience. First, we knew what we wanted; no menu-reading necessary. "Two Italian beef, please," blurted AC. "Two beef...peppers?" "Yes." "Sweet or hot?" "Both...and lots of 'em," say us. "[In the direction of the sandwich assembler] Two beef, sweet hot peppers. "[To us] Fo' heah?" "Yes." Upon reflection, we couldn't believe taking these sandwiches to go was even an option, as it would clearly result in a cold mess at home. The sandwiches come swaddled in parchment, and upon unwrapping them, they ooze jus, peppers and jardiniere fall everywhere, and the meat—tender, thinly sliced, and powerfully delicious—just doesn't want to stay in the baguette. In other words, eating this thing is about as dainty of an undertaking as it is to mow down a turkey leg at a Renaissance faire.

But even though we were up to a napkin-to-bite ratio of 1:1, indulging in the Italian beef experience was one of the most satisfying fast-food adventures there is. The soaked bread meshes with the thin slices of beef delightfully, while a crunch of celery and a sliver of roasted red pepper sneak in every now and then. Mostly, though, it's a lot of meat—lean, plentiful and juicy. Another surprise is that they don't overfeed you at Mr. Beef. Though it seemed like a lot of food at first glance, we didn't find ourselves lumbering back to our hotel with heartburn; the beef gave us ample fuel for our walking tour of Wicker Park.

Notes on atmosphere: Like many celebrated, classic fast-food joints, Mr. Beef has the requisite wall of fame with the likes of Jay Leno (oddly pictured with about half a dozen other celebs he must have run into while picking up some beef), Robert de Niro, Siskel and Ebert, a few obscure rock bands, and some oddities like Laurie Metcalf from "Roseanne" fame and news anchor Lester Holt, who, in his picture, was sporting a hilarious stache. Laughing and pointing at the wall is a great way to pass the time while constantly keeping the jus from running down your chin.

Get yourself to Mr. Beef at:

666 N Orleans Street
Chicago, Illinois
(312) 337-8500

—AK

A New Tradition: Brunch and a Movie

KK and I accidentally started a tradition a few weeks ago. After having a tremendous brunch at Tallula, we decided a natural follow-up activity would be to see a movie. We both had heard the positive buzz about  “Little Miss Sunshine,” so we looked into it. The stars and planets clearly were aligned that day, as there was a showing just up the road from Washington Blvd., in Shirlington, the indie movie theater of choice in Northern Virginia. This was such an enjoyable pairing of activities that we decided to make it a regular occurrence. Here are a few highlights from our first brunch and a movie outing:

Brunch Highlights:
•The Eggs Benedict, prepared with bresoala ham, a fried green tomato in lieu of English muffin, and topped with jalapeño hollandaise. It actually took me a few bites to fully realize there was no bread element to the dish. 
•The side dish of biscuits and gravy. Yes, they offer B&G as a SIDE—what a fantastic idea. Because really, there are just times we’d like a little bit of something decadent, not a platter full of grease and gravy (then again, sometimes we do want that). The light, but creamy, gravy was made with pancetta, and the biscuit was appropriately soft and crumbly.

Movie Highlight:
•Steve Carell—when the guy actually takes a break from his frat-boy scripts (that’s not to say I didn’t love “40-year-old Virgin”), he really shows the range he has as an actor. I don’t profess to know much about the “art” of film or acting, but I do know when a movie just works. The movie was funny, appropriately heart-warming without being sappy, and a little bit dark and sad.

Enjoy Tallula at:
2761 Washington Boulevard
Arlington, Virginia

Bed & (Awesome) Breakfast

A couple weeks ago, AC and I traveled to Montreal for five days of Québécois food and culture. While we certainly enjoyed our fare share of excellent meals, Québécois and otherwise (not to mention excellent coffee), one of our best meals was a 30-second walk from the door of our room.

Our bed and breakfast, the Heritage Victorien, served up one of the best (probably THE best) B&B breakfast we've ever had. First, let me say that two of the things AC and I love the most are freshly squeezed juice (pretty much any kind), and bread. And if we had to tailor a meal that perfectly showcased these two items, this would be it. Each morning, we came down to a spread of at least five fresh organic breads, including buttery croissants, a cherry/chocolate loaf, organic whole wheat bread with baked-in Gruyere cheese, and kamut (a very large grain, related to wheat) bread. Additionally, a bowl of fresh white cherries, two pots of homemade jams, freshly melon-balled cantaloupe, and a warm onion-apple tart were among the extra food items at our disposal. If we wanted to (and we kind of did), we could have eaten for three straight hours.

It's also worth mentioning that the B&B itself is far and away one of the most elegant we've patronized—and we have stayed at many, as it is our preferred method of lodging when we travel. We feel like we get a more "staying with a friend" experience, and in many cases (not all!), the proprietors have often been a good local guide and/or just interesting people to meet. Plus the interior was above and beyond anything we've seen (especially for the very reasonable price). The proprietor, Denis, bought and renovated two Victorian-era buildings. Each of the rooms is painstakingly designed with a mixture of antiques and new furnishings and fixtures. Case in point: our room was outfitted with an relatively old bed, an antique dresser and side table, a couple of old chairs, a beautiful oriental rug, and ... an refinished old-school claw foot bathtub IN the room, along with a new sink, all with new fancy fixtures. And for AC, who is not always keen on bathing where he sleeps, there was a standalone shower in a small room where the toilet also was. So-two bathing options, a sink, and toilet, all en suite. Did I mention there was a full suite of cable channels? Yeah, this place was awesome.

If you visit Montreal, please stay here:

Heritage Victorien
311  East Ontario Street
Montréal Québec Canada H2X 1H7
(514) 845 7932

—AK

Here Comes the Cake

Over a year ago, while we were planning our wedding, AC became focussed on finding the best vendor for our cake. Neither of us are big cake people, but AC had a wacky idea, and he wanted to find the right bakery to pull it off.

We settled on Charm City Cakes, helmed by Duff Goldman, who you might know from various Food Network cake challenges and, now, his own show. At the time, we had no idea of the fame (or, frankly, the mad scientist) potential of our cake baker. He is known for his off-the-wall creations that sometimes involve moving parts and non-edible objects. But when we arrived at Duff's bakery, we knew we had made the right choice.

AC wanted our cake to evoke fin de siècle artist Aubrey Beardsley, so we took in a book of drawings and showed Duff a picture we liked, which actually ended up being a knock-off Beardsley but still had that masqueradey/exotic feel of an original.

Duff seemed to be excited about the challenge and even said something to the effect of "thanks for bringing this cool idea to us."

Fast-forward several months, just a couple weeks before the wedding, I get a call from the bakery asking me if it's okay if they film the making of a cake for a Food Network special, and also would we like to be in the show extolling the glory of our cake on camera in all of our wedding glory. The answer to the first question was, "of course!" But we respectfully declined the offer to be on camera on our wedding day. No thank you.

The cake was tremendous. We opted for a cherry-almond cake with a basic buttercream frosting. In between each layer of cake was a filling of
fresh cherry chunks. It was amazing. Because I didn't get the chance to
actually have a full piece during the wedding, I shamelessly dug into
the top tier later that night. Come on, how could you expect AK and AC
to keep food in our freezer for a whole year!?

Three months after the fact, we have learned that our cake did not end up on the proverbial cutting room floor, as our wedding creation will indeed be featured on tonight's episode of "Ace of Cakes," the new show devoted to the innovation and madness of Duff Goldman and his crew. Check it out at 10:30 Eastern/9:30 Central on the Food Network.

Cake photo by Jay Wilson.

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—AK

Eve of Consumption

AC and I recently turned 30, and my very thoughtful father and stepmother set us up with a gift certificate to Restaurant Eve, the big buzz place in Alexandria right now. Lucky for us, we live very close to Eve so we’ve frequently enjoyed their proprietary cocktails (we wrote about them here). We’ve also eaten there once when AC’s father treated us to the tasting room, which was a completely over-the-top experience that, in my case, involved nine courses. So, once again we find ourselves headed for Eve for another amazing meal. This time we opted for the bistro, which we found was just as revelatory.

We decided to pull out all the stops on this meal, nonetheless. We both started out with appetizers: the housemade gnocchi in housemade ricotta cheese and the selection of charcuterie. The gnocchi was second to none—light and pillowy, as opposed to most gnocchi, which are often dense and chewy. Most of us think of cured meats when the word “charcuterie” is used, but in this case, the dish was mostly a pate- and terrine-oriented array of meats. There was a small pot of chicken liver paté, slices of duck pastrami, rabbit terrine, squab terrine, one more terrine that I can’t recall, and “fromage de tête,” which, though it was technically head cheese, was thin slices of flavorful sausage rather than slices from a jellied cube of snouts. I almost never pass up the opportunity to enjoy paté or terrines, while AC prefers to steer clear of the liver products.

For entrees, I opted for the Muscovy duck breast with a “doughnut” peach (basically a freshly stewed half peach), all over a bed of slaw. As it was presented to me, the waiter poured some doughnut peach au jus over the top. The duck was meaty and juicy like a perfectly cooked steak, and it soaked up the wonderful peachy jus. AC went for the ribeye steak, which came with a potato galette. The steak, according to AC, was the second best steak he’s ever had, the absolute best being from Peter Luger’s in New York. Still, it’s a very respectable position to be in, and he even ate all the fat—a rarity. And the galette was out of this world. It was presented to us on a small cast-iron skillet, popping and sizzling. The inside was appropriately creamy while the crust was crispy and golden and heaped with minced garlic. There was so much garlic, in fact, that I was certain we could be smelled from several tables away. But I happen to be obsessed with garlic, so I put my self-consciousness aside and shamelessly enjoyed this little piece of heaven.

While we’re still discussing savories, it’s critical that I spend time discussing the homemade bread. Slices of warm, crusty whole wheat bread simply melted in our mouths, and that was before the butter was applied. I don’t know what these cows are fed, but the butter was the richest I’ve tasted. I hypothesized that it’s Irish butter, as I’ve tried that before, and the taste was similar. The proprietor and head chef is also Irish, so perhaps he just had to serve it in his restaurant. Still, even though we had loads of food coming to us, we insisted on a second round of bread, totaling six slices each. And we ate it all.

Half way through our entrees, AC declared that there would be no dessert, but that he would look at the menu. I countered that we shouldn’t even look at the menu, as we would definitely be tempted to order and eat two desserts, resulting in major stomach strain (and I was wearing my super-skinny pants that night, stupidly). A few minutes later AC said to me “I’m not even looking at the dessert menu; we’re not eating dessert.” I concurred. But what happens is, wait staff usually have this line that they say. It goes something like this: “Would you like to see our dessert menu?” The response, “yes,” was involuntary. Next thing we know an amazing parfait of pistachio custard, apricot puree, and buttermilk cream arrived in front of me, all layered beautifully in a highball glass. AC got the Chocolate and Marshmallow dessert, which was a cool idea, but the execution was a bit lacking. It was a sliver of rich chocolate with a graham cracker pastry beneath it, accompanied by only a smidgen of marshmallow on the side. Even after he was done, we had to do double duty on the parfait because of the volume of it. Each layer was pretty dense and due to the width and depth of the highball, the dessert seemed to never end. Plus, I was really testing the strength of the hook-and-eye closure on my pants. Still we’re glad we did it, as it was a top-notch meal, and in addition, the service and ambience at Eve are first class. Case in point: As we were waiting for our table to be prepared, the head chef and local celebrity Cathal Armstrong stopped on his way to the busy kitchen to say “hello.” That’s just how things go down in Virginia (and Ireland?).

Next stop: Eamonn’s: a Dublin Chipper, a fish-and-chips place and brand extension of the Eve empire. Only this one is straight up peasant food and alcohol. Count us in.

Restaurant Eve
110 South Pitt Street
Alexandria, VA
(703) 706-0450

What We've Been Doing

We have indeed been remiss in updating this blog regularly. We have no excuse. Actually we do have excuses, but they're all lousy, so we won't share. But we will share with you our recent food write-ups for DCist.

1. AC and I are particularly fond of Southside's fried chicken. Not only is it appropriately spiced, succulent, and comes sheathed in a super-crispy skin, it seems to arrive in record time. This is a very good thing for two people who are  always hungry.

2. Read here about my adventure at the fish market in DC.

3. AC and I went to Patisserie Poupon to enjoy its rich quiches, French onion soup, and amazing pastries, which come in both large and small sizes! We recommend the spinach and bacon quiches.

4. If you enjoy a tall wheat beer and a hearty goulash or sauerbraten, read up on Cafe Berlin, a fantastic German restaurant (and one of the last of its kind) in the DC area.

5. Many restaurants treat brunch as an afterthought. Not Majestic Cafe. This posh little diner serves up amazing deep fried poached eggs (yes, you read that correctly), corned beef hash, and country sausage, gravy and biscuits.

6. Until now we thought the best pint of ice cream we could buy at a grocery store was Haagen Dazs or Ben and Jerry's. Until we tried packaged pints of Philly's Capogiro gelato, the creamiest and richest stuff we've tasted.

7. We recently tried some new things and old faves at Shiney's, a Pakistani joint in Annandale. If you venture out there, don't be turned off by the buffet; they make up all of their meat and veggie dishes to order. And they have the best gulab jamun this side of the Indus River.

Crafty Carving

It would just be downright wrong to not partake of the national dish while in China. So, even though I'd already had one of the famed lazy susan meals that day, I insisted that JX take me for the real-deal Peking duck experience.

There was no question where we were going, as far as JX was concerned: Quan Ju De, a famous Peking duck chain restaurant based in Beijing.

It's very possible that there were other items on the menu other than the roast duck dish, but I honestly can't recall A. what they might have been or B. what we even had for an appetizer (it was probably something tofu-related, as many of our dishes were that week). Why we even ordered an appetizer is beyond me, as you'll soon understand how extraneous it was.

Still, any other menu items would be sadly reduced to a footnote at a place like this. Once we were seated, it was hard to avert my gaze from the parade of duck chefs (?) coming out of the kitchen one by one. Tall, quiet gentleman pushed their respective carts holding bronze, shiny whole ducks to salivating diners. While we waited, a server brought over the accoutrements
that are essential to experiencing Peking duck—a dish of hoisin sauce,
a dish of julienned scallions, and a plate of rice flour pancakes.Once our chef arrived at our table, he silently and effortlessly began to carve.

First, he lopped off several pieces of skin and fat (only a tiny bit of meat was attached). These pieces were meant as appetizers, only to be dipped in the hoisin sauce and not to be wrapped in the pancakes or garnished with onion, as is customary with the meat. At first, it seemed bizarre to just eat pieces of crispy skin and fat, but then I came to my senses—what could be better than eating straight crispy skin and fat!? And so we did. The pieces gave a little crunch as the fat and small amount of meat melted away in my mouth. While it's not exactly the kind of thing a person should eat on a regular basis, it is one of those dining experiences that stays with you for a long time (in this case, two years).

After we ate our fair share of fat pieces, it was time for the meat. But we did not eat without first getting quite a show. The carver, with the most delicate sleight of hand ever executed, took on each quadrant of the duck with total perfection. Perhaps it's all muscle memory to this guys by now, but it was sure impressive from where I was sitting. The meat was pink, juicy and tender, and each piece had a panel of that fantastic skin attached.

If you're lucky enough to be in Shanghai, visit Quan Ju De at:

4F, 786 Huaihai Zhonglu
Shanghai, China
+ 021-5404-5799

—AK

Lazy Susan Roulette

I knew long before I even left for Asia that great food was in my future when our Chinese guide and translator, JX, emailed me to ask, “Do you like roast ducks?” The answer, of course, was “yes.” And for the next three weeks, I couldn’t wait to board the plane.

The highlight of the 2004 trip (for work) was the three days I spent in Shanghai with my mom, DV, and JX. JX, I learned not only had an appetite to match mine, but also the same bizarre interest in new, interesting foods. Of course, we were on his turf, so I was getting to truly experience the new and interesting, while he happily showed us the ropes.

I decided right off the bat that I didn’t care what came across my plate—I was going to try it...at least twice. Luckily I didn’t have to read a menu or worry about what type of cuisine to have, as all of our meals were either orchestrated by our hosts or planned by JX. So they led, and I followed.

The meals with our hosts were outrageous. Both meals involved roughly eight to 10 Chinese men, JX, myself and my mother. JX tried to keep up with everyone so as to give us a Cliff’s Notes version of what people were talking about, all while trying to eat. Meanwhile, food was being brought out in various stages. Bowl after bowl and platter after platter of food would be placed on an enormous lazy susan, so as too ease sharing between so many people. The dishes were enormous and plentiful; I believe fresh dishes were coming out for the duration of the meal (about three hours). Our hosts in both instances were pleased that we were eating so heartily (myself more than my mom) and even encouraged me to keep eating, even when I was clearly at capacity and ready to prostrate myself in my hotel room. More, more, more.

More of what, you ask? Herewith I include a list of every item placed on the lazy susan (as taken from my notes) at both meals:

Meal No. 1
-goose liver
-crunchy, marinated sheets of squid
-shredded tofu
-sweet and sour pork
-barbecued park
-sauteed greenleaf
-deep-fried crepe with sesame pork
-cold tofu slices
-a dish of mushy small shrimp in soy sauce
-Peking duck
-tofu in coconut broth
-pork spring rolls
-cole slaw (the vinegary kind)

Meal No. 2
-more sheets of squid
-green vegetable with squid
-fish in a sizzling hot pot
-barbecued duck
-tofu in broth
-soup of bamboo stalks and pork
-small shrimps (heads still on)
-some kind of strange yellow vegetable
-fish pieces
-dumplings with more green vegetable
-beef in lettuce
-and yet even more green vegetable
-watermelon
-chicken soup

Stay tuned for more on this trip in future posts.

—AK

Triple Cream Dream

The DC food media love to hype up new restaurants to the point of extreme oversaturation. And when that happens, our inclination is avoid the subjects of such abundance praise.

Of course, there are exceptions.

While AC scoffed at the notion of trying out the new outpost of California-based Cowgirl Creamery after weeks of incessant hype, I was intrigued and went there with a friend.

I love cheese, and because I know very little about all the varieties, I went into this shopping excursion with an extremely open mind and pretty much ready to buy anything the proprietors said I might like.

Upon walking in, I was already intrigued by a few wrapped wedges of cheese, jarred preserves and jams, and lovely varieties of crackers, olive oil, and other cheese companions placed near the front counter.

But the real action was taking place in the back, where a couple of women, dressed in their chef gear, were offering tastes of just about anything, and ringing things up like mad. At one counter, one of the cheesemongers enthusiastically offered, “would you like to try our homemade cottage cheese?!”

Normally, I would make the throw-up pantomime when the words “cottage cheese” are uttered. Thanks to a few college friends who would pile a generous scoop of it on top of canned peaches or Jell-O as part at the dining hall, my opinion of cottage cheese has always been rather low. Plus I never liked the texture and tanginess of it. But again, with an open mind, I tried it, and it was insanely creamy and only had a slight bit of tang. This stuff would KILL in a lasagna.

Interest piqued, I moved over to where several customers were hovering over massive wedges and wheels of cheese. I decided that I didn’t want something so novel that I wouldn't be able to eat it in large quantities. I enjoy the bries and the camemberts and the blues indiscriminately, so I wanted something accessible like my favorites, but also something with a different flavor or texture. I explained my needs to the cheesemonger, and she replied, “Oh, you’ll want our Mt. Tam; it’s our signature cheese, and it’s a triple cream.” Well, I am down for anything that is “signature.” To me, that means “nothing tastes quite like it because we make it right here.” I tried some, and after it instantaneously melted in my mouth (think brie without the pungent taste and way way creamier—just a clean, fresh, cheese), I picked up a wedge. Even the once-skeptical AC said it was the best cheese he'd ever tasted, and he reserves such superlatives for very special situations.

I also wanted something made with raw cow’s milk. Why? I don’t know, it just sounded like a good idea at the time, so I bought some Constant Bliss purely on the nice lady's recommendation. Constant Bliss, which is from a farm in the Pacific Northwest somewhere, is a bit firmer than the Mt. Tan, tastes a tiny bit sharp, but was also very creamy and fresh. Both cheeses paired nicely with the Mitica Fig Jam I picked up.

Check out Cowgirl Creamery:

919 F Street NW
Washington, DC
(202) 393-6880

All in the Details

We apologize for the long delay, as AC and I have been struggling to get back into the habit of regularly posting after our recent wedding and lavish honeymoon at the Greenbrier resort in White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia.

We have many things to write about, as we have resumed our culinary adventures since then. But first, I want to share with you some special details from our time away from the real world.

Ostensibly, we chose the Greenbrier so that we might enjoy just a slice of what the landed gentry types get to soak up on a regular basis. What we got was much more than that.

Certainly, the activities (falconry, sporting clay shooting, and a sulfur soak in the spa), the outstanding meals, and the unparalleled politeness of the staff (every single staff member asked us how we were—every single one), put us square in the midst of the high life. But it was the little extras in the main dining room that took the whole experience to a level of greatness we have never experienced.

The crudité: Before placing our orders, we were brought a simple porcelain dish with some celery, cauliflower, endive, and carrot, accompanied by a ramekin of ranch dressing. Contrasted with the hickory smoked pork tenderloin, fancy steaks, seared fish, and foie gras we enjoyed night after night, it almost seems silly to serve such a bare bones appetizer. But in fact, the fresh veggies and dip were a welcome entrée into a rich two-hour dinner, and the offering conveyed the very traditions and hospitality for which we traveled four hours to enjoy.

The iced tea: There was nothing outrageous about the iced tea at the Greenbrier. It wasn’t infused with herbs, or sweetened, just garnished with a big wedge of lemon. At times, the iced tea, which we've seen referred to elsewhere as the "table wine of the south," seemed like the only soft drink on offer. Even at the daily 4 p.m. teatime, it seemed that people were enjoying just as much of the iced variety as they were the milk and sugar version. We got to the point that after lunch at Draper’s Café, the in-hotel luncheonette, we would get our refill of the tea, settle our bill, then take our teas up to our room to enjoy them while we decompressed in front of the television. And at dinner, it was a refreshing counterpoint to the pinot we gulped down each night.

The saucer and doily: Whether it was the iced tea, the freshly squeezed juices, or even ice water, it came in a tall glass on a saucer with a doily. Even water! We loved this special touch because, to us, it feels like the best water/juice/tea on the face of the planet was brought to us. No other glass of sweet, delicious nectar compares to this one right here, and because we are such special guests, we shall enjoy the best of everything at the Greenbrier. Reality check: The lovely doily/saucer combo prevented water rings on the tablecloths.

The finger bowl: With the bill after each breakfast and dinner service, we were brought a small silver bowl, lined with a thin filter emblazoned with the Greenbrier logo, and filled with warm lemon-scented water. The first time I was bestowed with the dainty thing, AC and I had NO idea what to do with it. AC suggested it was for “washing our hands,” so I did. I scooped some warm water into one hand (hard to do with such a small bowl), and rubbed my hands together as if they were under a faucet. I felt like a complete dolt doing this, but someone had taken the trouble to offer the bowl to me, so I was going to use it in whatever way seemed most prudent. At breakfast the following day, I took the liberty of asking how to properly use it. Our waitress said, “just dip your fingertips in it” in a delightful drawl. Luckily, we found out that we were not alone in our confusion. The waitress shared with us a story from the previous evening wherein a young girl thought it was consommé, and was ready to start slurping away at this seemingly superfluous "soup course".

Melba toasts: Thanks to the Greenbrier, I acquired an addiction to Melba toasts, those small, thin toasts used mainly for hors d’oeuvres. During dinner and lunch, a staffer walks around with a big breadbasket ready to take diners’ requests (soda bread and cornbread were also available). This takes place throughout dinner, so many, many pieces of bread can be had. I went for the Melbas because I figured they were a bit lighter than other breads; I wanted to save room for the ample entrees, salads, and appetizers. But the problem is this: I got like five or six of them each time. I would take the real butter (fashioned in the shape of the Greenbrier logo), smear it all over these little things, and munch away. Things only get worse when the breadmaster comes around again. I think, “Well, I’m getting the foie gras, and they only give you a couple of brioches, so I’ll need more toasts.” And then more toasts, and more. We’re talking toasted bread and pure butter, and a lot of it. And the foie gras is still being prepared! I would like to tell you all that there was a point at which I stopped eating the Melba toasts. But I can’t. The good news is I’ve been off Melbas for over a month, and I’m doing fine.

—AK

Goin' Up th' Country

We've been pretty busy as of late, and it doesn't look like we'll have any new content at least until the week of June 12th. We hope that you'll bear with us for now, and give us a chance to entertain you anew thereafter. In the interim, we haven't been able to link to all of our DCist efforts, so if you've been curious about what we've been up to on that front, then each of the following links will take you to a page that lists most of our articles thus far:

AK's Articles

AC's Articles

Rock.

—AC & AK

Chorizo Salvation at San Vicente

The D.C. area has a unique problem for those interested in uncovering quality Mexican grub. While those living in other cities typically have to contend with queso-laden Tex-Mex masquerading as "authentic Mexican," Washingtonians must suffer through a glut of Salvadoran restaurants' half-hearted renditions of Mexican food. Still, there are a few Salvadoran joints that have made great strides in helping D.C. overcome its authentic taco void. Taqueria El Charrito Caminante is probably the most famous example, as the entire D.C. board on Chowhound was overcome with praise for its goat tacos back in 2003.

Recently, Steve Siegel, who is easily the most prolific and adventurous poster on the D.C. Chowhound board, wrote a post extolling the virtues of San Vicente, a fixed-site taco shack on Columbia Pike in Arlington. Siegel proclaimed San Vicente's chorizo tacos the second best in the area after the aforementioned goat tacos from El Charrito Caminante.

With no less an eminence than Steve Siegel heralding its greatness, we knew that we must make haste to San Vicente. We had actually taken notice of San Vicente during a previous excursion down the Pike, as its distinctive burger shack architecture hearkened back to the pre-pupuseria era of Arlington. This burnt-out neon sign offers further evidence of its original incarnation.

AC wrote a fairly detailed article for DCist a couple of weeks ago describing our experience: Chorizo Salvation at San Vicente.  That post was picked up by Gawker Media's travel site, Gridskipper, whose post, in turn, was linked on Wonkette. This viral blog nonesense can be absolutely dizzying. If you happen to read either of those two blurbs, rest assured that the chorizo taco is hardly a secret menu item. In fact, the chorizo taco platter is there in plain sight on the menu. It's simply not listed as an a la carte option, but San Vicente is apparently willing to accommodate such a request.

Unlike other taco joints that have the various meats festering in vats, San Vicente makes everything to order.

The chorizo taco was everything we hoped it would be. Chorizo tacos are usually dripping with that distinctive orange grease with bits of ground sausage typically clinging to one another by a web of stringy fat. Instead, this chorizo was finely chopped and had just the right amount of grease to let you know you're still dealing with chorizo- but not so much grease that you know you'll be lamenting your decision later. They were moderately spicy, but also had a nice amount of cinammony sweetness. Behold, the chorizo tacos in all their double tortilla glory:




They were topped with freshly chopped tomatoes, onions, jalapenos, and radishes. Radishes, in particular, are our own personal authenticity indicator when it comes to tacos. It seems like such an oddball flourish, that we reason their inclusion must be the secret sign of taco greatness. We've only experienced radish deployment at a few places thus far, but each of those places occupies a coveted slot among our top taco rankings of all time. So there.

The tacos de carne were decent, but the meat was fried to the point where it became dry and crispy, while we were expecting juicy and tender. We would have enjoyed them more had we moderated our expectations accordingly. Their excellent housemade jalapeno hot sauce singlehandedly rescued these tacos for us:




The pupusa, itself, was a glory to behold. Just look at its wondrous irregular shape with the nice bit of griddle charring resulting from errant cheese escaping from the tortilla. But the important cabbage slaw curtido fell short with its mild, almost ketchupy hot sauce.




Other highlights included bottles of Sangria Senorial, the finest grape soda in the world, and a marañon agua fresca, made from cashewfruit juice. This drink is refreshing, but also rather odd, owing to its fruity, nutty, and milky taste. It seems to be a standard Salvadoran agua fresca.

San Vicente is tiny and sparsely decorated, excepting this insane tapestry depicting a festive village scene replete with pupusa-making:




Since our visit, Steve Siegel has followed up with a post noting that San Vicente's "red beans are far and away the best I've ever had. If they can make them consistently well, it would be worth going just for that." He also  differs with us on the curtido, picking up on an element that was simply not in evidence on our visit: "Interesing to note, the 'curtido' which comes with the papusas is liberally dosed with thyme (!) giving a distinct flavor to the cabbage." Clearly there may be more goodness remaining to be uncovered.

Enjoy the greatest chorizo taco we've ever had at San Vicente:

2599 Columbia Pike
Arlington, Virginia
(703) 920-1130

—AC & AK

Famous Roast Beef

On a rainy Good Friday we decided against hanging out at home and watching Comcast On Demand, instead opting to make a trek downtown to enjoy a long-held DC lunch tradition: Hodge's Sandwich Shop, a sweltering hole (even on a temperate day) lodged on a gritty corner of New York Avenue.

A few weeks ago, AC chronicled its carved meat glories for DCist: "Famous Roast Beef". The owner was lounging about out front and could instantly tell that we were exhibiting an unusual amount of interest in his establishment. He started prattling on about how Hodge's is a "historic landmark". He said that he bought Hodge's about 30 years ago, but that it would likely be swept away in the next year or two in the ongoing revitalization of "Mt. Vernon Triangle."

Despite his awareness of its historicity (it's been around since 1898 in at least two locations), the owner said that he was unlikely to re-open Hodge's in another location, as the investment in new equipment would be substantial.

The roast beef sandwich was expertly carved and piled high, requiring only a squeeze or two of horseradish sauce. The roast beef is only available medium or well-done. Oh, and the best thing about Hodge's is the carver will ask if you want the bread dipped in jus for each sandwich, and then skim each bun across the surface of the roasting pan. That's right: hooray for ham jus and turkey jus.

Though Hodge's seems to have established its reputation with its roast beef sandwich, we were even more blown away by its Friday special, a "smoked baked ham" sandwich. Thick slabs of ham were appropriately sweet, smoky, and salty. No condiments needed.

The seemingly pedestrian turkey sandwich was quite a dark horse. We got there in the late afternoon, so only part of a turkey leg and a few remnants of meat were left in the roasting pan. Nevertheless, the carver ably assembled an estimable sandwich. The meat was tender and savory, and the celery and herbs swimming in the juices in the roasting pan clearly indicated that some Thanksgiving style effort went into this bird.

The sides, sadly, were underwhelming. The mac 'n' cheese and butter beans were woefully bland. Though others have testified to passable collard greens, we think you should skip the sides and save space for at least one, possibly two of those sandwiches. And they have sweet tea to ease the digestion.

Shuffle on over to Hodge's on a lazy Friday afternoon to sample all three of these sandwiches. It's open 'till around 3:30, but you'll want to make it there no later than 1:30 since they're severly depleted after the lunch time rush. There are a few tables under an awning if you're into braving whatever passersby New York Avenue might throw at you.

Hodge's Sandwich Shop
616 New York Ave NW
Washington, DC
(202) 628-0606

—AC & AK

A Deconstructed Malted

I used to loathe malted anything. When ravaging my annual Halloween haul, I always left the packs of Whoppers malted milk balls lingering among the debris field of Mary Janes, Clark Bars, Goldenberg’s Peanut Chews, and other unloved candies at the bottom of my trick-or-treat bag.

But in my last year or two in New York, I developed a powerful taste for malteds. Incidentally, AK’s dad recently mentioned that he could tell she had once been a real New Yorker because she called a malt by its rightful “malted” designation.

It all started with an obligatory pilgrimage to the Lexington Candy Shop, an old school diner and soda fountain that made a brief cameo at the beginning of the classic 70s paranoia flick Three Days of the Condor. If you live in New York and haven’t been to the Lexington Candy Shop, you’re missing out on a classic slice of old New York. They have amazing malteds, extra sour cherry lime rickeys, and they get bonus points for continuing to offer the lost American breakfast classic that is the grape jelly omelet. And yes, we’ve had the grape jelly omelet because we’re that trashy.

A subsequent trip to the Bespeckled Trout, a cluttered shop of antique curiosities flanked by an old fashioned soda fountain, revealed the extent to which soda jerkistry could be an art form. The impassioned proprietor apparently makes his own syrups and even imports raw malt pellets from Wisconsin.

Unfortunately, we’ve not yet discovered a classic malted in the D.C. area. But we’ve managed to content ourselves with a quality substitute: the Dusty Road sundae at the Dairy Godmother, Del Ray’s much celebrated Wisconsin-style custard shop.





The Dusty Road is basically a deconstructed malted. Their creamy vanilla custard comes topped with hot fudge and malt powder, and though we skip the whipped cream and nuts, we can’t not get the maraschino cherry.

The genius of the dusty road is that it allows you to decide how to moderate your malted with each spoonful- from granular malt powder overkill to smooth blend of custard, malt, and hot fudge.

Although we had always thought that the Dusty Road was owner Liz Davis’ singular creation, she informed us that this sundae format is a standard offering in the midwest. But she assured us that our other favorite, the Door County Sour, which pairs marshmallow creme and sour cherries specially imported from Door County, Wisconsin, is a Dairy Godmother original. I replied that the Door County Sour is her great contribution to sundae culture. I think, however, that this C.I.A. trained former pastry chef might have greater aspirations than that.

Sate your frozen treat jones at the Dairy Godmother:

2310 Mount Vernon Avenue
Alexandria, VA
(703) 683-7767

—AC

Parsley, Sage, Rosemary Lemonade

Walking around Old Town is one of the true great pleasures of living and working in Alexandria. But doing it at high noon this time of year pretty much drains all of my water stores out in the first five minutes. Luckily, it only takes about five minutes for me to get to Nickell's and Scheffler, a great lunch place on King Street. Sure, sandwiches and prepared foods are excellent, but I go there to refuel with the rosemary lemonade, infused and prepared daily on the premises. The other day, I picked up a cup (they are stocked in the refrigerator—that means you just grab and go), and asked to make sure this was indeed the rosemary-flavored drink for which I longed. “It’s the only kind we make,” said one of the proprietors, who runs the place with her husband.

In my book, the fact that they ONLY prepare rosemary-infused lemonade is tremendously enlightened. Especially since there is no skimping on the rosemary. Take one sip of the stuff, and you first taste a tart, sweet, lemoniness, but then the rosemary hits you like a McCormick's truck. The rosemary may be powerful, but it also is a perfect complement to the lemon flavor. It’s so glorious and refreshing, and, if you live in the DC area, you owe it to yourself to try it.

Pick up some rosemary lemonade at Nickell's and Scheffler:

Nickell's and Scheffler
1028 King Street
Alexandria, Virginia
(703) 549-5545

—AK

Loosen Your Borscht Belt

As you might have guessed, AC and I are often seized with the bizarre notion of trying odd things in large quantities. Most recently, our twisted brains sent a disturbing message via our spinal cords to our mouths, telling them to ingest two types of borscht and two types of pierogies in a single afternoon. A full description of this gluttony can be found in my most recent DCist post. The highlights are as follows:

This copious ingestion of beet soup and dumplings took place at the only two locations in the DC area that purvey these Eastern European goodies: the Scandinavian/Polish Domku in Petworth and Russia House in Dupont Circle. Both dishes at both places were excellent, but for vastly different reasons.

The borscht at Domku was a magenta puree of lovely beets, topped with a dollop of sour cream and parsley.




The pierogies at Domku were just how we like them: doughy steamed purses filled to the absolute max with two different fillings. One had potato, farmer’s cheese, and small bits of bacon for a smoky creamy effect, and the other had a cabbage and mushroom hash.




We washed this all down with a flight of aquavits, which can be seen in this photo infusing in these nooks above the bar.




We tried caraway, vanilla and lemon, and black currant. We recommend the savories with the soup and pierogies. The fruitier ones tend to work well with the proprietary cocktails.

At Russia House, the borscht was brothy, with chunks of beet, carrot, and potato.




We were disappointed that the pierogies turned out to be more like piroshkis, which are baked pastry pockets with filling. In this case, they were filled with potato, and small pieces of smoked duck, achieving a smoky effect similar to the  potato and bacon combination at Domku.




We were also tempted here to try the house-infused vodka. The horsradish was powerful, but delicious. The cantaloupe, was full of fresh cantaloupe flavor that did not blend well with the vodka.

We also tried the Grilled Boar Sausage which was studded with tart cranberries, grilled with a nice char, and accompanied by a red cabbage salad. This was the standout dish at Russia House.




Domku Cafe
821 Upshur Street, N.W.
(202) 722-7475

The Russia House Restaurant & Lounge
1800 Connecticut Ave., N.W.
(202) 234-9433

—AK & AC

Indian Style Gyro

Several weeks ago, I got into an electronic brawl on Chowhound when I had the audacity to disparage Bombay Club, an Indian restaurant in D.C. that is inexplicably popular:

Bombay Club is terrible. I ate there with several other people, and, therefore, was able to try a broad swath of their menu. Our conclusion is that Bombay Club is there for the expense account crowd, who want to treat their clients to something a little more exotic than a steakhouse. Perhaps its swanky British colonial ambience has fooled people into thinking that they're actually enjoying their meal there.

I was trying to be a little bit funny and a little bit controversial, but when people don’t know you personally, all that comes across is the jackassery. So, of course, I got slammed with all sorts of sarcastic remarks from people who have ludicrous message board handles.

My favorite “burn” was from some chap named “Bonz” who tag-teamed with his colleague “Pappy” to show me up for the fool that I apparently am:

I totally agree: that British colonial ambience is so swanky, it even fooled some of my Indian friends into having their wedding reception there. Unlike you, Pappy, I had it all figured out from the start. Boy did I laugh as three generations of this large South Asian family, as well as 75 of their Indian guests, foolishly thought they were actually enjoying their meal there!

I expanded upon my earlier remarks in a subsequent post just to explain more precisely what I found underwhelming about Bombay Club, and, hoping to establish some Indian food bona fides, offered up Bombay Curry Company in Alexandria as an example of excellence. That prompted a more thoughtful response from someone else, though that particular poster still remarked:

The Bombay CC is good for everyday curry, but I don't know about wonderful. It's not breaking any boundaries that aren't covered everywhere else. Maybe you mean wonderful value.

At this point, I didn’t want to initiate another verbal donnybrook, so I decided to let that statement go unchallenged.

But lest there be any confusion, I think Bombay Curry Company easily ranks among my top five favorite Indian restaurants of all time. And I say that after having spent nine years in New York where I sampled curries and kebabs from the shabbiest kwik-e-mart cab stands to the latest restaurant finds in the South Asian epicenter that is Jackson Heights.

And owner Balraj Bhasin somehow finds the time to be fairly active in the D.C. food message board and blog community even though he owns two restaurants. Indeed, though I have absolutely no idea how he stumbled upon our site, Bhasin was kind enough to post a comment offering another spicy Indian soda recommendation in response to my post about Duke’s Masala Soda.

True, Bombay Curry Company may not be “breaking any boundaries,” but they take a comparatively short and simple menu and make every dish sing. We love Bombay Curry Company’s butter chicken, shammi kebab, and chicken kadai. And my mornings at work fly by whenever I have some of their leftover vegetable biryani awaiting my lunchtime assault.

But respect is due for one menu item, in particular, that I haven’t seen pop up too often on other Indian restaurants’ menus: Pathar Kebab.





In a post on Don Rockwell’s message board, Bhasin described Pathar Kebab as follows:

Pathar Kabab is a pounded lamb scallopine marinated and flash grilled on the griddle. Traditionally the shepherds cooked it on the hot stones around their campfire.

The first time I tried it several years ago, I was admittedly underwhelmed. But they have since taken an intriguing, though formerly underachieving menu item, and transformed it into one of the most respectful treatments of lamb that I’ve ever had.

The lamb is flattened and thickly marinated with spicing. The ends of each piece are nicely charred, and the contours of the meat slightly dip toward the center of each piece, pooling the juices, and presenting an appealing glisten of meaty essence. The dish is accompanied by nan still piping hot from the oven, and I like to add a side of their refreshing raita (tangy homemade yogurt with cucumber) to create my own Indian style gyro.

The Pathar Kebab can easily be shared by two people along with two or three sides of vegetables.

Check out the Pathar Kebab at Bombay Curry Company:

3110 Mount Vernon Avenue
Alexandria, VA
(703) 836-6363

—AC

One Brunch in Bangkok

We're big fans of fancypants Duangrat's Thai country cousin Rabieng. We'd read about their Thai Dim Sum Brunch, but only recently were we able to muster the energy for a good 25 minute drive just to enjoy our first meal of the day. DCist ran AC’s review of this brunch last week.

Those interested in checking out the brunch should note that some of the thirty dishes on the dim sum brunch menu are simply scaled down versions of regular menu items, and other dishes are offered on the regular menu as appetizers. Though we were admittedly disappointed that the brunch menu wasn't a total departure from their regular menu, it's a fun way to try a number of items that you might not normally order at dinner when their whole fried fish is competing for your attention.

We started off with the chive dumplings. Doughy on the inside, crispy and bubbly on the outside, these represent some of the best dumplings in the area.




Another standout was the marinated beef strips with sticky rice. The rice was a little bit dry for sticky rice, but the strips of beef had an amazing coating of spices and a crisp texture.




The “Som Tom” papaya salad was good, but we’ve had spicier and more flavorful renditions of this Thai classic.

The Grilled Green Curry Shrimp Satay erred on the side of savory instead of too sweet. And the shrimp had a nice grilled char.




We were a bit disappointed by the Bangkok St. Peking Duck Rolls, as a plain flour tortilla was used instead of the sticky, pliable rice paper crepe that is normally used. Nonetheless, it's hard to resist roasted duck, scallions and hoisin sauce.




The Crispy Tofu Triangles served with a sweet chili dipping sauce are a common appetizer at Thai restaurants, and AK can't ever get enough deep fried tofu. We were hoping that we might absorb a few beneficial isoflavones to cancel out some of the duck.

But Rabieng's great contribution to D.C. area Thai cuisine is the Rice Cake with Coconut Pork Sauce. It's also listed on the regular menu as "Tidbit" under "Old Time Classics." Slightly puffed rice was densely packed into a thin and crispy cake and paired with a deep red sauce of minced fatty pork with rich coconut curry.




And the guava nectar, though from a can, was a refreshing brunch alternative to OJ.

For a Thai dim sum brunch, go to Rabieng:

5892 Leesburg Pike
Falls Church, Virginia
(703) 671-4222

—AC & AK

Balkan Burger Joint

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Last week, DCist ran AK's post, "The New King of Burgers?" about a glorious Bosnian carryout, Cosmopolitan Cafe. We always enjoy a good burger, but we take special interest when a new ethnic joint puts its own twist on a classic meal.

In this case, Cosmpolitan offers pljeskavica, the Balkans version of the hamburger: mildly spiced ground beef sandwiched by their thick and spongy grilled housemade bread and served with white onion slices, a dollop of sour cream, and ajvar, a red pepper condiment.




Another great entree is the cevapi, a plate of homemade cylinders of ground beef, served with the house bread, ajvar, and a small refreshing salad.




We also enjoyed the cheese burek, a baked filo dough pastry filled with a mix of cheeses. The pastry is buttery and flakey on the outside, and doughy inside- delicious.




To drink, we tipped back the Slovenian soda, Cockta, an herbal beverage that tasted a lot like a cross between black currant and chinotto.




Afterward, pop in next door to score some Croatian chocolates at Plava Laguna.

Wash a Bosnian Burger down with a bottle of Cockta at Cosmpolitan Cafe:

Cosmopolitan Cafe
5902A N. Kings Highway

Alexandria, Virginia
(703) 329-3303

Please note that on our last visit, the sign above the cafe still read "Abi II Carryout," which is a Salvadoran joint that swapped spaces with Cosmopolitan some months ago.

—AC & AK