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