Our Kind of Excess

Despite the fact that the D.C. area abounds with international culinary riches, its status as an international city is seriously undermined by its dearth of gelaterias. Fortunately, the proprietors of Dolcezza (formerly Isee Icy) are doing their part to fill this void. Dolcezza specializes in Argentine gelato, which differentiates itself from Italian gelato in that it uses no eggs and more cream. That means that their gelato is lighter and less substantive than the denser version with which most folks are familiar.

But while Argentine gelato may not quite sate our gelato jones in the same way the Italian version does, they make up for it with their adventurous palate and extensive use of dulce de leche.

In fact, if you find yourself unable to choose among their twentysomething flavors, you can’t go wrong by opting for one of the usually several flavors that are generously ribboned with dulce de leche. In fact, our favorite flavor, “Banana Split,” is banana gelato with a swirl of  dulce de leche. I’m usually repulsed by anything banana-flavored, since that often means an artificial flavor that’s one step removed from a stick of Juicy Fruit. But Dolcezza’s banana split has the cleanest, most refreshingly natural banana flavor of any ice cream or gelato that I’ve ever had. And the inclusion of dulce de leche takes it from merely wonderful to heavenly.

Dolcezza’s “Mascarpone” flavor is similarly ambrosial, the gelato equivalent of the lightest, airiest raspberry cheesecake. And Dolcezza earns extra points with us for being fearless in its experimentation. “Olive Oil” sounds like a miserable flavor for gelato, but, in fact, they’ve managed to accentuate the natural fruitiness of olive oil, while stripping away all bitterness.

Unfortunately, their mix of passionfruit and milk chocolate doesn’t quite gel, but we’re glad that they're willing to let the public in on some of their more unusual experiments. In fact, they publish a blog that offers the backstory behind some of the more noteworthy flavors in their ever evolving repertoire.

And if you’re not tempted by their gelato, there’s always the prominent display of dulce de leche filled churros near the cash register. They’ll quickly heat them up for you, so that they’re still nicely warmed by the time you sit down. The churros are perfectly crunchy on the outside, while the inside is soft and eggy with a decadent vein of dulce de leche running down the middle. It may be excessive to fill fried dough with dulce de leche, but it’s our kind of excess.

Check out Dolcezza in Georgetown at:
1560 Wisconsin Ave., N.W.
Washington, D.C.
(202) 333-4646

—AC

There's Always Room for Kvas

You might think that after gorging ourselves on imam bayildi at Taverna Cretekou’s Sunday buffet, and chasing our galaktaboureko with some Croation chocolate from Plava Laguna that we’d be ready to finally beach ourselves for the remainder of the afternoon. But after checking out the Bosnian grocer, my father suggested that we roll past a new commercial outpost on the edge of Old Town to see if Russian Gourmet had finally opened for business.

As we walked up to the door, we could see workers on ladders fussing with light fixtures, while others were busily stocking shelves. But we barged in nonetheless and became their very first customers.

Russian Gourmet is actually a burgeoning chain of Russian specialty shops. Their website lists several locations in Virginia and Maryland, and we’d previously schlepped out to their location in Mclean for piroshkys and homemade eggplant salad. So we were stoked that all of our favorite Russian treats would now be a mere five minutes drive from our homestead.

We only scored a few items that weekend, as the store had only had about half its inventory stocked.

My father insisted that we split a cake that was half poppyseed and half chocolate. The cake was somewhat like a babka, and the cake itself had an egginess that was reminiscent of challah, although it was a bit dry. Fortunately, the chocolate and the poppyseed only met in the middle, and were otherwise given reign over their own halves of the cake. I’m a huge fan of poppyseeds, but the poppyseed mix in this cake had an earthiness of taste at the expense of sweetness. The chocolate half of the cake was unremarkable. Perhaps one is supposed to alternate bites of earthy poppyseed with sweet chocolate to arrive at the happy medium the bakers may have intended.

I also walked off with a bottle of Georgia’s Natural Pomegranate Juice. That’s Georgia, as in Tbilisi, not Savannah. And Georgian pride abounds in this humble juice as the label boasts, “Consists of premium fresh sun-ripe pomegranates to preserve the distinctive Georgian taste.” If a fruit juice could ever be described as “manly,” then this is it. The juice is the deepest shade of dark red, and, at first, its robust smell is almost beet-like. It tastes of maximum tartness with only the faintest hint of sweetness. In fact, it may be the closest a fruit juice can get to tasting like a vegetable juice without actually being vegetable juice.

And there’s always room for Kvas. Kvas tastes like fermented raisin wheat bread and actually has a very low alcohol content, usually not more than two percent. Indeed, it turns out that Kvas is actually made from fermented fruit and Russian black bread. I have no idea how Kvas is meant to be enjoyed. Like, do Russians just kick back on the couch for a leisurely afternoon of channel surfing accompanied by a bubbly glass of Kvas? Or is it only enjoyed on special occasions? Despite its awfulness, Kvas has somehow captured my affections. I’ve been trying to teach myself how to properly appreciate it, but so far my efforts have been unsuccessful. But the more it repulses me, the more I want to love it. Perhaps by my fifth glass, my sense of taste will have finally assimilated to Kvas.

Check out Russian Gourmet’s latest location in Alexandria at 907 Slaters Lane.
—AC

The Power and the Glory of Kebab

Each weekend night on a very busy corner in Crystal City, area cab drivers along with droves of South Asians and their families pile into Kabob Palace. Naturally, this is the sort of scene that immediately inspires AC and myself to see what the fuss is all about.

We made our inaugural visit to Kabob Palace when it was just a cab stand, a small take-away with about a dozen tables, all of which we typically found occupied during the late dinner rush on a Friday night. While diners wait in line to place their orders, they can while away a few minutes checking out the case of raw skewered meats, all of which are painstakingly arrayed in one of the most glorious displays of unrepentant carnivorousness in the D.C. area.  Moving up the line, watch as one of the countermen takes a freshly kneaded loaf of dough and sticks it to the side of the clay oven, removing a fully realized naan barely ten minutes later, steaming and blistery. As you can imagine, Kabob Palace quickly became a mainstay in our weekend repertoire.

That’s why we were pleasantly surprised about a year ago to see that Kabob Palace had expanded and added a full-service restaurant about three doors down, as a supplement to the cab stand. Service can be spotty, and on almost every visit, the waitstaff have had to inform us that at least one item we ordered is not available, or, in the case of their mantu, the item we desire will require an excessive amount of time to prepare. Nevertheless, having been to the newer location several times, we have now identified our favorite selections and, thankfully, these items seem to be consistently available.

First off, meat is essential. In our opinion, Palace Combo #9 is king. It includes a skewer of kubideh, which are cylinders of ground lamb, liberally spiced and very juicy, and a skewer of lamb kebab, nicely charred on the outside, dusted with sumac, and tender and juicy inside. The meat comes with a small cup of their cold, refreshing herbed yogurt sauce, which is an appropriate dipping sauce for the meat and bread. As the restaurant delights in serving large portions, we always share the combo so we can leave room for their amazing vegetable sides.

Kebab Palace offers a choice of spinach or chickpeas with each of its kebab combos. We always opt for the spinach dish, which we find is a close cousin to saag paneer, the standard spinach and cheese side found at a lot of Indian restaurants. Though this version is more hardy, less of a puree, than saag. It’s flecked with onion, herbs, and spices, and is the perfect accompaniment to the meat. The chickpeas are a bit oily for our taste, but they're unique in that they seem to have been slightly sweetened with cinammon.

But the star vegetable in our view is the okra do piaza, which may very well represent the most complex and delicious preparation of okra we have ever tasted (pickled okra is a close second). The okra is sautéed within an inch of its life, as it is almost crispy, but it still retains its fleshy innards, though none of the sliminess that seems to be okra's natural textural tendency. It’s cooked with ample onion and red pepper and a lot of spices. But it's the mustard seed that launches this dish into the spicing stratosphere. Between you and me, I probably eat more than half of it each time we share this dish. Sadly, the okra is not offered as one of the complimentary sides for the meat platters and must be ordered separately.

As with every South Asian meal, bread is a key component. The naan is among the best we’ve had. It’s always presented to us piping hot, doughy, and crispy in all the right places. And we always get a few of those odd bread bubbles that occur in the oven when air gets trapped inside the bread—we love that. But what we love the most is creating our own little sandwich with the bread: a bit of kubideh, a generous helping of yogurt sauce, all wrapped in soft, hot naan. It’s heaven. The best part is that this whole meal, including a drink or two, will run two people about $30 with tax and tip.

Eat more than your share at Kabob Palace:

2315 S. Eads Street
Arlington, VA
(703) 486-3535

—AK

A New Addition to the Breakfast Canon

Leopold’s Kafe & Konditorei is tucked away from the clamor of M Street, hidden down a flight of stairs in Cady’s Alley, the perfect cafe oasis from the madness of a Georgetown shopping expedition. Despite its seemingly obscure location, it can be absolutely packed on a weekend afternoon. In fact, if your party is small enough, then we recommend securing one of the few perches at the bar instead of waiting for a table. You’ll be somewhat removed from the din of heated cafe conversation at neighboring tables, and, even more importantly, Leopold's friendly and attentive bartenders make for much more responsive servers than their harried waitstaff. 

While the inflated prices at Leopold’s are discouraging at first, you can enjoy a satisfying survey of what they do best for about $40 for two, including tax and tip.

The salads are always artfully arranged. And unlike other establishments that skimp on the most exciting salad components promised by an ambitious menu descriptor, Leopold’s has been generous with each of the salads we’ve tried. The Gurkensalat was a refreshing starter salad sculpted into a cake-like mass of cucumber and radishes, held together by a homemade dill yogurt dressing, sweetened with honey and sprinkled with a touch of sea salt.

The Datteln und Ricotta Salat offered, amidst its toss of arugula and parsley, a crumbly ricotta salat cheese, slivers of medjool date sliced lengthwise, a scattering of walnuts, and a light verjus dressing. The perfect salad combination of sweet, nutty, and savory.

And we would gladly forego all other breakfast items for the rest of our lives, so long as we could enjoy Leopold’s revelatory contribution to the canon of great breakfasts: Kaiserschmarrn mit Zwetschgenroester. The menu helpfully translates this as a scrambled souffle with plum compote. It’s right there idling on the menu with nothing to distinguish it from its breakfast brethren, and its $10 pricetag making it seem like it must be rather unremarkable when considering that a salad already weighs in at $7. But, Leopold’s has outdone itself in this rare display of pricing generosity.

The souffle is more akin to a pancake/crepe hybrid. It’s almost as if two double-thick crepes have been pressed together, wonderfully crispy at the edges, and then light, fluffy and eggy along the interior. Each piece of souffle scramble is loaded with plump currants and dusted with powdered sugar. And while the plum compote is outstanding, the souffle hardly requires its accompaniment. In fact, we pretty much ate the compote separately, as its supreme tartness simply overwhelmed the more delicate flavors of sugar, butter, and egg. Nevertheless, it is a testimony to the plum compote’s greatness that it can be enjoyed without a starchy medium. If you're interested in this breakfast revelation, then plan on making it over to Leopold's before 4 p.m., as the breakfast menu is no longer available after that hour.

Even an unassuming cup of espresso benefits from Leopold’s presentational flourishes. An espresso with a dash of milk is delivered on a silver platter with a glass of milk to allow you to determine the proper ratio of milk to espresso.

And AK raves about the wine selection, as the white wine she enjoyed on our last visit truly had its promised essence of green apple. And respect is due for having the light and refreshing Eggenberg Pils as its sole tap.

Leopold’s one true beveraging oddity, Hollersaft, is simply elderflower syrup and soda and tastes like a carbonated spring meadow. That may be a good thing, but just in case you’re not sure, if you’re nice enough to the bartender, they may reward you with a small sample on the house.
—AC

One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Whole Fish

My mom is just as much of a Southeast Asian food enthusiast as AC and myself. I recall one of my first exotic food experiences when she was visiting me in New York. She suggested we try Le Colonial, a posh French-Vietnamese restaurant in midtown. I was largely clueless about Southeast Asian cuisine in general at the time (yeah, I knew what pad thai was and that was about it) and Vietnamese food in particular, so I let her do all the ordering. Her natural inclination at restaurants is toward fish, and in this instance, the whole fish. It’s such a dramatic experience, as the fish is presented, mouth agape, tail perfectly intact, just lying prostrate on a platter, and ready to be eviscerated with fork and knife. It was my indoctrination to the whole fish concept, and I ate a good portion of it. But I felt that it was just an unnecessary extravagance, not something that I would actually order to sate my hunger.

During her visits to Virginia, my mom insists on having Thai at Po Siam in Arlandria. The past couple times we’ve been there, she’s gone for the whole red snapper, which always made AC and I chuckle a bit that she would insist on the seafood options time after time. But once we tried it, this time cooked with red curry paste and coconut milk, we were blown away. The delicious crispy skin gave way to a tender, but meaty fish that was the perfect conduit for the sweet and savory Thai flavors. Since my mom routinely orders giant meals knowing she’ll only eat about one-tenth of her order, AC and I were invited to finish it, and we plowed through that thing as if it were about to swim away.

Since then, we’ve been intrigued by the whole fish but afraid to order it on our own. It just seemed like such a daunting thing to order. It’s a whole fish, for cryin’ out loud. But on a recent visit to Rabieng, we saw a few of the other patrons lovingly grubbing on various whole fish platters. There and then we vowed to try it the next time we went. And that took place last Thursday night.

DC, AC, and myself went back to Rabieng (after scoring some more halvah at Aphrodite Greek Imports, of course), and decided it was time for the fish. We went for the rockfish cooked in a chili-lime sauce and liberally garnished with slices of red onion and cilantro. The skin was sufficiently crispy, the fish fleshy and mild in flavor. The only trouble with the whole fish is negotiating the tiny bones that are hidden by the fried skin; it can be rather alarming when you accidentally crunch down on one. But overall, the fish was delicious and paired nicely with the powerful flavor of red onion and cilantro.

Enjoy a whole fish at the following great Thai restaurants:

Po Siam
3807 Mount Vernon Ave.
Alexandria, VA
(703) 548-3925

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

—AK

Thai Retailing Roulette

Though it may be difficult to muster the enthusiasm to shuffle through a Thai grocery store after gorging yourself at Bangkok 54, I highly recommend that you walk around the corner after your next meal there to survey the wares of their food mart. Bangkok 54 actually owns and operates not one, but two grocery stores- the aforementioned one in Arlington and another in Alexandria.

The one in Arlington has a couple of aisles featuring an extensive array of exotic spices, canned goods, and beverages, as well as a modest table of prepared foods. Unfortunately, all of these prepared foods are idling at room temperature, which is an unappealing setting for meats and other perishables. Still, we figured the desserts might be immune to whatever ill effects come from festering in a Thai grocery store all day, so we took  a chance on a couple of their dessert items.

We were absolutely charmed by their Luk Chub, which are these incredibly detailed dessert miniatures that are modeled after various pieces of fruit. The strawberries are dappled with little indentations to imitate the seeds, the cherries seem to have actual cherry stems poking out, and the other fruits feature delicately cut paper leaves. The skin of each of these fruits is thin and rubbery, and yields to a tan colored center of lightly sweetened bean paste. The bean paste is largely bland, though there did seem to be the faintest hint of coconut, and a somewhat bitter aftertaste. Though the actual taste and texture is disappointing, you’ll still feel compelled to purchase a container of Luk Chub just to have them around to marvel at their exquisite detailing.

We also walked off with their Three Kings Rice dessert. We gave it some time in our fridge to cool to a more appropriate dessert temperature, and once we dug in we were surprised by its excellence. Three Kings Rice features a thick slab of eggy Thai custard resting on a bed of sticky rice and sprinkled with a handful of these sweet fibrous shreds of indeterminate origin. The latter item merely adds an additional texture, but is mostly superflous. The custard is extremely rich, and the texture is somewhere between creamy and gelatinous. It pairs wonderfully with the grains of sweet sticky rice, and the addition of the coconut milk elevates it to a heavenly level of decadence. It actually took us three days to eat it, as a little goes a long way.

And from the exotic beveraging department, I decided to finally sate my curiosity about the Aloe Vera drinks I often see in Asian food marts. I scored a can of Aloe Vera Drink with Honey. I wasn’t sure if this would be akin to drinking hand lotion, but that actually might have been preferable to the reality of this beverage. While the liquid in Aloe Vera Drink is clear, it’s clouded by the inclusion of bunches of fruit sacs that look like translucent pieces of barley. The honey flavoring is sickly sweet with a chalky aftertaste. And though the aloe vera fruit sacs are initially alarming, their pulpy texture and mild fruit sweetness are a brief respite from the sickly sweet honey flavor. Like bird's nest drink, this is yet another Asian beverage that is clearly not consumed for its taste, but rather for its supposed health benefits.

Check out Bangkok 54 Grocery Store at the following locations:

3837 Mount Vernon Ave.
Alexandria, VA
(703) 549-8488

2927 Columbia Pike
Arlington, VA
(703) 521-4207

—AC

Don't Fear the Chicharrones

While the pupusa may be El Salvador’s great contribution to world cuisine, I’ve recently become enamored of another Salvadoran specialty that is too often ignored by non-Salvadorans: yuca con chicharrones.

In the plainest language, yuca con chicharrones is comprised of fried pork pieces served with fried yuca and garnished with pickled cabbage and hot sauce. Perhaps part of the reason for this dish’s relative obscurity is the fact that the word “chicharrones” is sometimes translated into Salvadoran menu English as “pork crackling” or “pork rinds.” Now I’m not sure what part of the pig the chicharrones in this dish come from, but these are definitely not pork rinds. Those of you who’ve braved my post on mofongo know that I speak from experience. Rather, these chicharrones are fried, nearly blackened pieces of pork, that are salty, tough and sinewy, with the barest hint of juiciness.

My introduction to yuca con chicharrones occurred at Esmerelda Restaurant in Alexandria. Esmerelda sits on a corner that is flanked by high-end Bauhaus style condos on one side and housing projects on the other side. The ambience inside is like a Salvadoran pool hall, and though the two women working up front were perfectly welcoming, its overall diviness was offputting.

Nevertheless, their rendition of yuca con chicharrones was decent enough to kindle my interest in trying it elsewhere. For some reason, this dish is always listed among the “antojitos”, or appetizers section, of the menus at many of the Salvadoran places that we’ve been to. But even if it’s priced like an appetizer, it’s usually the size of an extremely generous entree. Perhaps it’s meant to be shared, thus spreading its artery hardening properties among several people.

Yuca con chicharrones is not an appetizing dish to look at. In fact, it’s downright intimidating to be faced with all of that fried food, especially those seemingly mysterious “fried pork pieces.”

At Esmerelda, the fried pork pieces were so dry, tough, and sinewy that they were practically jerky-like. Fortunately, the soft, starchy flesh of the fried yuca, which is slightly sweeter than a regular potato, had enough moisture and sweetness to make a suitable pairing with the meat. And the deep fried crisp of the yuca rendered its skin into a high relief series of ridges and valleys. I added additional moisture with judicious applications of the pickled cabbage slaw and hot sauce.

Abi’s Azteca Grill, located in the Huntington section of Alexandria, offers a less distinguished version of yuca con chicharrones. Although the pork was a bit more succulent than the dry pieces at Esmerelda, the yuca was barely crispy, each wan piece unable to stand up to the fried pork without a generous helping of pickled cabbage and hot sauce.

The D.C. area has a sizeable population of Salvadorans, so I’m sure the holy grail of yuca con chicharrones is out there somewhere- probably in a narrow storefront in some decrepit suburban strip mall. I intend to find it.

While neither Esmerelda nor Abi’s is particulary worth seeking out, they can be found at the following addresses:

Esmerelda Restaurant
728 N. Henry St.
Alexandria, VA

Abi’s Azteca Grill
5902-A N. Kings Highway
Alexandria, VA
(703) 317-0548

—AC