Posts Tagged ‘downtown’

Quick Look

I need to visit Osteria Bibiana a few more times before I give you my full-on review, but I can say this: The Bucatini pasta dish (with guanciale, red onion, red chili, and pecorino) was delicious. It actually made an appearance in my dream last night, along with a $107 steamed lobster, but that’s another story…

Restaurant Week: February 16-22, 2009

This year’s Restaurant Week led me to the Oval Room, per Todd Kliman’s suggestion. The space is lovely: light and airy with a warm minimalist vibe. Service was decent, though when we asked our waiter to describe menu items (example: “Can you tell me about the braised pineapple dessert?”), he was rather unhelpful (example: “It is a braised pineapple.” End.) The food was nice, and certainly worth the $20 charge for a three-course meal. The standout item was my main entrée, the slow-baked salmon with black beans, avocado, and sake dressing (pictured above). The soft fish and crunchy beans, paired with the tangy sauce, worked wonders together. I wasn’t too keen on the lukewarm cauliflower soup: the pickled apricots were pretty, but tasted funky with the creamy cheese soup. The menu:

Having done this D.C. Restaurant Week thing for 3 years now, here’s my running list of best to worst experiences:

1. The Prime Rib (a slab of juicy prime rib and the creamiest of creamy creamed spinach. ‘Nough said.)
2. Vidalia
3. Corduroy
4. Charlie Palmer Steak
5. The Oval Room
6. IndeBleu (terrible! don’t do it!)

In Search of Soup

Obviously, I like this city. And for the most part, it offers everything I’d want a big city to offer. But where, oh where, is the soup? I’m freezing cold and all I want is a hot take-out-pint of corn chowder or beef and barley. Instead, I pass by the multitudes of D.C.’s new frozen yogurt shops, completely devoid of customers—and wish they’d take the hint and serve up something hot in the winter like, say, vats of gumbo. Alas, until this happens or Charlottesville’s Revolutionary Soup decides to open up shop here, I’m on a search to find the best soups in the city. To be found, as far as I can tell, at restaurants that are NOT sole soup sellers. First up, the French onion soup at Cafe du Parc:

Gobs of broiled Gruyère cheese atop broth-soaked croûtons and chunks of caramelized onions make Cafe Du Parc’s rendition of  Soupe à l’oignon the best I’ve ever had. (And I have been to Paris.) The 10-dollar bowl of soup, plus the crusty French bread served along side it, will fill you up, though I’ve heard great things about their mussels too. Tip: I’ve had two bowls of this artery-clogging soup, and I’ve found that it settles better when you eat it midday. Try taking a walk on the Mall first to get optimally cold, stop in for a hot bowl around lunchtime (the restaurant is located right next to the Willard Intercontinental Hotel), then walk up to the White House or the Hay-Adams Hotel to stalk the Obama family. Yes, this is my idea of a perfect day!

I’ll be covering my best soup experiences here on Citysifting intermittently for the next month, but I’m eager to hear your favorites as well. Know of a place that I should try?

(Brasserie Les Halles is now closed. But have fun reading my review anyway. I suppose I wasn’t the only one that didn’t have a great experience)

Would Tony eat here?

I’m finally here, squashed between our table and dangling wooden Levelors that separate the two-tiered Brasserie Les Halles. This is one of the four French bistros—all called Les Halles—in which Anthony Bourdain serves as “Chef-at-Large” (i.e. he probably makes a buck or two off each order of Steak Frites). I’ve loved Tony for a while now, which is exactly why I haven’t summoned up the courage to take on the place I know will disappoint. But I’ve been invited to meet friends for dinner.

The exterior has me jaded, tucked as it is into the bottom floor of some featureless office building in a tourist corridor on Pennsylvania Avenue. And inside it’s no better: The decor feels like a Chili’s, in that cookie-cutter approach to decorating, where each branch must have the same wallpaper, framed art, and light fixtures. There are plastic frames on each table advertising Bourdain’s books and other Les Halles merchandise—You can buy an autographed copy of Kitchen Confidential for $25.

The menu prices aren’t horrible, but I fear ordering anything under $15—I’m hungry and French restaurants usually don’t overload the plate. So—despite Tony’s own advice not to order mussels at a restaurant due to the huge price markup—I go with the Moules Marinière and Frites for $17.50. I’m pleased with the mussels, especially their white wine and garlicky sauce, but am frustrated with the fries. Most of the reviews I’ve read of this place are hardly inspired, but nearly every critic lauds the frites. But tell me: what’s the fuss over heavy and gooey fries? I could only eat about half of my portion.

No, Tony wouldn’t visit this place on No Reservations, unless he were cooking with Michel Richard (think special episode with Eric Ripert). Brasserie Les Halles doesn’t feel authentic, the food isn’t mouth-watering good, the location is boring. It’s a Friday night and the restaurant has quite a few open tables. This is not the kind of bustling insider place featured on his Monday night episodes, which—employing my glass half-full philosophy—is fine with me. If it were that good, he’d be working the grill and not doing what he’s best at, gallivanting the globe.

Find of the Month:

There’s nothing I enjoy more than a good surprise, i.e. going into a place you think you’re going to hate and leaving as a convert. The example: You know that obnoxious looking club on 14th, between I and K Streets, with the red carpet and skinny-suited men? The place you kind of roll your eyes at as you walk by? Well, thanks to an invitation that promised complimentary drinks, I made my way to The Park at Fourteenth last night. We had a prime table on the first floor, next to the giant windows that look out onto Franklin Park. For this particular event, all Ciroc vodka cocktails were free, but according to our waiter, this happens frequently and anyone’s invited. On top of the free cocktails, every Tuesday and Wednesday from 5 p.m.-7 p.m., every item on their food menu is $5. No, not just nuts and olives. This includes, among many options, the filet mignon (pictured below), sea bass, shrimp/lobster pasta—all of which we tried. The portions were significant—enough for a meal—and quite good. So good I would have paid full price for the entrees, which were reasonably priced to begin with: $13, $12, and $15, respectively. And to make matters better, their suave staff was really nice and accommodating. When I asked the hostess if the sculpture in the ceiling was a Chihuly, she said “Yeah. Want me to show you the bigger one on the 4th floor?” Even though the 3rd and 4th floors were closed that night, she took me on a tour.

If this is a trend with nightclubs—offering ridiculously cheap and good food during their off hours, with excellent service to match—let me know. I’ve always written them off as places too cool and expensive for the likes of me, but I’m always up for adapting…especially if it means I can still be in bed by 11 p.m.

Now that Poste just won the Rammy for “Upscale Casual Restaurant,” it’s an appropriate time for me to extol the virtues of its “upscale-casual” breakfast. I’m a big fan of morning dining, yet there are few places that seem to live up to my expectations—especially when I’m throwing down $20 to eat something I could’ve created for $2. I had a great breakfast experience the first time I dined at Poste in 2002; and another good experience when we revisited the place on Sunday. Giant skylights fill the room with natural light; the open kitchen provides good gawking material for sleep-crusted eyes. And the food: It’s top-notch stuff. We shared the Farm Egg Omelette ($14; organic cheddar, wild mushrooms, herbs) and the Brioche French Toast ($11; berry compote, maple syrup). See those potatoes on the omelette plate? If there was only one, that’s the reason to trek downtown in the early morn. [Disclaimer: When food's this good, sometimes my fork beats the camera to the plate. The omelette arrived 20% larger]

Why emit unnecessary carbon when you can vacation in your own city? Patten and I partook in a true “staycation” this weekend. Bottle of champagne in tow, we checked into the Morrison-Clark Hotel on Saturday night. After some bubbly, we walked to dinner (Zaytinya), then back to the hotel. I’ll save you from the evening’s play-by-play, though it did involve a wild thunderstorm, lemon chess pie from the hotel’s restaurant, and the original Thomas Crown Affair. Saucy, I know.

But I must say, when we checked out of the room on Sunday, we both felt refreshed. The hotel was nice; not plush, but historic. And a good value ($120 per weekend night). And a total non-D.C. feel. With antiques in each room and real metal keys that you had to jiggle in the lock, I felt like I should look out my second-floor window and see horse-drawn carriages, men in top hats, trees (instead of concrete), and muddy puddles from the rain. Instead, our room faced south to the busy Mass Ave., with its noisy traffic (mostly muffled by the hotel’s thick walls) and modern office buildings. But a good-enough getaway and one I recommend.

I’m a news junkie and have been since a kid. So it’s no surprise I was one of the many people “who didn’t even know him” that was broken up about Tim Russert’s death. So much so that I spent the weekend sobbing, went to his public wake on Tuesday, and visited the Newseum (who lists Russert as a trustee) on Wednesday, the day of his memorial. It was my first visit to the Newseum. And, in addition to the Russert tributes (including the giant screen in the main atrium replaying Brokaw’s special tribute on Meet The Press and his “Florida! Florida! Florida!” dry-erase board), I was quite impressed with the place.

Sure, take a deep breath over the $20 entrance fee, but then move on. I’m telling you: When you see how much money and time they put into this place, you’ll be more than satisfied. The building is gorgeous. The exhibits? Robust and smart. Chunks of the Berlin Wall, a section of the antenna mast from the World Trade Center, and hundreds of historic front pages from newspapers, with titles like “Prohibition Ends at Last” to “John Lennon Shot Dead.” You can spend a day here, but be sure to take a break or two – fresh air on the terrace (pic of view below) and a Wolfgang Puck salad in the basement’s cafeteria.