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26Feb
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03Sep
Dear Washington, D.C.,By the time you’ve read this I’ll already be gone. This isn’t a break-up, it’s more of a break apart. Maybe I got sick of being car-jacked at gun point or, perhaps, the constant sirens outside my window got to me. Or maybe, perhaps, I yearned for something more within my very being. Whatever the reason, I have moved. And will not step foot on you again. (Until I need to return to you for a wedding in January that is!)
Where have I moved? What am I doing? I’m writing to you from my screened in porch on my 12 acre farm and soon-to-be Bed and Breakfast in Ohio. Where in Ohio? I think it’s a little soon for that, don’t you D.C.?
And while I’ve given up on D.C., I haven’t given up on the food scene. Eat and eat some more Washingtonians!! Dino and The Source, Poste and 8407 Kitchen Bar…you are my go-tos, my loves. And I will never forget you. And, in fact, I’m sure…I’ll be back!
In the spirit of my new found freedom, I’d like to do some new things tonight! I’ve already touched a hedgehog. Touch away, D.C., they don’t hurt after all! And I’d like to make a deal with you. While I may not be living in you anymore, I’d like to still keep writing to you. Sure, I may not know the where all the hipsters are cavorting or where another “sanitary special” has opened up in recent weeks, but you can learn from my life in the country, and I’ll be sure to pass on my expert (or…at least…attempts) in cooking great breakfast foods for the masses. We may not be together anymore, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends!
I wish you the best of luck. You are a great city, and I’m sure you’ll attract many more to your great food scene, gentrification issues, and many universities. Please know, above all, I don’t hate you. I think we’ve both just grown, and we’re moving in different directions. You will always have power, and interns, and sleaze. I will have alpaca, chickens, and hedgehogs. Which is better? Who am I to judge!
Know I will always love you, and that is all that matters. And, be sure, you haven’t heard the last from me. Ohio may be a world away, but food is universal.
AEK
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21May
What an event! A text from my eating companion says it all, “This is heaven!” Zoofari, a fundraiser at the National Zoo, happened last night. With over 100 D.C. restaurants in attendance, it’s all a blur to me. I do remember fish was the most fashionable ingredient of the night. And that Blue Moon was the beer of choice. Oddly enough, I spent two hours at the zoo and saw no animals, unless, of course, you count the woman with 5 Georgetown Cupcake morsels on her plate. (And I’ll freely admit I’ve argued against boutique cupcakes in the past, but those were pretty damn good cupcakes!) If I can remember correctly, I’ll share some highlights of the evening. But again, I rolled out of the zoo last night like a Violet Beauregarde blueberry.Mike Isabella of Zaytinya and Top Chef fame offered a melon popsicle. Too bad melon isn’t in season yet. Shouldn’t he know that? The Source, sans Wolfgang Puck, served delicious dumplings – just one more tasty tidbit that reaffirms its place as one of the best restaurants in D.C. BLT Steak had mini-burgers. Mini-burgers that made me crave White Castle instead of their big brother. Rocklands roasted a whole pig. Belga Cafe had a few variations of a Belgian waffle. I opted for the traditional topped with chocolate and whipped cream. The waffle was warm. Morton’s was a let-down. Sure, there were a lot of soups topped with crab and various foams that I passed on, but a steakhouse, and a famous one at that, should not be serving teeny tiny slices of beef on a huge potato roll. Tail gaiters can do better!
I wish I could remember everything. It all became a blur after a while. And unlike a top news reporter or blogger extraordinaire, I was more concerned with not dropping my food and drink rather than taking notes and pictures. But trust me, there were rows and rows of restaurants, beverage stations with wine and beer, and musical acts interspersed a long the way to keep the people happy. Sure, Central, Chef Geoff and his offerings, and Zola are all a blur. But it’s a good blur, and one I’d be happy to experience again. But next time, I’ll be sure to pace myself. One can’t eat so much delicious food so quickly! It makes for gastro-intestinal mayhem and foolishness.
Oh, and I almost forgot, I don’t remember who it was, but someone was serving what was essentially bacon juice soup topped with a goat cheese foam. Yes, my friends, heaven it was.
AEK
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29Mar
The Inn at Little Washington, man, I don’t know. Below I’ve laid out my Inn experience under three categories: 1) Food, 2) Service, and 3) Ambiance. I remember growing up and always hearing about the Inn. And I wonder, just wonder, if 10 years ago the Inn was hot because it was the best place to eat in the area, but as new restaurants move in and fine dining is just a metro stop away, if the Inn isn’t struggling to find its identity and its place in a burgeoning Washington, D.C. culinary scene.
The food. We arrived early and ordered some drinks while we waited for our table. We sat in the “living room” – a wonderfully cozy and sumptuous room with large pillows and quiet corners. The drink? A rosemary infused gin with champagne and other various pre-prohibition ingredients. It was delicious.
After being seated at our table, we opened our menus to find they were personalized. A nice touch. While perusing the menu we were given bread. It would have been better if it was warm. Maybe next time. We ordered some more cocktails and then were given a plate of amuse bouche – made with ingredients featured in many of the dishes on the menu. They were wonderful! A beet puree, a parmesan cream, a bite size lamb carpaccio, and a piece of black cod. We drank, we ate bread, we tasted the bouches, and ate more bread. They bread girl kept re-loading the bread dish. Eventually, I had to say no more. I didn’t come to the Inn for rolls.Our first dishes – a Big Eye tuna, avocado, and mango salad with a saki-yuzu sorbet and some Carpaccio of herb crusted baby lamb with Caesar Salad ice cream. The tuna was good, but nothing I couldn’t find at a top-notch sushi restaurant in the city. And, honestly, it probably would have been better elsewhere. But the sorbet was tasty. The Carpaccio was flavorful and the Caesar Salad ice cream was inventive and interesting – the winner of the first course. Both dishes are pictured above.
For the second course, we ate macaroni and cheese and a homemade boudin blanc. Both were tasty, if not awesome. The mac and cheese consisted of nine ziti pieces covered in cheese with some black truffle grated on top. A bit absurd I think, and trying a tad too much. The boudin blanc was good. But really, when is sausage ever bad? Jimmy Dean is a millionaire for a reason! During this course, we also popped open a Petit Verdot – still my fav of all time.For the mains, a delicious short rib and filet mignon combination and some medallions of rabbit. The rabbit – dry…sec…can I get a glass of water over here? It was the disappointment of the evening. And it was wrapped in pancetta! There was a collective sign of “ehhhh” heard from Washington, Virginia to Palermo, Sicily. The beef two ways was fresh, succulent, and tasted of the quality we were expecting.
Dessert…the Seven Deadly Sins – a little sampling of everything on the menu. The vanilla panacotta and the molten lava cake were stupendous. The rhubarb crumble, I could make. And the vanilla and butter pecan ice cream should be illegal to make. Frozen ice.All in all, we were on a food roller coaster. Some definite highs and some lowly lows (for a place of this mythological caliber)! While mostly delicious, I don’t know if I’d go the distance for another try. I’ve got The Source only a few miles away and their duck is worth the price of a metro ticket.
The service. Attentive. Punctual. On point. Our personal server seemed aloof, chatting and laughing with other tables but serving us as if we were sitting in a Soviet-era pancake house. The bread girl was very sweet. And the water filling person deserves a raise. And we’d like to give a shout out to the Ginger who walked the dining room like a ballerina with a mission.
The ambiance. Take one part Grandma’s living room, one part Martha Stewart Living, and a healthy teaspoon of fine dinnerware, et voila, you have the Inn. It is what you’d envision the Mansion on O Street to look like… but then you see the yard sale. It was both classy and comfortable. The fringed lampshades worked, but barely.
In the end, the Inn at Little Washington experience: it lived up to the expectation, but didn’t surpass it.
AEK
