Woodberry Kitchen, Woodberry

Posted on October 11, 2013 by Don

I hadn’t been to Woodberry Kitchen in forever, so on a chilly Saturday afternoon with nothing so terribly important to do, I decided to head up to Baltimore. I called for a reservation, but they were full, so I figured I’d try my hand at the bar.

Arriving at Woodberry Kitchen for the first time is a magnificent experience – there’s almost nothing quite like it in terms of location and setting. The only thing I can think of is Leopold Kafe & Konditorei, but that doesn’t capture it in the least. Hopefully, after reading this post, you’ll want to go see for yourselves.

Avast, the bar was full, but at the host stand, they said they could seat me outdoors. Well, great! This is where I wanted to sit anyway. The difference between dining inside and outside at Woodberry kitchen is the difference between dining at a noisy gastropub with great food, and dining at a Michelin one-star restaurant in the French countryside. Outside, you really *do* feel like you’re in some family-owned, Michelin-starred restaurant in a small French town.

Spike Gjerdge walks-the-walk of farm-to-table as much as anyone I know, including Ziebold, Armstrong, and King. Going in the earliest part of September is perfect because you reap the benefits of late-summer and early-autumn produce, all in one visit. Aside from the chill in the air (and I hadn’t brought a coat or a sweater), this was shaping up to be just about perfect.

If you sit outside, you’ll be near the grill station, where several cooks work with military efficiency, calling out and expediting orders as the smoke bellows upward. It’s the type of thing that’s fascinating to watch, but also off to the side, so it’s not at all intrusive if you don’t want to pay attention to it. I urge people to sit outside here if the weather is nice.

I knew I’d try plenty of produce, so I wanted a bottle of rosé. They had two French rosés priced at $34 each, neither of which I’d tried before.

“May I have whichever one of these two is lighter?” I asked my pleasant server.

“Lighter in body?” she replied.

“Lighter in color,” I said.

She brought the 2012 Domaine Gaillard Touraine-Mesland (a designated sub-appelation within Touraine in the Loire Valley), and it was just as I wanted: light in color, and dry as a bone. This wine has the added benefit of being biodynamic (a step up, both in viticultural stringency, and also in “woo-woo-ness,” from organic). Biodynamic wines are pretty out there, but I almost always love them.

Woodbery Kitchen offers anyone who’s eating a nice bread basket with good bread, and high-quality, creamy, salted butter. I started my meal with an appetizer portion of Ocean City Swordfish Belly ($16) with ground cherry salsa, pickled fish pepper, and scarlet frills; and a salad of Young Carrots and Their Tops ($9) with Hakurei turnips, rocket, shallot, and ewe’s-cream tarragon dressing.

“Can we bring these out as they’re ready?” my server asked.

“Sure,” I said, thinking that the salad would arrive before the (grilled) swordfish; the exact opposite was the case – the swordfish belly arrived a good ten minutes before the salad did.

One reason I ordered the swordfish belly is that I rarely see such a thing (how many times have you seen swordfish belly on a menu?), and that Woodberry Kitchen was offering 3-4 swordfish preps on this evening which almost surely meant they were getting a large portion of fish that they butchered in-house. This is always, always, always a good sign, and if you take away only one thing from this post, remember that multiple preps (usually) = fresh delivery and in-house butchering. Theoretically, it could also mean “an aging item that they want to get rid of,” but I cannot think of a single instance in which I’ve been disappointed by this ordering strategy, certainly not at a restaurant as quality-conscious as Woodberry Kitchen.

The swordfish arrived within just a few minutes, hot off the grill, and rare, nearly raw, in the middle – tataki-like, except in cubes, not strips. Served in a ramekin, this was so good that I couldn’t believe more restaurants aren’t serving it – the gentlemen working the grill station have superior grilling skills. The three sides added something, but were mostly ornamental: the star of this Christmas tree was the tree itself, the cubes of swordfish belly, perfectly seasoned (which probably means just a shake of salt).

I love carrot tops, and wish more restaurants didn’t discard them, and this salad was superb, the other ingredients playing much more than just a supporting role. Everything was integrated, and the dressing was there when you needed it, and not there when you didn’t (it was presented in something of a dollop-pool format). This was a farmer’s market bounty on a plate, with every bite as lovingly devoured as it was assembled.

Imagine both of these dishes with a good, dry rosé, and you’ll see why I was asking myself, “Where can this meal possibly go from here? Nowhere but down.”

For my second (and final) course, I got another duo of small plates: Liberty Delight Beef Tartare ($16) with red onion, scaper [sic?] mayonnaise, parsley, rocket [anything worth doing is worth overdoing], egg yolk, and potato chips; and the one dish that intrigued me the most: Grilled Nectarine ($8) with honey, rosemary, and sea salt.

The nectarine arrived first, and my goodness, if this isn’t a death-row dish, I don’t know what is. One nectarine, quartered, briefly wood-grilled, drizzled with rosemary-infused honey, and finished with a touch of sea salt. Like with a ripe tomato, or an orchid, it is a precarious responsibility trying to improve upon nature’s finest offerings, but this light-handed treatment actually improved the nectarine. Perfection.

In my Baltimore Dining Guide, I have chosen not to rank restaurants in Italic, for the simple, painful reason that I cannot possibly have the expertise to fairly do so with all restaurants in contention; rating a restaurant in Bold, however, is such a rare occurrence, and such a high bar for a restaurant to achieve that I would feel quite comfortable in doing so, regardless of whether the restaurant is in my backyard, or in Paris.

I walked out of this nearly perfect meal not knowing what to do. Should I rank Woodberry Kitchen in bold? How could I not, after what I had just experienced?

So I decided to come back again, with the ranking being theirs to lose.

—

Late on a Sunday afternoon, a friend and I found ourselves at a packed Woodberry Kitchen, with no seats available outside, and a 45-minute wait. We put our names in, and stole the last two empty seats at the bar for some pre-meal festivities.

I didn’t remember that Woodberry Kitchen was long-listed (1 of 25 candidates) for the 2013 James Beard award for “Outstanding Bar Program” in the United States, but let me tell you: based on the five cocktails we had on this evening, it absolutely deserved to be there. These were some of the most creative, balanced, nuanced cocktails I have ever experienced, and were worth every penny of the $12 they cost.

A Pedantic Word – Vermont raw honey gin, yellow watermelon juice, red delicious cider, house made fennel k’vass, and caramelized watermelon

Carmelita – Reposado tequila, mezcal, sweet corn, lime, and jalapeño

Cellar Door – House-spiked rum, Reid’s suffolk grapes, Artiface cold brew, verjus, and lime bitters

Union Swizzle – Gold & Overproof rums, house sour, kiwi berries, candied ground cherries, and crushed ice

Fat Boxer – New York state rye and corn whiskey, peach pit caramel, heavy cream, barrel-aged bitters, and Pumpkin Stout

All of these cocktails surpassed any expectations I could have possibly put on this restaurant, and even the absolutely crazy Fat Boxer – which is one of the most bizarre concoctions I’ve ever tasted – was in complete harmony. With every drink, you had the choice of being able to identify any individual ingredient, or turning your mind off and enjoying the flavors meshing together as a unified whole.

Hungry, we also got a couple of snacks to tide us over during the wait, and since we ordered food, also got to enjoy Woodberry’s fine bread basket and outstanding butter.

Roasted Eggplant Dip ($4) made with Charlottetown feta, thyme, and whole wheat crackers was pleasant, interesting, and close to being very good. Deviled Eggs ($4) with chipped ham and fish pepper were right up my alley – three halves, perfectly seasoned for my palate. The third half, presented to a party of two, can make or break a friendship.

Based on this bar experience, we were both throwing around superlatives, and my opinion of Woodberry Kitchen soared higher still. We took a seat outside, this time around the chill being gone from the air.

This being my friend’s first time at Woodberry, I saw no reason not to stick with the tried-and-true 2012 Domaine Gaillard Touraine-Mesland rosé that I vetted last time around, and it was once again a good choice with this cuisine. (You will not regret ordering this wine if you come here – it’s pleasant to sip on its own, but also enhances, without dominating, the food.)

Summer Bean Salad ($11) with green, roma, and flageolet beans, fennel, shallot, and “Skyline” dressing was a victim of the dressing. I’m not sure what Skyline dressing is – perhaps it’s a line of cheese – but I am sure that it dominated the delicacy of the beans. I wish I had something more informed to say other than a feta-like taste was just too much amp for this extremely acoustic dish.

It was a bit late in the season to order the Heirloom Tomato Gazpacho ($7), but it was still clear these were farmer’s market-quality tomatoes. Unfortunately, this was a bland dish that needed salt badly (and got it), and not surprisingly, was a rustic presentation – perhaps a defining moment in the meal, it was here where I realized that I’d like to see a touch more “cooking” instead of relying *so* heavily on quality of ingredients.

The one repeat dish was the Liberty Delight Beef Tartare ($12), and I was surprised to see the presentation had changed, but only because of one ingredient. On this visit, Woodberry Kitchen was featuring full-sour pickles as a snack, and they incorporated these pickles (instead of capers) into the Tartare. It worked fine, and like before, the quality of the egg was impeckable (sorry) – the difference being that on my last visit, this was arguably my least favorite dish; on this visit, it may have been my most favorite dish, despite it being pretty much the same thing.

My dining companion was expecting a more elaborate preparation of the Swordfish & Pork Skirts ($12) with tomatillo, jalapeño, pickled onions, (hold the) cilantro, squash blossoms, and garlic oil, but I knew based on the swordfish belly I had last time that it would be basic, grilled chunks, the pieces of pork skirt just about the same size as the pieces of swordfish. The belly I had last time was less cooked and more oily; these were meatier and drier, with every ingredient other than the two meats seemingly an afterthought – it could have just as easily been a leaf of kale, for example, instead of a squash blossom. This dish was also underseasoned, but its primary sin was that it was a bit overcooked and thus dry.

For dessert, Concord Grape Pie ($12) with Concord grape ice cream because, well, when have you *ever* seen Concord grape pie before? The pie itself was quite good – the crust was world-class – although i couldn’t identify the grapes as Concord because there just wasn’t enough penetration of flavor. Likewise, the ice cream could have been blueberry-vanilla and I wouldn’t have tasted the difference. This was a dessert that looked interesting on paper, but (crust aside) fell a bit short on the plate.

If you haven’t figured this out by now, I had assumed going into the meal that this visit was a formality, and that Woodberry Kitchen would be raised to Bold in the Dining Guide – the ranking was theirs to lose, and unfortunately, despite the incredible cocktails, they lost it. However, I can say with great confidence that Woodberry Kitchen is my favorite restaurant in Baltimore, and one of the very best restaurants in the Baltimore-Washington area. It is truly great, even though it fell something short of superlative, and is worthy of a special trip from DC to experience. I’m a bit worried about the future quality of Woodberry Kitchen given the 5,000-square-foot Shoo-Fly about to open from Spike Gjerdje, but that’s a bridge we’ll just have to cross when we come to it. I feel privileged and delighted to have experienced the bounty of this wonderful restaurant during the change of seasons.

—

Note also that both Richard Gorelick from The Baltimore Sun and Tom Sietsema from The Washington Post have reviewed Woodberry Kitchen within the past week. Between the three of us, there is much more agreement than disagreement.

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Northside Social, Clarendon

Posted on October 11, 2013 by Don

I recently wrote about a huge, monster French press of coffee at Lyon Hall. It was $7 there during brunch, but you can get the exact same thing if you order a Large French Press ($4.25) at Northside Social. I came here during a weekday morning with a friend, armed with laptops, and nursed this tub-o-coffee for what must have been an hour. It’s a mix of Counter Culture coffee beans, and it’s gooooood coffee.

— 

Last night I realized I’d scarcely eaten a thing all day long, so called in an order at Northside Social (I advise against doing this – neither the person who answered the phone, nor the cashier (who might have been the same person) was very friendly, although it may have been one troubled soul just having a bad day).

There’s a reason that calling in orders may not be the best idea here: is Northside Social *ever* not crowded? At 8 PM on a Friday evening, it was packed. That would be understandable at a “normal” restaurant, but keep in mind this place used to be Murky Coffee, and it isn’t *that* far removed, architecturally, from what Murky used to be. The crowds here amaze me.

The Friday Soup listed on their website is Seafood Chowder. They didn’t have it and I’m glad they didn’t – a Bowl of Bacon and Corn Chowder ($5.50, probably should have been discounted a dollar since it was ordered with a sandwich) was just terrific – two paper containers of delicious, hearty chowder, loaded with potatoes, carrots, and what surely must have been house made bacon-styled meat (really more like pancetta). If you’re ever here, and they have this chowder, get it – you’ll love it.

I showed this review to a friend (who had tasted the chowder), and the dialogue went as follows:

“You liked the chowder?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you think it tasted like boiled bacon water?”

“Yes.”

“The Italian Grilled Cheese” ($9.50) wasn’t a huge sandwich in terms of dimensions, but what was there was stuffed with salumi and cheese: Montasio (very rare in these parts), provolone, ricotta, soppresatta, coppa, Prosciutto di Parma, tomato marmalade, pesto, and pickled hot peppers on focaccia, served with some Route 11 potato chips. I know this thing sounds impossibly busy and huge, but it really wasn’t; in fact, it was downright elegant for having so many ingredients. Highly recommended, and I would get this again in a heartbeat.

And, of course I’d need some breakfast the next morning, so I got a Bag of Counter Culture Espresso Toscano ($14). I’ve discussed this at length here, but I think Counter Culture is too light for home use unless you have *really* good equipment, and that includes boiling hot water; my Cuisinart Grind and Brew (with Pause and Pour!) just doesn’t get the water hot enough to extract what it needs to extract from these delicate beans. They asked me if I wanted a free cup of coffee since I purchased a bag of beans, and I said no because it was in the evening – there’s an item on my receipt that says “NO MAKE” with a charge of $4.00. 

But that charge was surely for the Couscous Salad, which I thought sure was marked as $3.00, not $4.00, but I’m going from memory so I may be wrong. Regardless, the fine-looking couscous was quite literally inedible: it had either turned from age (it did not smell fermented), or had been tainted by some external factor. I thought it might have been a sensitivity to cilantro (which I don’t have), but my friend (who does) said no, it smelled like nail polish remover. There was something very wrong with this couscous, and it was discarded.

With my new Counter Culture beans, I did have a pleasant breakfast of Banana Chai Loaf ($3.00), a piece of pound cake, sugared at the perimeter, and tasting more strongly of chai than banana. It survived the day (and night) better than a Walnut Coffee Cake Muffin ($2.75) which was well-made, but just too dry to be pleasant (don’t ever pass judgment on a baked good that’s at least a day old – this muffin was probably quite good the day before).

With tax and tip, my “late-night snack” came out to $45.63. Ouch! But, couscous aside, it was worth every penny.

Posted in Restaurants, VA | Comments Off on Northside Social, Clarendon

The Red Hen, Bloomingdale

Posted on September 30, 2013 by Don

What a triumphant restaurant The Red Hen is. A neighborhood restaurant that’s also a destination restaurant, it makes me wish I lived in Bloomingdale.

More than any other restaurant in the area, I was delinquent in getting to The Red Hen for the first time – for no good reason, other than it kept slipping, but I sure made up for it.

My wonderful bartender (and new donrockwell.com member) Victor Dooley asked me if I’d like something to drink, and I immediately ordered a Bell’s Brown Ale ($7, now down to $6), and then after the first sip, asked myself, “Why?” As much as I enjoy this beer, between the cocktail and wine programs at The Red Hen, what was the point? I can get a Bell’s pretty much anywhere, and as much as I enjoyed it, it was a bad decision in terms of calories, alcohol, and dinero.

And so when Sebastian Zutant, whom I consider a personal friend (even though I’ve never seen him outside of a restaurant atmosphere), came over to talk about the wine list, I turned myself over to him. “You know what I like, and you know I don’t spend a lot.” He nodded his head, and came back a couple minutes later with a bottle of 2010 Cataratto Nino Barraco ($60), from Etna, Sicily – only 3,000 bottles (250 cases) produced. “Ah,” I said. “An ‘Orange Wine.'” His face lit up. “I heard you had these on your list.”

So what is an orange wine? I actually don’t know, except that they’re from obscure places, are very acidic, and although they’re technically white wines, they have something of an orange hue to them – not rosé; pale orange. Sebastian knows I’m an acid-head when it comes to wines, so he made a good call with this selection. As it turns out, this was actually the most expensive one on their list, and when the check arrived, I was only billed (full disclosure here) $45. “There are some funky shit grapes that go into this,” he said, clearly excited to be serving it. Ironically, I might have preferred one of their low-end orange wines because this tasted like it had undergone malolactic fermentation (a secondary fermentation that changes malic acid (green apples) into lactic acid (milk), making the wine softer and rounder, less tart, and in this case, leaving it with something of a dairy aroma. This appeals to a lot of people, but I prefer tart – I also feel like an ingrate saying this after the discounted bottle. The “Orange Wines” section tends to be a bit expensive, but you won’t regret ordering one, especially if you’ve never tried one before (they’re vaguely reminiscent of a light-bodied Sherry, while at the same time not being anything at all like any Sherry – wrap your head around that one!). I drank over half the bottle, and it easily got me through the rest of the meal.

It being my first time here, I wanted to try several different things, so I ordered three, and let them come whenever they came. At Sebastian’s urging, I got the Grilled Octopus with Potatoes, Pesto, Frisée & Crispy Capers ($14), and it was the best (cooked) octopus dish I’ve had in recent memory. I’m *always* leery of cooked octopus because its easy to make bitter, but this was heart-poundingly delicious, with the preparation defeating any possible bitterness that could have been there. 

Spaghetti Squash ($6) was a side dish that I thought would go well with the Octopus, and sure enough it did. Roasted, these strands of squash were firm but fully cooked, served with crushed hazelnuts, sage, and Parmigiano Reggiano, and really hit a synergistic note with the wine (picture both these dishes with a light, acidic, Sherry-like wine – it was a best-case combination, and I felt like I was in Spain instead of Italy; yet here I was, in Bloomingdale. As Tom Sietsema might say: the moment was transporting, truly.

I wanted to try one of the house-made pastas, and the other dish Sebastian raved about was the Mezze Rigatoni with Fennel Sausage Ragu & Pecorino Romano ($16). And he raved about it for good reason, too: I have an outgoing text message to Sebastian saved on my phone from 9:05 PM that evening which says, simply, “Double your pasta cook’s salary.” I don’t know who this gentleman was, but he was pan-finishing the pastas, several at a time, twisting and turning and moving all about. The mezze rigatoni was a perfect al dente, and the shape was just right for capturing the hearty sausage ragu. Even though there are several untried pastas on the menu, I would urge – urge – anyone going to The Red Hen to get this dish. The balance of flavors – just the thought of it – between the fennel and sauce is downright Pavlovian.

Not knowing when I’d return, and wanting to try as many things as possible, I asked for one more small dish despite being stuffed. Salt Cod Brandade with Chives & Garlic Toast ($12) went right to my heart (I love brandade), but in retrospect, I wish I’d ordered this first, the pasta second, and the octopus third. This course also went really well with the wine, but I was so full that I just couldn’t give it the appreciation it deserved – it was a generous and hearty portion, and if you like brandade, you’ll like this.

—

Not knowing when I’d return. Ha, ha, ha. Well, I was back three days later. Given that I live in Virginia, that should tell you something right there.

My friend and I started with an impressive Junipero Gimlet ($10), and I noticed that our bartender shook our drinks exactly twenty times. I asked him if he counted his shakes (which some bartenders do), and surprisingly, he replied that he shakes drinks by sound (!) – when the sound changes to a certain tone, he knows it’s ready. I guess this is why he makes drinks, and I merely drink them.

Perusing the wine list (I didn’t really get a good look at it on my first visit), I noticed that the least expensive Orange Wine was $55, and I felt like being cheap (especially since I wasn’t paying), and so we ordered a bottle of 2011 Tami Grillo ($35), a white wine, also from Sicily. Don’t overlook this beautiful bianco just because it’s on the inexpensive side – it works really well with Mike Friedman’s cooking, Sicilian whites being on the heavier side, and it’s also imported by the great firm of Louis-Dressner (R.I.P. Joe Dressner – I will always remember you with heartfelt respect and admiration (*)).

Although I often (usually) dine solo, I love dining with others because, well, there’s the company, but also it gives me a chance to try more things, and even more importantly, things I might overlook if I was ordering by myself. Case in point: the Pear & Endive Salad ($11) with hazelnuts, celery, and gorgonzola dressing, which was just a beautiful, classic combination, especially paired with this Grillo (which is the grape used to make Masala – now that I’m writing this, I recall with near certainty that Sebastian told me there was some Grillo in the Cataratto Nino Barraco I had on my previous visit as well). Anyway, these flavors were simple, flawless, and a delightful start to the meal.

Garganelli with Braised Duck, Tomato, English Peas, & Taggiasca Olives ($17) signaled the arrival of autumn, and confirmed that the pastas here are important and downright obligatory – I cannot imagine coming here and not at least splitting one. Of all the world’s olives, none could have gone better with this duck than the Taggiasca. Chef Friedman knows what he’s doing, that’s for sure. With this pasta, a side order of Zucchini ($8) was ordered mostly for color and texture, yet ended up lightening the course as a whole, not that it really needed it – the duck was extremely delicate.

Unfortunately, this was the time I (literally) got called away from the meal, and so I only got carryout nibbles of our two entrees, a couple of hours later: Seared Veal Sweetbreads with a Fried Egg, Bacon, Pea Shoots, & Soft Polenta ($19), aargh, this is the one that I really wish I’d gotten to try right when it was served – it was still delicious even later in the evening; and Wood Grilled Hen with Wild Mushrooms, Tomato, Cherry Peppers, and Roasted Potatoes ($23), also wonderful even hours later. But as good as these were as room-temperature carryout dishes, they would have obviously been that much better hot off the stove.

Wow, I sure went through a lot of this menu in just a few days, but sitting here typing this in the hinterlands of Virginia, not having eaten a thing today, I’m tempted to go back yet again this evening. I love The Red Hen, and the residents of Bloomingdale are fortunate to have a casual restaurant of this caliber in their midst. If I lived in Bloomingdale, and wasn’t Robo-Critic, I’d be there all the time.

Needless to say, The Red Hen is initiated in Italic, a strong, secure Italic, in the Dining Guide. Bravo.

(*) One other thing: Joe, I’m going to steal the last line of your obit because it is *exactly* how I feel about myself. If you object, speak up; otherwise, thanks (and knowing you, you’re smiling right now. Cheers, my friend.).

Posted in DC, Restaurants | Comments Off on The Red Hen, Bloomingdale

Pizzeria Orso, Falls Church, VA

Posted on September 26, 2013 by Don

“Where’s the rest of you?”

That’s what I said to Will Artley when he came up to say hello to me and Matt. Will has devoted himself to fitness, and has lost something like 80 pounds! Congratulations, chef!

More importantly to the diner – and I may just be imagining this – his newfound lightness is also reflected in his cuisine, and my one knock on Will’s cooking before was that it tended to be on the heavy side; not this time around. Could it be that getting into shape could actually change the nature of a chef’s cooking? I don’t think it’s as outlandish as it first sounds.

Wednesday is half-price wine night at Pizzeria Orso, and I got a bottle of 2011 Palacio de Vivero Rueda for $12 – no, you read that correctly! 75% Verdejo and 25% Viura, and 13% ABV, this is a medium-bodied, light-styled wine that is just an incredible value on Wednesday nights. We were ordering mostly light, vegetable-based dishes, so it was a perfect match.

My young dining companion enjoyed a fine Virgil’s Cream Soda ($3.50). I never let Matt drink soft drinks (other than diet) when he was young, but now that he’s older, I encourage him to enjoy upscale versions (or, even better, mocktails) as a “beverage” with dinner; not a “thirst quencher.” It’s nice to see him not left out when his dad is having a bottleglass of wine.

Grilled Heart of Romaine ($6.50) with grana, classic Caesar, and anchovies, is always good here, and this was no exception. There’s a thread somewhere on donrockwell.com about the virtues, or lack thereof, of grilling romaine, but as long as it’s not over-grilled (which it often is), I rather like it, and this was a good, well-dressed version, gently priced.

Slow-Roasted Corn and Pea Salad ($9) was a prime example of the lightness that I saw on this particular evening, the peas being tiny, late-season beauties that were complemented, not shoved aside, by some mint, basil, and mild feta – a stronger feta wouldn’t work with a pea salad (as I was to find out later in the week at another restaurant). 

Caprese ($9) used what also were late-season tomatoes, but these were terrific tomatoes, sliced and plated in-line with cylinders of buffalo mozzarella and brought to life by vividly aromatic basil. 

The previous two dishes were summer on a plate, and as I type this, they’re both gone from the online menu which has been changed for early autumn – a testament to Pizzeria Orso and the respect they show to seasonality.

Rice inside the Arancini ($4, half-price because of happy hour) was strongly accompanied with preserved chorizo and saffron, served atop a tarragon emulsion. There were three orbs, and two of them went to Matt, who was starving from his long day by the time we arrived. If you like assertive chorizo, you’ll like these arancini. And at happy hour prices? It’s almost like free food.

The one miss of the night was the Pork Belly ($9), the pork belly itself being fine, but it was served with a mushroom ragu (also fine) and creamy polenta, and the polenta was the culprit, being slightly congealed on the top and having a clotted texture throughout. Meh, it happens – execute the polenta correctly, and you have yourself a good dish here.

I ordered the Slow-Roasted Cauliflower ($7) for its accompaniments: lemon-parsley emulsion and garlic. I’m a sucker for cauliflower with lemon, and this was cooked right to the point where it was neither too firm, nor too mushy. We were both getting extremely full at this point (stuffed, actually), and I definitely over-ordered by getting this fine dish.

Nevertheless, there’s always that second stomach, kept in reserve for dessert, and Orso’s Carrot Cake ($6) was very good for a simple version (“great” carrot cake is an absolute art, and must weigh about 20 pounds, be moist throughout, and contain lots of raisins and walnuts, preferably having sour cream-based icing). This rendition was not something a dedicated pastry chef would make, but was a success within its genre because it was moist, not gratuitously sweet, and had good icing, piped on top of the cake (which contained neither raisins nor walnuts) from a pastry bag.

—

A second dinner at Pizzeria Orso was carryout – this time for pizza!

As my mom would always say, “my eyes are bigger than my stomach,” and I always (erroneously) think that one pizza here won’t be enough for me, so out of sheer terror, the terror of not getting enough to eat, I order something to go with it.

A Chopped Salad ($9) sounded harmless enough, but turned out to be nearly my entire meal. A *huge* container full of salad, it came undressed, with the extremely curdish buttermilk dressing in a separate tub. Orso’s chopped salad is made with romaine, arugula, ham, a hardboiled egg, pancetta, tomato, grana, and avocado. As I just typed that, I now realize that it *doesn’t* sound harmless, and, in fact, it wasn’t: it was not a healthy salad, had *lots* of ham and cubes of pancetta, and absolutely needs to be thoroughly tossed and dressed rather than trying to pour the dressing on top and stir it up with a fork (like someone we all know and love did – it doesn’t work!) This is a fantastic salad for the money, but be prepared to make it your meal; not *part* of your meal.

An Orso ($17.25) was quite expensive for four pieces of pizza (yeah, yeah, I got mine sliced – they ask when you call), but it was also great. For some reasons, I had convinced myself that this was a red-sauce pizza (probably because there’s an Orso Bianco listed right above it), but it isn’t. It is, in essence, a variation of a quattro formaggio, with mozzarella, pecorino tuscano, fontina, grana, ricotta (okay, cinque formaggio), garlic, and prosciutto – it’s the same pie as the Orso Bianco with the addition of prosciutto, and was perfectly topped, perfectly cooked, and as is usually the case, showcased the wonderful sourdough crust here.

Pizzeria Orso has always been in Italic in the Dining Guide, and remains there comfortably and securely.

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G Sandwich, 14UP

Posted on September 23, 2013 by Don

DPop, on 09 Aug 2013 – 10:53 AM, said:

The Chicken Parm provided an excellent first bite, with a nice crunchy texture and acidic tomato sauce held up by a nice semi-soft roll. Things swirled down hill from there. When I placed the sandwich back into the foil wrapping, I noticed my hands glistening in a slick coating of grease. Not just a little dribble that had dropped out of the sandwich, mind you, they were covered. I found this odd in that I would not expect a chicken Parm to to give off this amount of clear, saturated fat after one bite. Undeterred, I plodded forward into the sandwich and was disappointed to find the middle a mess of tomato sauce and breading. What happened to the chicken? I would catch a saturated bite here and there, but it seems that the majority of the chicken got squeezed outward, leaving the first and last bites of each half of the sandwich to be far superior to everything in the middle. The definition of a mixed experience for me, as those 4 end-piece bites were really quite good.

 hmmboy, on 11 Sept 2013 – 07:54 AM, said:

I am gonna have to disagree with my friend David and give a huge shout out to the chicken parm sandwich here. It was by far the best I have had in this area and rivals some of the best ever (in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn). My sandwich was packed with chicken, the porky tomato sauce spooned on judiciously, and the bread – what a fantastic sesame seeded sub roll – again the best I have had in this area and reminiscent of those found in Brooklyn Italian bakeries. I cannot wait to return, and while I would like to try some of Chef Izzy’s other offerings it is hard to imagine not getting the chicken parm again.

After reading the bipolar comments of David and Mark, I just had to try the Chicken Parm ($11) on my first-ever visit to G Sandwich.

I had no preconceived notions, and very little idea what to expect when I walked in. A block south (on V Street, I believe), there are a few free 15-minute parking spaces, and I challenged the clock, racing up, ordering my sandwich, and racing back.

While I waited, I ordered a Diet Coke ($2.50?), and only then did it become clear to me that G Sandwich is really pushing upscale soft drinks, and isn’t a place you walk in and buy a 79-cent fountain drink, or can of Sprite. In Vancouver, there’s a mini-chain called Meat and Bread, and although G Sandwich is a bigger, more ambitious restaurant, it reminds me – in spirit – of this little gem in Vancouver (which you should absolutely try if you go).

I waited, and waited, and my 15 minutes had expired before I got my sandwich, but I made it back to the car without a ticket, carefully prepared my “table” for the ride home, and headed down 14th Street.

So, where is the deciding vote cast on the Chicken Parm? I’m siding with Mark on this one: my sandwich was not good, not great, but just about perfect – meaning that I can’t think of one single thing that I would change about it to make it any better. I’m no “Chicken Parm Expert,” and I have no doubt that the execution of David’s sandwich was off, but man-oh-man, I don’t know how I’m going to pry myself away from getting this again the next time I come. 

The chicken itself tasted like it was wood-roasted, even though it’s not in the “Wood Roasted Sandwiches” section of the menu (yes, I’m well aware that it could be cooked sous-vide and finished on the grill); the tomato sauce seemed long-cooked and laced with – dare I say it? dare I? – okay! Porky Goodness!; the cheese was screaming with texture, and the roll was as sturdy and tasty as advertised. Do not hesitate to get this sandwich.

Absolutely maintained and officially initialized in Italic in the Dining Guide.

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2 Birds, 1 Stone, 14UP

Posted on September 23, 2013 by Don

Three of us walked up from Le Diplomate to 2 Birds, 1 Stone last week for a nightcap. Having never seen Doi Moi, and approaching it on foot from the south, my first impression while still a half-block away was: this is way too bright inside (I never did walk in; so this was literally just a passing thought).

One friend, who had been to 2 Birds, 1 Stone previously, replied, as we were about to walk down the stairs to it, “I have a feeling you’re going to think this is too bright also.”

Yes. It’s clear that this space represents what could have been the world’s biggest storage closet; instead, they painted the concrete, put a couple clever frescos (well, “fresco” might be a stretch) on the wall, and spent quite a bit of money on lighting – the lighting system in here is fairly complex for such a place, but I do hope it comes with a dimmer switch and that they consider using it. I suspect they’re trying to make what could have been a gloomy space into a little beacon of happiness, but I think people will be more comfortable in a slightly dimmer atmosphere (and this is coming from someone who has criticized places like Pazo in the past for being so dark that I couldn’t even read the menu). There’s a happy medium somewhere.

But this is all periphery. The one fixture in 2 Birds, 1 Stone that really matters is Adam Bernbach, and he was there on this evening.

My go-to cocktail, as long as a bar doesn’t use Rose’s lime juice (which is gross), is straight out of a post-depression gin joint: the Gimlet. When I order a Gimlet, and the bartender says, “gin or vodka,” that sends warning bells clanging (mostly about the clientele). I want gin, and I want fresh lime juice.

The Gimlet ($10) wasn’t on the menu at 2 Birds, 1 Stone, and I didn’t ask Adam, “*Can* you make me a Gimlet?”; I asked him, “*Will* you make me a Gimlet?” Knowing he was there, I didn’t need to ask if he knew how to make it, there was little doubt that he’d be using fresh lime juice (or at least something other than Rose’s), and there was no “gin or vodka?” moment. “Of course,” he said.

And wow, this was *it*. Bone dry, with no gratuitous simple syrup (which so many places do), this was Smooth Ambler Greenbriar Gin, fresh lime juice, and (if I remember correctly), the barest hint of house-made cordial, so subtle that I didn’t detect it. All I know is that this was the Gimlet of my dreams, perfectly executed. And I got a second one, too.

One of us enjoyed the only draft beer, Stillwater Cellar Door ($6), a Belgian-styled Farmhouse Ale (Witbier) brewed by Stillwater Artisanal in Baltimore, and the other got what was perhaps the cocktail of the night (CON): a Piña Colada – yes, a Piña Colada, and one which I’ve never before experienced: this was towards the dry side, and was so complex that I was in disbelief. Note to self: get back to 2 Birds, 1 Stone and have a Bernbachian Piña Colada ASAP. A friend also had an Old Pal ($12) – (Canadian?) Whiskey, Vermouth, and Campari – which I took one sip of and enjoyed.

For my last drink, I asked Adam for “Rye and dry,” and let him make whatever he wanted to make. He came up with yet another near-perfect cocktail: rye (I’m not sure which type), Bonal Gentiane Quinquina, and Celery Bitters.

2 Birds, 1 Stone will only be as good as its bartenders, and I suppose one day Adam will no longer be there full-time (how could he be, with Proof, Estadio, and Doi Moi to oversee?). But as long as he’s there, it is a glorious watering hole, one to be enjoyed *now* and not later. Call before you go, and see if he’s working. I’m not saying other bartenders there can’t fill in; merely that it’s a sure-thing if Adam is there.

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Le Diplomate, 14UP

Posted on September 20, 2013 by Don
Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I had a less than stellar dinner at Le Diplomate last week. 
 
Three of us stopped in for drinks and dinner (I wonder how often that happens, see later in this post for why I ask), sitting at the bar and ordering cocktails and “snacks” (ha ha). One friend ordered a couple bottles of Kronenbourg; the other, a Negroni ($10), making a prune face upon first sip (yet, she ordered two more); I started my post-traumatic parking recovery with a glass of 2012 L’Estadon Côtes de Provence Rosé ($10).
 
I was super content to nosh on Le Diplomate’s world-beating bread-and-butter, with a basket of crusty sourdough white, sourdough wheat, and cranberry-nut bread to go along with their ramekin of incredible salty-creamy butter. I’ve always said that a great tomato salad, picked at the height of tomato season, and simply sliced, dressed with sea salt and olive oil, is one of the greatest individual food items in the world; and so it is with great bread and butter. There are better bread baskets in this town, but not many, and the ones that are, tend to be more elaborate, sometimes charging for them, at least for the second basket; not here. I’m sure they get annoyed when people stuff themselves silly on their wonderful bread, but it’s hard not to do. This is wonderful bread and butter.
 
My friends were in a free-wheeling mood, and wanted some shellfish. A Dozen Oysters ($34/dozen: 6 large Atlantics; 6 deep Pacifics), and a Half-Dozen Littleneck Clams ($10) – they went to town, while I took one clam, one oyster, sipped my wine, ate my bread, and was happy as a, well, clam.
 
When we ordered dinner, I strongly advised my friends to put the brakes on the individual drinks, and go with a bottle of wine. A 2011 Laurent Martray Brouilly “Cuvée Vielles Vignes” ($35), a cru Beaujolais, had none of the green stalkiness certain bottlings of 2011 Beaujolais are showing right now (see my donrockwell.com post under Béarnaise for details), but came across as somewhat chaptalized and acidified. Pleasant enough, and the price was fine – it got us through the rest of the meal, which was comprised of small plates – but there is much better Beaujolais to be had than this.
 
My prune-faced friend, upon the first bite of the Gazpacho ($9) with tomato, cucumbers, and croutons, said, “This tastes homemade.” 
 
“Great!” I replied.
 
“No,” she added. “Like you made it at home. And threw some vegetables in a food processor.” And she was right – it was chunky, granular, and bland.
 
Escargots ($14) was right at the price where you weren’t sure if they were frozen or not. Although these were served in shells – a beautiful, dramatic presentation – unfortunately, they weren’t the shells in which the snails were born; they were just empty shells, purchased separately, and used as a serving vessel. The snails were inserted along with parsley and butter, and honestly, I couldn’t tell if they were frozen or not (frozen is not necessarily bad, and you can still have frozen, but wild-caught, escargots). Something tells me these weren’t crawling around in the flower boxes earlier in the day (*).
 
Like last time, the Radish Crudité ($6.50) with sea salt and butter was a table favorite for its simplicity. The radishes weren’t quite as good this time – they tended to “bend” more than “snap” – but it’s very hard not to like this dish, especially as a palate cleanser.
 
Country Duck Terrine ($13) was the dish of the night, and made us realize that, other than the escargots, this was the only animal protein we had in the main courses. We ordered several dishes, but kept things toward the healthy, vegetable-skewed side (he says, after downing about four pieces of bread and butter). Although this is pricey at $13, we all felt it was money well-spent.
 
Pommes Frites ($8), okay, not healthy, but vegetable-skewed, came in a paper cone, and had been salted to death. And I mean these were the saltiest pommes frites I can ever remember having. In all seriousness, we used them to salt the duck terrine which was slightly under-salted, so the two together in the same bite were just about right in terms of salinity (that’s one of those words that make you sound like an intelligent critic).
 
My “home made gazpacho” friend picked up the tab, and let out a shriek when the check arrived. With all of our nibbling and sipping, the total, with tax and tip, came out to about $250. This is very easy to do here if you come for happy hour and end up eating and drinking a bit more than you had planned. This time around, I was somewhat disappointed in Le Diplomate – while it remains strongly in Italic in the Dining Guide, I can no longer keep it at the top of the heap in 14UP – there’s just too much competition. The problem? Now, I’m not quite sure what is. How can you say Cork is better than Etto is better than Doi Moi is better than Kapnos is better than Estadio, unless you’ve been to each ten times? The simple, and inconvenient, truth, is that you can’t – there could be any of seven restaurants on a given day that might be “the best” – but that’s not going to stop me from trying.
 
I suspect Le Diplomate – now that it’s gotten past review season – is settling into being a good, reliable, but unspectacular, all-day, multi-purpose brasserie. There’s nothing wrong with this at all, and as long as the bread is this good (and believe me, it is quite good), and I can get a decent bottle of wine in the $30s? They have a friend in me.
 
(*) Poivrot Farci’s fascinating addendum about snails and other gastropods here (well worth reading).
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Pie-Tanza, Falls Church, VA

Posted on September 14, 2013 by Don

I decided that if I was going to order from Pie-Tanza, I was going to order pizzas I’ve never tried before, pizzas of a different genre (but I’ll be darned if I wasn’t going to order a pizza – everything else here scares me). So I went with more of a Middle Eastern, than Italian, theme.

Goat Cheese & Arugula ($12.99) with thin-sliced prosciutto, sliced pear (yum-factor increasing, right?), goat cheese crumbles, shredded mozzarella, olive oil, and fresh arugula with a drizzle of balsamic reduction “peered” well with the second pizza, a Classic Mediterranean Pizza ($12.99), extra-virgin olive oil, fresh herbs, mozzarella, fontina, sweet roasted tomato, black olives, tomato, and fresh basil with crumbled feta chese.

Taken in tandem, these pizzas were arguably the best one-two punch of pizza pie that I’ve yet had from Pie-Tanza, and certainly makes me wonder if the strength of this restaurant lies in the Middle East; not in Italy. These very Middle-Eastern pies worked well together, and even when served the next day at room temperature, they still were every bit as good if not even slightly better.

So perhaps this is where the heart of Pie-Tanza is – Middle Eastern rather than Italian. Regardless, I’m happy that I ordered out of my comfort zone, and I might do it again in the future. 

A very good showing, my friends, and one which makes me want to do it again next time. Do you have any suggestions? Thank you, as always, for having my pizzas ready when you say you will (and that goes both for the Arlington and the Falls Church store).

Maintained solidly in Italics in the Dining Guide.

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Yuzu, Bethesda, MD

Posted on September 14, 2013 by Don

When I found out that (Sushi) Chef Yoshihita Ota was now at Yuzu, I was very optimistic and excited. Chef Ota opened Kushi which had terrific sushi when it first opened (many readers here might not remember that, but it did), and he became Head Sushi Chef at the Chevy Chase Sushi Ko after Kushi began having tax problems, making that location one of the most serious sushi restaurants in the area (Koji Terano himself told me that he is tremendously talented). 

So I walked into Yuzu with an enormous amount of bias that it would be fantastic. However, remember that Yuzu is a full-blown Japanese restaurant, meaning that there’s a Sushi Chef and a Kitchen Chef, and that sushi is only half the game here. And it just so happens that my dining companion wanted mostly cooked food, so we were to essentially “test” the kitchen chef.

I perused the list with a Kirin ($6.50) and ordered a Kaki Moto Yaki ($6.50 for 2), what Yuzu’s sandwich sign outside called “Oyster Bake,”) but were two large baked oysters with egg and spinach, and one of the hits of the night, and well-priced, too.

Corn Tempura ($7) was actually not a tempura, but crusted with panko; nevertheless, I loved it, and thought it was one of the highlights of the entire meal.

Next was Hirame Usuzukuri ($15, and the most expensive food item of the meal), flounder carpaccio, Japanese style, with ponzu, shichimi oroshi (start Googling), wakame “salad,” and green onions. We had a divisive split over this; my *extremely knowledgable* Japanese dining companion insisting the fish has been frozen and reused as quasi-sashimi, and I rather liking it, while at the same time acknowledging its expense – it was only five pieces if I recall. This, perhaps more than any dish, angered her, and her antenna went up for the rest of the meal.

Age Nasu Dengaku ($8) was eggplant, dengaku style: baked eggplant, topped with minced chicken marinated with sweet miso sauce. Especially because we got two half-eggplants  with this, and the stuffing was quite good I liked it a lot, especially for the price. When we were finished with it, I happily ate the skins which is optional.

Mushidori ($10) was a salad platter of steamed-boiled chicken breast, sliced, arranged around the center of the plate rimmed with sliced japanese cucumber and tomato, the whole thing resting on an abundance of watery miso sauce.  if done right, this was supposed to be Ban Ban Ji (a Japanese take on a Chinese dish of steamed chicken with a sesame miso sauce and cucumbers, but it wasn’t done right.)

Ganmodoki ($7) was tofu dumplings with wood-ear mushrooms and carrots in a dashi broth with hot mustard, braised eggplant, kabocha squash, and shishito pepper. Something of a dashi, this was perhaps the dish of the night.

After some of the unbelievable tsukune I’ve had in this town of late, in particular Izakaya Seki’s (the best I’ve ever eaten in my life), Yuzu’s Tsukune ($6 for two chicken meatballs) was soulless and somewhat vapid. Although it was technically “okay,” it had no love in the process of making it, and therefore was very boring, especially in comparison to what I know is out there.

Similarly, a Vegetable Tempura Assortment ($8) was pleasant, but simply humiliated by the tempura I’d had earlier in the weekend at Sushi Yoshi in Vienna which was as good as any I’ve had in Northern Virginia, or maybe even the entire DC area. While this was pleasant, the shishito (decent), broccolli (no), red pepper (no), asparagus (decent), eggplant (decent), zucchini (no!), was ultimately only average-to-good, and its dashi dipping sauce was too salty (soy-saucy), and there was no grated daikon or ginger.

All this, if you’ll notice, came from the kitchen; I insisted we try something from the sushi chef, Chef Ota, so we got the simplest of orders: Tamago ($4). The omelet came out as just a plain old piece of egg, not nigiri, unless you want to consider the almost unidentifiable wedge of rice on the inside, “rice,” and one piece was cut into two to make it look like we got two pieces. It was also icebox-cold, as the kitchen was clearly trying to close early on this Sunday night (we were, at this point, the last diners in the restaurant, and surely caught them off-guard by ordering this dish).

So, no conclusion at all on the Sushi Chef (Yoshihita Ota) here, but somewhat of a disappointment on the kitchen food.

This was all washed down with a bottle of Suigei Tokubetsu Junmai Sake ($53) which is several dollars more expensive than you can find downtown, but that’s not surprising since it’s Bethesda.

In all, a disappointing meal that I cannot justify putting in Italic in the Dining Guide. This meal was $145.95 before tip in an empty restaurant, and it was by no means distinctive. Maybe I wasn’t fair not testing the Sushi Chef, and next time, I will. Yuzu is maintained, for now, in plain text.

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Lyon Hall, Clarendon, VA

Posted on September 11, 2013 by Don

Three knowledgable diners enjoyed a wonderful Sunday Brunch out on the sidewalk at Lyon Hall this weekend.

Trust me when I say that if you have four or less people in your party, then you should start with only one order of the French Press ($7). A massive French Press – the size of IHOP’s “bottomless pot of coffee – this is easily a quart, and is made with very high quality Counter Culture beans. 

Perfect with an order of Donuts ($7.95) – four homemade beauties: one sugar donut with a bit of lavender spice, and three glazed – lemon, cherry, and peach. Each glazed donut came humorously stuffed with a sugared donut hole.

But you might not need that order of donuts because Lyon Hall’s bread basket is hors classe. It’s two types of bread – white and pumpernickel – with a creamy, salty tin of really good butter. Good bread and butter is one of the great culinary delights of this world, and this is good bread and butter.

Lyon Hall’s brunch peripherals are so generous and abundant that you almost overlook that some of the entrees aren’t quite as large (and you won’t care either because you’ll be carbo-stuffed by the time they arrive).

Smoked Salmon Poached Eggs ($13.95) was a croissant, either decapitated or smashed: I couldn’t really see it because it was covered with strips of house-smoked salmon, piles of spinach, and two poached eggs drizzled with Hollandaise. If this description appeals to you, then get this dish because it was delicious.

The surprise of the day was the misnamed Artichoke Salad ($10.95) which came with only a couple, seemingly canned, artichoke hearts and an imperfect Gribiche dressing which was relish-light and mayo-heavy. But aside from these nitpicks, the star of the plate was the summer beans (haricots verts and pickled long beans) – spankingly fresh and in wonderful contrast with everything else on the table. The menu says there are olives and oven-dried tomatoes, but I only remember arugula and fresh cherry tomatoes, along with a couple cubes of chickpea croutons. This is first and foremost a Bean Salad, and it’s one you should order before this growing season goes away.

Between the three of us, we also got an order of 3 Eggs Your Way ($5.25), over-easy, figuring we’d be able to use the eggs somewhere, but they really didn’t go with the salmon (because it already had poached eggs); only the salad benefitted from this little bit of wretched excess.

I’ve been to Lyon Hall several times now, but previously only at the bar, and only in the evening – it was this surprisingly delightful al fresco Sunday Brunch which vaulted it into Italic in the Dining Guide.

And just in case you think this is stuffy, haute cuisine, I’ll add that the table behind us was apparently warming up for that day’s football game: we overheard one of the guys say to the server, “Excuse me, instead of that shot of beer, could you make it a shot of vodka?”

Ah, Clarendon. You never disappoint.

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