À Bientôt

Hi everyone,

For two personal reasons, including one of the two biggest non-family-related honors/responsibilities I’ve ever had bestowed upon me, I must discontinue this blog in the immediate term.

I would rather not write at all than write poorly, and right now, I just don’t have the time to write well.

Please note that à bientôt means “see you soon” and not “goodbye.” I don’t think I’ll be writing again in August, but I’m hopeful that by the end of September, I’ll be writing this again with the same consistency and passion that I’ve done since last December 1st.

I would ask that if I’m on your RSS feed, you leave me there, and that if you follow dcdining on Twitter, you don’t unfollow it – I have every intention of putting a smile on your face with my next post/Tweet, but there’s no way it’s going to happen before Labor Day at the earliest.

Everyone here has a place in my heart, and I ask for your indulgence this one time. I’m going to continue moderating and monitoring donrockwell.com almost constantly, so don’t worry about that changing or going away.

Thanks in advance for sticking with me, and kind regards, Don Rockwell

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Backyard Barbecue, Arlington, VA

(See the January 31, 2011 Review here.)

On certain Saturdays at noon, Backyard Barbecue roasts an entire pig in the parking lot out front. Today, it was a 60 pounder, and they were selling fantastic Pulled Pork Sandwiches ($6.99), tonged straight from the pig, with a little tub of pretty good cole slaw.

My young adversary and I had gone out to play tennis, but he’d missed breakfast and was starving. We cut our drill session short (after about 15 minutes of lethargy), then went and grabbed a couple of these sandwiches. Served on a medium-sized soft roll and generously sauced (unless you ask them not to), this perfect pulled pork sandwich is just enough for a moderate lunch.

After our sandwich, we went back and played some more tennis, and now he’s sitting downstairs, foot propped up, with ice on his ankle – but at least he’s not hungry!

A personal note of thanks to Anne-Marie Schmidt, who wrote me a month after my beloved mom passed away to see how I was doing. There’s a special tradition in Ireland called the Month’s Mind – a mass said for someone who passes a month afterwards. “In my personal experience I have felt that after a month people around you forget – and forget to ask, ‘how’s it going?'” she said.

Not soon to be forgotten by me, and I’ll add that if anyone reading this knows of someone who has recently suffered the loss of a loved one, please check up on them to see how they’re doing. I learned, years ago, that it’s always appreciated – even if it’s just a five-word email.

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CakeLove, Tysons Corner Center, Tysons Corner, VA

Remember CakeLove? That cupcake store that’s not Georgetown Cupcake? It all seems sort of distant now, doesn’t it?

Like the cupcakes, or not, give Warren Brown credit for being a visionary, spotting and capitalizing on a trend long before the market became saturated (and if the infuriating lines at Georgetown Cupcake – even the Bethesda Georgetown Cupcake – are any indicator, the market is still ripe for picking even though at this point it boils down to a marketing battle).

We’ve all had our ups and downs at CakeLove – the buttercream seems to be a love it or leave it proposition; as it turns out, I’m split right down the middle. I like the thick, unctuous, icebox-cool buttercream frosting for what it is, and I also respect its integrity for using ingredients I don’t feel bad about eating.

I hadn’t been to a CakeLove in probably a year, but the last time I went was also in Tysons Corner Center, and I had a very good cupcake – as good as any I’ve had there. This time, for variety and in the spirit of exploration, I ordered a Vanilla Icing on Chocolate Cake Gluten Free Cupcake ($4.00). When the pleasant cashier rang up the amount, I was surprised because I didn’t see any prices other than the $3.25 listed (the gluten-free version has a 75-cent upcharge). No problem on my end, but it might be a good idea to put a little sign right by the cupcakes.

Unfortunately, as good as my last cupcake was here, this one was extremely dry – doubly unfortunate since I waited until I was in the car to eat it. One bite, and crumbs went everywhere, all over me, all over the seat, down the cracks, and then the roof caved in on the cupcake and I got buttercream all over my steering wheel and stick shift. Cupcaking while driving is never a good idea, but on this particular instance, the results were catastrophic. (Don’t I sound like a Yelper, trashing a place because I got crumbs in my car?)

CakeLove’s Green Label products are vegan, low sugar, or gluten free – I’m not certain from their website if you can get a combination of the three, but I suspect one phone call would be all it takes to find out. Their product is honorable, with ingredients proudly listed for all the public to see.

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Tragara, Bethesda, MD

Fine dining is not dead.

I’d walked past Tragara so many times in recent years that I’d convinced myself I’d been there, long ago. But when I actually went in, I realized that I’d never been in my life.

Immediately, you get the feeling of old-school, formal Italian, and when you step past the entry way into the large dining room, that feeling is only confirmed.

The gentleman meeting you at the host stand is Claude Amsellem, the owner, who opened Tragara in 1994. The chef – actually working in the kitchen – is Michel Laudier, the former chef at Rive Gauche in Georgetown.

Even before you’re seated, you notice that things are different here: you’re escorted across a carpeted floor, with plenty of space between the tables, which have tablecloths and linens (with no odor) on them, and there is a hushed murmur throughout the room rather than an abrasive shouting match going on. How odd that this has become a novelty instead of the norm.

This would all be for naught if the service was fake, as it has the potential to be in a dressy restaurant like this: servers who smile to your face, but roll their eyes when they turn to walk away, only to disappear for ten minutes and return smelling like cigarette smoke. None of that is here – the overall impression I got is that Tragara is one of the rare restaurants in the DC area with a very professional, highly trained front of the house, whose job it is to make sure you enjoy your meal. What a novel concept, right?

And again, all this would be for naught if the food was bad, and in a restaurant such as this – formal, old-school Italian – quite honestly, that would be pretty much par for the course.

I ordered a glass of “house” Pinot Grigio ($9.50) which was brought on a tray (again, how novel).  The initial finish led me to believe they’d mistakenly poured me a Chardonnay, but after a few minutes, the buttery component blew off, and the wine became one that I’d gladly drink at home. And it was a good pairing with the Portobello Monte Bianco ($9.95), a marinated and grilled portobello, baked and served in a clay bowl with tomato and homemade mozzarella, the sauce gladly swabbed up with Tragara’s house-baked bread. This was a hearty, fairly large appetizer that is a repeat, and boded well for the main course.

I was impressed enough with the house Pinot Grigio to go with a glass of house Chianti ($9.50), and paired it with the most expensive item on Tragara’s menu: Veal Chop Marsala ($39.95), a sauteed, center-cut veal chop, with a Marsala reduction, shiitakes, and an incredible polenta cake that was the perfect sponge for both the fully reduced sauce and the drippings from the veal chop. This was a full-bore, head-on, “go ahead and show me what your expensive, old-school cooking can do” challenge to the restaurant, and they rose to the occasion. The chop maybe could have been a touch larger for the price, but that is about the only thing that fell short of a best-case scenario.

Tragara is proud of its homemade Ice Cream and Sorbet ($8.95), and rightfully so – there were about a dozen to choose from, and they rank right up there with the best ice creams you’ll find in the DC area. You can choose five, and I selected gianduja, vanilla rum, banana-poppy seed, rose hibiscus, and the one that everyone must, must order: prune and grappa (even if you don’t think you’ll like this, order it anyway).

I’m not quite sure why Tragara is never discussed. Maybe it’s because the food isn’t cutting-edge, or foamy, or squiggly, but I’ll take solid execution over novelty any day of the week. The wine list is also surprisingly competent, with plenty of decent bottles priced in the $30s.

As I dined, I watched a young woman at a table alone – she had been there for about twenty minutes drinking a couple of soft drinks, and waiting for someone who never arrived. I saw her check her text messages, and then she got up and asked one of the employees: “Where is Faryab?” She was in the wrong place, and needed to leave. She asked for the check, and the gracious host, Claude Amsellem, declined to give her one.

A little while later, I noticed a table of senior citizens assembling. An elderly, disabled man came hobbling into the restaurant, needing assistance to get to the table. Mr. Amsellem approached him near the host stand, extended his hand, and warmly said to the man who was clearly a regular guest here, “How are you doing?”

Tragara is fine dining, but also a very good neighborhood restaurant for wealthy senior citizens. I’m initiating coverage in italic in the donrockwell.com Dining Guide, available to members only.

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Thai Noy, Arlington, VA

(See the March 25, 2011 Review here.)

It was the end of an endless day, a 600-mile back-breaking drive back from Indianapolis with three teenagers, approaching Frederick from the west only to get a phone call saying that I-270 – my only good artery back to DC – was shut down in both directions due to a gas leak.

“Guys, tell your parents all bets are off for arrival time,” I said, with something approaching despondency. After ten minutes of trying to figure out where I’d take them to dinner in Frederick, I regained the presence of mind to cut down U.S. 15 through Point of Rocks and Leesburg, and the road was empty! But as the sun set, and I was fighting exhaustion, we were hit by a tremendous thunderstorm. After the last child was dropped off, my home had never looked so good to me. I poured myself a gin and tonic, slumped down on the couch, and began taking inventory of my body aches.

But I was hungry, and my stay-at-home options were crackers or anchovies, so I rallied up enough strength to phone in a carryout at Thai Noy. I schlepped back to the car, picked up my order, then hobbled over to my dining room table.

Som Tum ($6.95) is often too bland, often too spicy, but Thai Noy’s has just the right balance of cool and hot. Julienned papaya with tomato, lime juice, roasted peanuts, and chili pepper, it’s these last two ingredients that so many places get wrong, but not here. You should order this with confidence.

The green papaya was refreshing, but I was in desperate need of comfort food (as you can probably imagine), so I abandoned experimentation and got the exact same Emerald Curry with Chicken ($12.95) I got in March, and thankfully, it was the exact same preparation and quality – I really, really wanted consistency on this night, and I got it. Eaten from a mixing bowl, it didn’t really “go” with the papaya salad, but on its own was just perfect. Perfect. This dish may not excite adventurous gastronauts, but the flawless execution of this fairly simple dish was just what I needed on this evening.

When there are so many other restaurants in the area, the fact that I instinctively called Thai Noy after such a brutal day says something to me, and it says that Thai Noy is a true neighborhood restaurant.

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Station 4, Southwest

Considering how much time I’ve spent in (the now torn down) Waterside Mall in the past, it seemed downright bizarre that I was walking right through the middle of it, feeling like I was in a strange, unknown place. I’ll get used to the new development here at some point, but for now, this whole corridor just does not feel like the Washington I know (not necessarily a bad thing, but for me to get lost walking around here is remarkable).

Station 4 is a new restaurant in Southwest from the owners of Tunnicliff’s, Ulah Bistro, Stoney’s, and Bullfeathers – not a particularly pedigreed family. This is their first attempt at fine dining, sort of, and you can tell it’s an awkward one from the moment you walk in and can’t find the host stand (it’s around the corner, to your left). The decor is a hypothetical combination of Napoleon (in Adams Morgan) and Inox, and could have used a woman’s touch to say the least.

But quirky is good, or at least it’s not boring, and there are certainly many things to think about here, starting with our genuinely friendly hostess and server – seemingly as inexperienced as could be, they both made up for it with kindness and a welcoming demeanor.

My young dining companion got his Diet Coke ($2.75) while I got a draft of DC Brau Citizen Ale ($6.00, 7% ABV). We wanted to try a cross-section of things, so we ordered three appetizers and a sandwich.

The ingredients here are pretty similar to the decor: unusual and thought-provoking. Pork Belly ($11) is served with guava rum emulsion and bok choy, was a generous cut, had good ratio of fat to lean, and was crispy on top – there’s nothing much here not to like.

Stuffed Zucchini ($10) was my favorite of the appetizers, the zucchini being stuffed with goat cheese, and topped with toasted almonds and romesco sauce. It was simple, elegant, and had flavors that worked together – the toasted almonds could have been a distraction, but were used in enough moderation to be more of a textural component than anything else.

Sauteed Calamari ($11) was a knife and fork dish, the rings only being partially cut so the perception was more steak-like, which was appropriate given the pool of dark, squid ink vinaigrette. Calamari is a deceptively heavy dish, and this was correctly lightened by a lemon-oil tapenade. All these little counterpoints tell me that the chef who designed the menu is yearning to achieve balance – the menu reads very “busy,” with lots of ingredients in some dishes, and I’m wondering if a “less is more” approach might be better as opposed to adding weights onto both sides of the scale (there is no correct answer here; I’m merely musing aloud (actually not aloud since I’m typing (and also I’m thinking that sometimes I should follow my own “less is more” advice when I write (but I just keep thinking of these little points that I absolutely must convey)))).

I knew going in that I wasn’t a huge fan of the (2010) Domaine Bellevue Touraine Rosé ($8), but it was a near-perfect match for the squid, so if you get one, do get the other (it’s $32 by the bottle).

The Die Hard ($12) is an eight-ounce black Angus burger on a kaiser roll, served with cheddar, bacon, tomato, mayonnaise, tobacco onions, and fries. You don’t see the descriptor “tobacco onions” on menus around here, but after doing some research, I found that they were introduced by Dean Fearing at The Mansion on Turtle Creek in the 1980s (a close approximation are the ones heaped atop the miniburgers at Matchbox).

The Die Hard is a good, second-tier burger (i.e., better than BGR, not as good as PS7’s) that was correctly cooked to medium-rare. It has all the right components to be a crowd pleaser, and even comes with individual glass bottles of Heinz ketchup and mustard (scoff if you will, but Matt’s eyes lit up when these arrived – I have to admit that even I smile whenever these appear on a hotel room service tray).

Station 4 is a large restaurant, and the bar area is well-designed for a bustling, after-work crowd (indeed, on this evening, the bar was fairly crowded, and the restaurant was fairly empty). Would I come back? Sure, why not.

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Pasa Thai, McLean, VA

Pasa Thai is one of the least-known established area Thai restaurants that I can think of (although there are really getting to be quite a few). It’s in downtown McLean, right next to Evo Bistro, and has been open for about five years.

I got there at 9:15 PM on a Tuesday evening (it closes at 10), and sat down at the bar with a Singha ($6). I’d never been here before, and had absolutely no idea what to expect.

Both my appetizer and entree came from their daily specials, and weren’t on the regular menu (when you order fish as a daily special on a Tuesday, it’s either going to be really fresh, or really not fresh).

Yummy Eggplant ($10) lived up to its name, as I love Thai eggplant. These were grilled, topped with minced chicken in a spicy lime dressing, and laced with oversized slices of savage, raw red onion. On the one hand, I wish restaurants knew how to cut or dice raw red onion into reasonably sized pieces; on the other hard, the larger slices make it easier to sift through and push to the side of the plate so they can be discarded. Raw, red onion is surely one of the most overused and incorrectly used ingredients in the culinary world.

Spicy Lime Fish ($22) was a steamed rockfish filet topped with “mouth watery spicy lime sauce,” similar in spirit to the sauce I’d just enjoyed on the eggplant (I was in the mood for something tart, and both of these really appealed to me). It came on a large plate, was a good-sized filet, firm to a fault, and also somewhat flaky. Surprisingly, it was served with brown rice which I think wasn’t the best choice although it worked in its own way.

Just to be sure, I asked the bartender if I could get my food with no MSG, even though it says “All natural ingredients, no MSG” on the menu. He said yes, and typed something in. Although this looks questionable, it could be an instruction for the kitchen to “go easy on the fish sauce” or something similar to that.

My impression of Pasa Thai was that it’s a good, solid neighborhood Thai restaurant, above average but not award winning. If I were in the area, I’d go again, and people living in the McLean area should at least have it in their carryout rotation.

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Mala Tang, Virginia Square, VA

It was July 4th, and getting late into the day. Fireworks weren’t in the plans, but we were getting hungry, and quickly running out of options.

At 8:30 PM, Washington Blvd. was more deserted than I’d ever seen it, with almost no cars driving on either side of the road as far as the eye could see – everyone was already at the fireworks, and the Arlington roads looked like they were in a ghost town.

Mala Tang is the new Sichuan Hot Pot restaurant near the Virginia Square Metro station, owned by the same folks who own Uncle Liu’s and Hong Kong Palace. Liu Chaosheng has gotten a fair amount of press as being a great chef (and I certainly suspect that Hong Kong Palace is (or was) serving the best Sichuan food in northern Virginia (although I haven’t been to China Star in quite awhile now)).

But a great chef can only be in one place at a time, and Mala Tang is a pretty big, potentially pretty busy, restaurant. However, on this evening, it was nearly empty, and the extremely friendly staff repeatedly assured us that it was okay to dine this late – the kitchen would be staying open anyway for any late carryout orders that come in.

I had a Kirin Ichiban ($7.50, 22 ounces), but ended up coveting my friend’s 2010 Brancott Sauvignon Blanc ($7.50) from New Zealand – yet another example confirming my theory that if you’re navigating an unfamiliar wine list, go with a cheap Sauvignon Blanc, regardless of where it’s from.

We were starving, and over-ordered in a big way – if you’re going with the hot pot dishes here, it really isn’t necessary to order appetizers. But we did anyway, and went with two of my Szechuan standards for evaluating a restaurant: Dan Dan Noodles ($7.00) and Mapo Tofu ($8). Having had the Mapo Tofu at Hong Kong Palace, I was shocked that this version was about as bad as any I’ve ever tried, the “tender tofu” being quite firm, and the “savory red sauce” and “ground pork” having a faint resemblance to – I hate to say it – canned sauce, even though it wasn’t. The noodles, with minced pork, Sichuan pepper, house-made soy sauce, and red chili oil were better, but not nearly as good as the ones I recently had at China Canteen in Rockville. I told my friend in advance that both these dishes would be a fine introduction to Sichuan cooking, and that since this restaurant was owned by Hong Kong Palace, they’d be a safe bet; I was wrong. We ended up taking half the appetizers home, and they were no better for lunch the next day.

So I advise steering clear of the appetizers here, and going straight for the hot pot. Mala Tang may have the single most confusing menu I’ve ever seen at any restaurant. For me to be perplexed by a menu takes some doing, but I was flipping back-and-forth, trying to figure out what in the hell this thing was telling me to do. Fortunately, our kindly server stepped in and guided us through the ordering process (really, Mala Tang, get a consultant to work on your menu – please trust me on this).

When you order the hot pot here, you choose between two broths: Traditional ($3, chicken-based) or Vegetarian (also $3). Then you can take your pick from three sections: Starches, Proteins, and Vegetables, with each item brought out (to throw into the hot pot) at a separate cost. It can add up, so just be mindful of the running total of things you order. In my opinion, it would be best to order everything at once and get it cooking, so the broth can thicken and become more complex as it cooks down. The individual items that come out to the table look like enormous portions, but they shrink down extremely quickly and dramatically, and you may be left with less food than you think.

With our traditional broth, we ordered Milk Marinated Beef ($13), but were unfortunately brought the Wine Marinated Beef by mistake. Sure, we could have sent it back, but we were already late diners, and I didn’t want to take the chance that the food would be discarded, so it was fine. But it wasn’t fine, because even as the plate was a couple feet in front of me, I could smell just how cheap in quality this wine was – they say you should never cook with a wine that you wouldn’t drink, and I can assure you this was a fine example of that. Fortunately, the odor quickly dissipated once it started dispersing in the boiling liquid.

Along with the beef, we got King Mushroom ($6.00) and Bok Choy ($4.00), both of which were enormous looking portions (but again, they shrank down by a lot). With only these three toppings, the soup itself cost $29 – really, a reasonable price for both the quantity of food, and also for the fun experience itself. You won’t leave hungry if you order one protein and two vegetables, but you may want to add a couple of things if you don’t get appetizers – the incremental cost is pretty small.

The soup itself is as good as you want to make it – it comes with a few seasoning agents, and depending on what types of ingredients you order, you can make it very neutral or very assertive. Play around with it, have fun with it, and enjoy it – it’s a nice dining experience. Ordering a starch will help to thicken the broth.

At 9:43 PM the fireworks were in full gear, we were the last diners in the restaurant, and we left full and happy after thanking our gracious server. I’m not going to sit here and tell you this is great food, but it’s fun food, it’s healthy food, and it’s surely worth a try.

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Mark’s Duck House, Seven Corners, VA

(See the May 13, 2011 Review here.)

After a light, early snack and the always-riveting Terminator 2, it was time for dinner. But it was getting late on a Sunday night, and places were closing – Mark’s Duck House to the rescue.

Steamed Shrimp & Pork Dumplings ($3.50) were four pellets, with thick, dry noodle surrounding hard, tasteless, little marbles. Okay, so at $3.50, how much can one complain? Well, a little bit: at 87.5 cents per pellet, don’t bother.

I know it’s quirky, but I tend to like Egg Foo Young, and that’s why I ordered Mark’s Pork Egg Foo Young ($9.95, not on the menu but they’ll make it for you), a dark, brooding rendition that doesn’t hold a candle to the one I recently had at Hong Kong Palace. I took just a teaspoon of the thick, rapidly clotting brown gravy, and mixed it into the white rice for flavor, then milled some coarse sea salt over the shrimp with scrambled eggs (it’s a better way to go, trust me). For a late-night emergency meal, you can do a whole lot worse than this, but this food was sub-par.

Mark’s Duck House is open seven days a week, until 11 PM Sun-Thu, and until midnight Fri-Sat.

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Graffiato, Chinatown

I don’t watch TV except for a few times a year. When it comes to popular culture (at least, culture that’s made popular through television), I’m as out of touch as anyone. This is neither a “bragging point” nor an “admission of shame” so much as it is a preface to this post.

About twenty years ago, a friend of mine I worked with accused me of being “anti-pop.”

“Not anti-,” I said. “a-” (as in asymptomatic, apathetic, etc.), meaning that I’m not “against” fame; I merely couldn’t care less – it means nothing to me. I would just as soon meet a third-year music student as I would Lady Gaga, and I don’t mean that to be snotty; that’s just the way I am. And I would judge them both on their musical skills alone.

This having been said, there was enough internet murmur about Graffiato that I was really looking forward to trying it, and went into the restaurant with a childlike enthusiasm – my preconceived notion was that I was probably going to really like it, and I was pretty excited at the prospect.

But I must add that I got a text message a couple weeks before from a sommelier friend of mine that said, “Graffiato: DC’s newest idiot wine list. Have you seen it? Composed entirely of wine no one wants.” I purposely did not look at the list.

Early on a Sunday evening, there was an hour wait for reservations, and the restaurant was packed. We stood behind the crowded, impossibly noisy bar and ordered a couple of drinks – my friend a Bluecoat Gin & Tonic ($8), me a Montelvini Prosecco ($7) on draft. Right away, there were several problems: the chalkboard was listing wines by the glass that were so eye-poppingly expensive that I thought they were by-the-bottle prices at first. They were out of their Bluecoat Gin & Juice Tonic ($9) cocktail (probably ran out of lime-quinine ice cubes, because the ice cubes we got were plain old ice cubes), and the drink my friend got ($1 less than the craft cocktail) was in a glass so small that it made us laugh: it looked like someone took a standard pint beer glass, and cut off the top with a machete, and just used the top part for the drink. My Prosecco – and I don’t care how much positive press this cool, hip drink is receiving, bordered on being undrinkably bad. I finished the glass, but I sure didn’t order a second one, nor will I ever.

After about ten minutes, two bar seats opened up, and we nabbed them. I turned toward my right, saw a pizza sitting on a rack in front of another couple, then turned back toward my friend and said, “the pizza isn’t any good.” I understand how prejudiced that sounds, especially since there was a beautiful wood-burning oven roaring not far from us, but I didn’t feel comfortable investing $15+ on what I saw, at least not on this visit. (Read on before you judge me too harshly on this.)

The menu was very simple (wood oven, cheese, hams, salads, pasta, pizza, vegetables), but intriguing, and we decided to try things from various sections.

From the Vegetate section, Marinated Snap Peas ($6) served alongside a Basket of Bread ($5) which had better be good at that price. I took one bite of the snap peas, turned toward my friend, and said, “these are really good.” And they were – served with tomato pesto and smidgens of goat cheese, the tomato being a recurring theme in this restaurant. Unfortunately, the bread was not good, managing to be both dry and oily at the same time, and it wouldn’t have been particularly compelling regardless. But with the sauces at Graffiato, it seems like you’re held hostage to ordering bread service because they merit being swiped up instead of remaining on the plate, so you’re out five bucks whether you like it or not.

I didn’t see any way that Roasted Baby Carrots ($8) from the Salads section would be less than pleasant, but they managed. The carrots were over-roasted, and the intriguing combination of dates, farro, lardo, and radicchio formed a busy plate that, unfortunately, was dominated by farro which was over-marinated in some sort of sweet, pungent red-wine-like vinegar, and farro acts as a sponge for this type of thing. This was, by far, the worst dish of the evening.

Compare and contrast with the Hand Cut Spaghetti ($9) from the Pasta section which was so “hand cut” that some of the noodles hadn’t even fully separated. A tiny portion, served with olive oil, poached cherry tomatoes, and basil, this was a wonderful little plate of spaghetti, as simple and as good as I can ever remember having. Okay, I get the “small plates meet New Jersey” thing, but please, Graffiato, offer something four times this big for three times the price and I’ll be standing in line to buy it.

Out of four courses (including the bread service), we had begun to notice the Lilliputian portion sizes, and the virtual absence of protein on the plates (tiny dabs of goat cheese in the snap peas, postage-stamp lardo in the carrots, none at all in the bread or the spaghetti) – yes, we ordered largely vegetarian to this point, but where was the food cost coming from?

We had ordered, from the Wood Oven section, Chicken Thighs ($10) in pepperoni sauce, and while we waited for it to arrive, we were joking around that we’re going to spend $100 here and leave sober and starving. In the interim, my (106-pound) friend had a glass of 2009 Van Duzer Pinot Gris ($8), and I said “to hell with it” and essentially ordered a can of swill: the Schlafly Summer Lager ($7) which just seemed fitting.

A runner came up from behind us and said, “here are your chicken thighs,” putting the plate in front of me. At this point, I just broke out laughing, and said, “thighS?” Yes, there were three pieces of chicken sitting in front of me, but I’m not sure whether or not this was a single, boneless thigh, cleaved into three pieces, or if they’ve invented a new clone of midget chicken. Was I really paying ten dollars for this dish?

And the damnable thing is that it was one of the best chicken dishes I’ve ever eaten! The chicken meat was fantastic – crispy, juicy, flavorful – and the pepperoni sauce lives up to all the accolades. Similar to the way I felt about the spaghetti, I wish I could pay three times as much and get five times the portion.

Our meal had closed in on three digits at this point, and we were both still hungry. We decided to cut our losses, watch a movie, and have a late-night meal elsewhere.

Out of five dishes on this evening, three were compelling (snap peas, spaghetti, chicken thighs), one was mediocre (bread), and one was a failure (roasted carrots). Quality-wise, I left fairly impressed with what Graffiato’s kitchen can put out, but value-wise?

My friend, a restaurateur, walked out saying that this was the only time she could ever remember feeling ripped off in a restaurant. We tried, desperately, to come up with how five orders of food (totaling $38) could have cost the restaurant any more than $10, and honestly, neither of us could even get close to that figure. Since then, I did a little research, and have heard (but have not confirmed) that Graffiato is paying $4 a pint for their (very good) grape tomatoes which permeate the menu, and $3.95 a pound for boneless, local chicken thighs. Again, I heard this from a knowledgable insider, but have done no independent confirmation, but this might explain why I was also told that Graffiato is running a food cost of … drum roll … over 30%.

When I heard this, I said, “Yeah, right – maybe if some farmer is hand-picking individual sugar-snap peas and delivering them one-by-one on his Ducatti.” But, I have to say that I have a great deal of confidence in this source, so … it looks like my impressions of their food costs are wrong.

But I can tell you with confidence that the wine markups are extremely high. Here are some clickable links to Wine Searcher retail prices, by the bottle, for some of Graffiato’s wines:

2010 Casamatta Vermentino (Graffiato’s price: $8 by the glass, $30 by the bottle)

2009 Chateau Montelena Riesling (Graffiato’s price: $13 by the glass, $52 by the bottle)

2009 Patricia Green Cellars Pinot Noir (Graffiato’s price: $17 by the glass, $70 by the bottle)

2008 Faust Cabernet Sauvignon (Graffiato’s price: $25 by the glass, $100 by the bottle)

I could go on, but you get the picture.

So here I was, left with the feeling that while Graffiato was doing some good things, it was largely an overpriced, overhyped boom box. And then I started to feel guilty, thinking that I’m probably going to write about it. Do I really want to give my honest impressions of this wildly popular restaurant after just one meal, especially when those impressions had such a strong negative component?

Nine days later, I was back. I didn’t want to go back, but I thought I “should,” so I did.

Once again, this place was packed and incredibly noisy – so noisy that my bartender and I had to yell at each other to be understood even though we were only about four feet apart.

I didn’t need to explore the wine program any further, so I stuck with my Schlafly Summer Lager ($7). Honestly, even though I don’t really like the beer, it sort of puts me in the right frame of mind to eat here. My (swamped but friendly) bartender asked me if I wanted a glass. Nah.

This was pizza and beer night, and I wanted a side salad to round out the meal. A Green Salad ($7) was, not just good, but bordering on being great, with a brilliant combination of apple, radish, mint, and ricotta salata. The little cubes of apple just took this over the top, and the mint pushed it even higher. Get this salad.

At this point, I was patting myself on the back for returning even when I didn’t want to. This meal was going to kick some ass, and I was going to tell the entire world that they’re right for flocking to this place.

And then the pizza arrived.

I had seen earlier that a restaurant critic had raved about the Jersey Shore ($15), and ordered the pizza based on his glowing recommendation. It arrived, and I didn’t quite know what to think: rounds of fried calamari sitting atop a pie of tomato, provolone, the whole thing squirted with cherry pepper aioli. I picked off a piece of fried calamari and tried half of it – wow! Then I dunked it in the aioli squirt – wow!

Then I ripped off a piece of the crust on the outer periphery of the pizza, and smelled it … nothing.

And then I tasted it … nothing. Almost no smell, almost no flavor.

Next, I picked up a slice, bit into it, and knew that this was probably going to be the last time I came to Graffiato for awhile. This was an ugly, ugly combination of flavors, and I spent too much time trying to figure out what, exactly, was so ugly about it.

The pizza tasted bad with the squid, and it tasted bad without the squid, so it wasn’t the squid.

I believe it was the combination of provolone and cherry pepper aioli that clashed, and the provolone with the squid didn’t help matters any at all. It was a hideous taste – are people really ordering, and enjoying, this pizza? I was hungry (I hadn’t eaten the entire day), so I choked it down, but I couldn’t finish the last piece – I picked the last couple of squid rings off, dunked them in the aioli, paid my check, and bid Graffiato and its raucous crowds adieu for the time being. I wish them well, and have no desire to fry this fish further when there are so many other fish more worthy of frying.

Graffiato, at its best, is putting out some great plates of food. I had a total of seven plates in two visits, and four of them were delicious. And in case you think this is a trashing, I have initiated coverage of Graffiato as the Best Restaurant in Chinatown in the donrockwell.com Dining Guide (free, but only to participating members). If that sounds contradictory, it isn’t: Graffiato has shown me that it is capable of executing dishes at a level no other restaurant northeast of Verizon Center can (but if you think about the restaurants northeast of Verizon Center, including Verizon Center itself, that isn’t saying much).

Is it worth the hype, the crowds, the prices, and the noise? Hell no.

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