Suburban Tasteland

Chorizo Salvation at San Vicente

The D.C. area has a unique problem for those interested in uncovering quality Mexican grub. While those living in other cities typically have to contend with queso-laden Tex-Mex masquerading as "authentic Mexican," Washingtonians must suffer through a glut of Salvadoran restaurants' half-hearted renditions of Mexican food. Still, there are a few Salvadoran joints that have made great strides in helping D.C. overcome its authentic taco void. Taqueria El Charrito Caminante is probably the most famous example, as the entire D.C. board on Chowhound was overcome with praise for its goat tacos back in 2003.

Recently, Steve Siegel, who is easily the most prolific and adventurous poster on the D.C. Chowhound board, wrote a post extolling the virtues of San Vicente, a fixed-site taco shack on Columbia Pike in Arlington. Siegel proclaimed San Vicente's chorizo tacos the second best in the area after the aforementioned goat tacos from El Charrito Caminante.

With no less an eminence than Steve Siegel heralding its greatness, we knew that we must make haste to San Vicente. We had actually taken notice of San Vicente during a previous excursion down the Pike, as its distinctive burger shack architecture hearkened back to the pre-pupuseria era of Arlington. This burnt-out neon sign offers further evidence of its original incarnation.

AC wrote a fairly detailed article for DCist a couple of weeks ago describing our experience: Chorizo Salvation at San Vicente.  That post was picked up by Gawker Media's travel site, Gridskipper, whose post, in turn, was linked on Wonkette. This viral blog nonesense can be absolutely dizzying. If you happen to read either of those two blurbs, rest assured that the chorizo taco is hardly a secret menu item. In fact, the chorizo taco platter is there in plain sight on the menu. It's simply not listed as an a la carte option, but San Vicente is apparently willing to accommodate such a request.

Unlike other taco joints that have the various meats festering in vats, San Vicente makes everything to order.

The chorizo taco was everything we hoped it would be. Chorizo tacos are usually dripping with that distinctive orange grease with bits of ground sausage typically clinging to one another by a web of stringy fat. Instead, this chorizo was finely chopped and had just the right amount of grease to let you know you're still dealing with chorizo- but not so much grease that you know you'll be lamenting your decision later. They were moderately spicy, but also had a nice amount of cinammony sweetness. Behold, the chorizo tacos in all their double tortilla glory:


They were topped with freshly chopped tomatoes, onions, jalapenos, and radishes. Radishes, in particular, are our own personal authenticity indicator when it comes to tacos. It seems like such an oddball flourish, that we reason their inclusion must be the secret sign of taco greatness. We've only experienced radish deployment at a few places thus far, but each of those places occupies a coveted slot among our top taco rankings of all time. So there.

The tacos de carne were decent, but the meat was fried to the point where it became dry and crispy, while we were expecting juicy and tender. We would have enjoyed them more had we moderated our expectations accordingly. Their excellent housemade jalapeno hot sauce singlehandedly rescued these tacos for us:


The pupusa, itself, was a glory to behold. Just look at its wondrous irregular shape with the nice bit of griddle charring resulting from errant cheese escaping from the tortilla. But the important cabbage slaw curtido fell short with its mild, almost ketchupy hot sauce.


Other highlights included bottles of Sangria Senorial, the finest grape soda in the world, and a marañon agua fresca, made from cashewfruit juice. This drink is refreshing, but also rather odd, owing to its fruity, nutty, and milky taste. It seems to be a standard Salvadoran agua fresca.

San Vicente is tiny and sparsely decorated, excepting this insane tapestry depicting a festive village scene replete with pupusa-making:


Since our visit, Steve Siegel has followed up with a post noting that San Vicente's "red beans are far and away the best I've ever had. If they can make them consistently well, it would be worth going just for that." He also  differs with us on the curtido, picking up on an element that was simply not in evidence on our visit: "Interesing to note, the 'curtido' which comes with the papusas is liberally dosed with thyme (!) giving a distinct flavor to the cabbage." Clearly there may be more goodness remaining to be uncovered.

Enjoy the greatest chorizo taco we've ever had at San Vicente:

2599 Columbia Pike
Arlington, Virginia
(703) 920-1130

—AC & AK

Parsley, Sage, Rosemary Lemonade

Walking around Old Town is one of the true great pleasures of living and working in Alexandria. But doing it at high noon this time of year pretty much drains all of my water stores out in the first five minutes. Luckily, it only takes about five minutes for me to get to Nickell's and Scheffler, a great lunch place on King Street. Sure, sandwiches and prepared foods are excellent, but I go there to refuel with the rosemary lemonade, infused and prepared daily on the premises. The other day, I picked up a cup (they are stocked in the refrigerator—that means you just grab and go), and asked to make sure this was indeed the rosemary-flavored drink for which I longed. “It’s the only kind we make,” said one of the proprietors, who runs the place with her husband.

In my book, the fact that they ONLY prepare rosemary-infused lemonade is tremendously enlightened. Especially since there is no skimping on the rosemary. Take one sip of the stuff, and you first taste a tart, sweet, lemoniness, but then the rosemary hits you like a McCormick's truck. The rosemary may be powerful, but it also is a perfect complement to the lemon flavor. It’s so glorious and refreshing, and, if you live in the DC area, you owe it to yourself to try it.

Pick up some rosemary lemonade at Nickell's and Scheffler:

Nickell's and Scheffler
1028 King Street
Alexandria, Virginia
(703) 549-5545

—AK

The Great Egyptian Smokeout

For most folks, it’s just plain common sense that you don’t go to a hookah bar for the food. But then, I’m all about bringing danger back to food writing. Cairo Cafe, a divey hookah bar near Landmark, is one of the few Egyptian places in the area. The only other one that I happen to know about, situated over near Bailey’s Crossroads, also happens to be a hookah bar. We never got over the demise of Arlington’s Pasha, which was not only a fantastic Egyptian restaurant, but easily one of our favorite restaurants in the area. So we were hoping, albeit in vain, that Cairo Cafe might be a stealth culinary treasure.

As we approached Cairo Cafe from the parking lot, the hazey image of two mustachioed men of North African origin sitting near the window became more apparent, as a massive cumulus cloud of hookah smoke parted. They surveyed us impassively, as their industrious smokey output danced along the plate glass windows before recoiling inward toward the restaurant.

My father actually thought that there might be a no smoking section, and curiously enough, the young hostess/waitress did direct us to a designated non-smoking section, a concept that grew ever more ludicrous as the restaurant soon filled with the sickly sweet emanations of the nearby party of hookah enthusiasts.

Against our better instincts, we remained. The back of the menu touts their access to “Arabic Dish Network Programs” and their “Famous Middle East Table Games.” But we were focused on simply making it through our meal.

The baba ghanouj was heavy on the oil and the garlic, and lacked any of the smokiness of our favorite renditions of this Middle Eastern standard.

The bazinjan mekhalil turned out be baby eggplants that clearly had been festering in some sort of otherworldly brine. They arrived resting in a pool of oil, and when pulled apart revealed a sprinkling of chili flakes. Thoughts of this dish tortured me when I awoke in the middle of the night. Perhaps these baby eggplants had been hanging out in the fridge a bit past their expiration.

The assorted pickles had the sort of deep pickling that I usually take as an indicator of homemade origin. After the baby eggplants, however, my sour quotient had been reached.

I had never heard of Koshari before, a dish that sounded like it combined moujadarah, a traditional Middle Eastern rice and lentil dish, with spaghetti and tomato sauce. This starchy bonanza of rice, pasta, and lentils, featured an underwhelming tomato sauce and mushy noodles. The caramelized onions rescued it somewhat from blandness.

The falafel were among the worst we’ve ever had. The feeble exterior hardly had any crunch, and the interior was an unwelcoming mass of green. I’m not opposed to falafel with a green interior, but this was the bright green hue of astroturf.

The “bechamel” is their version of pastitsio, and was serviceable in an institutional sort of way, though it still featured the same toothless tomato sauce.


And the foul (pronounced “fool”) mudames was not unsavory, as it’s difficult to ruin fava beans. But it had none of the rich garlic, lemon, and oil flavor that this dish is known for.

While the food was absolutely dreadful, committed Chowhounds might nevertheless be interested to know that exotic beveraging opportunities abound. We tried their cold Karkadi, which was a somewhat sweet and rather tart hibiscus tea that had been initially brewed hot and then subsequently cooled by the addition of ice cubes. Orchid, listed under “Special Hot Drinks”, was hardly floral. According to the hostess, the actual orchid comes in the form of a powder that is then added to hot sweetened milk, resulting in a sweet but gloppy beverage of indeterminate taste. Similarly, the Fenugreek drink combined hot milk and a sprinkling of the herb fenugreek that could almost pass for Doogh’s ugly step-cousin. In short, it was very herbal, very milky, and very awful- sort of like if you dropped a bunch of Italian seasoning into warm dishwater.

So, yeah, it's a week later, and the notebook that I tote along on these little adventures still reeks of tobacco. Nice.

If you’re still curious, Cairo Cafe is located at:

6244 Little River Turnpike
Alexandria, VA
(703) 750-3551

—AC

The Holy Grail of Beveraging

This past weekend, I conducted a solo scouting mission through a broad swath of Alexandria and Annandale. I walked off with quite a haul: from Korean/French baked treats to Peruvian ice creams to South Asian sweets. But the most ground-breaking find amongst my trove turned out to be an Indian soda.

I stopped in at Shivam Music & Spices at Seoul Plaza, hoping that they might have a few scuffed and dusty bottles of Indian soda tucked away in the back. Sure enough, after walking past shelves stacked high with Bollywood DVDs and Bhangra cassettes, I saw a cluster of sodas peeking out from the lower shelves of their refrigerator.

I’ve had Thums Up previously, but the logo and its accompanying misspelling are just so eye-popping, I couldn’t resist buying it again. Though I remember the flavor as being similar to Mexican Coke, Thums Up actually has a much drier, more bitter taste than most colas. And it has a great deal more carbonation than Coke. Indeed, the Thums Up website implores the consumer to “Taste the Thunder!” and touts its “confident, mature, and uniquely masculine attitude.” I suspect some of that “thunder” may be from a little extra caffeination, as I’m feeling an amount of pep somewhat greater than Coca-Cola but somewhat less than Jolt. According to Wikipedia, Thums Up was originally introduced in India in 1977 to replace Coca-Cola’s withdrawal from the Indian market, but was ultimately acquired by the Coca-Cola Company in 1993.

But this unassuming bottle of Duke’s turned out to be my beveraging Holy Grail. At first glance, Duke’s looks like it wouldn’t be out of place idling in the cooler at an Esso station in 1964. In fact, I wasn’t even sure that it was necessarily of Indian provenance. And its light amber contents made me think it was probably a ginger ale. But once I was able to scrutinize it more closely, I discovered that the bottlecap read “Duke’s Masala Soda.” Very promising. As soon as I pried the bottlecap off, I discovered that they really did mean “masala”, as in the  mix of spices commonly used in Indian food. In fact, the spicing was so powerful that AK started coughing from just a whiff, and I nearly sneezed when I passed it under my nose. The only other soda to have provoked that sort of physical reaction is Blenheim's Hot Hot Ginger Ale.

It seems like they added the masala flavoring over a base of very weak ginger ale. But somehow Duke's Masala Soda works. You may not like it, but it’s unusual enough that you’ll likely finish the whole bottle before deciding how you feel about it. I think it’s one of the exotic beveraging greats- up there with Jarritos Jamaica and Sangria Senorial. And oddly enough, further scrutinization of the bottle cap has revealed that Duke’s Masala Soda is a Pepsico product. I’m assuming that, like Coca-Cola’s acquisition of Thums Up, Duke’s must have been a homegrown Indian company that was later acquired by Pepsico.

I also couldn’t pass up scoring this box of “Psyllium Husk!” The Art Deco style packaging looks like it hasn’t changed since its introduction 65 years ago. And you’ve gotta love the inexplicable antique telephone logo for a product that is essentially India’s answer to Metamucil: dried seed husks that apparently alleviate constipation when “taken accordingly to need with a glass of water, syrup, milk, fruit juice or salted curd or lassi.”

But the best part about the packaging is that the factory that churns this stuff out is apparently a selling point. How else to explain the fact that The Sidphur Sat-Isabgol Factory is listed in a font that’s only slightly less prominent than the name of the product itself, and the background features a row of factory buildings and two smokestacks offering evidence of the industry within. Though I haven’t yet required the services of the psyllium husks, rest assured that if I ever do, I’ll be taking it accordingly with salted curd.

Check out Shivam Music & Spices to score your own bottle of Duke's Masala Soda at:
4231-C Markham St.,
Annandale, VA
(703) 916-8616

—AC

Bodega Beveraging Wonderland

When it comes to exploring ethnic food marts, sometimes discipline pays off. From the exterior, Tienda Izalco II appears to be just another dumpy and unremarkable bodega- the sort of place where locals stop in for lotto tickets and phone cards, and not much else. Nevertheless, I decided to take a minute to scout out their wares, and was rewarded with the motherlode of Central and South American beverage selection. Not only did they have some of my old favorites, many of which are widely available, but they also offered a handful that I had not tried before. Though I restrained myself, I still managed to walk off with seven different sodas.

Cawy Bottling Company, the makers of this watermelon soda, actually started in Cuba in the late ‘40s, and then relocated to Miami soon after Castro took power. The watermelon soda is a light pink and has a sickly sweet perfume of faux watermelon. Despite its assertive bouquet, the watermelon taste in the soda is fairly understated, quickly fading away to bland sweetness.

Although I’ve had other red cream sodas previously, I couldn’t resist this Pop Art masterpiece. The information on the can lists a Miami bottler, but according to my Google sleuthing, Milca is actually based in Nicaragua. Red cream sodas basically taste like bubblegum, a flavor of soda that is inexplicably popular in every part of the world except for the United States. Of course, Texas does have Big Red, but then Texas is always exceptional. Milca has an overpowering aroma, sort of like cracking open the door to the Bazooka Joe factory.  But the actual taste is somewhat milder, and quickly fades away. It’s a garish red with a nice creamy head.

Brazilia is amber colored and tastes like a weak ginger ale. But this soda is not at all about taste. Rather, it’s simply a mild mannered delivery system for the stimulant guarana. The guarana plant contains caffeine and is one of the featured stimulants in a number of energy drinks currently flooding the market. I recall trying another Brazilian guarana drink several years ago that had a bizarre fruit taste instead of ginger ale, so Brazilians evidentally enjoy more than one variety of guarana powered sodas.

Later this week, I’ll wrap up this beveraging tour with the four remaining sodas idling in our fridge.

In the meantime, check out Tienda Izalco II’s beveraging wonderland at:

3409 Payne St.
Falls Church, VA
(703) 931-5400

—AC

A Quest for Quaffs

Our friends the Ds are always turning us on to some cool hideaway for food or drink in our humble suburb. During a Friday night dinner outing, we got to talking about scotch and wine, and where to get good, affordable stuff, preferably from a purveyor who knows more than just a little about buying the stuff.

It took no time at all for them to regale us about Silesia Liquors, located in an extremely dumpy strip mall (and that’s being kind; there are only about three stores in the whole strip, and one of them used to sell feed) right across the Potomac River from us, in Fort Washington, Maryland. So we all set off on a Saturday morning expedition to Prince George’s County to scope out some wine and spirits.

What we had planned was to pop in, get a few things, and head back to Old Town for lunch. But lucky for us, we got sidetracked by a planned wine tasting that was to take place later that day. A vintner from Germany had traveled all the way to li'l ole Fort Washington to showcase her family’s wares. That little tidbit alone convinced us that this place, though disguised as a dump by its drab surroundings, was indeed a world-renowned purveyor of wine and spirits, helmed by one of the most generous and knowledgeable wine experts I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. KD said when she and her husband used to go there more often, they’d walk in, and the owner would ask “what’s for dinner?” She'd describe what she was preparing, and he’d grab something off the shelf and ring it up. And it was done.

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Walking into Silesia doesn’t do much for the eye in the beginning. Mixers, liters of coke, and other pedestrian items greet you at the door. But if you have any sense of what you’re after, a sharp turn to the right will get you where you need to go. Rows upon rows of wine, organized by region, go on forever.

Unfortunately, when I’m looking to buy something special, I need help. One of our friends was looking for a white. She had some specific flavor notes in mind, but other than that, needed a bit of guidance as well. The proprietor gave us all a riveting dissertation on various pinot gris grapes, among others. Before he could even get to the reds, I already had a Renwood 2004 Viognier ($10) in my hand.

When it was my turn, I gave him a vague notion of what I like, and he wasted no time grabbing a 2004 Chilean Casablanca Valley Pinot Noir ($12). Even though that was a bad year for the pinot grape, he was persuaded by the vintner to pick it up. And it was great, exactly what I like in a red—refreshing, lots of fruity and oaky flavors, not too acidic.

Same went for the Cotes du Rhone ($22) that AC insisted upon.

As we were looking around, the owner convinced us to stay in the area for lunch, so that we might enjoy the wine tasting later that afternoon. When I asked the owner how many wines were being sampled, he said, “Wherever the muse takes us.” I got the message—cancel your plans for the afternoon, stay in town, and come back and drink more. And so we did. We took his suggestion to try out Bangkok Golden for lunch, and enjoyed some of the best curry puffs we've ever had and a deliciously light country curry.

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We returned for the wine-tasting and sampled one of the muse's intense reds and several Rieslings from various stages of grape picking (the early pickings result in a less-sweet wine—my preference). Also crammed in this tiny corner of the store was an independent caterer preparing hors d'oeuvres, including two types of Asian chicken salad, and slices of tender roast beef, all of which were delicious.

On the other end of the store, AC was focused on the bounty of high-end scotches that were displayed along the back wall. AC settled on Aberlour's single cask strength A'bunadh, which he will discuss in a future post. It’s a good thing there’s a scotch expert on hand because otherwise, we’d have no clue what to get.

In fact, besides the owner, there seem to be at least two or three other employees who each have their own area of expertise, and are generous with their time and opinions. Tucked among the racks of wine and further underscoring this passion for their product is a bookshelf stacked with books not just limited to wine and spirits, but also covering subjects as diverse as art and opera, and even, inexplicably enough, the 1991 Michelin guide on dining in Spain and Portugal.

For expert commentary on wine, scotch, and more, visit Silesia Liquors at:

10909 Livingston Road
Fort Washington, Maryland
(301) 292-1542

—AK

There's Always Room for Kvas

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A New Addition to the Breakfast Canon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thai Retailing Roulette

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

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

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

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

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

Check out Bangkok 54 Grocery Store at the following locations:

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

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

—AC

A Balkan Bounty

It’s always fascinating to discover that an ethnic group has assumed a sufficient enough density in the suburbs to support their first market and restaurant. And unbeknownst to most residents of Northern Virginia, apparently enough Bosnians have settled here to merit the presence of Plava Laguna European Food Store, a Bosnian food mart, as well as Restaurant Cosmopolitan. Sadly, Restaurant Cosmopolitan, which opened in 2004, has closed temporarily, and will reopen as a smaller scale carry-out rather than the full service restaurant and bar of its previous incarnation. We chatted with one of the proprietors, who hilariously mistook me for one of his fellow countrymen, and he said that their new carry-out, Cosmopolitan Cafe, should open in a few weeks.

Although we were unable to satisfy our craving for cevapi and pljeskavica, we were happy to poke around the two aisles at Plava Laguna, which is well stocked with plenty of adjvar (the preeminent Balkan condiment consisting of a puree of roasted red peppers, eggplant, and chilis), as well as jars of pickled vegetables, and even Macedonian jams, including one jam that offered the unlikely flavor combination of pumpkin, grape, and eggplant.

Candy fetishists should note that Plava Laguna easily has the most extensive array of Milka chocolate bars in the area, a respectable collection of Kinder chocolates, and is the only D.C. area source (that we’re aware of, at least) offering a nearly complete product line of the Croatian chocolate maker Kras. I first became acquainted with Kras during my final six months in New York, when a Bosnian entrepreneur opened a coffee shop and gourmet chocolatier in a narrow storefront in the Fulton Street subway station.

He proclaimed Kras’ Bajadera to be one of the finest chocolates in the world, and though skeptical, I bought a box and found that he was right. Bajadera are comprised of a thin top and bottom layer of milk chocolate sandwiching a sizable middle layer of almond and hazelnut nougat. If a chocolate is capable of tasting elegant, then this is it: smooth and slightly buttery with a faint taste of the hazelnut and almond blend and a wholesome dairy finish. Thankfully, Plava Laguna has an excess of Bajadera.

We’ve enjoyed several of Kras’ Dorina chocolate bars, and though all of them are worth trying, our favorite is the milk chocolate with puffed rice. Unlike the brittle crunch of American bars like Hershey’s Krackel, Dorina’s puffed rice are full grains puffed to Kashi-like proportions. It sounds off-putting, but it’s so novel to have a chocolate bar with such a fibrous texture, that it works. And the malted taste of the puffed rice perfectly complements the milk chocolate.

The other powerhouse Kras offering is Bananko, a small, banana-shaped confection filled with lightly banana-flavored marshmallow fluff over a thin wafer of biscuit, all of which is covered in chocolate. Though we enjoyed our Bananko at room temperature, they’re apparently  even better when they’re frozen. Plava Laguna offers Bananko both individually and by the case.

Who knew that Croatia is host to one of the world’s great chocolate companies? Hopefully, other chocolate lovers will have the opportunity to discover Kras, so that it can some day enjoy a reputation as widespread as that of Milka, Kinder, Cadbury, and Hershey’s.

We were also stoked to discover that Plava Laguna stocks the Slovenian soda Cockta. Cockta is primarily bitter with a faint citrus sweetness, not entirely dissimilar to the Italian bitter soda Chinotto. It’s worth trying at least once- besides when was the last time you had the opportunity to try a Slovenian soda? And according to the Cockta website, the fact that it’s caffeine free means that Cockta “is good and safe drink for every generation, even for the infants.” So be sure to swap out that formula for some Cockta.

If you’re still intrigued by Cockta then the following passage, which offers a surprising degree of candor about Cockta’s marketing and packaging efforts, should sate your curiosity:

The mystery of a special Cockta flavour lies in the supplement of eleven different herbs. Its basic ingredient is a dog-rose berry offering its specific flavour. Its irresistible freshness is reached, however, by a drop of lemon and orange flavours.

Cockta is a beverage made of completely natural ingredients, suitable for seniors and juniors since it does not contain neither caffeine nor orthophosphoric acid (aggressive ingredient significant for cola drinks).

The outlook and prestige of a beverage is of utmost importance should we wish the young to drink it. Kolinska is completely aware of it so Cockta got a completely new look. New logo and label communicate with younger generation. The colours that are already known and accepted and a new attractive bottle preserve a part of nostalgia respected by all generations.

Check out Plava Laguna European Food Store at:
5900 N. Kings Highway
Alexandria, VA 22303

-AC