December 01, 2006

We Ate the Whole Thing

I was in Atlanta for work recently and had the chance to dine at the newest installation of the B.E.D. restaurant chain, which is located in the boutique hotel, the Glenn. Normally, I wouldn't succumb to such a overtly cheeky trend, but they have beds, which reminded me of a rather fun nightclub in New York called The Apartment, or APT. And there are times, rare times, when submitting to hype doesn't bother me (too much).

My colleagues and I went on a whim, so we didn't have the luxury of dining on one of their beds, but perhaps that was a good thing. Gingerly cutting into a steak while balancing plates and sides on a mattress doesn't sound easy or fun. Still, we enjoyed a delightful meal that included a rather weird twist on a Southern favorite: a WHOLE fried green tomato stuffed with an andouille sausage corn sauce and a side of bacon jerky.

The menu description isn't clear, so we waited for ourDsc00181 starter, expecting the small rounds of golden, crispy tomato, until we received what looked like a mangled Granny Smith apple. Naturally, we dove right in. The tomato was bizarre, as it was a bit harder than the soft fried slices I'm used to, but it was still pleasant and refreshingly tomoatoey. The stuffing, on the other hand, seemed to be a mismatch even though it tasted wonderful. The sweet and spicy ragout of sausage and corn seemed like it would have fit better over rice or pasta than stuffed into the green fruit.

The vanilla-braised short ribs with crème fraîche mashed potatoes and haricots vertes was an amazing dish—basically a haute cuisine version of meat-n-potatoes, a combo that never disappoints. Just the right amount of vanilla was used, as it came through in the beef, but didn't overwhelm the olfactories or the taste buds. The mashed potatoes, as you might imagine, were velvety rich, and the green beans were perfectly seasoned and had just the right amount of crunch.

If the notion of eating a whole fried green tomato excites you and you happen to be hanging out in downtown Atlanta, go for it. But much more can be had here—juicy pork chops, excellent filet, and some pretty awesome sides such as polenta fries and cornbread mac n cheese. So while I would recommend trying the tomato for its novelty factor, don't expect it to be the highlight of the meal.

Go to B.E.D. Atlanta:

110 Marietta Street
Atlanta, GA 30303
(404) 222-7992

—AK

August 15, 2006

Eve of Consumption

AC and I recently turned 30, and my very thoughtful father and stepmother set us up with a gift certificate to Restaurant Eve, the big buzz place in Alexandria right now. Lucky for us, we live very close to Eve so we’ve frequently enjoyed their proprietary cocktails (we wrote about them here). We’ve also eaten there once when AC’s father treated us to the tasting room, which was a completely over-the-top experience that, in my case, involved nine courses. So, once again we find ourselves headed for Eve for another amazing meal. This time we opted for the bistro, which we found was just as revelatory.

We decided to pull out all the stops on this meal, nonetheless. We both started out with appetizers: the housemade gnocchi in housemade ricotta cheese and the selection of charcuterie. The gnocchi was second to none—light and pillowy, as opposed to most gnocchi, which are often dense and chewy. Most of us think of cured meats when the word “charcuterie” is used, but in this case, the dish was mostly a pate- and terrine-oriented array of meats. There was a small pot of chicken liver paté, slices of duck pastrami, rabbit terrine, squab terrine, one more terrine that I can’t recall, and “fromage de tête,” which, though it was technically head cheese, was thin slices of flavorful sausage rather than slices from a jellied cube of snouts. I almost never pass up the opportunity to enjoy paté or terrines, while AC prefers to steer clear of the liver products.

For entrees, I opted for the Muscovy duck breast with a “doughnut” peach (basically a freshly stewed half peach), all over a bed of slaw. As it was presented to me, the waiter poured some doughnut peach au jus over the top. The duck was meaty and juicy like a perfectly cooked steak, and it soaked up the wonderful peachy jus. AC went for the ribeye steak, which came with a potato galette. The steak, according to AC, was the second best steak he’s ever had, the absolute best being from Peter Luger’s in New York. Still, it’s a very respectable position to be in, and he even ate all the fat—a rarity. And the galette was out of this world. It was presented to us on a small cast-iron skillet, popping and sizzling. The inside was appropriately creamy while the crust was crispy and golden and heaped with minced garlic. There was so much garlic, in fact, that I was certain we could be smelled from several tables away. But I happen to be obsessed with garlic, so I put my self-consciousness aside and shamelessly enjoyed this little piece of heaven.

While we’re still discussing savories, it’s critical that I spend time discussing the homemade bread. Slices of warm, crusty whole wheat bread simply melted in our mouths, and that was before the butter was applied. I don’t know what these cows are fed, but the butter was the richest I’ve tasted. I hypothesized that it’s Irish butter, as I’ve tried that before, and the taste was similar. The proprietor and head chef is also Irish, so perhaps he just had to serve it in his restaurant. Still, even though we had loads of food coming to us, we insisted on a second round of bread, totaling six slices each. And we ate it all.

Half way through our entrees, AC declared that there would be no dessert, but that he would look at the menu. I countered that we shouldn’t even look at the menu, as we would definitely be tempted to order and eat two desserts, resulting in major stomach strain (and I was wearing my super-skinny pants that night, stupidly). A few minutes later AC said to me “I’m not even looking at the dessert menu; we’re not eating dessert.” I concurred. But what happens is, wait staff usually have this line that they say. It goes something like this: “Would you like to see our dessert menu?” The response, “yes,” was involuntary. Next thing we know an amazing parfait of pistachio custard, apricot puree, and buttermilk cream arrived in front of me, all layered beautifully in a highball glass. AC got the Chocolate and Marshmallow dessert, which was a cool idea, but the execution was a bit lacking. It was a sliver of rich chocolate with a graham cracker pastry beneath it, accompanied by only a smidgen of marshmallow on the side. Even after he was done, we had to do double duty on the parfait because of the volume of it. Each layer was pretty dense and due to the width and depth of the highball, the dessert seemed to never end. Plus, I was really testing the strength of the hook-and-eye closure on my pants. Still we’re glad we did it, as it was a top-notch meal, and in addition, the service and ambience at Eve are first class. Case in point: As we were waiting for our table to be prepared, the head chef and local celebrity Cathal Armstrong stopped on his way to the busy kitchen to say “hello.” That’s just how things go down in Virginia (and Ireland?).

Next stop: Eamonn’s: a Dublin Chipper, a fish-and-chips place and brand extension of the Eve empire. Only this one is straight up peasant food and alcohol. Count us in.

Restaurant Eve
110 South Pitt Street
Alexandria, VA
(703) 706-0450

March 21, 2006

Downtown Dining in Backwoods Maryland

When traveling, we'll pretty much go anywhere, provided there’s something good to eat along the way, at the destination, and on the way back from the destination.

This past weekend, we were seized by the notion of heading an hour north to Frederick for a couple of food adventures and several hours of shopping. The real credit for this trip goes to our friend KL, who, for a while, has been wanting to explore the city’s legendary vintage clothing stores and antique furniture purveyors. KL was visiting from New York, and since AC and I were long overdue for a day trip, we made it happen.

Dsc00165_1For lunch, we stopped at Monocacy Crossing, just several miles south of historic Frederick. The restaurant, housed in a nondescript, possibly refurbished, roadside inn, was totally missable, as it sat quietly tucked away on a two-lane country highway. Contrary to what usually happens, we actually spotted it and found a makeshift parking spot in the gravelly “lot” of the restaurant.

Upon entering, diners might catch a glimpse of the none-too-subtle display of a chef’s jacket from the Culinary Institute of America, embroidered with the head chef’s name. A sign of good things to come, we thought.

Dsc00179One of the first things we noticed while perusing the menu was the ample selection of bygone cocktails, namely The Grasshopper and The Pink Squirrel, two drinks that we poked fun at for about 10 minutes before eventually ordering them. The Grasshopper sold us on the crème de menthe alone, and indeed, it tasted like liquefied mint ice cream and took on the same almost neon green hue. The other constituent parts were white crème de cacoa and cream. The Pink Squirrel required a bit more investigation. It includes creme de noyaux, white crème de cacoa, and cream. Noyaux turned out to be almondy (rather than hazelnut, which we thought in the beginning), and was clearly responsible for the Barbie-doll pink color. Almond flavoring adds a complex greatness to so many things, and this was no exception. Next time, we'll have a go at the Harvey Wallbanger.

Dsc00183_1For the appetizer, we went for the Asian Spiced Ribs with Peanut Sauce. The meat was tender and flavored with a spicy marinade, and the velvety peanut sauce was much appreciated, as we sopped up every last bit of it with whatever pieces of the hot, garlicky homemade bread was leftover (not much).

Dsc00188_1AC's Saute of Pork Tenderloin with Sage-Cider Sauce was a truly new experience.  While I’ve enjoyed many a delicious marinade, none was so ever-present as this one. Many marinades taste great on impact, but don't hold their flavor through the chewing and the swallowing of every food morsel. In this case, every bite offered up a new burst of cider, a waft of sage, and what we decided was a liberal helping of ginger. The flavors were fresh, light, and, as always, anything apple-oriented is a great complement to a tender slab of pork. The dish came with creamy skin-on mashed potatoes, and lightly sautéed snap peas.

Dsc00187_1KL ordered the Open Lobster and Crab Ravioli with Asparagus. It would be wrong to call these colossal squares of pasta just “ravioli.” These, rather, were like duvet covers made of thin homemade pasta—huge (probably four by four), thin, squares of tender al dente pasta very delicately stuffed with generous amounts of crab and lobster in a rich lobster cream sauce. Though heavy, the filling was delicious and original. The dish was topped with sautéed asparagus.

Dsc00185After lunch, AC admitted to me that when I decided on the Crispy Eggplant Napoleon with Grilled Vegetables and Tomato Cream that he thought this would be the boring concession to vegetarians, and would therefore be a tasteless mound of soggy veggie saute. When AC is quick to judge, he can sometimes be wrong. For those of you who regularly read ST, you know I hardly ever eschew eggplant. And though I prefer to enjoy meat at a nice place, I had a feeling this would be a delightful interpretation of my favorite oblong and oft-maligned vegetable. Fortunately, I was right. Three rounds of crispy, lightly fried eggplant were alternated by massive helpings of delicately grilled bell peppers, squash, and zucchini, all sitting in a pool of homemade light, creamy marinara sauce. It would be really easy to overgrill the vegetables, resulting in a mushy pile of plant matter. But each veggie slice was thick, hot, and retained its rigidity, and still had that fleshy texture that a nice grilled veggie should have. The eggplant was fabulous. Clearly, the chef had fried it in some proprietary seasoned bread-crumb mixture that gave the fried eggplant almost a loud crunch.

Next time, we won’t eat so much or drink two cream-based cocktails so we can actually enjoy the homemade Coconut Pound Cake.

Take a day trip to Frederick and stop in at Monocacy Crossing along the way at:

4424 Urbana Pike
Frederick, Maryland
(301) 846-4204

—AK

March 07, 2006

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.

Dsc00060_1The 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.

Dsc00058_1The 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.

Dsc00055_2Even 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

March 01, 2006

Haute Cholesterol

As a general rule, we don’t like to eat straight fat. That is, unless, it’s the fat rendered from an engorged goose liver.

Washington diners (and I use that term in the most derogatory sense possible) and critics (ditto) rave about Restaurant Eve like they were the first to uncover the Dead Sea Scrolls. Specifically, people gush about the tasting menu, which takes place in a room of about eight to ten tables and offers diners the choice of a five- or nine-course meal.

We’d only previously been able to enjoy the fabulous signature cocktails and much-celebrated birthday cake, complete with pink frosting and sprinkles, as our budgets would not allow for the indulgence that is the tasting room.

But on a glorious day last June, we got lucky. A few weeks before our reservation, AC popped the ole question to yours truly, and AC’s dad, DC, who shares our tendency for eating past the state of fullness, treated us to an engagement celebration fit for kings…and people with five stomachs.

It would take me a year to remember every course (DC and I opted for nine, AC, wisely, went for five), many of which were the size of actual entrees, but the epiphany occurred when the seared foie gras on brioche toast with gooseberry jam was placed before me. Though ordering it is a gamble (it’s an extra $20 supplement to the regular menu price), it became immediately clear that I had done the right thing. The presentation was magical: A very buttery, lightly browned toasted brioche cup came in two pieces. The “cup” part was tapered at the end and held the delicate foie gras, which was a neat palm-sized portion, slightly blackened on the top from the cooking, but otherwise fragile, as if one fork tine would cause it to come completely undone.  Another piece of toasted brioche was gingerly balancing atop the fatty liver. Accompanying this elegant display was a small pool of gooseberry jam for dipping.

Each bite of this course was extremely rich; I could feel my arteries grimace with each taste. The foie gras was fatty, yes, but it was more like a salty, meaty butter with only a hint of liver flavor. Because the serving was modest, each bite had to be carefully assembled. A small piece of foie gras, a corner of brioche, and a dab of gooseberry. The combination of salty spread,  buttery crisp toast, and sweet jam resulted in a transcendent amalgam of flavors.

Though I’ve had foie gras in its various forms, nothing comes close to having it prepared expertly seared. And thus, Eve is all right in my book.

—AK

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