In 2009, I will...

1. Learn to perfectly roast a chicken
2. Eat more locally produced foods when possible.
3. Experiment with cooking an assortment of interesting vegetables from the farmers' market.
4. Use my new food processor to make homemade salsa (I use ripe tomatoes, jalapeno, garlic, onions, lime juice, and salt) and guacamole (avocados, red onion, serrano chiles, cilantro, lime juice, and salt).
5. Find more reasons to drink champagne (in moderation!)
6. Try pickling my own vegetables.
7. Try banh mi at one of the many area Vietnamese restaurants.
8. Indulge in a dozen oysters at Hank's Oyster Bar. By myself. With a glass of Sancerre. And maybe a good book.
9. Spice things up by incorporating more chiles into my cooking.
10. Cook a meal for an old friend
11. Cook a meal with Jason and eat it picnic-style on a blanket on my apartment floor like we did the first time we cooked at my apartment before I'd bought a table and chairs.
12. Buy a copy of How to Cook Everything by the venerable Mark Bittman, and start working my way through it.
13. Update this blog more often!

Photo by Flickr user Johammond.

Happiness is a caramel-covered marshmallow.

So, I didn't make it home to Chicago due to the gigantic winter storm-pocalypse that made traveling to or from various parts of the country pretty much impossible this past week. Jason's family was kind enough to host me for Christmas though. So, even though I didn't get to go home, I had an absolutely wonderful time - and SO much good food! In addition to many amazing meals, I was also the very happy recipient of a box of caramel-covered marshmallows (only sold at Christmastime...couldn't find a link), uber-rich hot chocolate, and chocolate marshmallows, a selection of artisan sea salts (all from Williams Sonoma), and Kevin Zraly's Complete Wine Course from Jason's parents; a membership to the Artisanal Cheese of the Month Club and Foodie Fight trivia game from Jason; and a gorgeous Cuisinart food processor from Mom and Dad.

Oh, and my Christmas gift to myself. My four-year-old laptop has served me well, but it's really on its last legs. It's been hard to even get motivated to update this blog, since it takes forever to load anything anymore. It's due to arrive in a couple weeks, at which point you can look forward to more frequent updates from me, since I'll be looking for any excuse to use it!

Happy holidays everyone! I hope yours are filled with good cheer, good company, and of course, good food.

Much ado about Mandu

I must apologize for the lack of posting as of late. Between holiday festivities and other going-ons, I've not had much spare time.

This past weekend, Jason and I decided to check out Mandu, a little Korean joint just east of Dupont. (I was originally going to cook dinner for him, since he had just gotten back from Japan, but being so busy, I hadn't had a chance to procure any groceries.) Anyhow, I'm kinda glad I flaked out on the cooking thing, because the delicious Mandu is now officially my new go-to place when I don't have the energy to cook, but am craving a super flavorful meal in a homey setting.

The word "mandu" is actually Korean for "dumpling," so naturally we started the meal with an order of these - the steamed shrimp variety, to be precise. Now I don't know about you, but I take dumplings fairly seriously. In my experience, a really good dumpling is deceptively difficult to come by. Many varieties fall victim to a too-thick and doughy wrapping, which, despite whatever tasty filling may lie inside, has approximately the same appeal of a mouthful of steamed and salted Elmer's glue. Othertimes, the wrapping might be fine, but the filling itself disappoints, usually because it's been overcooked and has morphed into a tough little pebble, so that when you bite through the wrapping, you're rewarded with only a faint hissing noise as the shrunken mystery pellet topples out of the wrapping and onto your lap. I'm not sure whether this is worse, however, than the undercooked dumpling, whose gummy brown innards carry bear an unfortunate resemblance to cheap cat food.

So, a dumpling can fail in any number of ways, which is why it's all the more remarkable to find a great one, even at a restaurant named for said item. Mandu's dumplings fit the bill. With a crisp, yet delicate skin and a nicely-seasoned, perfectly cooked filling, Mandu's mandu were a definite du. The best part was that the dumplings were wrapped in such a way that there were lots of little nooks and crannies to better sop up the addictive ginger soy sauce with scallions.

For the main course, I was in a soup kind of mood, and the Soon Doobu was sounding like the perfect way to ward off the December chill. Billed on the menu as a "spicy seafood stew with soft tofu," the soup came out of the kitchen still bubbling and gurgling in a hot stone bowl. With a fiery red-hot broth that set my mouth ablaze, the overall effect was somehow still soothing, the salinity of the clams, squid, and shrimp mixing with the creamy bits of tofu, creating a prickly, but pleasant, warming sensation throughout my whole body.

Jason ordered the Dolsot Bibim Bap, a hearty rice bowl with assorted vegetables, beef and a fried egg, with a spicy bean paste on the side. I was so enamored with my own soup that I managed only a bite of beef from Jason's dish. The meat was tender and almost sweet, redolent of fragrant cloves and possibly anise. A glass of the Pine Ridge Chenin Blanc Viognier blend was the perfect foil to such spicy food.

Good to know:
Mandu is located at 1805 18th Street, NW. It's a fairly quick walk from the Dupont Circle metro stop on the Red line. From the circle, walk north on 19th Street, then take a right on S Street. It'll be about a block down, on the corner of S and 18th. The atmosphere is casual. Good for dates or quiet dinners with friends.

Photo of Bibim Bap by Flickr user vincentgallegos.

Photo of Mandu by Flickr user brownpau.

Making a list, checking it twice

Whether you're creating your own wish list, or shopping for the epicure in your life, it can be quite a challenge to sort through all of the gourmet goodies on the market these days. I've combed through my favorite sites to create a collection of edible and food-inspired gifts that I know I wouldn't mind seeing under the Christmas tree this year. (I'm also a big fan of avoiding the shopping mall madness, and ordering gifts online, so I've included links for easy online purchasing.)

2009 Farmer's Market Wall Calendar

Featuring colorful vintage prints of vegetables from the 1800's, this understated calendar will help the avid gardener or fresh produce enthusiast in your life ring in the new year. You can order it online from Kate's Paperie or Anthropologie.
Give to: Your urban locavore bud who waxes poetic about the Dupont Circle Farmer's Market, but whose own tiny studio apartment allows for only a miniscule pot of basil on the windowsill.

The French Market: More Recipes from a French Kitchen
Bestselling authors Joanne Harris and Fran Warde present a deliciously simple collection of recipes that draw inspiration from the rural markets of Gascony and emphasize rustic, fresh flavors and a relaxed, tossed-together style. Gorgeously illustrated with lush color photographs, the recipes draw inspiration from large, lumpy tomatoes bursting with taste, to sun-ripened melons, to goat cheese rolled in fresh herbs, and to locally produced organic honey. This is food as nature intended. Available online from Anthropologie.

Give to: Your Francophilic significant other who still reminisces about that time you took him/her to Lavandou.

Le Creuset Round Dutch Oven
Available in an array of vibrant colors, this classic cast iron pot will never go out of style. It's a superb choice for roasting poultry and meats as well as for preparing slow-cooked specialties like chili, soups, stews and braises – on the stovetop or in the oven. It's on the pricier side, but these things last forever. Think of it as an investment in deliciousness. Sold online at Williams-Sonoma.
Give to: Your uncle, whose extra fiery Superbowl chili is the stuff of legends.

Bacon of the Month Club Membership
It's official. Bacon is enjoying a serious moment of culinary stardom, and there is no better evidence than this tongue-in-cheek-yet-totally-for-real artisan bacon of the month club. A membership will get you a year of monthly deliveries to your door, packed with a new kind of bacon each month, notes on the month's selection, recipe and wine suggestions, and even a bacon tee-shirt to wear while you, er, pig out. Available online from Grateful Palate.
Give to: Any non-vegetarian in your life. Really, who doesn't like bacon?

Wall Bottle Opener
Practically stylish wood block wall-mounted bottle opener, printed at the front with a design from San Francisco collective FluffyCo, who create nature-inspired, useful things in a sustainable way. Just in time to pop open the champagne for your New Year's party, and impress all your friends with your totally rad kitchen style. You can order it online from Urban Outfitters, and you can find more colors and styles on FluffyCo's site.
Give to: Your yupster older sibling with the sweet new NoMa loft. Bonus points if said sibling invites you to his/her New Year's party.

Zabar's Don't Be Homesick Crate
Washingtonians can't seem to complain enough about the District's lack of authentic and tasty bagels, pizza, and other foodstuffs that abound in NYC. For the Big Apple transplant in your life, Zabar's (the famed New York deli) has created a collection of delicious items to give displaced New Yorkers a taste of their beloved city, including Zabar's lox, Zabar's kosher salami, pastrami, Zabar's deli mustard, Zabar's signature sourdough jewish rye bread, plain cream cheese, an assortment of the world's best fresh-baked New York bagels, and several kinds of pastries. Get it online at Zabar's.
Give to: Your ex-New Yorker colleague who moans incessantly about his inferior Starbucks bagel, yet keeps buying it every morning.

Chanukah Olive Oil Cake
Made with toasted almonds, lemon zest — nearly a whole lemon's worth per cake — and lots of great extra virgin olive oil. Substituting olive oil for butter, it fits well with the symbolism of Chanukah, when one day's worth of olive oil miraculously burned for eight. It'd be another miracle if this cake lasted this long. Order one online from Zingerman's.
Give to: Oh, who are you kidding? Keep this one for yourself.

Foodie Fight: A Trivia Game
For anyone who loves both food and trivia, the appeal of this game is pretty self-explanatory. Brush up on your knowledge first with The Food Snob's Dictionary: An Essential Lexicon of Gastronomical Knowledge. Both this, and the game, are available online from Amazon.
Give to: Your smug foodie friend who lectures you on the stylistic differences between Bocuse and Boulud, and never misses an opportunity to note a hint of umami in everything from pho to her breakfast cereal.

Artisan Salt Sampler
Beyond sea salt: Twenty-four mini jars contain the most-sought-after salts from around the globe, including Peruvian Pink, Sel Gris de Guérande, Cyprus Black, Flower of Bali and 21 more. Presented in a handsome bamboo case with a glass door. Available from Sur la Table.
Give to: Your aunt whose home cooking always needs just a touch more seasoning.

A Meal at the Inn at Little Washington
Nestled between the Blue Ridge Mountains and the gentle farmland of Virginia's Shenandoah Valley lies a tiny town named Washington, an unlikely home to the country's most celebrated inn and adjoining restaurant, which has been hailed as among the ten best restaurants in the country. A meal at the Inn is not a frugal endeavor, and indeed, might be a bit extravagant, particularly in these difficult economic times. But, if you're looking for an extra-special holiday celebration, or ultra-romantic place to pop the question, look no further than this sparkling gem just a couple hours from DC. You can buy gift certificates from The Inn at Little Washington online, or call 540-675-3800 to speak to an inn staff member about planning a very special occasion.
Give to: The person you care about most.

Before and after

Weekend wonderful-ness

A weekend of culinary goodness awaits.

Tonight: dinner at Penn Quarter's critically acclaimed contemporary American restaurant, 701, one of many local restaurants participating in this week's "Appetite Stimulus Plan." The deal is similar to Restaurant Week. $35 will get you three courses at some of DC's top establishments, a fine deal for both the taste buds and the wallet. Today's the last day to participate, so hit up OpenTable to snag a last-minute reservation.

And now, onto the important part: the food. For the Appetite Stimulus Plan, 701 is probably offering a fixed menu of some kind, but that will hardly matter if the food lives up to its reputation. With exciting offerings like Smoked Bacon Wrapped Sea Scallops (with melted foie gras, blackberry gastrique, and tobiko creme fraiche), and Sesame Crusted Salmon (with chilled thai glass noodle salad, green melon vinaigrette, and honey lavender glaze), 701 has garnered attention for Chef Bobby Varua's gently playful cuisine, whose delicate flavor combinations are enhanced, but not overwhelmed, by Asian influences. Dishes like Chestnut Ravioli (with beurre noisette, cider gastrique, and apple endive salad) and Stuffed Muscovy Duck Leg (with foie gras butter, cranberries, pumpkin veloute, and poire williams tapioca pearls) also reveal a commitment to the seasonal bounty.

I know that restaurants sometimes have a hard time meeting the demands of the overly zealous, minimally patient crowds attracted by these kinds of promotions, and I am anticipating that it might be rather hectic on a Friday night, particularly given 701's prime location in the city's theatre and entertainment district. I plan to approach the experience with an open mind, a deep pocketful of patience, and quite possibly, a sample or two from 701's impressive wine menu, to tide me over.

Saturday: Thanksgiving potluck party with friends. You wouldn't run a marathon without completing several fairly long runs beforehand. The same logic applies with Turkey Day, my friends. If you want to finish your plate on Thanksgiving proper, it makes sense to warm up beforehand with a comparable meal. Hence, the pre-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving. I'm making Sweet Potato Pie Bars to bring.

Sweet Potato Pie Bars
1 (18.25-ounce) yellow cake mix, divided use
6 tablespoons margarine OR butter, melted and divided use
1 large egg
1 1/2 cups mashed cooked sweet potatoes
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon, divided use
1/3 cup granulated sugar
2 large egg whites
1 (5-ounce) can evaporated milk
2 tablespoons packed light brown sugar
1/2 cup chopped pecans

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
Set aside 1 cup yellow cake mix.
In a mixing bowl, blend together remaining cake mix, 4 tablespoons melted margarine, and egg; mix well. Pat mixture into the bottom of a 13 x 9 x 2-inch pan coated with nonstick cooking spray. In a separate mixing bowl, combine sweet potatoes, nutmeg, 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon, sugar, egg whites, and evaporated milk until creamy. Pour filling over prepared crust.
Mix reserved 1 cup cake mix, remaining 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon, remaining 2 tablespoons melted margarine, brown sugar, and pecans and sprinkle over filling.
Bake for 40 to 45 minutes or until filling is set.

Photo from 701's website.

In a Thanksgiving kind of mood

I'm heading home to Chicago for a midwestern Thanksgiving this year, and I am totally excited to help my mom cook The Big Meal. A grocery shopping jaunt to Harris Teeter this afternoon amplified my anticipation; the store is already brimming with giant frozen turkeys, special holiday displays, jars of cranberry jelly, and the like. I wandered the aisles aimlessly, taking in the festive atmosphere (and the free samples!).

My sister makes her famous mashed potatoes each year, but all the other dishes are up for grabs. I've been scouting around the web for inspiration, which isn't difficult since every remotely food-related site switches to Thanksgiving-pocalypse mode this time of year, complete with countdowns and turkey slide shows. Amidst the frenzy, I truly enjoy the measured wisdom imparted by Gourmet. No stranger to the culinary obsession surrounding the holiday (exhibit A: its guide to "achieving turkey perfection"), the magazine (and its website) nonetheless maintains its composure with its clean, low-key design, and intelligent approach. In a smart acknowledgment of diverse food traditions as a metaphor for America's melting pot greatness, Gourmet is offering five traditional Thanksgiving menus, each inspired by a different region of the country. Each menu, of course, includes a turkey, and I'm finding myself particularly intrigued by the Southern-style Roast Turkey with Herbed Oyster Stuffing and Giblet Gravy. The "California Eatin" three-onion stuffing also sounds delicious. The Northeastern nutmeg ice cream would be the perfect way to end the big meal.

This month's print version of the magazine offers a Latino-inspired Thanksgiving menu (adobo Turkey, chipotle meatballs, cornbread and chorizo stuffing, sweet potato coconut puree, and apple pie with Mexican brown sugar), as well as a Mediterranean meal (braised artichokes, mushroom and farro pie, mache salad, parmesan-roasted butternut squash, cranberry sauce with dates and orange, and a pumpkin tart with anise-seed crust).

I've honestly no idea how authentic these menus might be for the various regions and peoples they claim to represent, but I love reading about all the different variations out there. I would welcome hearing about everyone's Thanksgiving traditions and must-haves, recipes, ideas, etc.

(Currently thankful for: wild sweet orange Tazo tea, incredible Mexican food and at Oyamel last night with a good friend who I hadn't seen in a long time, natural Greek yogurt with honey and granola for breakfast, multi-vitamins, freshly brewed coffee, good friends, an amazing family, my new job and colleagues, Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle on audiobook, the bright yellow leaves blanketing my neighborhood's sidewalks, and, of course, the Gourmet subscription renewal my sister gave me for my birthday).

Photo of caramel pie by Romulo Yanes, who does beautiful work for Gourmet and others.

Noodle Express

Tonight Jason and I met up with his old college roommate, Ming Ye, who happened to be in town for the weekend. After wandering around Chinatown for a bit, we happened upon Chinatown Express, whose crowded dining room we took to be a good sign. An elderly gentleman was making fresh noodles in the front window, threading the long tubular strands through his fingers and then stretching his hands apart in a tangled accordion of pasta. I suddenly had a hankering for noodle soup.

Despite its intriguing exterior, Chinatown Express doesn't offer a lot in the way of decor. Upon entering, we navigated a perilously narrow staircase to enter a small room, where we were seated at a plain round table, bathed in the harsh glow of neon lighting and a television set playing an unrecognizeable news station.

But no matter. The chicken noodle soup was restorative. Spicy and head-clearing with generous additions of Sriracha and hot chili oil, and utterly comforting in its familiarity, it was uncomplicated bliss from the first slurpy bite. Hot pork buns, shrimp dumplings with tangy scallion sauce, and a soothing cup of tea rounded out the delicious offerings.

It's easy to see why the Washingtonian named Chinatown Express a "no frills" favorite in their "Best of Chinatown" feature. For $5.95, you can get aforementioned noodles, either as soup or fried - lo mein style - with your choice of chicken, beef, seafood, or vegetables. In an expensive city where good Chinese food is hard to come by, I say that's a pretty great deal.

Good to know:
Chinatown Express is located at 746 6th Street, NW. By Metro, exit at Chinatown/Gallery Place Metro (Green, Yellow, or Red line), and exit on the north side of the Verizon Center. Walk east for one block on H Street until you get to 6th. Chinatown Express will be on the right-hand side near the corner of H and 6th.

Photo of Chinatown Express from The Backpack Boy's blog.

Cashion In

I've been looking forward to this weekend all month because my parents will be in town! They live in Chicago (a fantastic food city in its own right), so they only get to DC one or two times a year. For that reason, it's pretty special when they come to DC, and I like to take them out for at least one memorable meal while they're in town.

I gave careful consideration to my restaurant choice this time. My requirements were stiff. The restaurant had to be easily accessible from my apartment (for parental units unaccustomed to and potentially stressed out by zipping around on the Metro), quiet enough to have a real conversation, not so popular that it would be overwhelmingly crowded (sorry, Zaytinya, Oyamel, and the Jose Andres empire in general), with a selection of straightforward fare to satisfy my dad's meat-and-potatoes palate (sayonara Perry's and Sushi Taro), but at the same time, more nuanced than your prototypical Washington steakhouse (ahem), with a good wine list (something we can all agree on), and a restaurant unique to the DC area.

As it turns out, the perfect place exists right in my own neighborhood, in the form of none other than Cashion's Eat Place, the Adams Morgan neighborhood gem serving an eclectic menu of interesting, yet unpretentious American dishes. Despite its proximity to my apartment, I've never eaten there, but I walk by it constantly, and have always been intrigued by the retro neon-pink signage and warmly-hued interior.

Has anyone been? Any menu recommendations?

Autumn Baked Goodness

Something about the crisp autumn air makes me want to bake, bake, and bake some more. I'm tempted to order my own copy of Brooklyn's eponymous Baked. The book is a collection of the bakery's favorite recipes, like The Sweet and Salty Cake, the Peanut Butter Crispy Bar, the Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Loaf, and their famous Cheddar Chipotle Biscuits. Mmmmm.

You can order your copy here.

Photo from Baked by Tina Rupp.

Birthday dinner at Citronelle

For my birthday, Jason (the most amazing boyfriend in the world) took me out for an absolutely incredible meal, at DC's famed Citronelle. We decided to go all out, and get the 10-course tasting menu - the Promenade Gourmande - with wine pairings. It was a truly epic experience, and difficult to "review" in a single go, but I want to at least describe the highlights.

PROMENADE GOURMANDE

AMUSE BOUCHE
Egg surprise, escargot crumble, chicken “lollipop” Champagne Francois Billion with “Cuvee de Reserve”, Brut Grand Cru, Chardonnay

The egg surprise referred to the cup in which this dish was served, fashioned from an actual egg shell that had been cut in half. The egg shell was filled with a light-as-air cauliflower foam, silky cubes of salmon tartare, and scallion bits. Escargot crumble was a diminutive glass cup of escargot topped and baked with a buttery sauce and garlicky bread crumbs. The "lollipop" was a toothpick holding the most tender morsel of chicken I've ever tasted, breaded and delicately fried (and more densely flavorful than I knew poultry could be) perched in a tiny puddle of mustardy cream sauce.

VICHYSSOISE “2008”

Michel Richard's updated version of Vichyssoise, a classic French soup, traditionally made with cream, chicken stock, and pureed vegetables. Ours featured an elegant disk of creamy, Parmesan-flavored gelee (almost flan-like in texture), amidst a decadent chicken stock, topped with some kind of crispy chicken-flavored crumbs. The creamy savory deliciousness of that broth had me tilting the plate toward me in a rather inelegant attempt to coax every last drop onto my spoon.

MOSAIC
“Surf & turf” with Sancerre Domaine Roland Tissier 2007

This is, perhaps, the most visually stunning dish I've ever laid eyes on. A flat square-shaped plate is "tiled" with circles of various meat and fish, like tuna, salmon, scallop, beef carpaccio, etc., along with circles of roasted peppers, then drizzled with a basil olive oil and sprinkled with frisee and arugula. It was truly a feast for the eyes, and was every bit as tasty as it looks.

SABLEFISH

Broiled, saké-miso marinated with Riesling Grand Cru “Geisberg” Domaine Kientzler 2004

The simple flavors of this dish were a welcome palate-cleanser after the complexity of the Mosaic. The sweetness of the miso marinade didn't overwhelm the mild fish, and a side of tender baby vegetables provided a hint of bitterness that contrasted nicely with everything else. The Riesling was also quite refreshing at this point in the meal.

LOBSTER BURGER

With Puligny-Montrachet “Sous le Puits,” Premier Cru, Domaine Larue 2003

Tender, creamy chunks of lobster meat in a buttery bun, graced by a small circle of tomato confit (an upscale riff on ketchup). Served with a conical bowl of ethereally crisp potato chips.

SQUAB
Leg confit, foie gras-syrah sauce with Chassagne-Montrachet “Morgeot” Premier Cru, Domaine Fontaine-Gagnard 2004

Any misgivings I'd had about eating squab were put to rest with this lovely dish. Unbelievably tender and moist, the squab was served with a sweet and tangy syrah sauce, and dotted with petite vegetable globes. Though it lacked the pizazz of the Mosaic or the Amuse Bouche, I think this dish was my favorite for its uncomplicated, earthy flavors.

SELECTION OF IMPORTED CHEESE

With Zinfandel, Turley Wine Cellars “California Old Vines”

My memories are not quite as crystalline at this point (remember, we were doing the menu with wine pairings!), but I do remember something sinfully creamy (I'm guessing it was something like a Brillat-Savarin), and some type of blue/gorgonzola.

STRAWBERRY COCKTAIL

A tiny glass cup of brightly-flavored strawberry gel, studded with chunks of strawberry

KIT CAT BAR

With Banyuls “Heylos,” Domaine Alain Reynaud 2002

Melted chocolate with hazelnut overtones encase crispy stacked layers of Corn Flakes, milk chocolate and peanut butter. As completely amazing as it sounds.

PETITS FOURS
A platter of small, fruit-inspired sweet cakes. See petits fours.

Sustainability is the green plate special at Founding Farmers

This past week, I was fortunate enough to get a sneak preview of an exciting new addition to DC's restaurant scene, Founding Farmers, which offers an upscale, yet straightforward take on "green" dining with a heartland slant. Inspired by the fresh bounty of America's family farmers, Chef Graham Duncan cooks up homemade classic American dishes, with a focus on sustainably sourced and locally grown ingredients wherever possible. The sleek, yet casual setting complements the restaurant's commitment to sustainability - the space is LEED-designed, and has been designated a Certified Green Restaurant.

With an expansive menu spanning a wide variety of farm-grown fare, Founding Farmers will satisfy an impressive range of eco-conscious appetites. From Oysters Rockefeller to Farmer's Meatloaf to Maine Lobster Rolls to the Fresh Ground Frisco Burger, the menu winks and nods at a whole host of regional food genres and traditions. It's an aptly representative hodgepodge of American tastes for a restaurant located in the heart of the nation's capital, just blocks from the buildings where politicians and lobbyists debate and vote on legislation like the 2008 Farm Bill, among other things.

Founding Farmers is actually owned by a collective of more than 40,000 American family farmers, often referred to as the North Dakota Farmers Union, a group devoted to the economic and social well-being of farmers, ranchers, and rural communities.  The emphasis on farm-grown ingredients is of particular interest to me, given the battered condition of America's family farms.  Just days before my meal there, I had finished reading "The Omnivore's Dilemma," Michael Pollan's elegant exploration of the contemporary eater's complicated relationship to the food on his or her plate. Pollan examines how our changing food landscape has impacted family farmers, specifically how the rise of fast food has created a demand for the efficient and automated mass production of dextrose and starch products. The consequent industrialization of the planting and harvesting processes has created such a surplus of supply that low corn prices can't support farmers working at a sustainable, human scale.

It's against this backdrop that restaurants like Founding Farmers remind us of the pleasures of slow food versus fast, the value of community (guests can choose to dine at communal tables and share family size portions), and the sheer deliciousness of food that has been handled with a careful human touch. And it is delicious, indeed. My Southern Pan Fried Chicken was a beautiful golden crisp on the outside, and moist and tender inside. Served with a creamy white gravy, and a funnel cake waffle, the dish is a clever riff on a dish with deep roots in America's culinary history, but also conjured up happy memories of the Iowan county and state fairs that dotted the summers of my youth. I can't wait to go back again and try the Bacon Lollis: Nueske's bacon with a glaze of cinnamon and brown sugar. I'm also excited to try dishes like the 17 Vegetable Salad, handmade Ricotta Ravioli, the Prosciutto, Fig, and Mascarpone Flatbread, and the herb-rubbed Pork Tenderloin with a honey apple glaze.

The large, multi-level space (designed by CORE architecture + design), employs playful touches (bird-shaped lighting fixtures, fuschia-colored accents) combined with an urban farmhouse aesthetic where stainless steel fixtures blend seamlessly with handcrafted wood tables. An expansive bar area houses Founding Farmers' innovative bar program, where Bar Chef Jon Arroyo proffers small batch brewery beers and bourbons, organic and biodynamic wines, and 'chef-crafted' cocktails, like The Constituation (a heady combo of Plymouth Gin, chamomile, blueberries, lemon, and ginger liqueur). No green detail is overlooked at Founding Farmers; among the many sustainable touches, menus are printed on recycled paper using soy-based ink, and the interior was painted using low and no-fume paints.

The fantastic food and whimsical decor at Founding Farmers make for a fun experience. So fun, in fact, that it would be easy to dine there without thinking too hard about the people behind the food, without thinking too hard about the plight of our family farmers, and without thinking too hard about what's at stake for our rapidly disintegrating culinary traditions, not to mention (at the risk of sounding pedantic) the health of our bodies and our planet. Perhaps we do fun things like dining out because we want to escape, if only for a couple hours, from our worries, and from a world in which it's exponentially easier to obtain a Big Mac than a health insurance plan. But as restaurants like Founding Farmers hope to remind us, perhaps we shouldn't have to escape at all.

Good to know:
Founding Farmers is located in the International Monetary Fund (IMF) HQ2 building at 1924 Pennsylvania Ave. NW, at the corner of 20th Street and Pennsylvania Ave., NW. It is easily accessible via Farragut West or Foggy Bottom Metro stops on the Orange/Blue lines.

Thanks to Jennifer at SPIN DC for the deconstructed logo image and other assistance with this article.

Above and beyond at Etete

Although I've eaten at many restaurants with polite and efficient service, I have never before felt the urge to hug any servers. Well, not before last night anyway. Last night, I had the pleasure of dining Etete, whose warm and hospitable service was truly unlike anything I have ever experienced. Widely regarded as one of the city's best Ethiopian restaurant's, Etete's focus on creating a welcoming atmosphere was apparent the moment Jason and I stepped inside the restaurant, tucked into an attractively decorated townhouse in the heart of DC's Little Ethiopia neighborhood.

We were greeted immediately by a smiling hostess. I explained that we had made reservations, but that we were meeting a third person who hadn't arrived yet. I expected that we would be asked to wait until "all members of our party" were present and accounted for (as seems to be standard protocol at most places nowadays). However, the hostess cheerfully showed us to a table without a moment's hesitation. As I would soon find out, that gesture was but a hint at the effort Etete's staff makes toward ensuring a unique restaurant experience.

Served on a large circular platter lined with spongy injera bread, Etete's food lives up to the hype. We ordered a vegetable combination platter - potatoes in several different sauces, two spicy lentil dishes, collard greens, corn, and a green salad, all of which were fresher and more flavorful than the ones I've had at other Ethiopian restaurants. We each ordered an entree as well. Jason had Kitfo, minced raw beef seasoned with herbed butter and hot red pepper, and served with seasoned cottage cheese. The beef was a glistening pink and silky on the tongue, in texture akin to tuna tartare, but more deeply flavorful. I was stealthily scooping up bits of it throughout the meal. My Lega Tibs (lamb sauteed with onion and peppers) was equally delicious. Our friend ordered the Yeawaze Tibs, strips of beef sauteed with seasoned butter, fresh tomato, green pepper, onions, and spices.

We were halfway through our meal, when owner Tiwaltenigus Shenegeleg (the restaurant is named for her - "Mama" is "etete" in Amharic) appeared at our table, bearing fresh bowls of the vegetable dishes. Smiling at our grateful amazement, she proceeded to scoop heaping refills onto our platter, and then, noticing our near-empty basket of injera, instructed a server to bring more right away. The surprising touches didn't end there. Nearing the end of our meal, we looked up to see that Mama Shenegeleg was back, this time proffering a tin of roasting coffee beans which she wafted under our noses. The beans smelled amazing, but we were simply too full to partake in the complimentary coffee. The vibe was so relaxed that we lingered for awhile after paying the bill, but never felt rushed to leave. In fact, Mama Shenegeleg returned several more times, even as we sat talking long after we finished our meal, once bearing more coffee and then with freshly-popped popcorn.

The popcorn was a rather offbeat choice for a dessert offering. But then again, Etete is full of surprises. I can't wait to return.

Good to know:
Etete is located at 1942 9th Street, NW. The closest Metro stop is U Street/Cardozo on the Green or Yellow line. Exit the Metro at 10th Street. Etete is on the corner of 9th and U Streets.

Photos of Etete's food and building by Flickr users roboppy and rockcreek respectively.

The injustice of it all!

I know real food bloggers never take themselves this seriously...right? Thanks to Jason for passing this one along. Originally from the web comic Married to the Sea.

Evening Star shines (for the most part)

After a quick Target run the other evening, Jason and I found ourselves in the Crystal City/Alexandria area around dinnertime. I remembered that a colleague had recommended Evening Star Cafe in Alexandria's Del Ray neighborhood, so we decided to check it out.

Out of its cozy jewelbox townhouse setting (think Komi or Hank's), the homey neighborhood cafe serves eclectic American fare with a few twists here and there (for example, seared tuna - iterations of which can be found on virtually every menu these days - is treated to a decidedly non-standard carrot and coriander emulsion.) Indeed, the cafe has developed somewhat of a cult following with locals, and with good reason, as its charms are many. With its cheery but unfussy interior and prime location (just down the block from other foodie destinations like Cheesetique, the new Let's Meat on the Avenue butcher shop, The Dairy Godmother frozen custard shop, and a handful of great coffee shops), Evening Star Cafe has a lot going for it before you even open the menu.

And speaking of the menu, can we talk about the wine and beer menu for a minute? Evening Star Cafe partners with Planet Wine, its next door neighbor, to offer over 1000 bottles of select wines. The cafe also boasts several lounge spaces (separate from the main dining area) called Majestic Lounge and No. 9 line, giving Evening Star Cafe diners access to twenty beers on tap.

We started with the PEI Mussels, doused in a Roquefort cheese and chardonnay sauce. The mussels weren't quite as plump as ones I've seen elsewhere, but the sauce was dangerously addictive. At once creamy from the Roquefort and briny with the juice of the mussels. I didn't stop dipping the complimentary artisan bread until I'd sopped up the last delicious drop, which I washed down with a refreshing glass of Gruner Veltliner.

For my entree, I chose the brined and roasted chicken, served with jalepeno mac & cheese, braised greens, and thyme gravy. The chicken was amazing - tender and juicy with a golden skin. I was disappointed to find the jalepeno mac & cheese oddly greasy and flavorless, with none of the anticipated kick that one might expect with a spicy pepper as its main descriptor. Jason ordered the oven roasted barramundi with tasso ham & blue cheese grits, and tomato beurre blanc. I managed to sneak a bite of it, and found it suitably rich, the crispy skin of the fish giving way to its mild and pleasant flesh.

Sadly, I must say that I found the service to be totally apathetic. Our server was unenthusiastic at best, and that's when we had her attention. She appeared to lose interest completely about halfway through our meal, and we didn't see her again for quite some time. Finally, the hostess seemed to pick up on this, and came over to ask us how our meals were and clear our plates. After another long wait, our server made a grand reappearance to bring us the check. It was an odd dynamic, completely out-of-sync with the otherwise welcoming atmosphere. Ah well, I had good company and good food, and so overall it was a fairly positive experience.

After dinner, we stopped across the street at ACKC (Artfully Chocolate Kingsbury Confections), an outpost of which just opened in Logan Circle. (The website only lists the Logan Circle location right now...I think the Del Ray location was just recently rebranded as ACKC). A champagne truffle, or, ahem, two, was the perfect ending to a great, if imperfect, meal.

Full Circa

Last night, Jason and I wandered around the Kalorama neighborhood for a bit, taking pictures of the mansions and embassies as the sun was setting.  Having worked up a little appetite, we made our way down Connecticut Ave. in the direction of the circle, to see if anything caught our fancy for dinner.  I found myself mildly interested in Sette Osteria, but there seemed to be a bit of a crowd waiting to be seated, so we ventured onward.  To my surprise, Dupont's new-ish bistro, Circa, didn't seem overly crowded, and to my further surprise, we were able to score a table on the patio, no problem.

Since it seemed like a sort of neighborhood wine bar/bistro place, I decided wine was the way to go, and ordered a glass of Chilean Malbec, which was quite good (and, as I would soon find out, its sharpness was a nice contract to the cheesy doughiness of pizza I would order).  Jason got a formidable-looking cocktail called The Ultimate Mojito.  

Circa's got a nice little cocktail list and a good wine list, but I must admit, I was mildly disappointed by the food menu.  I guess, given the sophisticated palates of the surrounding clientele, I was expecting it to be a little bit more inventive, and it just seemed very...pedestrian.  Crab cakes, mac & cheese, bistro steak, etc.  Ah well, I suppose t'is better to do simpler things and do them well than to take on too much. They also probably get a lot of tourists walking in because of the location, and I suppose a really exotic menu might not do much to lure in casual passers-by.

In any case, I'd heard good things about the pizza, so I ordered the Capriciosso pizza - ricotta, mozzarella, parmesan, mushroom, basil, and prosciutto.  The pizza was pretty good, despite showing no signs of the aforementioned basil.  In spite of my Chicagoan connections, I prefer thinner crust pizza, and Circa's was slightly thick for my liking.  Hard to go wrong with prosciutto and lots of cheese though, so I did a pretty good number on it.  Jason got the Free Range Chicken pizza, with sundried tomatoes, artichokes, chicken, mozzarella, and basil.  I swiped a piece, and it was decent, though the sweetness of the tomatoes verged on cloying for me.  

Service was sort of meh.  I got the impression that our server was trying to emulate the understatedness of servers in really haute cuisine types of joints, but the end result was just sort of awkward.  Think lots of weird silences and halted, barely audible responses.  Overall, though, it's a fine place to grab a casual meal, if you're not expecting much in the way of culinary revelation.  I think I'll have to give it a couple more tries to see if we caught it on sort of a blah night.  

Good to know:

Circa is located at 1601 Connecticut Avenue, NW, practically right across the street from the Dupont Circle Metro stop on the Red Line.  Just exit on the North side, and cross Connecticut as if you're going to Kramerbooks, but hang a quick left on Connecticut instead.  It's right on the corner.

The atmosphere is super casual and anything goes.  There were families in shorts, tee-shirts, and tennis shoes, and there were glitterati in sparkly dresses and strappy heels and both fit right in.

Photos by Flickr user M.V. Jantzen, who takes great photos of DC.  Check out his stuff sometime.

Wishful Linking

I want to do this.

Why I Love It

Republic of Tea Blackberry Sage tea, organic spring mixed greens, whole wheat pitas (to stuff with various items and bring for lunch), red onions, chicken breast (to marinate and bake with cloves of garlic and white wine), Cherry Glen chevre (to spread on sandwiches or toss on salads), roasted marinated tomatoes, assorted olives from the olive bar, smoked salmon (on my morning toast, or in a salad with capers and red onion), garlic and herb spread, fresh mixed berries, New Zealand lamb loin chops (to crust with the rosemary I'm growing and pan sautee), parmesan and garlic pita chips, green onions, cucumbers, lemons, avocados (for salads, sandwiches, and fresh guacomole), whole wheat bagels, organic basil (goes on everything), thyme, whole wheat pasta, assorted heirloom tomatoes, poached mussels (to toss with olive oil, garlic, and pasta), a French baguette, marinated artichoke hearts, fresh shrimp, Campo de Montalban cheese, organic chives, peanut butter granola bars (for mornings when I don't have time to eat something real), capers, tuna packed in oil, cans of San Marzano tomatoes (to make homemade pasta sauce), Little Penguin Australian Pinot Noir, and whole dried figs.

Goodness and Greatness on 18th Street

Two meals on 18th Street this weekend - one good, and one great:

I'll start with the good. We finally got around to trying Casa Oaxaca ("wa-HA-ka") the new-ish Mexican place in Adams Morgan. This was the good, not great meal. Complimentary chips with an alright guacamole, that tasted sort of blah and mushy, like the avocados had been too ripe. A trio of blue corn tacos called Kekas - one pork carnitas, one poblano pepper, and one with huitlacoche (a type of fungus that grows on corn, but is considered a delicacy in traditional Mexican cuisine). The pork was nice and tender, the huitlacoche was interesting - sort of tangy, yet earthy. The poblano pepper was nothing special though - it tasted like regular green bell peppers heated up and stuffed in a taco. I had the Enchiladas de Mole Poblano for my entree - the chicken was tender, and the mole sauce was good, if a bit mild. I liked the fact that it was sprinkled with just a bit of queso blanco, and not smothered in a greasy blanket of cheese the way some Americanized Mexican food is. Jason had some type of seafood and goat cheese enchiladas, which I can't find on their online menu. He seemed to enjoy it alright, but was surprised at the dominant sweetness of the goat cheese. To drink, I had a Margarita (very good), and a Mojito (which was a bit syrupy). All in all, it wasn't knock-your-socks-off great, and I was a tad bit disappointed given how much Tom Sietsema praised it in his review. The service, however, was great - attentive, friendly, and knowledgeable. I think it's worth another visit, as it's possible we just caught them on an off night.

We had another great meal though, at previously-blogged-about Las Canteras, which has quickly become one of our favorite places for a low-key dinner. I'm happy to report that the Pisco Sours are as good as ever and the Choros a la Chalaca (plump mussels with diced corn, tomato, and red onion) was as wonderful as the first time I tried it. I tried a new entree this time though, the Pescado a la Macho, poached white fish with a super spicy seafood sauce. It was ridiculously good, in that addictive makes-your-nose-run-and-your-eyes-water kind of way. For dessert, I tried the Guava Flan, which was a bit grainier than the flan I'm used to. The guava flavor was slightly overwhelmed by the caramel sauce that came on top. It was a nice, light way to end the meal though.

Good to know:
Casa Oaxaca is located at 2106 18th Street, NW. It's probably an easier walk from the Dupont Metro stop. Exit on the north side, walk up Connecticut, take a right on Florida, and then a left on 18th. It'll be on the left-hand side.

Las Canteras is located at 2307 18th Street, NW. Ditto on the above directions, except once you hit 18th, you'll walk up another block or so, and it'll be on the right-hand side.

Here's a helpful map.

Photo of 18th Street by Flickr user M.V. Jantzen.

Chicago's Blackbird soars

I distinctly remember the first time I tasted a properly cooked scallop, the perfect slip of its sweet flesh at once familiar in its trace of the ocean, and yet more wonderful than anything I'd ever tasted, from the sea or elsewhere. I remember the gently ashen char where it had been seared on each side, and that first wholly satisfying bite of the firm, yet yielding white belly beneath. That this pearly piece of heaven was even remotely related to the blandly rubbery versions I'd had before was difficult to register. It was a defining moment in my personal culinary history: the scallop upon which all future scallops would be judged.

It seems fitting then, that another, more recent, defining moment in my culinary history also involved a scallop. Well, two scallops, to be exact. The revelatory mollusks in question were of a Maine diver ilk, lightly seared and enhanced by black trumpet mushrooms, fava beans, fried chicken skin remoulade, and crumbles of pumpernickel. It was bivalvic perfection on a plate, the creamy richness of the remoulade emphasizing the delicate salinity of the scallop. This time, however, the scallops were part of a larger defining moment, as they comprised only the first course in what may be the most plainly delicious meal I've ever had.

Of course, I'd had high hopes for Blackbird, the critically acclaimed Chicago restaurant that has been consistently ranked amongst the top restaurants in said city, and easily falls within the top 50 or so restaurants in the country. So I suppose I technically should not have been surprised by the inventive, yet minimalist, cocktail list. The understated, but clever decor (each table is graced with diminutive yellow daisies in an opaque white oblong vase, evoking a golden-yolked egg). The pared-down, but diverse wine list. The friendly, but unobtrusive service. None of it should have been a revelation. Technically.

Pleasure, however, isn't technical -- it's sensual. And though I'd heard consistently positive things about Blackbird, my senses weren't quite prepared for the tenderness of a perfectly pink pork belly, gently marbled with fine white lines of fat, bathed in a warm gumbo-flavored consomme. Imagine the most perfect piece of bacon in the world, except cut as a thick slab, and less aggressively salty, almost sweet to the taste. My senses were equally unprepared for the way a prawn can taste like buttered seawater when perfectly grilled, or the crisp of an ethereal cornbread, unhindered by the usual dry grittiness that has marred my affection for the cornbread of meals past.

As an appetizer, I chose the aforementioned seared maine diver scallops with black trumpet mushrooms, fava beans, fried chicken skin remoulade and pumpernickle. A seemingly strange combination that somehow tasted far "sleeker" than the description would suggest, as the flavors unified in each bite. The pork belly in question was part of a brilliant entree of braised organic pork belly with grilled spot prawn, boiled peanuts, sugarsnap peas, cornbread and gumbo consomme, a sly nod to low-country cuisine, pared down and dressed up, yet no less satisfying.

By dessert, my face was warm with pleasure, aided only slightly by the fizzy champagne cocktail and Cabernet Franc I'd had with my meal. And yet, somehow, the most inventive part of the meal was yet to come. Having already savored two courses, I knew to order the most interesting-sounding dessert, confident that Blackbird could do no wrong, even (perhaps especially) with counterintuitive flavor profiles. It proved to be a worthy strategy. The sweet pea sponge cake I ordered came with a licorice-infused mascarpone cream, candied bacon bits, and carrot-flavored sorbet. Weird? Yes. And completely amazing. It was springtime in a dish, and a combination of flavors that I had never before encountered.

There is something to be said for the familiar - comfort food, Mom's cooking, steakhouse classics, and your neighborhood diner. These things are romanticized for a reason, and they're the things I find myself craving over and over. And yet, there are those meals - meals like Blackbird - that remind me why I'm interested in food in the first place. Challenging our preconceptions of what we think we want to eat. Stimulating to the palate, and yet somehow, devoid of the gimmicks and superfluous molecular antics that plague so much upscale dining. Eating at Blackbird was tasting that perfect first scallop all over again, and somehow finding it even more perfect than before.

Photo by dubiously named Flickr user DealinHoz.

The Best Gallery in Dupont

Having spent my child and young adult-hood in small-town Iowa, I have had a fondness for farmers' markets for as long as I can remember. I have distinct memories of sunny Saturdays spent wandering the Iowa City Farmers Market, which was held in a parking lot across from the public library. On those Saturdays, the lot was filled with vendors from across the state, offering a brilliant array of fruits, vegetables, eggs, cheese, jams, and flowers, often sold out of the back of the farmers' own pick-up trucks. My mother would lead me and my sister up and down the loosely arranged aisles, the gleaming displays of farm-state bounty nearly eye-level to our kid statures. I carefully observed the jewel-like glimmer of pink raspberries, the gleam of shiny, overripe tomatoes, the elegance of corn cobs hidden away in their smooth green husks. It was an aesthetic experience, and I was always far less concerned with actually procuring these items than with simply observing their loveliness.

This reverence for the "farmers' gallery" stays with me still, apparently, as I found myself nearly paralyzed with appreciation at the Dupont FRESHFARM Market yesterday. With $45 in my pocket, I could've filled several bags full of buffalo jerky, feta de Provence, or lush salad greens, and yet, I found myself simply wandering the stalls, stopping to admire the way the midday light illuminated a cluster of basil plants, smiling at a child's squeal of delight upon discovering the display of live Maryland crabs. It was enough to just be there. More than enough.

I returned home with a renewed sense of abundance and three apples, two Fuji and a Braeburn. I ate the Braeburn on the walk home. It was really, really good.

Photo of Dupont FRESHFARM market tomatoes by Flickr user M.V. Jantzen.
Photo of Dupont FRESHFARM Savoy cabbage by Flickr user Josporte.

Springtime indulgences

And because I haven't posted in forever, some more things I've been enjoying lately:

- Starbucks' new Pike Place Roast. It's milder than their old house blend, which had a sort of strong burnt taste.
- Oysters, Pinot Grigio, and people-watching at Tony & Joe's on the waterfront in Georgetown.
- Post-work champagne cocktails and calamari at Napoleon
- Long walks around the Kalorama neighborhood, ogling the gorgeous architectural detailing on the embassies and mansions
- Freshly baked chocolate chip cookies (especially good to have on hand when Jason's over)
- Cooking "omelettess two ways" (my own invention) for Jason on weekend mornings. One with brie and chives and another with goat cheese and basil.
- Top Chef Chicago
- Cocktails on the patio at Eighteenth Street Lounge
- The days getting longer, the sunshine, the floral bounty of the season in full bloom
- Playing with my new camera
- Quiet evenings with a big mug of Tazo green tea and a good book

Photo by me.

Modern Mexican at Oyamel

Whew - it was quite a weekend. The variety of things to do in this city never fails to amaze me, and this weekend included jaunts to the Japanese Street Festival, the new Newseum, The Lansburgh Theatre for a showing of the Reduced Shakespeare Company's "The Complete History of America (abridged)," and the National Zoo, where we got to see the Orangutan's on the O Line. With all this activity, I'm sorta surprised we even remembered to eat, and yet we somehow managed to sneak in a meal that I'm counting among one of the best in recent memory at Penn Quarter's lovely Mexican cocina, Oyamel.

I don't know how to explain it, but as Jason and I stepped into Oyamel on that balmy Saturday evening, I suddenly felt a little bit more alive. My bones virtually tingled, infused with the bright energy of the warm color scheme, the oversized butterfly mobiles, the cheerful bustle of the wait staff ushering plates of miniature tacos to tables of grateful patrons, many slightly overdressed in their sequin-y theater garb (there are several venues within stone's throw of the restaurant).

It soon became apparent that Oyamel's menu (made up of antojitos, or small plates) is a worthy match for its exciting atmosphere. We started our meal at cocktails - mine was sweet and coconut-y with rum, and it was called Horchata something, but I can't find it on the Oyamel's website. Jason had the restaurant's version of a margarita, which comes topped with "salt air" (which seemed to be a sort of salient foam), and which Jason later declared to be the "best margarita ever" (and, trust me, this guy knows his margaritas).

Properly buzzed (it doesn't take much these days), we moved on to the Ceviche Verde "El Bajio," a coolly verdant blend of yellowtail kingfish with avocado, tomatillo, green olives and jalapeño chiles. From there, I moved on to a charming plate of seared scallops, with pumpkin seed sauce, pumpkin seed oil and toasted pumpkin seeds. The toasty flavors of the pumpkin elements contrasted gorgeously with the sweet scallop meatiness. Jason, meanwhile, was similarly enraptured by a tureen of baked beans and chorizo.

To accompany our second round of drinks (margaritas for both of us this time), we each ordered two tacos a la carte. Jason chose the wildest offerings - Taco de Chapulines, stuff with sautéed grasshoppers, in a shallots, garlic and tequila sauce, and the Lengua Guisada taco - braised beef tongue with radishes and a sauce of roasted pasilla chili, tomatoes, onion and garlic. I got to try an errant grasshopper - it was salty with a highly concentrated, almost nutty, flavor, but not altogether unpleasant. The braised beef tongue mostly just tasted like beef, but slightly gamier than the more conventional cuts. I chose the Carnitas taco stuff with confit of baby pig with green tomatillo sauce, pork rinds, onions and cilantro, an agreeably zesty combination of ingredients. I also got the comparatively tame Pollo a la Parilla taco, with grilled marinated chicken breast with guacamole and grilled Cambray onions. I wasn't as wild about the Pollo a la Parilla, but perhaps it isn't really fair to compare it directly to the more exotic items.

We were simply too full to sample any of Oyamel's desserts, but I am intrigued by the hibiscus and margarita sorbets, served with a meringue froth, tequila “jello”, and fresh orange and lime. Maybe next time. Maybe soon.

Good to know:
Oyamel is located at 401 7th Street, NW, a hop, skip, and a jump from the Gallery Place/Chinatown Metro stop (green, yellow, or red lines) or the Archives/Navy Memorial Metro stop (green and yellow lines). Within easy walking distance of The Shakespeare Theater, Woolly Mammoth Theater, National Theatre, and Warehouse Theater.

Photo of grasshopper tacos by Flickr user Angela N. Photo of Oyamel exterior by Flickr user Sp3ctr3man.