More to Love: Star & Shamrock Tavern and Deli

"H Street."  It's a phrase that gets spoken in our household approximately 3,400 times a week.  If you didn't know better, you might assume that "H Street" is the name a fancy narcotic that we are addicted to (rather than a kicky, urban area in DC that keeps springing up unique bars, restaurants, and clubs faster than we can grow tired of the ones already there.)

Substitute "H Street" with the name of your favorite illicit drug in the following statements, and you'll see what I mean: "We went to this bar on H Street; No matter what we do on the weekends, we somehow always end up on H Street; We had the most transcendent experience at a restaurant on H Street; Why, we're on H Street right now!"

And don't stage an intervention just yet, ya'll, because our obsession with H Street is getting worse by the day. [See: HStreetGreatStreet.blogspot.com, re: the Biergarten Haus, NoMa Summer Screens Event, ect.]  Yesterday before hitting up a free Bourbon tasting event (you guessed it, "on H Street") Mr. Luz and I stopped by H Street's new "New York Deli slash Irish Pub,"  Star and Shamrock, and the experience was just hedonistic enough to leave me very happy and perfectly full for the rest of the night.  I ordered their Black Chocolate Stout (a bottled beer from Brooklyn Brewery) after consulting with our server and it was pretty awesome.  A little sweet at first, then after a few sips the burnt chocolate malt flavor overtakes the sweetness, and  for a stout, it's very light and drinkable.  Then...our sandwiches came.

Mr. Luz ordered The Latke Madness, 3 potato crispy fried potato pancakes instead of bread (think "club sandwich" style), corned beef, griddled sauerkraut, swiss, and 1,000 island dressing with a pickle and Mr. Luz got the coleslaw side. This was basically a meat, cheese, crispy potato casserole disguised as a sandwich--there was no away around this thing without a fork--and it was as tasty as it sounds.  The corned beef was perfect--warm, tender, not too salty but flavorful enough to hold its own.  I'm also giving 2 thumbs up to the coleslaw for its fresh dill.

I ordered The Chicken and the Cow (which I felt especially delicious ordering: "I'll have the black chocolate stout, and the chicken, and the cow for dinner, please.") It was billed as hot pastrami, swiss, 1,000 island, and chopped chicken liver, and I got mine on pumpernickel with macaroni salad.  By itself, the macaroni salad wasn't making my day, but after I ate my rich ass sandwich, I could appreciate the light, creamy, celery flavored-side dish a little more for its cool simplicity.  As for the sandwich, it was pretty brilliant.  It came with about a 3/4 inch slather of chopped chicken livers that had been mixed with a tiny bit of minced egg and some gherkin of some sort.  And the chicken livers really made the sandwich. The pastrami was very good--thicker cut, sweeter, and sort of herbaceous--but imagine a tasty and satisfying sandwich covered in a good, earthy, meaty pâté, and that's the Chicken and the Cow.

All in all, Star and Shamrock was a cool place with fun beers and food, and we will definitely be back.  I'm already planning a late night beer, booze, and dancing fest, followed by Star and Shamrock's reuben egg roll wraps and their pan friend matzo balls, "on H Street."

Finally, Ethiopic Restaurant Comes to H Street!

It's been a long week already, so to cope, Mr. Luz and I spent the night tucked into a huge pile of some amazing comfort food at Ethiopic Restaurant.

Ethiopic just opened behind Union Station on H Street NE, and the space and staff are as welcoming as the food.  Mr. Luz and I sat in a romantic alcove with a large window, so we had a little privacy while also sharing the softly lit dining room and piano music with the rest of the guests.  (Ethiopic is lined top to bottom with windows, and I can't wait to go there for a sunny Friday lunch.) Sam, the owner, accepted our ecstatic compliments on the food and the decor but said in the same breath "please tell us if anything changes, we are always looking for feedback."  Everything was so wonderful, I think we'll just have to go back at least once a week to stay on top of that for Sam.

If you've never had Ethiopian food, you'll love Ethiopic.  It serves richly flavored, spiced and stewed meat dishes with lamb, beef, and chicken and dark, delightful vegetarian dishes like curried potatoes with garlic, herbs and jalapeno, and split red lentils stewed with red pepper sauce.  And yes, you eat with your hands.  Like people used to do for thousands of years, until someone somewhere around 1800 B. C. (Before CrateandBarrel) decided to make a quick buck by telling folks that they should eat with metal shards.  In a comparably civilized manner, at Ethiopic you pick up each bite in spongy injera (a soft, sometimes sour flat bread).  And after you've scooped up the last bit of each dish off of your communal plate, you can fight over the large curried-potato-lentil-lamb covered injera that sat under it all.  Mr. Luz always manages to distract me when this time comes, and he always gets the lentil-sauce-drenched section of injera.  It happened again tonight, but make no mistake, I'm already plotting for next time. (And wondering if employing a wardrobe malfunction would be "so 2004")

On the flip side, if you're experienced with Ethiopian food, you'll also love Ethiopic.  We ordered the Lamb Tibs, and the Vegetarian Platter for one (with 4 vegetarian dishes and the spicy lemon tomato salad) with crispy fish.  Everything was cooked to maximize the flavor of the ingredients, meaning it was simmered so the flavors just melded without reducing everything to berbere-flavored mush. And speaking of the berbere (a fragrant and earthy blend of chilies, ginger, cloves, coriander, paprika, and other spices), everything was so fresh that each bite held one hundred flavors at once.  Even their collard greens-a dish done so often that now when it's bad it's still okay-tasted sweet and fresh rather than bitter or bland.

Invariably, Ethiopic will go through growing pains as all new and ultimately successful restaurants do.  But if Ethiopic's food continues to exhibit the same loving care and fresh ingredients that we experienced tonight, I predict that Mr. Luz and I will happily spend a good portion of our summer waiting in a line around the block for a table at our new favorite Ethiopian restaurant.

St.Louis Good Eats: Acero Restaurant in Maplewood

Bon appetite magazine's September 2008 feature, The Best Italian Food in America, welcomes readers to the "Italian-American renaissance" by highlighting recipes from restaurants across the U.S. that the editors would include on their Italian-American "fantasy menu."

Bon appetite's fantasy menu celebrates the fresh but sophisticated approach that Italian chefs are taking to invigorate rustic old-world flavors for today's more adventurous diners, and lists St. Louis' Acero Restaurant among the best. If national recognition isn't enough to convince you to try Acero's new old-world cuisine, consider their $25 four course tasting menu and the fact that their talented Executive Chef, Adam Gnau, is also great eye candy. (I'm pretty sure Mama and Papa BaCon would bring me to Acero every time I come home, in hopes that Chef Gnau and I would find true love over a plate of Tuscan Anchovies, if they didn't love Mr. Luz so much.)

Acero is part of the Jim Fiala family of restaurants (see also Liluma and The Crossing) and Fiala keeps Acero's food simple yet stunning with the best ingredients and thoughtful flavor combinations. With every bite, I couldn't help but think "This is exactly how this food, each element of this dish, is supposed to taste." Chefs Fiala and Gnau manage to tease the most flavor out of each component of each dish with just a little heat, oils, acids, and seasoning, and the overall effect as enjoyable as it is surprising.

My antipasti of chicken liver mousse on crostini was rich, and buttery, and the crostini was brioche-like in taste and texture--sweet, and dense. I also tried the bruschetta with caramelized onion, blue cheese, and honey and was surprised by how balanced the dish was given all of the sweeter elements. The blue cheese was perfectly acidic, and the onions were more piquant and creamy than sweet.

I ordered one of the specials for my primi, a ricotta and parmesan gnudi with a simple tomato sauce and guanciale, or cured pork cheek. One of my favorite foods of all time is the swiss chard malfatti at Al Di La in Brooklyn, NY, also a gnudi dish, and I'm always on the hunt for something to satisfy my herb and cheese craving when I can't get to NY. Acero's gnudi did not disappoint. The guanciale added a salty savoriness to an otherwise sweet and delicate dish. It's safe to say that I've found my Midwest malfatti. I also tried Acero's Egg Raviolo--a large, thin ravioli filled with herbs, spinach, and soft cheeses, and topped with a farm fresh egg yolk. The pure opaque richness of the soft-boiled egg yolk essentially served as a sauce for the light, sweet pasta and delicately herbed cheeses. If Acero's Egg Raviolo was my last meal on earth (hopefully paired with a dry aged steak and a SuperTuscan of Glenn Bardgett's choosing), I could certainly die happy.

Between courses, Chef Gnau brought us a few fun and interesting dishes as a little lagniappe to our already amazing meal. (Perhaps he was attempting to wooing me with briny and fried things, Mama BaCon?) First, we had white anchovies with heirloom tomatoes, basil, and lemon. I have recently fallen in love with all things anchovy, I'm addicted to their mild sweet, salty funkiness, and this little taste was a nice combination of anchovy with some bright, fresh Summer flavors.
Next came what Chef Gnau jokingly described as meat doughnuts (Wooohoooo!) The simple presentation of thinly shaved prosciutto, deep fried bread beignets, a ripe and golden olive oil, and biting red lava salt was seriously heavenly and appealed to all of the senses at once.

The parade of riches at Acero continued when my secondi course arrived--seared sea scallops with heirloom beans and oyster mushrooms. Acero may take the prize for the perfectly cooked scallop (though I'll take offers for a challenger)--the outside was so crispy, and evenly caramelized while the inside was perfectly succulent and not overcooked. The heirloom beans and mushrooms added grassy, earthy flavors wholly distinct from, but also complementary to, the scallops.

Like all of Jim Fiala's restaurants, Acero is unassuming and friendly despite its superstar status and the utterly confident talent and innovation that characterizes its kitchen. As if I were in an old friend's kitchen after a long and successful dinner party, I finished my meal at Acero with a glass of port, their simple dessert of vanilla gelato covered with a shot of espresso, and happy, drowsy conversation that drifted off as we each got lost in our thoughts, remembering our favorite parts of our meal. And no, Chef Gnau didn't send out his personal phone number with my tawny port, but there's always next time.

Good Eats St. Louis: Annie Gunn's Restaurant

No trip to St. Louis, Missouri--my original hometown--is complete without a trip to Annie Gunn's Restaurant.

Annie's promoted sustainable, artisanal, locally-sourced ingredients before such things became de rigueur in fine dining. And to list a few of its many distinctions, Annie's has been recognized as one of the Distinguished Restaurants of North America (DIRONA), and Chef Lou Rook III was a recent semifinalist for the James Beard Award for Best Chef, Midwest. Glenn Bardgett's wine list consistently wins the Wine Spectator "Best Of" Award of Excellence in addition to other prestigious awards, and reads like a bacchanalian, lyrical love poem to some of the best wines in the world. (ie: "Etude 2006 Carneros ~ An old favorite never fails to excite, always a benchmark of Carneros")

But above all, to me, Annie Gunn's means family. Although I only worked at Annie's for 2 years, it's like no time has passed when I go back. I'm always greeted with happy hugs, warm smiles, updates about children and now grandchildren (!), and it is a loving and wonderful homecoming. The most significant and unexpected of these homecomings happened in September, 2005. Just one month after I left Annie's and moved to New Orleans for law school, Hurricane Katrina sent me back home with nothing but my dog, a few law books, and 3 changes of clothes. Annie's took me back with open and friendly arms. Co-workers donated uniforms, shoes, and clothes, and I was immediately back on the schedule. For several months, I was panicked, and grief-stricken for everyone and everything that we lost in the floods after the storm, but I was never alone--my Annie's family made sure of that.

Annie's is an amazing family because the people who work there--many of whom have been there for more than a decade--share a real compassion for one another that can handle any crisis. (Something that I will always be thankful for.)

And Annie's is an amazing restaurant because its staff shares a collective passion for fine dining with its guests day in and day out. Obviously I can't write a real review--it would be like trying to critique Mama BaCon's jambalaya recipe--but here are some photos from my latest trip to Annie's. Like my most recent visit, here's hoping that my Annie's homecomings from now on are merely sweet, and always familiar. And if you, dear reader, get to visit any time soon, I hope you are able to recognize that Annie's is much, much more than just a restaurant. And the maple glazed smoked shrimp are not to be missed.

(If you guys end up reading this Glenn, Lesley, Pappa & Claire, and Chef Lou--I miss you guys all the time. You'll never know how much you mean to me, but maybe this helps? I love you!)

Herb Crusted Missouri Goatsbeard Farm Goat Cheese with Local Arugula, Oil-cured olives, Alici and Local Plum Compote and Lamb Bacon

Daily Lunch Special of Sauteed Gulf Shrimp in an Herb Heirloom Tomato Broth and Crispy Risotto Cakes

Grilled Medallion of Beef Tenderloin and Sauteed Hudson Valley Foie Gras with a Schlafly Pale Ale Tamarind Caramel Glaze and Whipped Yukon Gold Potatoes

(aka "Foie Gras As Big As Yer Head")

Obelisk Restaurant, D.C., Because I Deserve It

This past weekend I spent a quiet, lazy morning sipping coffee and puttering around in the cool, sunny air breezing through my open windows, and I felt thankful, and peaceful, and sad all at once. One part of me feels sentimental about the end of Summer, my first year away from New Orleans and in a Real Job, and the recent and abrupt end of a chapter in my personal life that I haven't quite come to terms with yet.

Another part of me--the part that soon put down the coffee cup and spent the next 2 days baking, chopping, and basting--is impatient with all this reflection. I'm ready for the wisdom that comes from learning to be truly alive in a place I don't want to live, and for the confidence that comes from surviving my first year as an attorney in an occasionally-vicious industry. More than that, I'm ready to leave any self-doubt and heartache from the past year behind me.

But I do know that you can't force growth and maturity, no matter how ready you are to accept it. So I'm stuck with my sometimes-peaceful reflection and/or sadness, with occasional outbursts of purposeful joy and acceptance, until it all starts to come naturally again.

In the meantime, I can cook, and eat, and celebrate everything I possibly can, and Mr. Luz and I were able to do that this weekend at Obelisk in Dupont Circle. Formally, we were celebrating a seriously unexpected bonus from work hitting my bank account; informally, we were trying to take some time for ourselves and let the pure enjoyment of a perfectly executed 5-course tasting menu take precedent over all else.

If you get the chance, please go to Obelisk to celebrate something--anything. From Obelisk's crispy sardines and burrata antipastis and fresh, pillowy pasta courses (burrata is a fresh-cream-filled mozzarella from Italy that Obelisk only serves within 48 hours of its creation) to its bold entrees (including a wagyu beef sirloin), creamy complex cheese offerings, and its adventurous dessert combinations (ie: sour plum and caramel cream), you will be well cared for.

When you're at Obelisk, being treated to their warm service and divine ingredients, you're not thinking about your work schedule, or your cable bill. It's a place where you can be completely present in the flavors of your meal and the intimacy of good friends and family, and everyone deserves more of that in their lives.

PhotoCredit: Sklathill's Flickr page

Acadiana: D.C. Does Louisiana Cuisine with Passion and Elegance

I recently had the opportunity to dine at Acadiana, a D.C. restaurant that prides itself in "capturing the true spirit of Louisiana, a serendipitous blend of Old World traditions and New World resources" with 5 other D.C. foodbloggers.

To me, D.C. is better known for its behind-the-scenes politics than its restaurant scene. (I'd frankly refer to the attitude at many D.C. restaurants as "brazenly half-assed.") Thankfully, Acadiana exuberantly breaks that mold by putting flavorful food, interesting cocktails, and plush ambiance center stage. The restaurant clearly began with passion and vision and grew to what it is today through near-perfect execution; as a result, our dining experience was elegantly decadent with touches of the brash pride and unique ingredients associated with Louisiana cooking.

Acadiana's dining room (pictured to the right) has a clean art nouveau style that is classic and modern all at once. The decorative, highly stylized chandeliers, furnishings, and fabrics are instantly attractive without overwhelming the space. It was beautiful, and so comfortable that we managed to dine for over 3 hours without noticing how much time had passed in the presence of new friends and good food.

And when compared with the modernized ambiance, Acadiana's Specialty Cocktail list--another standout of the night--was so traditional that you could almost see the hurricane shutters and smell the brackish, humid air as you sipped your Sazerac (prepared with absinthe liquor, bitters, and rye whiskey) or your Pimm's Cup (with Pimm's-a gin-based liquor, citrus soda, and a cucumber garnish).

I started with an Abita Strawberry beer, made with Louisiana strawberries just outside of New Orleans and available only through mid-June. As we contemplated dinner, our server brought us a basket of buttermilk biscuits with a creole cream cheese and pepper jelly spread. The creole cream cheese was light, and tangy with just the right touch of spicy sweetness from the pepper jelly. And my biscuit was dense and buttery, but not flaky. In the South, I expect my biscuits to be so flaky and messy that it's almost embarrassing to eat them in the midst of strangers. And though Acadiana offers a more refined approach to traditional Louisiana food and I understand the more general appeal of its dishes, I personally would choose a bad ole' sinful biscuit over a well-behaved one any day.

Because my biscuit left me craving more of the deep South, I ordered an entire meal of dark, rich soups made with fresh Louisiana ingredients. My guests and I enjoyed our cocktails and chatted about foodblogging in D.C. while the chef sent out an amuse bouche to pique our interest in our dinner to come. The small plate had a crispy fried, southern vegetable pie with black pepper buttermilk sauce, and a side of spicy shrimp remoulade on a bed of greens (and both are available on the menu). The two dishes combined some traditionally Southern ingredients in new ways without making the Louisiana "classics" too fussy, and I very much enjoyed our little palate jumpstart.

After our amuse bouche, a veritable army of servers, hostesses, and kitchen staff presented our entire table with our appetizers--every one of us ordered the Trio of Soups. This is not to say that the rest of the appetizers did not sound amazing--we each struggled through at least two cocktails apiece before coming to our final decision. It is just very difficult for anything to compete with: turtle soup au sherry, roasted sweet corn and blue crab bisque, AND smoked chicken and andouille sausage gumbo. The turtle soup was fresh and darkly flavored with just a kick of acid to round out the gravy-like broth. The bisque was very flavorful, with the perfect consistency (not too thick, perfectly creamy). And the gumbo was mildly spiced and flavored with a smoky roux that satisfied with every bite.

Between our appetizer and entrees, I ordered a hurricane made with fresh fruit juices and light and dark rum. It was sweet, and boozy, and would probably be best as an aperitif or a digestif. (which is, coincidentally, how I enjoyed it after being too mesmerized by my entree to think about things like...drinking). My entree, like the meal itself, was a finessed version of a "throw everything in the soup pot and let it simmer for days" Louisiana classic. I ordered the Louisiana seafood gumbo, with jumbo lump crab, crawfish, oysters, and redfish with Louisiana rice. Acadiana makes its seafood gumbo with a super dark roux that was almost coffee-like in color and aroma, and I suspect that they add file powder because I tasted some sassafras as well. The seafood was plump, and fresh, and abundant.

My only criticism is that I should have asked the chef add some spice to my gumbo, because the one thing it was really lacking was any distinction from one bite to the next. A super rich gumbo like Acadiana's often lacks any acid to make the flavors really dance, but the addition of spicy red, black, and white pepper can add some layers to the dish. My palate is still more attune to the Southern way of doing things, so I missed that "zing" that I'm used to, but it was still an enjoyable dish that I encourage you to try if you want a little bit of Louisiana in your life.

This can also be said of Acadiana's charms, in general--it's perfect for anyone who is craving a little bit of Summer vacation as they grind through the Washington D.C. 7-day work week. Or if you just want to try something new or impress some visitors, it is a wonderful place to enjoy friends and family, some exciting cocktails, and some flavorful Louisiana cooking. And if you are from Louisiana and you've found yourself in D.C., you'll also love Acadiana for satisfying that yearning you have for home--just don't forget to ask for the "extra spicy" preparation.

Foodbuzz 24, 24, 24: Celebrating the Grand Opening of New Orleans' Green Goddess Restaurant

NOTE: Greetings from sunny New Orleans! To celebrate its May 24, 24, 24 event, Foodbuzz.com sent Mr. Luz and I down here to enjoy the riches of Chef Chris DeBarr's brand new NOLA restaurant, the Green Goddess. This write up highlights the dinner menu, but the Green Goddess also serves amazing lunch and brunch menus, which are overseen by the highly-regarded Chef/Co-Owner Paul Artigues. The Green Goddess is in Exchange Alley, between Royal and Chartres and on the Canal St. side of the LA Supreme Courthouse. Please stop by, we promise you'll love it.

Our journey begins with a Pimm's Cup cocktail at the Napoleon House, as Mr. Luz and I sit and sip, preparing for the amazing dishes that await us at the Green Goddess. The Napoleon House is quintessential New Orleans. The paint that peels off the thick stucco walls has probably been there for decades, and the orange light bulbs in the overhead fixtures burn like the hot, hot tropical nights that are to come as Louisiana moves towards summer. The patrons move slowly, and gaze out the windows onto the street for long periods of time--they observe the landscape, and they are the landscape. Mr. Luz and I breathe it all in--we've been suffocating, and this--right here--is our lifeblood.

We talk about Chef Chris DeBarr, who was named New Orleans Best New Chef in 2006, the draw of his food, and his new restaurant, the Green Goddess. Chef DeBarr has emailed me at 4 a.m. in the past few weeks to update me on the Grand Opening of the Green Goddess, and to describe the amazing products he managed to procure for his endeavor. Waking up to pages and pages of Chris's writing detailing the amazing ingredients discussed below was like beginning the day with a book of poetry. There's something about the early morning light and the late-night musings of a passionate chef that just feels right in my world. As we finish our drinks, Mr. Luz and I also reflect on the urban bohemian utopia that is New Orleans, and how Chef DeBarr at times embodies the wild, lyrical tolerance-nay, celebration of diversity, that is this city.

We leave the Napoleon House, and took the short walk to Exchange Alley. The Green Goddess is in an intimate alley that gets full sun approximately 2 hours of the day, and is a breezy, shady oasis otherwise.

After reaching the Green Goddess, we had the pleasure of talking with Miz Marrus, designer of the Green Goddess's gorgeous sign (absolutely essential to any N'awlins establishment). She told hilarious stories about iterations the image went through--at one point Chef DeBarr requested imagery from Greek and Roman mythology, the Statue of Liberty, and a Mardi Gras Indian all at once--to get to the wild, powerful image we have today. You can find more details here.We peek into the intimate, bronze-gilded dining area, and say hi to Chef DeBarr. Then, like any good and unobtrusive dinner guest, I start taking pictures of things. Scott greets us, and takes our drink order. At his previous restaurant, Chef DeBarr preferred to dispatch with the waitstaff and serve the food himself, which means you always have an expert describing your dishes and answering your questions. Keeping with that theme, Chef DeBarr staffs the Green Goddess with cooks and chefs that are as comfortable serving tables in the the front of the house as they are trained to create the dishes in the back of the house. Scott served us at our table, but also helped prep and cook our dishes. Needless to say, the enthusiasm and pride among the front of the house staff was palpable, and we loved discussing the dishes with their creators as we were experiencing them.

Mr. Luz started with the Brazilian Samba and I ordered the Island Sea Breeze from the Green Goddess "Juicy Cocktail" menu. The Brazilian Samba features cashew fruit juice, sparkling apple juice, white tea, and agave with frozen young coconut juice floating on top, and the Island Sea Breeze has Ting (Jamaican grapefruit soda), hibiscus, acai juice, and lime juice. The drinks were complex, refreshing, and perfect for a sunny New Orleans late afternoon. Like any perfect creation, you can taste all of the elements independent from one another, and you also get an entirely different experience as all of the flavors harmonize into one.

We begin the Tasting Menu with the Niigata Bruschetta with edamame and mint tapenade with Japanese crazy wintry malted chiles on olive bread, paired with Chef DeBarr's Salty Banana Mango Lassi with basil seed drink "fault line" and curry sugar rim. If the Green Goddess were a microcosm of the utopian bohemia that is New Orleans, this dish would best represent the diversity that makes New Orleans so exciting. As Chef DeBarr tells the story, the tapenade is made of chiles that grow in the mountains of Japan. The chiles are packed in snow to mellow and sweeten their spicy elements, and then fermented in rice malt from the Niigata region of Japan for three years. The result is a salty, umami chile that Chef DeBarr mixes with fresh edamame and mint from his garden before spreading on thin, soft slices of bread. The dish is simultaneously sweet, earthy, and light on the palate. Chef DeBarr pairs the Niigata bruschetta with his dynamite Mango Banana Lassi (an appetizer in itself ) for a fantastically bright and decadadent first course.
The second course is a Pacific fiddlehead fern, fennel and absinthe bisque. Chef DeBarr roasts the nutty fiddlehead ferns with exotic Bengali seasonings, before cooking them a second time in the bisque. The aromatic ingredients nestle in the fiddleheads in a perfectly engineered dish.
Love. That bohemian theme is present in every element of Chef DeBarr's third course--the roasted golden beet carpaccio “ravioli” stuffed with truffled chèvre, finished with pomegranate molasses, Sardinian Saba, and avocado oil. This dish is all consuming, and almost bittersweet. Chef DeBarr roasts the sweet golden beets and slices them thin, with the tangy goat cheese between two slices. The pomegranate molasses is tart, and absolutely takes control of the roof of your mouth while the other elements dance on the front and sides of your tongue. The pink Himalayan salt that finishes the dish keeps it savory, and gives the subtle beets the kick they need to stand up to the more powerful elements.
The beet "ravioli" is paired with Chef DeBarr's Huckleberry Snowball, a "juicy cocktail" made of crushed ice sinking in Tazo Brambleberry Tea, Hansen’s Dragonfruit Sparkler, and an earthy huckleberry granita. The dark fruit flavors sink deeper into the shaved ice as you sip, and immediately, you are in love.
As we finish our Snowball, a brass band leads a second line of dancing, stomping folks past Exchange Alley and we pause to take in the joy that is strolling past us to the music of brass and drum.
Our fourth course could represent the Spirituality that strums beneath the NOLA way of life. Chef DeBarr's dish of lightly roasted asparagus, morels, petite green peas and shallot “Jam” with a juicy red wine reduction and fluffy red quinoa was the crescendo of the evening. The sauces sunk into the fluffy, earthy morels, and the caramelized shallots offered an intense sweetness to the bright spring flavors and the deep acidity of the red wine reduction. Mr. Luz tasted the Catholic incense of his alter boy days in the floral quinoa, and frankly, we were both emotional as we enjoyed the thoughtful purity of the dish in the peaceful New Orleans evening.
Music is the final urban bohemian element present in Chef DeBarr's Green Goddess tasting menu. His lychee ginger mint "cocktail" with lime absolutely sings. Mr. Luz described the ginger in this cocktail as analogous to hops in a good beer--it was aromatic, and exciting. The mint and lychee added subtle sweet and tangy flavors, and the candy mint danced across your tongue and left your mouth cool and fresh. Like the second line that graced our tasting menu earlier in the night, this "cocktail" alternately bounces and drifts across your palate, and is not to be missed.
Chef DeBarr finished the evening with his Mt. Hood Medicine Man salad, with shaved fennel, candied yuzu peel, hazelnuts and wild foraged spring greens with blood orange vinaigrette and avocado oil. This dish is perfectly lagniappe (meaning "a little something extra" in N'awlins-speak). Every bite is different, and the shaved fennel in particular changes whether you eat it with a bite of some of the bitter greens, the citrus-y yuzu peel, or the sweeter hazelnuts. The greens are foraged by hand on Oregon's Mt. Hood by a man named Running Squirrel. The greens truly taste wild, with a myriad of hidden flavors highlighted by Chef DeBarr's preparation, and they are fleeting in that they will only be harvested for a short time. In sum, Chef DeBarr's salad is a fresh, fleeting masterpiece in an otherwise stale culinary world where famous chefs haven't changed their menu since 2000 (sorry, Emeril).
The tasting menu ended with a toasted hazelnut tuile and blood orange sorbet with pine bud syrup, and a Louisiana strawberry crème brulee topped with caramelized balsamic syrup. The desserts progressed from citrus-y and bright to creamy and deep. (Maybe we also tasted Chef DeBarr's bread pudding with chocolate hazelnut--decadent!--and his Saturn Calling dessert made with sticky black rice pudding, coconut milk, mango and amaretto with tapioca pearls, which I highly recommend!)

Chef DeBarr's Green Goddess restaurant takes a purposefully and almost prayerfully distilled approach to melding fresh ingredients with exotic whimsy. In that way, he takes the traditional N'awlins approach to cooking, where roux-making is almost spiritual, and makes it his own. It is eclectic and original, in the most warm, approachable, and thoughtful way. Mr. Luz and I felt privileged to be able to attend a tasting dinner at the Green Goddess, and to enjoy the celebration of music, love, diversity, spirituality, and above all--rare and complex ingredients prepared with reverence--that the Green Goddess has to offer.

Other highlights from Chef DeBarr's dinner menu at the Green Goddess:

South Indian Savory Ivory Lentil Pancake (aka: utthappam) with petite green peas,
mustard seeds, kalonji, and spiced tomatoes with tamarind chutney & fiery dal. This dish tastes like an inside out samosa, fluffy and fun, and the tamarind paste puckers your palate in a good way!
Second favorite dish of the night: “Spooky” Blue Corn Crèpes with huitlacoche, (a
rare Aztec corn fungus) mushrooms & brandy ragout, finished with porcini salt and butter.

Holy Lord.

The huitlacoche can best be described as a sort of "noble rot" that gives the corn a meaty flavor and texture. The porcini salt and butter hits you in the face all at once and with every bite, and lends a truffled element to the dish.

Our final entrée was the Bison Bacon Meatloaf with asparagus roasted with serrano ham and twice baked potato and spicy steak sauce. My favorite part of this dish is the twice baked potato. The potatoes are whipped with yogurt instead of sour cream and then baked with manchego cheese. Scott told us that "you can't get the potatoes creamy enough for Chef Debarr-you could whisk butter, cream, and yogurt into them for hours and they're still not creamy enough." Awesome.

Pickin' Crabs: Summertime is Finally Here

Last weekend was sunny and breezy, so Mr. Luz and I packed some friends into the car and drove out to Annapolis, Maryland to "pick some crabs."

Now, I'm from Missouri, and we just fry our seafood there, since it's probably taken at least 3 weeks to get to us and seen the inside of way too many freezers along the way.

So until I came to D.C., I'd never picked apart some poor, unsuspecting Maryland crab and snarfed it down with an extra helping of spicy, thymey Old Bay seasoning. Once you add in a bucket of coronas, and a dude with a guitar covering Jimmy Buffet, I've officially hit Zen.

These photos are from Mike's Crabhouse, which has been outside Annapolis, MD for 45 years. It's off a little inlet of the Chesapeake Bay, and when you sit on their huge deck overlooking the water, the rest of the world just melts away.
Something about Mike's brings me back to the vacations I spent with my family at the lake. We'd spend all day hanging out in our cutoff shorts in the sunshine or jumping off the deck of our rented pontoon boat to paddle around the lake. Everything was laid back, but it still felt like we were celebrating something special. In a way, we were just celebrating Summer.

If you're in the D.C. area, you should really head out to Annapolis and grab a picnic table and a dozen large crabs. (At Mike's, the waitresses will just sit down next to you and give you the speediest crab-shredding tutorial you'll ever see, so don't be sheepish if you've never done it before. Crab pickin' is work, and it's worth it.)

If you're somewhere else, take an evening this weekend to eat on an outdoor patio, or fill your cooler with some cold beer and grill. Do something, anything, to celebrate the return of the Summer months, and forget about everything else for a bit as you enjoy some sweet, easy flip-flop livin.'

Before, a dozen large Maryland CrabsAfter, pure carnage

Sticky Rice is so very H Street: Hip, Young, and Tasty!

I realize that I may be the only D.C. resident who did NOT have an awesome time over Inauguration weekend, but I probably overestimated my capacity for working my ass off at catering events while everyone else is having fun. Which is to say, it's my own damn fault. Whining aside, I've finally found time to write my review of D.C. sushi restaurant, Sticky Rice.

Sticky Rice is on H Street NE, in an area struggling to be known as The Atlas District as opposed to "you know, that stretch of town where cab drivers are too afraid to go." I have faith in H Street--any neighborhood with a rocking sushi bar, a New Orleans-style speakeasy, a fanciful burlesque theater, and a pirate-themed bar/restaurant offers a delightfully hip and decadent alternative to dive bars and Irish pubs, and is already attracting a loyal clientele.

The restaurant was packed on a Friday night, and the hostess quoted us a wait of over an hour. We sat at the bar instead, and though some Hill staffers decided to sing along with the Commodores at the top of their lungs over our shoulder during our entire meal, a little house sake numbed the pain.

Sticky Rice's menu shows restraint and creativity that's rarely seen at other sushi houses. (I often struggle at other places to discern the difference between a roll with eel, tempura, and green onion from another one with eel, crunchy, and scallion) And their specials are not to be missed. Mr. Luz, my dining partner for the evening and my lover for what I like to think will be life, started with an oyster shooter from the special menu. This "shooter" came in a rocks glass, filled to the brim with a large, shiny oyster layered with chilled vodka, sriracha, and roe. Mr. Luz was in heaven, and demanded to know how the bar made money giving drinks like that away for a mere $8.00. The special menu also listed Lamb "lollipops" with a cilantro crust, and a beef filet "sashimi" with sesame oil. Both looked and smelled amazing, and we're crossing our fingers that we can expect something similar on our next visit.

Also, Sticky Rice's vegetarian options are enough to make a "can I have your dry-aged Prime NY Strip steak medium rare" girl like myself consider turning to the dark side. I'm dying to try their South Roll (tempura fried sweet potato, drizzled with honey and sprinkled with toasted sesame seeds.) And even their miso soup is friendly to carnivores and veggies alike: it packs a complex, earthy flavor without the bonito flakes.

After consulting with the bartenders and sharing 2 large sakes, we ordered the Sticky Balls, the Chili Roll, the G.I. Joe Roll, and the Godzirra roll (I know it's not PC, but just TRY ordering that without doing the eyes-bulging TV show announcer voice..."God-zeeee-rahhhhhhh!!" I bet you can't). I'm not usually a fan of sushi rolls that are covered in tempura and then fried, but the Sticky Balls worked: the spicy acidity of the sriacha complemented the richness you expect from a crab and tuna roll with eel sauce. No surprises, it was rich, flaky, and yummy--but perhaps best for sharing.

The G.I. Joe roll was fun, with yellowtail, cream cheese, scallions and crispy wasabi peas. The peas could have been puliverized a bit more--imagine the texture disurbance they cause in a mouthfull of cream cheese and yellowtail--but I'd definitely eat it again. In both the Godzirra and the G.I. Joe, the chef spread the cream cheese with a delicate hand, which I appreciate. If I want lox, I'll head to Scarsdale, grab a bagel and some schmear, and get a mani-pedi at the shopping mall while I'm at it.

If you take anything from this review, it should be that you MUST ORDER THE CHILI ROLL. Oh dear Lord--it's everything a dish should be. It's got some zing to it, and all of the flavors blend together into an overall impression without getting lost. The Chili Roll is tuna, matchstick cucumbers and jalepenos, cilantro and grilled pineapple. I plan on taking the Sticky Rice Thirty Day Challenge*, and I'm going to eat the Chili Roll every day. At $9 a pop, it's cheaper than therapy and you leave feeling feeling more blissed-out than you can believe.

After dinner, while the wannabe Capitol Steps screamed the lyrics to "Brick House" approx. 1.5 inches behind us, the bartender sent us another large sake on her, and the chef sent us a green tea mochi dessert on him. It's still unclear whether these gifts were because a.) we were eating like crazy at a place where some people just order the tater-tot bucket b.) I'll never be able to listen to the Commodores again without weeping uncontrollably, or c.) the bartender had twice forgotten our sake in the microwave. But we were happy to have them, and were too blissed-out from the Chili Roll to notice much. The mochi cakes were fantastic...the two grass-green cakes were served in Japanese dumpling spoons, and were chewy and soothing on the outside and icy on the inside without being too sweet.

After dinner, the couple to our right and the bartenders wanted to know why weren't staying for the big bar crowd that was sure to show up later. All I can say is, until take the 30 Day Challenge (*meaning I eat there every day for 30 days in an attempt to name and design my own roll) I can't see myself showing the discipline necessary to avoid a food coma at a place as delicious as Sticky Rice. Any suggestions on the name/design for my Sticky Rice roll? I'm thinking of a New Orleans theme (crawfish w/jambalaya rice on the outside?) but I'm open to suggestions!