Some people get their thrills taking a helicopter to a remote mountaintop and jumping out the door into thin air; the only way down is a vertical plummet sprinkled liberally with trees and rocks. But there are plenty of other ways to get your adrenaline pumping—ones that don’t involve free falling from 20,000 feet.
Simply being a foodie can be an extreme sport. To hear the diet alarmists that prattle day and night, there is no activity fraught with more inherent danger than eating. There could be something to their warnings. Just take into account the batter-dipped bacon at CommonWealth, the French fries prepared in clarified butter at Citronelle, the steaks poached in vats of clarified butter at Bourbon Steak, or the little box on the Willard Room’s menu that says, ”Add foie gras to any entrée: $15.”
If you’re the sort that prefers going out in a limo over breaking a limb, take a cue from Flyer and check out some places that take it over the top, from one end of the spectrum to the other. Let the games begin!
MEAL PRICES INCLUDE:
Cost of a Bombay martini
Average cost of a glass of house wine
Average cost of an appetizer
Average cost of an entrée
Average cost of a dessert
Tip (20 percent)
Sales tax (10 percent in D.C.; 5 percent in Virginia and Maryland)
Average cost of a glass of house wine
Average cost of an appetizer or dessert
Average cost of an entrée
Tip (20 percent)
Sales tax (10 percent in D.C.; 5 percent in Virginia and Maryland)
Steak Holder
Having eaten at Michael Mina San Francisco, XIV in Los Angeles and now Bourbon Steak (Four Seasons Hotel, 2800 Pennsylvania Ave., NW; 202/944-2026; www.michaelmina.net; $120 per person, all inclusive), I guess you could say I’m a groupie. And why not? Mina is a rock star, especially when it comes to steak.
He’s known for his signature style of butter-poaching steaks over low heat and then searing them to order over a wood flame blazing at more than 1,000 degrees. The result: meat that is rich, succulent and medium-rare all the way through, with no drab gray ring surrounding it. But there is so much more to this place than just steak.
The garden terrace of the hotel’s main floor has been transformed into a sexy, masculine space: leather tables, low gauzy gold pendant lamps, beiges, blacks and dark woods. Mina had his eye on every detail; the staff is ultra-informed, warm and unobtrusive. There is not a trace of stuffiness here. But it is the food that soars.
To call Bourbon Steak a steakhouse and mention it in the same sentence as, say, The Palm or Morton’s would be like placing a velvet-Elvis painting next to the Mona Lisa. Think butter-poached Maine lobster in a sweet potato crepe, a little dish of black truffle tortellini with Ibérico ham swimming in mushroom broth, oxtail bone marrow custard. The dishes tantalize in fact as they do in word. The true torture is that you may show up wanting an 18-ounce bone-in rib eye, but you can’t resist ordering lobster pot pie or the trio of Duroc pork loin, belly, and cheek with caramelized pear, parsnips and arugula. The meal starts out with yeasty sticky rolls drenched in truffle butter and perhaps duck-fat fries to get you in the mood; the heart aches at the thought, for good and bad reasons. Dessert is not to be missed here, especially the passion fruit panna cotta with coconut sorbet and lemongrass broth and the candy bar of milk chocolate, coconut and marcona almonds.
This is a place that commands a hefty price but, unlike plenty of joints with similar aspirations, Bourbon Steak deserves every penny. All 12,000 of them.
Change Agent
Paolo Sacco knows all about running from one extreme to the other. During the day, he works the room for the white-tablecloth set at downtown D.C.’s Tosca, where a dinnertime veal chop goes for $42. At night, he takes off his tie and heads to his new joint in Logan Circle, Posto (1515 14th St., NW; 202/332-8613; www.postodc.com; $60 per person, all inclusive), where a Margherita pizza goes for $11.
In that space, Viridian never found its groove, but Posto has been playing to packed houses since it opened next to the Studio Theatre in December. The place, which seats about 90, is one big room with soaring ceilings. A long bar lines one wall; next to it is a natural oak table for communal seating, perfect for single diners who want to people-watch over a glass of Barolo and a plate of tagliatelle with pheasant ragout.
A pizza station, complete with a newly installed wood-burning oven, takes center stage; the piccante, with spicy salami and Italian sausage, will satisfy a carnivore, but the more adventurous should go for a stunning version with grilled octopus, potatoes, and black olives. Swordfish carpaccio with caper salad is a refreshing starter, even if the pork loin with tuna-caper sauce just doesn’t work. No matter. Chef Matteo Venini has other tricks up his sleeve, like velvety, creamy, just-like-Nonna-used-to-make polenta with braised pork sausage, and a solid grilled salmon with black-eyed pea salad.
Posto has an Enomatic wine storage system that enables it to serve many bottles by the glass and still store them correctly; it offers many in 4-ounce and 6-ounce pours, but get a bottle: You’d be hard-pressed to find one over $50.
Takes the Cheese
Some people get weak in the knees over single-malt scotches or flights of wine. But for me, the very idea of a mozzarella bar makes the world a better place.
There are many excellent reasons to make a trip to Assaggi Mozzarella Bar (4838 Bethesda Ave., Bethesda, Md.; 301/951-1988; www.assaggirestaurant.com; $80 per person, all inclusive), among them the space itself. A long bar takes up one side of the place, a single open room with soaring ceilings swagged in fabric and sienna walls displaying hand-painted plates from the Bella Italia store next door and a collection of grappa bottles. Large platters of brightly colored peppers, kabocha squash and eggplant line up along the stainless steel counter that fronts the gleaming open kitchen where chef/owner Domenico Cornacchia produces top-notch Italian cuisine.
By all means, begin with Italian and American versions of the pudding-like, pure dairy fluffs of buffalo mozzarella known as burrata. Add a California bubalu bubalis and accompanying condiments, such as green tomato marmalade and marinated eggplant, and you’re on your way to heaven. A large Berkel slicer holds a leg of 24-month aged Parma prosciutto that beckons like Circe.
No dish I sampled here wavered; an antipasto of fried baby artichokes and veal sweetbreads was sublime; mini-cubes of red and golden beets with lemon vinaigrette achieved a perfect balance of sweet and tart. The chef will divide portions of pasta and serve them on one large plate as a sampling. The pasta is fresh and delicate; if the maccheroni with sausage is on the menu, get it.
Unlike many Italian restaurants, the entrées and desserts hold their own at Assaggi. Treat yourself to some zeppole as an after-dinner prize.
Winning Advantage
The Gaylord Hotel people know all about going to extremes; they do everything in an enormous way. The hotel and convention center they’ve built south of Washington on the Maryland side of the Potomac is actually a little village, with streets, shops, restaurants and a ferry to take you over to Old Town Alexandria, Va.
The hotel itself is a multi-storied enclave enclosed around an atrium, where more than 1,000 rooms look out onto the “theater.” Think fountains that shoot 60 feet in the air in time to accompanying music; streams with footpaths; singing, beruffled troubadours serenading as they pass from one restaurant to another. Everything is done on a grand scale, like a Disney theme park. The National Pastime sports bar, with myriad TVs, includes a 30-foot video wall that could do double duty for a drive-in movie.
There are two fine-dining restaurants here. Moon Bay Coastal Cuisine features seafood in many forms: platters teeming with chilled lobster, shrimp, clams and oysters on the half shell; all kinds of modern maki and sashimi, like lobster and beef roll; and several pick-your-fish/pick-your-sauce offerings. But stick to the basics here. What could be better than a dozen luscious oysters?
The Old Hickory Steakhouse (Gaylord National Resort, National Harbor, Md.; 301/965-4000; www.gaylordnational.com; $110 per person, all inclusive), with 220 seats, seems to go on forever and ever. Its accoutrements are meant to evoke an 18th-century Georgian rowhouse with beige- and black-striped upholstery; dark stained floors; lush stemware; thick, crisp linens; and heavy flatware. As you enter, you pass by a glass-enclosed artisan cheese cave that stores more than 22 selections maintained and served by a maitre d’ fromage. (There’s also a cigar terrace, a trolley bearing aged scotches and cigar humidors.)
The food is not meant to be cutting-edge; this is not the place to look for urchin foam and nitrogen tanks. This is steak tartare, seafood cocktail and jumbo lump crab cake territory. Scottish salmon with butternut squash risotto and seared sea scallops with celery root slaw and fennel sauce are prepared comme il faut, but if there is any place you are going to splurge on a great big, juicy steak, this is it. The 20-ounce, bone-in, grain-fed 1855 premium black angus rib eye also weighs in at $43, but if that’s not enough, feel free to add what is considered a topping here: foie gras, lobster or lump crab and bearnaise sauce.
Still feeling deprived? How about a side of truffle fries or truffle mac ‘n’ cheese? It’s a hefty price ($11) but a hefty portion, too, and meant to share. Prices are big, like all else here, but the wine list features plenty of bottles in the $40–$60 range. Skip dessert and save room for cheese! A note about the service: Graciousness is taken to the highest degree. No staff member will pass by without a smile, and you likely will return it.
True Fan
If any restaurant folk should understand the concept of a long shot, it would be those behind a place named The Jockey Club (2100 Massachusetts Ave., NW; 202/835-2100; www.thejockeyclub-dc.com; $118 per person, all inclusive).
Many years ago, the hotel at the corner of Massachusetts Avenue and 21st Street, just off Dupont Circle, was known as the Fairfax, and grande dames used to consider the place their little secret. Nancy Reagan hung out there with Betsy Bloomingdale, and Evangeline Bruce was spotted there more than once. So after many iterations and name changes, the hotel is back to being the Fairfax and the dining room back to a long-ago time; Martin Garbisu, the maitre d’ who ruled the room for 14 years and left in 1993, is now back on the floor.
The room has been restored to its original look: dark wood paneling, low ceilings and red velvet banquettes where well-to-do couples sit side-by-side to dine at spacious tables laid with red and cream plaid linen tablecloths. The staff, easily recognizable from years of providing effusive service in Washington’s most venerable establishments, is beyond attentive.
There are few places left that still have gueridons being wheeled about for tableside attractions like Caesar salad and crumb-topped, delicate Dover sole taking a final dip in butter. Shrimp cocktail, beef filet tartare, herb-crusted double lamb chops, grilled sirloin with bordelaise sauce, broccoli with hollandaise and green beans almondine all take the stroll down memory lane. For those who want to go that route, there are crêpes Suzette and vanilla souffles at the end of the road.
The bar at the Fairfax is cozy and well appointed with leather and low light but, like the restaurant, is not for the faint of wallet. If you’ve been looking for a Chateau Margaux for $1,625, eureka! Otherwise, look hard and you can find a less-than-triple-digit bottle, like a Chateau Montelena cab for $94.