Remember when the first glimpse of fall clothes in a department store window instilled the fear that the holidays would be here before you were ready?
That was then, this is now. This year I say, “Bring on the holidays, and the faster the better.” Whether it’s to spend some quality downtime with co-workers, get together with a group of family or friends or just take the time to say “I love you” to someone special, it’s time to loosen up the belts and purse strings and hit the holiday dining circuit. So follow Flyer’s lead and spread some cheer around—from Old Town Alexandria to the grandly renovated Jefferson Hotel.
Party of Six (or Four)
If you’re in town for business and have some things to discuss over dinner with your colleagues, head to J&G Steakhouse in the W Hotel (515 15th St., NW; 202/661-2440; jgsteakhousewashingtondc.com; $90 per person, all inclusive) and book one of the round six-tops in the sleek, lobby-level restaurant. The dining room is a cool mix of masculine and feminine, classical and modern, with two-story high, half-mirrored Palladian windows, brown-burgundy floor-to-ceiling drapes and a backlit silver ceiling. Dark wooden tables, outfitted with cream-colored damask placemats and napkins, round out a regal setting.
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)
Famed New York–based chef Jean-Georges Vongerichten has stamped his name on the restaurant and its menus (including those in the downstairs wine bar and the rooftop POV lounge), but J&G’s resident chef, Philippe Reininger, runs the show on a quotidian basis. First off, I wouldn’t call this a steakhouse; it’s a lovely restaurant whose menu includes a few steaks. The filet and six-peppercorn New York strip don’t rival other D.C. steakhouse offerings, but so what? Why are you ordering a steak when you could be kvelling over perfectly seared halibut with scallion-chili sauce, crunchy yet delicate veal Milanese, or a core-satisfying plate of glazed short ribs with caramelized onions?
As is generally the case at Jean-Georges’ restaurants, the simple-sounding dishes are anything but. Bacon-wrapped shrimp, crispy calamari, seared scallops—yawn, right? Wrong. A master knows how to underplay his hand. The foie gras brulee, for example, is as rich and delicate as you would expect, but its presentation and the addition of a crackly caramel coating lift it to the point of not needing its fig jam accompaniment. A dessert pot-de-crème is really a clever crème caramel, but the eggy custard is so barely set that it slides down your throat like an oyster.
Much has been written about the velvet-roped elevator that keeps those without reservations from storming the swanky rooftop POV lounge; Washingtonians don’t like this sort of thing. But do yourself a favor: Make a reservation and go anyway. The room pulsates with red leather settees and black and white harlequin leather wingback chairs. The bar is backlit with yellow onyx, and candles sit inside red alcoves. Take three close friends, ask for table 51, order a martini, some crispy shrimp satay and a $16 cheeseburger, and sit back to enjoy the best view of the National Mall to be had in town. (Note to the W Hotel: $20 for valet parking? Really?)
Holiday Romance
At the corner of 16th and M streets, the Jefferson Hotel (1200 16th St., NW; 202/448-2300; jeffersondc.com) is a Beaux-Arts jewel standing defiantly among good examples of dreary architecture. After a two-year renovation, I’m happy to say the new space has been elevated to diamond status. Painstaking attention to detail (authentic Jeffersonian documents as art pieces, period furniture, exquisite custom-designed toile fabrics, stunning plasterwork, silk wall coverings, Dupioni upholstery) is evident in every corner of the hotel.
A liveried doorman greets you upon arrival and opens the doors to reveal an ornate wrought-iron gate that serves as the entrance to a breathtaking glass atrium called the Greenhouse, where breakfast, lunch and afternoon tea are served in light-filled nooks and crannies nestled among limestone garden fountains. There’s no traditional lobby, only two discreet Louis XVI reception desks and a concierge desk.
The Jefferson wins my vote as the perfect holiday romantic overnight for two. The 99 guest rooms (20 are suites) are immaculately outfitted. The rooms feel like those in someone’s very nice home (well, estate). The modern amenities (high-def flat-screen TVs, Internet) are there, but hidden from immediate view. The Porthault sheets, however, are clearly visible and scream, “jump in and stay here forever.”
Check in, head downstairs and sink into one of the taupe velvet banquettes of Quill, the Jefferson’s lush bar, or nuzzle on a chocolate-leather sofa in one of the wood-paneled Cabinet rooms. Then, it’s dinner in Plume ($130 per person, all inclusive), the restaurant tucked behind the Greenhouse, where British chef Damon Gordon plies his trade. Gordon’s culinary pedigree includes many hotels (the Ivy in San Diego, the Gansevoort in New York, the Delano in Miami), so perhaps experience tells him to play things a little safe at the Jefferson, where the clientele probably aren’t looking for olives in their dessert or lobster turned into powder. They will be well satisfied with foie gras ravioli and a feuilleté of sweetbreads, followed by Jon Dory in lemon grass broth or filet of beef with marrow and Bordelaise and roasted pears with hazelnuts, and Tanariva chocolate mousse.
Then it’s back to your room for a night of romance, where you’ll while away the hours until it’s time for lobster eggs Benedict and lemon ricotta pancakes in the Greenhouse. The package, including breakfast but not dinner, starts at $460. But hey, Internet service and local calls are free.
Party of 12
Some would call it folly for a man to open a restaurant right across the street from one he already owns, but they don’t know Andy Shallal. Shallal is the cultural activist and impresario behind Busboys and Poets and, since last summer, Eatonville (2121 14th St., NW; (202/332-9672; eatonvillerestaurant.com; $65 per person, all inclusive), both on booming 14th Street just above U.
Named for the Florida town where writer Zora Neale Hurston spent much of her childhood, Eatonville is big, bold and just plain fun, and that makes it the perfect choice for a large gathering of, say, 12 or more family and friends, whether for dinner or Sunday brunch. The place is pure vibe, with its sweeping, two-story views, bold murals depicting revelry, and cross-cultural crowd wearing Lilly Pulitzer, Stüssy and G-Star mingling happily in a 300-seat space that features two bars, an open kitchen and a grand staircase just asking for drama. If you hit the right night, a jazz combo plays on the second floor, overlooking the main dining room.
The Southern theme is everywhere, from the Mason-jar glasses to a separate dining and bar area with rocking chairs and picket fence (which looks like a set from a Ma and Pa Kettle movie) to the menu, overseen by chef Rusty Holman, a native North Carolinian who honors his roots nicely. The fried green tomatoes with corn salsa and red pepper aioli are cornmeal crunchy, crisp and lush; the cheddar cheese and Vidalia onion tart soars, thanks to its short and lusciously rich crust. I love the delicate rock shrimp fondue in Holman’s signature stuffed-hushpuppy appetizer, but the scooped-out hush-puppy bowl is a needless gimmick.
Entrees also emphasize Holman’s interest in things crusty: fried oyster po’ boy, succulent pecan-crusted trout, crispy chicken breast, catfish and grits and a pan-fried pork chop that’s really a tasty, bone-in version of a Milanese cutlet. The sides are what you’d expect: collards, garlic mashed potatoes, a mac n’ cheese that gets the texture right, but the seasoning wrong. The best news at Eatonville is the value; only one entree breaches the $20 mark, and a glass of Spanish Verdejo can be had for $6. The oatmeal pecan pie will put a smile on your face.
Family Outing
Picture it: Old Town Alexandria on a crisp winter night. Snow is falling, and you and your family are exhausted from an exhilarating day of holiday shopping and wassailing. Columbia Firehouse (109 South Saint Asaph St.; Alexandria, Va.; 703/683-1776; columbiafirehouse.com $60 per person, all inclusive) is the perfect place to stop off for some Maryland blue crab dip, a burger and some bourbon-bread pudding.
The restaurant is another offering from Michael Babin’s aptly named Neighborhood Restaurant Group. From its name, you can easily predict the decor of the restaurant, a converted 19th-century firehouse: exposed brick, dark wooden tables, brass candlestick tchochkes and wrought-iron chandeliers.
Babin likes dual-concept restaurants, hence the casual fare on the 120-seat main level and the 80-seat chophouse upstairs. (The latter had yet to open before publication.) The culinary team uses steady hands to produce current American fare: appetizers of cornmeal-crusted oysters with remoulade, sliders (steak and cheese, BBQ pork, burger), and grilled cheddar cheese sandwich with tomato soup. (A Reuben egg roll may be dazzling, but it sounded too out of place and odd for me to even try it.)
On the entree side, think baby back ribs, crab cakes and roasted Amish chicken. Columbia Firehouse follows the trend of being all things to all people; that explains the offerings of steamed mussels (including one with curry, coconut milk and lemongrass), bistro steaks, salads, raw bar items and sandwiches (shrimp and oyster po’ boy, meatloaf). The selection of sausages “perfect for sharing” might seem odd until you realize that Babin, ever the clever cross-promoter, also owns Red Apron Butchery, which furnishes the sausage.
The easy prices, fine selection of draught beers and interesting cocktails (favorite: George Washington Schlepped Here, made with Manichewicz wine) help explain why Columbia Firehouse is generally packed with revelers, wassailing or no.