Wendy's salad? Never. But Potacho!

To continue pounding away at the idiots in Los Angeles, who are putting a moratorium on new fast food construction in certain impoverished areas, I present the Potacho, the kind of food one can get at the type of sit-down restaurants that are likely to show up in the places they're worried about.

Bob's 66 Noodle Bistro

A much lauded restaurant in suburban Maryland (Cowen here, but he links to all reviews), the clientele of Bob's 66 Noodle Bistro bears witness to its status as the best (or at least most authentically good) Chinese food in the area. The menu's unusual, and packed with spices and offal. To celebrate, I ordered a cold pig's ear salad to start. It was crunchy, and gelatinous, and meaty all at the same time, the potentially overbearing pork wonderfully offset by a searing spice. While I was nibbling at that (and half is with me today for lunch), my thick noodle soup with squid and mushrooms arrived. I could have done without either the tough squid or the relatively flavorless mushroom, and with more of the tasty noodle and broth. In fact, I just turned it into a noodle soup with my spicy fried squid balls, which arrived shortly later and tasted wonderful dunked in the soup (I'm not sure how much I insulted people by doing this, but then, it's not that kind of place).

I'll be back. There's a duck tongue dish on the menu, and I saw an even thicker noodle in someone's plate that I'm going to have to locate. My only problem with restaurants like this is that one is always suspicious that everyone else has a menu you have to make an effort to extract. Even so, the public menu's pretty good.

Maggie Moo's

That's it. I apologize for everything bad I ever said about Pinkberry. Because yesterday, I got a cone at the worst ice cream store I've ever seen. I don't mean just the chain it was part of, though the ice cream itself was milky treacle and little more (is there any excuse these days for ice cream this bad?) I mean the particular store. Specifically, Maggie Moo's in Gaithersburg, Maryland, in the Washingtonian Center, where the manager looked at the line forming due to his own horrible service, blew out his cheeks, and then ambled to the back for a good fifteen minutes, at which point he returned, told a customer they couldn't have a marshmallow "mix-in" effectively because he didn't like mixing in marshmallows, and then wandered off again, leaving in place two even more junior people who would see to the occasional customer in intervals between chatting to their visiting friends, who kept bragging loudly about the 10% discount they were getting. Why didn't I leave? At some point, it's worth staying, just for the scene.

Chicken Out Rotisserie

I felt like some roasted chicken yesterday (too long away from home, I guess), so I visited a successful DC area chain, Chicken Out Rotisserie. The one good thing to say is that the chickens are, as a matter of theory, promising - no antibiotics, no hormones, and so on. In reality, the chicken was a fairly tasteless mass, rendered grainy by a stint in some kind of steam closet, only halfway saved by an attempt at an enthusiastic spice rub tempered heavily by the fear that people don't like spices. Side dishes were similarly lame. However, I did enjoy my cashier's over-the-top enthusiasm. "I hope the gentleman enjoys his soda", he said. "I wish the gentleman a fantastic evening", he added. I did. As soon as I left his restaurant.

LA continued

PG helpfully points me to an LA Times article which discusses the LA fast-food ban. Here's the definition of fast food:

"any establishment which dispenses food for consumption on or off the premises, and which has the following characteristics: a limited menu, items prepared in advance or prepared or heated quickly, no table orders and food served in disposable wrapping or containers."

I can't help but point out the number of problems with this definition. To take a few: Burger King makes its burgers to order (something that supposedly exempts Subway, mentioned later in the article), as does Wendy's. I think the definition is supposed to exempt burrito shops, which are unquestionably just as unhealthy as any of city council's bug bears. Limited menu (as the article mentions) has no definition. It allows me to open any number of restaurants serving fat burgers piled high with bacon so long as I make them to order. It would theoretically ban a fast food low fat vegan restaurant that relies on tofu. Artichoke Pizzeria would be a no go. Etc, etc.

Honestly, wouldn't it be nice if the government could just restrict who it meant to restrict? If you're going to adopt such a paternalistic regulation, just say it applies to McDonald's, Wendy's, KFC, whoever. I'm not a fan of these definitions that try to appear generally applicable, but are actually just efforts to capture some company without naming them.

Sushi bowl

Can someone explain to me in what sense this "sushi bowl" (cited approvingly by the ever clueless Ezra Klein) has anything to do with sushi, either in the American or Japanese sense? Also, didn't the Japanese think of a version of this that has something to do with sushi a really long time ago? I mean, they gave it a name and everything.

Los Angeles

I see that Los Angeles has put a moratorium on new construction of fast food restaurants in certain neigborhoods of the city. I've been looking for the regulation, and have had no luck.

The reason I'm looking for it is that I can't understand (a) how they plan to differentiate fast food restaurants from any other kind of restaurant. (b) why they think having a bunch of fast food restaurant is less healthy than a bunch of sit-down restaurants and (c) what they want people who live in these places to eat.

On (a), I rather suspect that if you were to open a little burger chain in Los Angeles, the regulation wouldn't apply to you (though, prove me wrong). But why not? Mcdonald's offers much healthier options than, say, Five Napkin Burger. As for (b), substituting Bennigan's (well, perhaps not Bennigan's) in place of McDonald's doesn't strike me as having any particular health benefits, unless the benefit consists of culling everything affordable out of the neighborhood, leaving residents to mill pathetically around places they can't pay for before heading home to cook with ingredients they can't buy in their neighborhood for lack of grocery stores. This doesn't strike me as a policy likely to improve outcomes.

Les Delices

In my long-running quest to find cake of any quality in America, (rare, other than apparently in Aran's home), I stopped by Les Delices bakery on East Gude Street in Rockville, MD, last night. (full disclosure, it's owned by a family friend).

The fruit tart was clearly a sideshow. Although I prefer bakers to underplay sweetness, the pastry cream was unsettlingly neutral, and the pie crust both too thick and a little burnt. Nor was I totally impressed with what the almond croissants looked like - (why were they sliced in half? ).

But these are minor gripes, because the chocolate cake (what in France would be called something like a pave au chocolat, or effectively, an opera without the coffee layers) was very good. A crisp, flavorful biscuit at the bottom was a terrific setting for chocolate buttercream of real quality (the Washington DC area is positively rife with truly appalling "French" bakeries, and the most appalling part of most of them is the wretched, stinking, canned whipped cream, chemical gunk-tasting sludge they claim is cream). Most important, the cake avoided many of the pitfalls of the usual American attempt to do French pastry -it wasn't too big, or too sweet, or cloying, or too complicated, or too refrigerated, or stale. At $3.50, the small slice is expensive for around here. But it's the equal of anything I've had in New York, except for Payard's opera, which I judge to be a little more refined (as well as a full dollar more expensive).

Gifford's

Do you want to know what (food) injustice is? That places like Gifford's, a stunningly good ice cream chain in Maryland, are flat out empty on Monday night, at the same time that silly frauds like Pinkberry are printing money in New York.

The almonds on my $3(!) (on Monday only) Sundae were fresh, the chocolate obviously melted quality stuff rather than some sugary gloop, and the ice cream itself creamy and fresh tasting. I'll be back.

Tapei Tokyo

A confused mess of a restaurant in Rockville, Maryland, mixing Thai, Chinese, Japanese and Korean food. I flipped to the narrative story at the front of the menu to try to figure out which of the parade of food they might know something about, and it turned out that it started life out as a noodle bar. So, after nibbling through some fried tofu (I peeled off the batter, which I found extremely unnecessary) I ordered a thai style soup with shrimp. Not that I expected so much, but the shrimp were undistinguished (obviously just standard issue frozen shrimp), and there were none of the promised vegetables. I poured in soy to add some flavor. Near the bottom of the bowl, my mouth did start picking up some heat, but, to quote the 300, this is Thailand! No Thai soup should be so tame. On the other hand, the owner or manager was wandering around being solicitous, and the service was friendly. I have come to realize that the latter of those two things can turn a mediocre restaurant into someplace you might become a regular.

The underlying thought I had while sitting at Tapei Tokyo was more interesting than the food. Are we now at the point where every major world cuisine has been introduced to the market? Thirty years ago, say, one could reasonably say that there was this enormous country, called Japan, about which people knew nothing from a culinary perspective. Same with Thailand. Perhaps the same with India, although my impression is that Indian food penetrated major US markets first. But is there anything out there right now that can do what sushi did? My nomination is for Chinese food. Of course, we all think we know Chinese food. But it must be in a state of flux, and I cannot believe that a country whose wealth has undergone such an extreme revolution in the past couple of decades will not eventually produce something exportable that isn't moo shu chicken.


(Tyler Cowen's thoughts on a different branch, here)

Ambrosia Grille

A family run, Greek restaurant in Rockville, which I chose as a sort of ironic joke (I live in Astoria, but I'm having Greek food here - ahem). Appetizers were a little disappointing, though huge - somewhat insipid taramasalata, and tzatziki with too little garlic. But the herby lemon chicken was terrific, and the inevitable accompanying potatoes would find themselves welcome back home. A very good rendition of mousaka was also on the menu.

Bonus tip: There is a frozen custard stand nearby called "Splurge". It was not the best frozen custard I have ever had (there's a good argument that frozen custard is better than either frozen yogurt or soft serve), but it was good. My choice of peanut butter was especially flavorful.

Afghan Grill

I had dinner with a friend last night at Afghan Grill, in Adams Morgan.

Pros: The surprising pumpkin with meat sauce (yes, yes, I know, it's summer. The pumpkin was good anyway). Terrific meat dumplings in yogurt, which were fully the match of Armenian/Lebanese manti, though much bigger. Tasty, highly spiced, rice, and a delicous ground beef kebab. Friendly service.

Cons: Indifferent bread, puzzlingly sliced into nibbles (how could you not take advantage of the drama of a whole Afghan bread arriving at the table?) Very high pricing ($16 for a platter? Really?). A home made baklava which betrayed its home-madeness by the paucity of its syrup. Parsimonious portions (it's a kebab place. Two skewers at least, please, especially for $16). And also, though it doesn't bother me much, we were seated in the darkest recesses of the corner next to the kitchen - I didn't think I looked quite that disreputable.

Moby Dick

When I first began eating at Moby Dick, it was a very small chain of fairly ramshakle kebab restaurants in suburban Virginia and Maryland. And it was super good - great bread, amazing kebab. Now, it's expanded, and it's gleaming, and shiny, and could be mistaken for a Mcdonald's, except that the "#1" is a kebab rather than a Big Mac.

The kebabs are still good, but the bread has suffered, and one worries that the expansion has taken a bit of the soul out of the place. These days, I prefer Duke Kebab. On the other hand, one needs not have that long a memory to recall when excellent kebabs weren't strewn around the DC landscape. In that context, overloud complaints seem a little bit spoiled.

Mama's Dumplings

A tiny whole in the wall famed for its pork dumplings. I was laughed at by the entirely Chinese clientele when I put one of the newly steamed dumplings in my mouth, burning everything it touched, but I think they warmed up to me when I chewed through regardless. The dough is a little less delicate than at the best New York "soup" dumpling houses (though that may be intentional - I'll have to eat more of this genre of dumpling), but my pork and celery dumplings were excellent. I also had a scallion pancake, but from all indications, one ought to skip anything on the menu that isn't a dumpling.

Business Trip

As might be guessed from my silence, I'm on a business trip. I find that when I'm forced to eat out all the time, my inspiration for writing dries up. Cooking is my lubricant.

Nonetheless, I'll be posting little capsule reviews of the DC dining scene, to the extent I experience it.

Is that ok?

Just walking around New York today eavesdropping, and I overheard someone ask whether their dining companion liked fish. What struck me is the changing patters of which foods I ask that question about. For example, it still seems clear to me that politeness requires asking whether your companion likes sushi. Same, probably, with Korean and Thai, but I'm not sure I would ask about chinese. Certainly Indian food, I'd ask. But not pizza or pasta, and not "mexican" or steak (oddly, since for a non-steak lover, a steak house is every bit as exclusive as a sushi bar). I suppose, in the end, that this is all a complicated matrix of social expectations and relationships, that foods enter the realm of presumed acceptability over time. I wouldn't be surprised if sushi were firmly planted in that world, in New York at least, in the next ten years. But what's next? I'm not sure.

Peasant

On Friday night we had the chance to dine at Peasant, a wood burning Italian restaurant that's been a chef's favorite in New York for years now. I present my thoughts in the form of a vignette.

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We settle down, at a cramped table for two in full view of the open kitchen, wood fire burning satisfyingly. Two older gentlemen (TOG 1 and TOG 2) are to our right, sopping up the last bits of their ricotta spread with warm bread from the fire.

TOG 1: There are some big gays over at that table, no? (loudly)

We looked at our menus, to find everything in Italian (as I had been warned). The waitress shimmies over to explain. After a couple of iterations (I cannot remember menus in different languages, or long lists of specials) we order a razor clam appetizer, roasted baby pig, and pasta with bottarga.

TOG 2's roasted quail arrives. He begins sawing at it ineffectually.

TOG 1: Let me do it, let me do it. You can't do nothin'. He hacks manfully at the quail, tearing it asunder. Small pieces of quail now litter TOG 2's large (ceramic?) plate.

TOG 2: What you doin'? Stop. I can cut my own chicken.

TOG 1: That's how you do chicken (gesturing at the hacked quail). I used to cook da chickens, you know.

My girlfriend and I dive into the fresh razor clams, which taste of the sea, sopping up the sharp wine sauce with the fantastic bread. The wine is pleasing and fruity. If these people would just stop acting the fool, all would be well with the world.

TOG 1: I got 5 million dollars last night, you hear?

TOG 2: Five million? That'll change your life.

TOG 1: Eh, I'm only getting a hundred grand. It's an inheritance you see. And other people are getting more.

TOG 2: So why you tell me you gettin' five million for?

TOG 1: Just eat your chicken.

Main courses arrive. The roasted pig is rich, succulent. A crispy rind adorns the plate, which, though delicious, is very wintry, with buttery potatoes (not mentioned on the menu) only making things heavier. I prefer the pasta, the salt of the bottarga cutting through the butter and cream sauce. But aren't those shells a little too al dente, my girlfriend says? I nibble, and agree. It's not that they're too al dente. It's that they're uneven. This one is well cooked. That one isn't.

TOG 2: I wouldn't get this again. It's just a chicken. I had some diver scallops at Jake's (?) in Jersey, and they gave me three vegetables. I don't see no vegetables here.

TOG 1: Makes me sick. 25 bucks for a chicken.

We finish, and debate dessert. The wood baked peach tart with hazelnut ice cream (priced at an attractive, for Manhattan, $8) is extremely tempting. We decide to share one, and put in the order.

TOG 1, now working on a fruit plate: This here is a fig. You know figs?

TOG 2: Of course I know figs. They're like dates.

TOG 1: They're not dates. They're figs. Sure, they're both sweet, but that's where the similarity ends.

To Waitress: These figs are amazing. I usually have them in, you know, newtons. But here, they're not like dates at all.

Waitress: Er, yes, sir, these are fresh.

TOG 1: So are the dates I eat. Fresh!

The tart is brought to our table literally two minutes after we order. Alarm bells ring. When, precisely, was this thing wood baked? I taste. Parts of the crust are tasty, fresh tasting. Most of it tastes exactly of having sat on a counter all night, already baked and suffering (or maybe in the fridge?) Why can't they simply have prebaked the bottom, topped it freshly, and thrown it in the oven for a couple of minutes? Just to humor me? A terribly disappointing end to our meal. Sloppy, thrown together. Was it bad objectively? No. But it costs $8 at a famous, among people who matter, restaurant. In that context, what is only a pleasant mediocre suddenly becomes appalling.

TOG 1: I can't believe it. A hundred bucks for a chicken and some figs.

TOG 2: Jake's is a better deal. Three vegetables, you get (turning) At least the gays left.

TOG 1, to waitress, loudly: You make this night really, really special. So special.

Exit.

Involtini of swordish

I wanted something comforting and simple this weekend, so I decided on a sort of rolled fish dish, stolen from Mario Batali. I made a quick tomato sauce with canned tomatoes, onions, garlic and basil, and added toasted pine nuts, olives and raisins. Then the swordfish, cut into thin slices and then pounded in between plastic wrap and stuffed with bread crumbs, olive oil, and basil chiffonade. The fish goes on top of the tomato sauce, and then into the oven for about 15 minutes. I added some cooked and cooled polenta to give some body to the meal.

Five Napkin Burger

5 Napkin Burger, a new haute burger restaurant on the west side, has been getting a lot of press early in its life here in New York (see here and here for a round-up). Short story is that the titular "5 Napkin Burger" used to be on the menu elsewhere, and was thought compelling enough to deserve a spin-off into its own restaurant.

There is nothing bad to say about the burger. Deep chuck-y flavor, perfectly cooked at medium rare, caremlized onions, a rosemary aioli. All delicious, though overwhelming - I ate only half and brought half home to nibble on tomorrow (why not have a six ounce burger on the menu, rather than only the 10 oz monster?). The fries, on the other hand, were a bit embarassing. In fact, had I known about the crunchy little nuggets of broken up potato I was going to get, I'd just have run up the street to the Mcdonald's a few blocks away. No matter, in any case. The burger is fantastic.

The rest of the menu, incidentally, is a total puzzle, and most especially the sushi that the waiter was aggresively pushing to me. I'm there for burger. Sushi is the enemy of burger. What gives?

Duke Kebab

I have nothing but good things to say about Duke Kebab, in Alexandria VA. Properly charred, flavorful meat (I recommend the spicy chicken thighs), wonderful afghan bread, and a super spicey green sauce. Tyler Cowen likes it too.