Text 21798, 159 rader
Skriven 2009-03-11 21:12:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: DC tastes 345
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More Washington-area restaurants

Straits of Malaya, 18th St., lower Adams Morgan, Super Bowl
Sunday. In the restaurant: a cutish blonde white girl waitress,
one couple finishing their meals, Susie, myself.

We engaged the waitress in conversation - not hard to do, as
she wasn't busy - turns out that she had gone to Malaysia on
some kind of government program (we're both too savvy to have
inquired about what kind of program); come back to Washington
just in time for the economic crisis; looked for a job; filled
out her application here in Bahasa; been hired on the spot. A
blonde who speaks Bahasa? Cute one at that? How could she miss?

Anyhow, the rap on this place is that it serves authentic hawker
food albeit at a somewhat inflated price (read 10x what it would
cost in KL; 5x what it would cost in Singapore). In fact, the
food was pretty good, though somewhat inauthentic, and the service,
as you can guess, was impeccable.

I'd never encountered five-spice roll before. Reason: it's an
invention of the owner's mother. It's bean curd sheet, crisp
fried according to the menu, stuffed with ground beef flavored
with five-spice. It was okay, five big slices of a pate-like
substance rolled in slightly soggy, mediocre dry tofu.  I
allowed that as we were about the only patrons, they couldn't
be bothered to fire up the deep fryer just for us two.

On the other hand, sayyur goreng, vegetable tempura, was just
fine. Eggplant, broccoli, sweet potato, green beans, onion in a
creditable light batter. So they did fire up the fryer after all.

Laksa was very mild and rather bland, though the ingredients were
again impeccable. We called for a cut-up lime, whose juice made
the dish sing out loud.

Finished with nasi goreng, a slightly too greasy, perfectly
standard fried rice, heavy on the bamboo shoots.

Tiger beer was astonishingly sweet and cereally, a caricature
of what I have come to know and love in the tropics. So for the
second round I switched to Dominion Oak Barrel Stout, a rich,
smoky, rather strange brew, but one that I would consider
ordering again.

==
Rumba Cafe, 18th St., Adams Morgan

Susie again. Well, I'm sorta kinda going with Susie, whom I was
sorta kinda going with in around 1990 to 1995, in this sort of
platonic way. She's very agreeable and - though otherwise a
vegetarian - an omnivore around me. So we went to this place,
which is easy walking distance from her apartment (I stay on the
third floor with her friend Laura; she lives on the first floor).

It's a bar-restaurant, and it's clear that the bulk of its revenue
comes from the bar part; but the food in fact is not bad at all.

Torrejita de espinaca was your standard spinach flan, very light
on the nonspinach aspect. Pretty good, salted and garlicked nicely.

A taquito de pato was in fact a little taco with mystery meat on it;
one could tell that it was duck only by the texture. Accompanying
were sour cream, tomato salsa, and some okay avocado.

Calamares al tequila - grilled squid, done properly, no tentacles,
but the boozy marinade was of a fugitiveness.

We also had a great blob made out of mashed yuca filled with seasoned
ground beef. The yuca tasted good and was ever so much better than the
usual mashed potatoes; the filling a sort of picadillo though slightly
underseasoned. A pleasant fried crust.

Flan was flan. It was billed as coconut flan on the menu, but that was
a lie. It was decent if a bit rubbery.

Red-wine poached pear was exactly as advertised, though I could do a
better job. It came with chocolate ice cream, a strange juxtaposition.

=

Dinner with Denny Flanagan and 27 of his best buddies, Harry's Tap
Room, Arlington, VA. This is not the musician but rather the United
pilot of the same name, featured in the Wall Street Journal for
being in the vanguard of customer relations and that sort of stuff.

He's really a nice guy, though whether he has some peculiar agenda
or what one can't figure. He's the greatest living ambassador for
an airline that he doesn't have great respect for. I find this with
United: from the top (one of my friends is married to the guy who had
been in charge of getting the company out of bankruptcy) to the bottom
(I have been friends with and in fact dated various stewardesses)
the personnel love the company but heap scorn on the management.

Anyhow, he showed up with two first officers of his at a dinner
arranged by my friend Ben, and he really was a great ambassador for
this semi-competent airline.

We met at the bar and had a couple brews, and when our party (28!)
was complete, went upstairs for dinner.

I had Hennessy VS - rather harsh, nice vanilla oak, raisiny,
pretty decent for the price - throughout; the waiter had promised
Martell (somewhat better), but this is what came, and I was charged
appropriately.

Pork chops with mashed potatoes and some kind of chutney were pretty
good, the second time around. I'd ordered them my way (the menu
describes a roast done in the oven, then carved into chops and
"finished on the grill"; I merely asked for them not to be finished
on the grill. Very simple request. Of course, they came hot and
bothered, and I sent them back. Capt. Denny, the populist, said that
they looked fine, and he'd eat them any time. I pointed out that
they were nowhere near what I ordered, and I was sure that they
wouldn't go to waste. The second time, the waitress appeared with
the semi-apologetic comment that the kitchen refused the initial
request. I said, "skruu them," to which she said, "that's what we
told them." The two sizable chops were done pretty much the way
I like them; the taters were respectable; and the chutney served
the purpose of dessert. Perfectly fine, and instead of dessert I
had another Hennessy.

-

Perry's, Columbia Road, Adams Morgan

There was no bartender at the bar, so a waiter stepped up to the
plate and made me a caipirinha, which, though a tad too sweet, was
one of the better of this genre I've had; I think he compensated
for his lack of experience with an extra shot of Pitu.

I had only appetizers, as they're on sale for $5 until 7:30.

Sashimi: yellowtail, tuna, salmon, avocado, in that order.
The yellowtail was of dubious freshness, and that's a pity, as
when it's fresh it's one of the greatest fish, and when it's
stale it's horrendous. This was in between, thus mediocre. I
thanked Heaven for the booze. Tuna was excellent, beefy red
yellowfin, impeccably fresh (they must sell a lot of it), and
salmon was rich and buttery and good. Avocado, interestingly
enough, given it was Washington and February, was ripe and
unctuous.

A torchon of monkfish liver was pretty nice but bore the same
resemblance to the real thing as pate de foie gras does to the
real thing. It came with an expertly made plum wine gelee, which
was necessary, and a miso sauce that was totally superfluous.

Montesinos Macabeo 06 was a bit off-dry, a bit maderized,
and a bit peculiar, with flavors of applesauce and metal and
a persistent slightly spoiled finish. Sounds icky, doesn't
it. Well, for $4 a glass at a bar, I'd order it again.

A second caipirinha, this time made by the real bartender. It
was way too sweet, so I called for more lime, which redeemed it.

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