croatia + montenegro

recently, i learned that a friend i met in dubrovnik, croatia passed away. though i can't do our trip justice via blog, i still dedicate this story to him.

rip, cameron wilson.

note: i began this story shortly after our trip but i just finished it today, july 7.

here we go.

who thinks of going to croatia for vacatia? for many years it was on my list, the dalmation coast and dubrovnik. my besties and i did a good amount of research on how to get to the adriatic islands off the southern coast of croatia to enjoy the outta this world spectacular views of the dalmatian coast in perfect 80 degree weather. preferably from a hugeass yacht. with goodlooking crew.

well 5 years ago it proved to be too costly to get there: a layover in frankfurt, followed by one in vienna and a boatride from there down the coast through the adriatic. blah blah blah. it seemed too convoluted so we scrapped the idea for the time [to have an equally complicated trip to spain instead].

i still can't tell you how to get to the islands, because i didn't make it to the islands this time either. it's not the season, november. but when a girlfriend organized the trip, it only took me minutes to say da, da, da [yes, yes, yes]. learn something here, people.

so, off to dubrovnik, the old city. thanksgiving-ish. site-seeing and enjoying a city not too many on this side of the atlantic know much about.

it's not easy to get here to the big city either, by the way. though dubrovnik has its own international airport, we flew from dulles to paris, from paris to zagreb (the capitol of croatia), from zagreb to dubrovnik. approximately 17 hours total. easy breezy.

old dubrovnik from the outside looks like an enormous fortress. your driver drops you outside the colossal walls of the ancient city and it's not at all indicative of how really big it is inside them. you then drag your sickly overpacked luggage over the drawbridge through the massive gates, and over its uneven marble cobblestone streets. not quite home yet, you carry those bags up some 100 steps which look charming and all but they're supersteep. well, whatev, never hurts to get a workout in.

we opted to stay in an apartment since we'll be city girls this trip. i.e. no beach time. as you know, normally i'm a girl who likes to stay in a hotel with all the amenities, only occassionally exploring villas and private apartments. for this time of year and in this city, an apartment is perfect. it's mildly chilly in the month of november (50-60 degrees). we're sightseers here this week.

our apartment, it's very european of course. charismatic, old, tidy, two-storied. the spiral staircase adds to the charm except when the luggage is involved. we must've looked like buffoons dragging all those bags through the city. funny now. not as funny that day.

all streets are tiny, dimly lit and staircased alleyways that run directly into the stadun or the main street which is lined with boutiques [sans haute couture thankfully], gelato shops, taverns and restos. we arrived early evening and people in europe don't get out and about until 9pm, whereas americans have to have our arses on the sofa to watch reality tv by 8/7 central.

i'm hungry and need a cocktail like it's my job. i'm happy to take full blame for the executive resto decision, "captain's restaurant". elvis, the proprietor, is pleading with us to eat at his restaurant. he's missing many of his teeth, his shirt is open, revealing a gold chain and he's promising a free bottle of wine with our dinner. using every last drop of his charm to entice us, he later turned into quite an annoying ogre.

you know i don't give a rat's ass about free but he was the only proprietor asking for our patronage so we fell for it. note: avoid these places, friends.

we ordered a platter of seafood including grilled octopus, shrimp, mussels. seafood [canned clam] risotto. prosciutto. our free bottle of wine came as well. we thought the glass smelled like dead fish. but i'm pretty sure it was the free wine that was fish scented. the food was well below average and that's being generous.

onward, in search of what to do next, as the three of us were waiting on two others, who were stuck in germany. we were so tired and wanted to get to bed when alas, we stumbled upon a wine bar, d'vino. and as you know, this girl doesn't pass up a wine bar.

d'vino is tended by a rather attractive croatian, frano, and wouldn't you know, owned by a young canadian ex-pat. how happy we are that they can help us with our wine selections. and cameron does. we were served some lovely croatian wines here and had a night that would linger on until the rest of our party made it in from germany and a few other stops, and a bus ride, perhaps a ferry. they were real happy to find us at this sweet spot.

the highlight here, besides the wine of course, and meeting a couple of new gents to chat with, was cameron's beagle, emma. emma is the mascot, maitre d' and busboy (as she's anxiously awaiting any crumb that may drop). cameron says she's not that social, however she warms up to these three dog-owners rather quickly and i taught her high-five and shake before the night was up.

heading back to our apartment, more than slightly inebriated, we find that our apartment is situated in an alleyway nestled between 5 bars. yep, innocent looking doors by daylight turned into open doors leading to bars full of young croatian men by night.

remember the hot guy on ER? croatian. and most of the gentlemen here look much the same.

only two of us ventured into our neighborbars. i'm sorry to report that i was one of them because i was in no condition by this point to be doing so. both in appearance and my conduct after several glasses/bottles of wine. we hobbled around with some newfound friends though until they took us to a bar with a 20 kuna cover. enough was enough. i'm quite sure i had one eye closed to maintain proper balance.

i woke up feeling like someone was taking a hammer to my head. before you feel sorry for me though, one of us girls was sick - food poisoning no doubt from elvis' joint.


after a shower and as i start to get ready, i too am troubled with the same affliction and find myself hugging the porcelain god of croatian cuisine as well. sorry to be gross. be careful of what you eat out there people. and i have an iron stomach. mostly.

only a minor speedbump though and we head out for the day of exploring within the walls of our city and out. up the road a few blocks, just outside the city we happen upon the excelsior hotel where we hope to find a fabulous view of the adriatic sea - and an absurd sunset from their vast terrace.



we find here that you can get more standard fare: the [later we determine] indespensible club sandwich and french fries. sometimes that's what you need [when the cuisine doesn't meet your expectations]. the hotel is really a ghost town. we're out of season like linen and white shoes.

back inside the walls of the old city we found another wine bar - they're all the rage since cameron opened d'vino, these wine bars. it was empty except for us and our tranny bartender who from all accounts looked like a fairly attractive woman but sounded like a man. or a barking seal.

a late night dinner and a lot more pulled together, we went up to the hilton. hey, don't judge, people. all the local resto menus looked exactly the same. while i don't like to hate on anyone's cuisine, we found the food to be not so good. and these girls needed a decent meal. we were really happy with the hilton - not to mention it's a really lovely hotel [though not on the beach]. they had 13 guests.

side note: we even tried a pizza joint one night. doused with hot sauce the pizza was edible. but the wine they gave us there undrinkable. oh, we're supposed to add water to the wine, according to proprietor. have you ever heard of such a thing? perhaps you can see why our favorite wine bar was so crucial. croatia is a wine-growing nation. i unreservedly suggest you take advantage of the wine bars and hotels however, and don't necessarily trust the mom and pops places for wine recs.

we got into bed quite early afterwards. as we had an early 8 am meeting with a driver who would take us to visit montenegro the tiny neighboring country about 40 km away.

early a.m. after a stop for coffee over at the hilton (thankfully i'm never the only one who must get her day jumpstarted with little roasted beans) our van is ready. at first i was bumming to ride shotgun with malden, our bald-headed, post-middle-aged tour guide. turns out he's a real doll-baby and he speaks very good english and knows a thing or two about montenegro, i'm in the right seat.

about one hour later, entering montenegro, it's just picturesque. kotor bay is surrounded by the mountains and in the center of the bay is a church and a monestary, accessible by boat. we drive along the coast until we stop at a tiny fishing village. situated here is an adorable cafe. we indulge in another coffee at the base of these green and gray mountains on a crisp morning. we're told by malden that michael douglas and catherine zeta-jones are contemplating buying property here.

20 minutes down the old road and we arrive at a walled city, kotor. through the giant gates, we couldn't believe our eyes. people. [finally, people.] enjoying coffee and beers and wine and cigarettes in this tiny piazza lined with restaurants and shops. i think we could have stayed all day, especially once we found what was to come but we spent only one hour. curiously, though the men here are also quite good looking, nearly every one of them had sweatpants on. not 2009 sweatpants, whatever those are. joey buttafuoco sopranos, weird too-thick gray sweatpants with pockets. it was like a sea of brody jenners from the neck up and a jc penney advertisement for athletic pants from the waist down.

we coffee'd for a bit then back in the van. an hour-long wind to the top of the mountain, 2522m. for a ham sandwich. we're told by malden that we can't miss what everyone travels to the top for, a cured pork sandwich and a glass of honey wine. along the lonely road we stop and photograph the the unspoiled beauty of the valley below. and the cows in the road. the ham sandwich is nothing to write about but the sweet cafe we enjoyed it in and the conversation with malden made up for it.

back at the bottom of the mountain we meandered through the town of budva, the other touristy spot of shops and eats. we met a dog there too, we called him monty, who followed us through the streets as we shopped and joined us for dinner and wine. i did not enjoy leaving that scruffy dog behind.

the following day we spent on top of the wall of the old city, back in dubrovnik, which was a fantastic idea and cost about 8 kuna. you can enjoy the complete view of orange-tiled rooftops in a couple of hours, walking along the tops of the walls. today, it's stunning. and you wouldn't know just by looking that in 1991 this old city was besieged by serb forces for 7 months and heavily damaged by shelling. it has been fully restored.

later that evening found us at our local watering hole, d'vino where we felt very at home. we had some joiners that night to add color. i'm certain we solved a lot of the world's problems that night during our discussions. once again, our sweet friend cameron generously provided bottomless bottles of croatian wine along with plates of charcuterie and cheeses. he even let me use his laptop to check email. i couldn't resist facebook friending him. even philippe and emma became dogbook friends.

the trip was made so much more fun by our friends, bar manager frano and cameron and the beloved beagle emma. imagine the surprise last week as i went to wish him happy birthday on facebook. cameron died a few weeks ago. and so, what should have been 34th birthday wishes on his facebook page were actually messages of love and missing him. my heart stopped.

his heart stopped.

so my friends, a toast to cameron wilson. i didn't know him long. to me, his lesson in his life and death is to dream and do. don't wait. it could be over tomorrow. be in the world.

the proud, the few. and 26.2.

thinking is overrated. so i say, stop already. stop thinking, just do. trust me when i tell you this is a pretty good way to navigate life.





as you well know, i don't like to think about things much before doing them. mostly this works out nicely.

let's for a moment review some life-changing decisions i didn't give much thought to:


adopting philippe, one of the smartest, most handsome and fashion-forward dogs i've ever met;
buying house;
moving to dc;
quitting well-paid job with lots of vacation and bennies, and going to culinary school to make $11 an hour for three years;

i do all sorts of wild and wacky without thought. and look, i turned out ok...right? i'm sure there are some doozies i can't even think of right now.

so back in april, i received a quick email from best girlfriend that probably went something like this: i'm signing up for the marine corps marathon. here's the link if you want to join!

without thinking, i clicked the link, typed in my cc info and was redirected to the confirmation page. i'm officially signed up to run marine corps marathon, october 25, 2009. easy breezy. and everyone says it's so hard to get in.

i started training immediately by buying new shoes, cool running clothes, the nike+ ipod gear which tracks all that mumbo jumbo about how far you've gone and your pace. the best thing about it is the kickass feature of "power song" where you simply hit the center button and your most motivating song of choice immediately takes over your ipod, sending your tired ass into overdrive. i created a playlist called "marathon" with all my favorites to keep me in the training mood.

i was doing good in my pre-training. up to 8 miles for my weekly long run and philippe was right there with me too. he's amazing that one. handsome and athletic.

well two months later my training hit a speed bump, called burn out. i just stopped running.

then official training season began in june, my girlfriend she just keeps at it. she's given up fun friday nights for pasta and making bogus banana bread, and running those dreadful saturday morning long ass runs when you and i are still in bed - well not you and i together - you in yours and me in mine. i quietly attend to my sleep or coffee-drinkin and meet up with her for brunch as if i was right there with her. exhausted. sometimes wearing workout gear [poser].

i never officially decided or spread the word that i wasn't running the marathon. don't ask, don't tell. i appreciated that no one was asking because i wasn't comfortable with being a backer-outer. i don't like to half-ass things.

you know i'm an all or nothing girl head to toe. i'm either fully engaged in something or i want nothing to do with it. to the extreme.

as the race day approaches, i'm taking on all sorts of cheffing jobs before and after because the mcm is not on my calendar. wtf? why did i never actually put it on my calendar? [does this mean i never intended to do it, doctor?]

subconsciously trying to weasel out, i scheduled 7 events in the 3 days following marathon day. busy week, no? but the day i really realized, was when a client asked me to cook for a sunday afternoon party, late october. never wanting to turn business down i got the job covered by a chef friend. i'd cook, she'd pick up food from me at 2 pm, race day. i can figure this logistical nightmare out. or if i can't - work is a great excuse to not run, right?

mcm eve, i went over to friend's house to prepare for race: carbo-loading on two enormous bowls of pasta bigger than my head. yum. if you saw how much i ate you'd realize why there was no choice but to run. i tell her i'm going to run half with her and then peel off.

in store for me the rest of the evening is party prep. totally opposite of a marathon, a sprint to get finished hors d'oeuvres for 50.

at 6:15 am, friend and i are heading towards the air-filled balloon arches that are the starting line of the marine corps marathon. i assure you whatever your level of ass drag this morning, you are suddenly alive and attuned to how magnificent this is. what a tremendous spectacle unfolds.

there are thousands of runners. the race begins with the wheelchair marathoners. if you can't get inspired by that, well put your head back into the sand, ya jackass. seriously.

my girlfriend and i start off together but i separate because last-minute dude decided to show up to run and they're all chatty and gaga.

the people running: in all shapes and sizes. in halloween costumes. in t-shirts with their names on them. in shirts with the name of a soldier they run in honor of. dead? alive?

and many are soldiers themselves. in fatigues. and combat boots. carrying flags. and backpacks. there was even a barefooted man. next thing you know 9 miles have come and gone.

now my knee hurts but i'm looking for my friend who is coming to support and cheer. i know she's surprised to see me because well, if i didn't think i was running this thing... this gives me a much needed burst of energy. i've lost marathon girlfriend and as i decide to text her to ask, i find that my beloved bberry is malfunctioning due to being in sweaty back pocket. that's gross. i know. huge bummer.

a sign from the crowd keeps appearing throughout this race btw.

pain is temporary, glory is forever

i thought it was cheesy the first time i saw it. but by the 4th time i thought, hell yeah, no $hit. bring it mothertruckers.


streets of dc are lined with thousands of cheerleaders. this is probably the reason people finish this amazing race. i know without question if not for these people i wouldn't have.

so at mile 13, in my mind i give myself permission to stop at any time. i have $20 taxi fare in my pocket, next to my lipgloss, which i have reapplied at least three times by now. hey, you never know who you're going to run into.

every 5 miles i'm eating these jello shots my friend told me to eat. i think these are baby miracle-makers because i feel good. and btw if anyone tells you that chocolate flavored goo is disgusting, don't listen. i got my paws on one and it was like chocolate pudding. hit the spot. when doesn't chocolate come in handy?

i'm pretty sure i consumed more calories than i expended that day. hmm.

at mile 14/15 i see cheerleading friend from mile 9. what, is she a vampire? how does she get from place to place so freakin fast?

at mile 17 i have to use the facilities on pennsylvania avenue. i saw portapeepees with no lines. this is like seeing an oasis in the desert. did you know they stock them with purell hand-sanitizer? brilliant.

at mile 18/19 i know i have friends who came out to watch the runners. i spot them. yay. you have no idea how important this is.

approaching mile 20 i haven't a clue as to what i'm about to be in for. you see, i never checked out the map because that would've been like i was planning to be at mile 20. it's here i tell myself two lies: 1) the marathon is only 25 miles because the last mile doesn't count and 2) i can run 5 miles - anyone can run 5 miles

mile 20-22 is the most brutal segment: the 14th street bridge taking you from dc back into virginia. i see some smileycheering friends - yay. but i'm really pissed i didn't jump out the race because now i just want to jump off this bridge. so boring, so devoid of cheerleaders, so flat and boring. people are dropping like flies here needing to stretch out the kinks or cramps or whatever. i scream in my head: if this bridge is only one mile long i'm going to kill someone. because it feels like 5.

on the other side of the bridge i'm hysterically searching for a mile marker. i need to know how far to go.

i finally see mile marker 23, which i'm sure is a typo. because i feel like this must be 26.

miles 24/25 are truly loathsome. this is where the wheels fall off/the wall is hit for many. it's not a pretty stretch. thankfully this was one of the most gorgeous days of the year. it's probably 60 degrees and sunny.

at this point your brain can tell your body to get a move on but your body gives you the bird, the double bird and a few choice words. i temper this urge to sprint with the thought i don't want to be one of these people on the side of the road with massive cramps. slow and steady wins the blah blah blah, right?

mile 25 the crowd gets bigger again. you see people who have finished meandering back this way - people have finished and are still alive is positive reinforcement. my friends again. happyconfused to see me, cameras in hand, wtf? is that jt? yes, it's me, people, and i'm almost done and in a hurry no less.

i smile and pose continuing. no time for hugs and kisses now. i'm sure of only one fact: my lipgloss is still perfect.

mile 26 is amazing. then cruel because the final .2 is a crazysteep hill. that's not a funny joke. i'm thinking in my head, you've got to be effing kidding me. no i just said that aloud. click: power song.

thank you flo-rida. seriously. you do spin me right round, baby. right round and up the hill to cross the finish line.

i grab my medal and an aluminum foil snuggie i think you're supposed to don for drama's sake, kudos and poor babies. i have got to motor like nobody's business. as much as i'd like to wait for friends and hugs and congrats, i've gotta get my fanny in a taxi. i have frosting to make. and dijonnaise. and shrimp to marinate.

first i have to walk a couple of uphill miles to find a taxi. i'm cussing like a sailor. my driver gets a full on $5 tip i was so happy to find him.

thankfully operation party food is also a success so i can spend the remainder of the day at marathon after party, sipping champagne with my brave friend who dedicated herself to training for months. what a champ. because without thousands of cheerleaders i could never do those distance runs on saturday mornings.

i can't effectively put it into words without sounding cliche but the real heroes are the people who we run in honor of. the soldiers and vets. the wounded alive. the dead who gave. it's tremendously awe-inspiring. once i finally had time to reflect i think the whole day was a perfect miracle because we have to thank them somehow.

p.s. i just now read all the potential hazards of running a marathon, including death. see, this is why you just do, rather than think. wiki would've scared the bejesus outta me with all that info prior to running.

churchkey, 1337 14th st nw, logan circle, washington dc

i'm becoming predictable, no? checking out the new happenins at 14th st nw. again. perhaps i'll name my first-born logan shaw since i'm preoccupied with the eats and drinks in this 'hood. tonight, a friday, another new resto/bar is our destination. opened by the neighborhood restaurant group within the month, birch & barley [the downstairs resto] and churchkey, the upstairs beer bar with over 50 beers on tap and 500 bottles. oh and if this means something to you: 5 english-style casks sans excess co2. evidently ground-breaking in dc. to me less co2 just means a hangover-free saturday.

note: the birch & barley restaurant looks like a great date spot. sparsely furnished and very dimly lit. i think you can bring a less than attractive date here and be ok with it. the walls are amazing - looks like tree trunks are built into them. wild guess: birch?

until i can manage a date, upstairs to churchkey.

well, not exactly. you have to stand in line for a while staring at the steps that you're praying lead to hordes of cool goodlookings. yep you heard me. this blows people. it's a beer bar. standing in line to go to get a couple of beers feels ridonkulous. especially in a faux fur vest and my new platform barbara bui boots. (my new barbara bui boots; mine are gray and totally out of control.]

the doorgentleman has a really crappy job i think. would you like to be the guy throngs of thirsties are glaring at? he should try to be more entertaining to take our minds off the fact.

we were first in line so the wait wasn't too dramatic. upstairs, it's much bigger than birch & barley, deceptively spacious. and packed with all types clientele [except hot straight guys of course]. this place is superbly hip. the decor is a combo of gritty rustic with sleek elegant. anything goes i guess and i like that.

if you didn't know, i'm not a beer connoisseur [i can't know everything about everything. my pea-brain is kind of like a crowded bar - one in/one out, you know?]. i like beer. ummmm beer. no i do, i like a cold beer sometimes. drinking draught beer often lands me in bed with a post party headache for which there is no cure. therefore i avoid it at all costs and typically go for lame american bottled beer served superfrigid. tonight i'm throwing caution to the wind. while in rome, blah, blah, blah. expanding horizons, becoming more well-rounded. whatev you get the picture. i love to learn new stuff.

each beer is properly served: in the glass that emphasizes its nuances and at the temperature it tastes best. who knew beer was so complicated? this is no bar for homer simpson. and i didn't see any duff.

this also isn't a bar to really mull anything over if you don't have a barstool. be ready to tell the bartender what you want when you make eye contact. you know that game. stand there staring with mouth open ready to pounce when he looks your direction else wait like a buffoon wishing for beer. having a cc in hand or cash helps too. actually this bar is well-staffed and it doesn't take long at all to get served.

my girlfriends are considerably beersmarter than me and know what to get. i decide to start with the tap on the far left. no matter the beer, that's what i'll have and proceed to work my way from left to right. a good strategy, no? you just have to be able to keep count of how many you've had. which can be tricky when the alcohol percentage by volume is slightly higher in these beers than that of coors light. you can request a tasting glass of beer before committing. a great idea for most. i'm trying to move beyond my commitmentphobia. if you recognize this, color me impressed: i start with the kasteel triple, exclusive to churchkey. 11% alcohol by volume, in a 13 oz tulip glass. i like it but it's mammoth-strong like donkey kong.

check out the menu first. though overwhelming, it is well-organized for beerignorami like me. choose from crisp, hop, smoke, authentic cask ale, malt, fruit & spice, roast or tart & funky.

isn't it every person's dream to happen upon barstools the moment you walk in? it's not gonna happen here. people stay the dur here. once you're in, you're in and not leaving. we actually had a very minor scuffle with a pot-bellied grumpasaurus rex who got a little pissy with us when we made a barrangement with a couple getting ready to leave their seats.

you see what i'm talking about? men are so not gentlemanly in this town sometimes. he actually looked at three cute chicks and said he'd been waiting longer than us. man up, dude. for real. how terrifically whiney of him. we graciously relinquished those stools but not without the gentle reminder that it's friday, he should try to have some fun. fun hater beergut man. he should be ashamed and you just know he's wearing sensible shoes.

as you well know, good things happen to good people and we eventually got our lil butts into a booth. which is crucial because we need food as alcohol takes effect quickly when you're not used to strong beer. mac & cheese sticks. highly recommended by a couple of people, though not by this girl. sorry but i'm not a fan. a nice charcuterie board though, with pork rillete i believe. yummy. grilled bread was served with it, but why are they so miserly about it? ordering more, here's what we got:

(are you joking me? 3? why so tightfisted with the bread?)

we also ordered some fries. all food was pretty pedestrian, which is fine but it's not done well. they really just focus on the beer. as long as your barfood expectations are low you'll be ok with it. i read the burger's good from the same people that liked the mac & cheese sticks.

i also read about servers not being knowledgeable. i can't report on that. like i said, i worked my way from left to right and managed to drink four, which i is respectable because they sneak up. and beer is filling as you know.

oh and there was a line to get in here all night. i don't know what to tell you to do about that. i think you can call for reservations but there's nothing on opentable.com except for birch & barley. here's the number: 202.567.2576. give it a whirl. unless you like standing in line.

quill, the jefferson hotel, 1200 16th street nw, washington dc

i love the smell of new. especially when it's wafting within the splendidly-detailed vestibules of an authentically old building. the folks who redesigned the jefferson weren't playing around; they expertly managed to preserve all the grandiose and stately elements you'd expect of a hotel named after the great thomas jefferson. in washington dc. a tourist's dream. sometimes i feel so important-lucky. this place makes you feel lucky to be here - and not in a condescending pretentious way. it's an elegant treasure and i'm officially revering it as such.

i didn't even know the jefferson hotel existed until all renovations were complete and it reopened with the news of new dining spots. powerfully stunning, this place. the girls and i popped in for a bite and some cocktails just after it opened a couple of months ago. we saw everything - kind manager played the role of our personal tour guide upon arrival [we might've gotten thirsty as he was showing us the conference rooms and libraries. though they were impressive, we were ready to get our paws on some cocktails].

so, plume is the uber-serious looking fine dining resto featuring chef damon gordon [formerly of alain ducasse, ny]. i say uber-serious because of silk covered walls, 18th century reproduction chairs, and over-the-top wall sconces. but, tucked away is a suprise cozy fireplace. tres romantic. another night perhaps.

the jefferson is also home to the greenhouse, serving power breakfasts and express lunches, according to the website. i probably won't be dining here anytime soon. unless for some kickass reason i end up having a room there for a night. yahoo.

tonight we opt for quill, the lounge and terrace. it's another dc bar following in the trend of hand-crafted cocktails. handcrafted equals high dollar too normally, and perhaps i'm impervious nowadays but these are all $15. i think it's brilliant that they're all the same price. keeps it easy. hey, some places have $20 cocktails.

we ask to sit on the terrace. it's tiny, very dark and cozy and we're treated like the princesses we are. led to our seats, don't think for one second we didn't notice the hottie bartender. at least i did.

my friends who can't not do champers didn't indulge in the complicated cocktails. but, always wanting to experiment, i opted for something called the master mind. not to be confused with the mind-eraser, i can't remember what the hell was in that thing - it was a long list of ingredients. i think i should've had the strawberry basil mojito like another friend did [tho i'm pretty sure she ended up having 9 of them and spent the following day experiencing their subsequent wrath]. after that i tried the maya, which included a not-so-fun molecular foam of orange. foams are fun to bath in but i don't want to drink them.

on to the food. the salmon tartare was perhaps the most beautifully presented tartare of salmon i've ever seen. [and that includes bouchon.] it was also perhaps my favorite of all the dishes we tried.

let me take a moment to yell at the top of my lungs that if you ever see anything on a menu with both foie gras and bon bons in the title you should indisputably get it. would you question that? would you even need a fraction of a moment to deliberate? if so, get your head checked on the double. holy mother of monticello, someone should sell those from a street vending cart. seriously. anyone with me on that, gimme a call. i'll sell those little yummies all day long. i was a tad sad that for $18 you get three miniscule bon bons. fortunately one friend didn't care to partake. and yes, i strongly suggest she address her fear of foie with her therapist.

opting to check out the bartender hottie, we pay tab and move the party to the bar. noticing couple enjoying a basket of fabulous looking french fries, we ask for those. ok, so the bartender has one of those deep sexy baritone voices. that's hot. he's also got a nice smile and clearly he knows what to do with his hands as we gaze upon his cocktail shaking and stirring in wonder. i order another, this time bartender's choice [as you well know, i like to put the onus on the staff]. moments later we've befriended him. he's funny, interesting; he writes sit-coms too. something sexy about a bartender [lots of drinks helps]. alas, dc might be getting cool. it's about freaking time we attract a new lot of cool people. and the more male, the better.

noticing what looks like a wedding band on his right hand, we discuss what that might indicate, hopefully discreetly but likely not. someone finally gathers some cahones to ask.

evidently he is married. to a greek orthodox, who i'm sure is gorgeous. he informs that in greek orthodox marriage, wedding bands are customarily worn on the right hand. hmm.

amongst ourselves we called bull$hit on that. we did. i'm only slightly embarrassed to say that after researching it [all in the interest of accuracy as well as education for this blog], this dude's for real. to that i say: that's just not fair. it's false advertising. if i get married, you're wearing your ring on the left hand, buddy, because you're hot and i don't want chics like me scoping out your chili. period. irritating.

p.s.

eat at quill anyway. i liked everything i ate, plus the service was fab so i highly recommend but i'm still a little miffed about barhottie, if you wanna know the truth. i was really over it til i wrote this and was reminded how cute he was.

potenza, 1430 h street nw, washington, dc

long overdue, this bit on potenza, italian food, bakery and wine. i'm super-conscious of that as i'm freezing my arse off now while remembering the frock i was spotted wearing that night [more on that below]. apologies to both of you for the non-blog of late, but i'm sure you've found more educational things to read in the meantime. plus, you know how i love shoes. and handbags. thus, work has taken primacy over the fun of the blahg.

so a veritable acquaintance of mine asked me via the wondrous wall of facebook if i'd care to have dinner with him. i love when people are just forthcoming and easy. and make a plan. and most importantly follow through with it. none of this "let's do dinner sometime" then you never hear from them again bull$hit. we're all busy people. does it really need to be difficult? seriously.

my cohort this evening is the brother of one of my clients. i've cooked for him at several parties hosted by brother over the past few years. he's a total coolcat so of course i'm gonna join for dinner. duh.

i should mention that he's a local bartender and an artist. in this town that's aka renaissance man. a couple of the girls and i went to one of his exhibits last year. fantastic, intriguiging. f i wish i had money for art. i have a soft spot for artists and their craft, i do. i wish i was artistic. and by that i don't mean creative; i covet the ability to construct physical art. i really want to share with you a pic of his 2D art right here and now, but i fear the laws of copyright [funny since i break several other laws, yes?]. rephrase: i respect my friend's copyright and so i shall ask and hope to gather this as a treat for you.

(yay. permission from the artist is granted. so cool of him. and yes, do i wish i could use impressive words that properly describe his art? duh, but i also don't want to sound like an art snob either. slippery slope and i like to remain the approachable girl you know me as. just lemme know if you want the artist deets - most friends on here prefer to remain anonymous for obvious.)

"south wall. oil on canvas. 36 x 60"

potenza's been on my ever-loving list of spots. i've heard mixed about it but i'm not gonna let that stop me. you know the location is fantastic. and on a summer evening with gorge weather, we opt to sit on the patio, beneath pellegrino umbrellas and some of the most architecturally imposing buildings in dc. if you didn't have the perfect view of the washington monument, perhaps you'd forget you were in dc for a sec. bad suits and poorly heeled pumps bring you right back to reality though [seriously - either wear flats or wedges or full on 3" or higher heels. any pump under 2 3/4" should be eliminated]. me, i'm dressed in a silk to-the-floor strapless ivory hippie beach dress from calypso. fabulously so happy to have an occasion to wear it before it gets too cold.

before i get to the food, lemme mention that the bar scene looks lively. it's thursday so that's a good sign i note to self. lots and lots of young single professionals sipping and they might even be unwinding more. you can certainly tell that $hit-tons of money have been spent on the design of potenza. it is striking and dramatic yet still has a coolly casual buzz. i think i wandered through 4 rooms altogether. bar: hopping. on-site bakery: impressive. waiting area/loungy sitting area: rando but lovely. back dining area near kitchen: i don't want to sit there. weird vibe and too much waiter traffic. patio: always in fashion for this girl.

i'm so happy when dudes don't even ask but order a bottle of bubbly. take note, people. girls love this. all girls love bubbly. period the end. period. you cannot go wrong. all caps. we started with a couple apps. i ordered the veal carpaccio because, as you know, i love raw meat [speaking of raw - they do offer raw oysters along with some additional frutti di mare]. my carpaccio was topped with white anchovies and mache lettuce and drizzled with truffle aioli. it was delicate and yummy. i think my companion ordered the mussels - and i think he thought they were just ok due to lack of flavor.

i have had for a long time a suspicion of pasta prepared outside of my kitchen. i eat everything in the world, save for overcooked pasta and that's usually what you get. this in mind, i crossed my fingers and ordered the orrechiette with sausage and broccoli rabe. orrechiette is my favorite shape and i felt like this would be the best bet to obtain the elusive al dente. i am happy to report it was cooked to perfection. the dish needed salt but i think i was so delightedly relieved it wasn't overcooked i was entirely pleased. to further indulge, we opted to share the wild mushroom risotto, which was nice and rich and creamy. salt, please.

after some research i find that potenza chef bryan moscatello won a food & wine best new chef in 2003 in denver. impressive, no? i noticed some unexpected attention to detail, including fresh and well-respected ingredients. then i read he was at indigo landing of alexandria during a period of time i definitely visited. and if you've been you know the low-country food served there is a complete disaster. mystifying. his last name sounds italian so i'm going with the theory he's now in his element.

you know, i think potenza is a likable option for a night out. is it the best resto in town? no way. it does have a fantastic patio and a bustling atmosphere [i'll totally check out the bar for happy hour]. the food's decent. the service was great. i'm not rushing back, but i'm all over it for a patio evening out and some yummy snacks with the girls.

mostly i'm thankful to have an evening out with an interesting friend. if you know dc, you know cool people are often hard to find.

fried blah blah blah. a recipe.

you know you can fry anything right?

people love fried. they love you for making it. they love you for serving it. they kinda want to hug you. they gaze upon you with admiration and awe. their gaze moves from you to the fried blah blah blah and they get all mouthwatery googly eyed. some even get a little romantic.

i don't blame them. i get it.

last night i was the girl serving fried oreos. fried what? yep oreo cookies, fried. evile.

(btw, people also like things served on a stick. so next time you're throwin a party and feel like doing all the work yourself, just fry stuff or put a stick in it. or put a stick in it and fry it. hell, double up and you'll get loads of kudos. besides, once you commit to the heat and mess and smell and possible fire danger a fryer provides, you might as well batter and fry everything in sight.)

one of my fabulous clients asked me to create state fair food for a themed event. as you well know, i love a challenge.

sometimes luck's on my side though. and this didn't turn out to be a challenge at all. it was easy as pie, as they [and by they, i mean people who've never made pie] say.

it was easy as fried oreos.

so, here ya go. i'm sharing on this happy friday, an easy recipe because sharing time's a happy time. and i love to spread the happy. whatever. i'm cheesyhappy to be off work for a couple days.

these were the hit of the party, as you can imagine. i totally recommend making these for breakfast on sunday. try it. and this batter is a good catch-all recipe for frying fillintheblank pretty much whatever i think.

ingredients:

2 cups bisquick
2 eggs
1 1/2 c milk
3 teaspoons vegetable oil

plus vegetable oil for frying
1 package oreo cookies
powdered sugar

method:
whisk together bisquick, eggs, milk and 3 tsp oil until smooth

heat oil in a pot to about 375 degrees

dip oreos in batter to cover and carefully place in oil

using slotted spoon, turn them to brown on both sides

remove to paper towel

dust with powdered sugar

serve warm

die

go to heaven

cork, 1720 14th street nw, u street corridor, washington dc

my two new and now obsessions: the u street corridor and vampires. what the? i know you're thinking vampires don't really have a place in this blog. but i don't really give a bat's ass about that. humor me, please. i'm gonna give it a whirl, incorporating them. you'll see it's not too difficult for my overactive and fantasizing pea-brain. i'm not embarrassed too much to admit that i wish i could figure out how to bump into a vampire on 14th street between p and u.

[hee, p-u]

so cork. not just any old wine bar. wine bars back in the day seemed like a particularly snobbish trend to some. now the wine bar is as routinely seen as reality tv, leggings and vampires - and, i know you're with me in hoping none of these trends fade out with time.

if there's not a cozy wine bar in your 'hood, well i advise venturing out to explore. here in dc there's a profusion of them to visit and get your drink on. they're definitely my preferred setting.

cork opened up in the logan/shaw neighborhood about 1 1/2 years ago. the girls and i celebrated my pre-vampire-loving birthday there just days after they opened. serving small plates designed for sharing, we experienced lots of goodies that night, as i recollect. so why haven't i been back? pure stupidity with a dash of laziness mixed in, that's why. silly me.

cork was opened by former politicos and couple, diane gross and khalid pitts [who could totally btw be badass looking vampires from the enemy coven - and i mean that in a sickly good way. check 'em out].

i love stories of brave people who leave their old careers behind for a new passion that affects their lifestyles so drastically as this endeavor must. this saturday night, khalid and diane are both running around attending to customers, constantly making sure we're taken care of. charmers they are, especially the sweetiepie, diane.

chef ron tanaka, formerly of cityzen, creates the simple looking dishes which are actually not your run-of-the-mill standards, but instead leave [me] thinking, why didn't i think of that?

i also discovered that tom brown is the bartender. he's the brother of my former colleague, derek brown - cocktail craftsman and renaissance man of the gibson. must've been in their dna. i'm just sayin' there's much more than meets the eye here. cork is a real easy-going place. so if you're thinkin' even for one second it's intimidating to visit a wine bar in this eclectic neigborhood, think again, silly geese.

can we talk twilight for a sec? i know i'm slow to get on board with it, but thank goodness i did not acquire this unquenchable thirst sooner. you mustn't have anything else going on in your life when you get a grip on these books. let me assure you that this teenybopper drama has taken a hold of me like nothing else has, except for cooking, and probably new york. and maybe prada - well and bergdorf goodman's in general. whatever, you get the point.

and thank heavens twilight books are cheap, especially when your friends already own them. this is how i'll justify my comcast on demand charges of watching twilight the movie three times in 10 days.

omg. i know.

i hope i never come across rob pattinson because i too would be puma-pawing him like a 13-year-old. seriously, this girl needs a summer romance like like i needed that winter snuggie.

so that's why i'm out saturday night. it's not too late to activate a summer romance. my friend and i ventured over to 14th street nw. she: looking for a suitable amount of trouble with the goal of escaping the stress of bad relationship gone increasingly bad. me: i respect that plus i always like to toy with new accessories like lampshades. plus i've been holed up with vampire books and movies of late.

yay, cork wasn't jam-packed with oenophiles. [another good thing about having so many choices now on 14th is that they're all just a tad less crowded.] it's cozy, cork. the tiny main room with the bar is where you wanna be, unless you're with a group, or not as interested in opportunities as i am. very dimly lit. the bar, bounded by cubby shelves exhibiting wine bottles in perfect organized manner. cork is comforting and traditional-old in feel but still clean and tidy crisp. i like that. i think it's not easy to achieve this vibe but cork does it flawlessly.

seated in a little booth with prime access view of the room, exposed brick, austere lightbulbs, chalkboards with tonight's flights of wine. our modelesque waitress comes around with every attention on us seconds later. she's very professionally helpful with wine and food questions.

cork features small plates. [insert sound of angels singing] how many things can i try? a lot - very inexpensive plates each implausibly priced from $3-$11. huh?

we opt for the chicken liver mousse with caramelized shallot marmelade. i'm so happyproud of my girlfriend who claims to be a picky eater, though she's always toe-to-toe experimenting with my love of all things liver. we also get a small cheese board served with honey and a drizzle of balsamic reduction. i highly recommend you try the simply titled "avocado" plate. slices of fresh buttery vivid pure avocado served on crunchy warm bread with a sprinkling of toasted pistachios and orange-pistachio oil [i'm guessing]. also, i do recommend the lemon-dusted calimari served with caper remoulade. crisp and warms your heart. here i think i can't be any happier.

well sometimes - you can be happier, friends. yep we sashayed outta there, with minimal financial damage i think - around $90 for the two of us. an unheard-of bargain, no?

[we wanted to pop in to the gibson for a cocktail. as you know, there's no popping in to the gibson - even in august. the doorgentleman took my number and said he'd text me when our table was ready. are they ahead of their time, or what? i later missed my text due to fun i was in the middle of but i'll report back from the gibson another night very soon.]

next door is marvin [not marvin's, as it's sometimes mistakenly referred to]. and directly up to the roof deck. we made instafriends with a few people, including a little version of jacob black for my friend. seriously. so innocently cute and naively sweet he was.

enough about jacob black, though.

imagine the electrifying thrill that nearly sent my heart pounding out of my chest when i got a visual on my own personal edward cullen lookalike. it took all of 8 seconds to craft a reason and nestle myself into his personal space at the bar. and it took all of 3 seconds for him to ditch the ladies he was previously angling to be taken in by the scent of my blood [or my lotion]. fixated the remainder of the night we were.

a tousled-yet product-kissed chaos of imperfectly perfect hair. tall, smooth and dreamy he was and with graceful, cheetahfast attentiveness to my every bar-need. did i mention that he's french? not that it would've mattered. because he was not only stunning to look at, but tirelessly gentlemanly and intriguing. and intrigued.



summersmitten kitten. all caps. i got a few lovely surprise kisses as we meandered around outside after departing marvin. he texted me [the obligatory] three days later.
oh boy. sigh.

oh no he di'n't

see, when your mama advises you that if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all, you should listen. sometimes it comes back around and bites you in the tush. and not in a good way.

here's your chance, friends to say it. you told me so.

i find the following comment sent by "anonymous" unequivocally worth posting. it's honest. it might even be true. and like i always say, if you can't laugh at yourself, who can you blah, blah, blah.

"It's amazing how technologically saavy we "amish" are these days. Writer embellishments and artistic license withstanding, this was a very entertaining read. It's a shame that the witty, vibrant, and wickedly funny writer of this blog was unable to show up at Policy that night. It would have been great to have met her......"

snap. well said.

policy, 1904 14th street, nw, u street corridor, dc

policy is one of the smooth new coolcat spots to grace the u street corridor. joining old school classics cafe st. ex and local 16 along with the new: hominy, 1905, the gibson and new-ish marvin, cork and vinoteca. what i'm loving about the u street corridor is now we have freedom of choice. you don't get all the way over there only to find yourself trapped in a joint you're not feelin. eclectic little spaces with loads of character. just add cool people and stir. instaparty. and if you don't like the scene at one, ease on down the road.

the main floor, pictured here, is a cheeky combo of retro and mod with red vinyl booth seating and barstools right outta the 70's. if they drank i could totally see jill, kelly and sabrina sipping cosmos and rehashing the roller derby antics, leaving dingbat bosley with the tab.

upstairs, the walls are covered with handpainted graffiti murals. and from the ceiling hangs a multitude of sparkling chandeliers. i'm in love with this room. curiously empty tonight, a thursday. it's so contrary to the place i just left in every possible way and i hope it's not indicative of the level of fun i'm about to have or have not.

i remind you two readers that i just left dinner at ray's with my former neighbors and mr. pretty restauranteur. how many times in my life will i happen upon all those traits [so tightly] wrapped into one package - i sure hope more than once. i'm nearly positive he had a flaw or two, but none that i could see. 'cept that unremitting stream of speakage. hee. at least he's not a non-talker.

fortunately policy has valet. what a delightful surprise on a drizzly night in a tricky parking neighborhood. bonus. i love valet. especially when they don't rake you over the ever-lovin' coals: i think it was $8 or $10. i manage to arrive before blind date from the amish country. yay me for being stealth-late.

i do not have a reservation, a risky endeavor given what i've read about standing room only happening here. i just enjoyed three and a half courses at ray's the steaks so i don't plan to eat. i ask the hostess if i can get a table. she was sweet and though they were superslow, she inexplicably had to mull it over for a [strange too long] minute. i mention that someone's gonna be joining me. and i didn't know who he was. trying to collect a poor baby or two i tell her i'm meeting a blind date. bingo. she gives me the green light for a red booth.

she wishes me luck.

within 5 minutes blind date from amish country arrives. he's not ugly. but he's not my type either. is it terribly shallow when you know this just by looking? he doesn't look like the britney spears-listening popaholic he told me he was. [i'm not making this up. and i don't mind it either.] he also doesn't appear to have just valeted a horse and buggy. nice jeans, nice jacket. thank heavens he came dressed for a date. i really appreciate that.

perhaps people in amish country overcompensate for some things by engaging in others. like lady gagaspears and designer jeans. i don't know. i happen to love britney, as you well know.

he sits, we start to chat. the cocktail list at policy is whimsically fun. you know, while i'm a die-hard champers girl (that's british for bubbly wine), i do enjoy the fact that so many places offer unusual cocktails now. bar-chefs and mixologists preparing complicated drinks from purees made from scratch mixed with other fruity juices and extracts.

bar chefs. let's not overuse a word precisely termed for a reason, chef. i prefer when they're referred to as mixologists or master mixologists. i doubt bar-chefs are getting their asses kicked in the kitchen as they wait for their simple syrup to come to a boil. maybe i'm being sensitive. i have a great deal of respect for these folks, i really do. anyone who sees the value in raising the level of normal expectations and experience by studying the art and history of making cocktails, can explain the nuances of vodkas, putting unexpected flavors together gets two thumbs up from this girl. i appreciate that. sorry but i can't get on board with calling it a bar chef though. and i don't want to be called a food mixologist either.

the drink menu includes a few bottles of bubbly that i find to be over the top for this spot. i'll have to report back on a busier night to really examine the patrons, but i don't know too many places featuring the first bubbly on the list a $600 bottle of cristal and include an $850 dom perignon 1996 rose. do you? they also offer in da club hilton-lohan vip bottle service not typical of this neighborhood i think. whatev. then they have a list of all kinds of -tinis. me, i choose the truthtini. grey goose, ruby red grapefruit juice and pama. what's pama? pomegranate flavored liqueur, according to wiki. yummy. i can't remember what amish country had but it will come as no surprise that it was pinker than mine. again, he's prob not used to pink liqueur. the amish make everything themselves so i'm thinkin white lightning. rude of me, yes? it's a joke, people. lighten up.

he's opinionated this one. very strong opinions on things like music, icky french cuisine, how he's been to paris so many times it's just cliche [wtf?], work/life balance, travel, the fact that girls shouldn't wear boyfriend jeans because they're too baggy. how girls really dress for girls and not for guys. drone on, droner.

back the truck up, mister man.

he hasn't a clue that his foot is squarely and securely in mouth. as you well know, i'm a rebel with a fashion cause and approach food with an open heart and open mind [a la cuisine!]. he's punching a few buttons unbeknownst to him. how superbly boorish of him to put a smackdown on my beloved french food. and screw your silly thoughts on [thank goodness they're back] boyfriend jeans. too many strikes to count against this boob. i'm getting irritated right now, again, just thinking about it. on behalf of girls around the globe who aren't wearing tightassed jeans and tube-tops i say, you screwed the pooch, buddy. whatever that means.

let me just mention before i blow my top, that we did order food. i'm not hungry after 3 1/2 courses but, since i'm here, i'm going to try a couple things i heard about. we opt for the curry lamb sliders with gorgonzola and mint pesto, the duck springrolls and handcut fries with truffle mayo. those lamb sliders were tadiefor. seriously. perhaps the best sliders i've had. holy mother of is that barack obama painted on the wall? yep. i'll come back just for those sweet babies. i can't wait to return [with someone else] and get those dreamy lamb sliders again, whilst sitting upstairs. and with a glass of bubbly. i think he ordered the springrolls just in case the sliders weren't good. have you ever had a springroll that's bad? kind of boring.

the handcut fries. well, i call a flagrant foul on that. i'm not complaining about them, but i'm solidsure they're handcut by someone at the potato factory then flash frozen. the truffle mayo needs more truffle. doesn't it always?

i won't say our convo got heated but i will admit that my smurly side surfaced. what the f is that? that's being slightly surly while smiling. i'm so crafty.

don't worry, friends, he's not detecting my irritability. i know this because he continues in this way the remainder of the evening. meanwhile i'm thinking i should meet up with mr. pretty and the gang who are happily rockin out to a local band at the new h street country club. crap.

well the date ended at last because it was getting late and he had a long drive back to lancaster, pa. we waited outside together for our vehicles, with that gratuitous dialogue you have to protract as a date comes to its [ill-fated] end. mindlessly talking about getting together again and how fun that was, blah, blah blah. ugh. hell.

dude, where's my car?

i know you're wondering whether this chap liked me. of course. they always do when you don't return the vibe. which blows. he texts me on the way home. he texted me the following day to arrange another date. what's the rush you ask? this amish country chatzkies salesman [yep you heard me] is traveling the entire month of august - through the middle east. alone. brave, cool, intriguing, etc.

he [jokingly, i hope] mentions that if we can't manage a date before he leaves for vaca, perhaps i'd consider meeting him in paris at the end of his trip - what happened to paris being cliche?

summer is no time for negative nellies and naysayers. so for that, i apologize. i don't have strong opinions about much but i've got one about overly opinionated people who share-too-much. and i don't run off to paris with them.

it's my policy.

ray's the steaks, 2300 wilson blvd, arlington, va

there's always been a buzz about ray's the steaks. people who've tried ray's either love it or hate it for reasons that mostly boil down to expectations and ambience. what's not to love? here's a cluebird for ya: read reviews before you dine out. not every resto should offer the same old sheet. it's what makes the world go round. i like to embrace these differences.

recently ray's moved down the street from its not-so-attractive stripmall location, allowing owner michael landrum to triple the number of covers he served in a night. bonus for you: the address of the new ray's the steaks is horsepuckey. don't let its wilson blvd address fool you into thinking it's actually on wilson. it's on clarendon blvd. for the love of arlington's 19 starbucks in a 2-mile radius, i give up trying to understand the whole clarendon wilson blvd thing.

so here's how i wind up at ray's a coupla thursdays ago. i bumped in to some friends on the way to the dogpark one afternoon; a coolio fun easygoing couple who used to be my neighbors. they suggested dinner at ray's the steaks. how nice is it that? i haven't been in moons. plus i love having dinner parties with people i don't see very often. keeps life interesting, no? they said they'd arrange everything and text me the deets. which they did. well in advance of the reservation.

well, i didn't have it on my calendar, because my assistant had taken the week off. silly ditzy girl.

kidding. come on, people. i am my assistant and my life is an effing trainwreck.

turns out, i double-booked myself, having scheduled yet another mind-numbing blind date the same night. [cut me some slack before you judge. i'm trying to gather some more material for this lame-ass blog.]

i couldn't postpone the blind date because he was driving [horse and buggy] from amish-country lancaster, pennsylvania. what the? i know, i know. one of these days i'll come across a charming gentleman who lives between 1 and 6 miles from me.

i couldn't cancel dinner with friends and look like a flakasaurus rex. well that and they mentioned something about a hottie single friend joining.

how smart am i? dinner at 6:30; blind date at 8:30.

if you know anything about ray's, besides the fact that it's a well-regarded and reasonably-priced steak house, you know it's a get 'em in getemoutasfastaspossible burn and churn kind of resto. an hour an half for dinner here is totally doable.

most people know that anytime you double-book yourself, things don't go exactly as your pea brain intends. you end up having unforeseen best time of your life at engagement #1 and subsequently visualizing ways to dodge engagement #2.

we'll call that jt's law of double-booking. it has an equal and opposite outcome too, which is when you want to disengage from a boring situation to mosey along to a merrier one.

just as i'm sashaying through the door, i see my friend and favorite dc sommelier, james beard foundation award-winner, mark slater. he recently left michel richard citronelle after 12 years and joined ray's as wine director for all of michael landrum's restos, ray's the steaks, ray's hellburger and ray's the classics. what a doll baby.

and while he's a wine-stud he is not the supercilious sommelier he could be - even though his brain holds a $hit-ton of viniferous information. mark has a legendary talent for discovering fascinating wines under $40. if you see him when you visit ray's, by all means, enlist his assistance in choosing a great bottle. that's what he's there for. for us, he sent us some yummy bubbly followed by a lovely bold malbec for dinner.

so we're seated at the best table in the house - right in the middle of all the action. i should mention here that the fellow with my neighbors is indeed, hot. all caps. not only is he terribly attractive, he's california dude rockstar trendy. and healthy looking. trust me when i tell you we don't have these creatures running rampant in dc. not straight ones anyway.

i don't know why all the people on yelp, donrockwell.com and tripadvisor blah, blah, blah are always talking about the lack of decor at ray's. who gives a frog's fat ass? i find it refreshing that it's minimalistic. it's simple. clean. what if when there's not a bunch of cluttery filling up all possible white space, you actually focus on the food and conversation [and getting the hell out as fast as ray's can get you gone]. ray's is totally family-friendly too btw. there's all sorts of clientele here - and yes, mark confirms that they do indeed serve 300-400 people a night here. standard ops.

even though he talks incessantly, i find the brawny chap next to me really interesting because he's in the process of opening a few restaurants in dc. smart and pretty? and stylish? crap i have a blind date in an hour with a guy from amish country.

it would be really rude of me to call in sick, wouldn't it? even if guy next to me is really shiny and pretty?

back to the food. ray's offers a crazygood deal: 3 courses for $23.95. first course of salad or soup, main course of either the scallops, the top sirloin or the hanger steak and choice of dessert. how oklahoma of them - i love it. i'm totally here for beef. that's what they do. really well.

the lovely mr. slater is reading my appetizer-loving mind and takes charge in sending us a few: the steak tartare "deviled" eggs. i love steak tartare with all my heart, i do. so flippin cute this is, i can barely stand it. i'm stealing this idea. deviled eggs are all the rage now if you haven't heard. you can stuff anything into a boiled egg right? they needed a little more salt. surprise, surprise. he also has the kitchen deliver a demitasse cup of the crab soup. full of flavor and muy delicioso. and, where on earth can you get bacon as an appetizer? here, friends. uber-thick slices of applewood smoked bacon perched atop a sweet tuft of sauerkraut. an order of angry shrimp comes as well, or shrimp diablo - super spicy, i warn you. but i like it. in moments our salads come and minutes after that (remember, they're all business at ray's and they want to fill your seat with someone else's arse as soon as they can) steaks arrive. mine, i went for the hanger steak - slightly tougher than other cuts and not as juicy, but bursting with meatiness. you have your choice of varied sauces and other things like roasted garlic or roquefort to top your steak. i chose a port reduction along with roasted garlic. it's likely i'm not kissing anyone tonight. who doesn't love garlic anyway? i was real happy with my choices.

i look at my watch to discover it's 8 and we haven't ordered dessert. "i've got a blind date at 8:30," i inform mr. pretty.

"what? cancel." is his response. as tempting as this is, i must adhere to my prior commitment but promise to ditch out of blind date if i'm not enjoying amish country. upon my return from powdering my nose and checking my pearly whites, desserts have arrived. i manage to capture a bite of each. do try the key lime pie. it was the winner. the chocolate and white chocolate mousses (meese?) are so-so, though i'm not that much of a mousse girl anyhow. cheesecake was good i think but i really needed more time with it to be sure. tiny peanut butter chocolate petit fours are a perfect touch that come - next to the check of course.

hate to eat and run but hey, it's ray's and if you're not running out they'll probably run you out.

i'll have to reinvestigate mr. pretty another time.