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.