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.

brabo tasting room, 1600 king street, west end, old town alexandria

(pictured is the butcher's block, just next door to the tasting room)

a couple of months ago i inadvertently stepped in to the tasting room on my way to eat next door at brabo. and ever-so-briefly i admired groups of fun attractives enjoying what seemed like a hip joint. [not to be confused with a hip joint replacement.]


i'm supposed to be attending my high school reunion in oklahoma right this minute, but due to the amount of work i have, combined with my interminable misfortune with airlines, it's simply impossible to be there. next best thing - i created my own mini high school reunion. complete with too many glasses of wine, barking up potentially wrong trees and general buffoonery. but still looking very cute nonetheless.

facebook's a wondrous miracle for reconnection. as i'm aware, and keep using to my benefit. and tonight's gonna be no exception.

recently i've befriended another stillwater high school pioneer [that's what we were, the pioneers, shut up i'm from oklahoma] who's lived minutes from me all this time. how tragic that we're only now figuring this out. well, whatever, everything happens for a blah, blah, blah.

we plan a night out to do some catching up. at brabo's tasting room in old town. newly single, she needs a means of escapism and [i'm always on the prowl for fun] i've been wanting to check this spot out since my date with frenchy at brabo. it's a gorgeous friday evening in june. i should mention that i got studstall parking right up front. west end old town is remarkable for this reason alone. and yes, this is a tremendous foretaste of the evening.

entering the tasting room, instead of the conventional hostess stand greeting, you're welcomed by smiling happy chefs operating the wood-fire oven. hot. right there at the door, separated from you only by a little counter. oh no, one is conspicuously cute. oh yes, indeed.

"can we sit anywhere?" sous chef nods to my right, where there are four secluded booths offering a great view to the passers-by on king street. those tables are too quiet though. we're looking for romance, but not with each other. i think area to my left looks like more potential excitement [and eye-catching, and we want to catch someone's]. she and i are about to have a marathon convo session but we're way too attractive to be put in a corner. [nobody puts baby in a corner. right?]

to the left are more diner-esque booths along with a communal high-top table, smack in the center of this tiny place. the room is white on white. very fresh and clean feeling [great for you ocd germaphobes]. it's a tiny avant-garde but then it's got some exposed brick mixed in and a lot of natural light filling the room. it's bright but it's still real comfy. we opt for the communal table. as i always say, though not always do, you gotta put yourself out there.

i am sensing this night could go one way: we chitchat have a glass of vino and part ways by 8:30, i go home and get my arse on the sofa and command of the remote. or it could go the other: blowoutgirlsgonewild. then there's a number of scenarios in between.

one of the cool things about single chics is you never know what kind of turn the night's gonna take. especially when you haven't seen each other in 10 years [what is it with me livin it up bigstyle with long lost pals?]. is she up for it? am i?

hell to the yeah.

only semi-concerned about the ass-spread you get when perched upon them, we hop up onto the barstools right smack in the middle of the room. straight away, ari, waiter, brings menus and asks our prefs on wine - white or red? i'm the ever-loving white wine fan during the summer months. as is my friend. he brings us each a taste just to make sure he's on the right track. this guy's a total gem by the way. he's utterly helpful and attentive and concerned and big. he's huge for such a tiny spot. but, really how cool is a no strings attached wine taste? i wonder how many tastes you can get before you settle on one. we quickly decide on the danielle de l’ansée sauvignon blanc 2007 loire at a very reasonable almost cheap $8 a glass. i suggest a bottle but it's the same price per glass. again, a non-committal place. i feel right at home.

the tasting room is still new - having opened maybe three months ago, but a reputation is already established for their house-made charcuterie and wood fired tarts. tarts? crispy thin crust yummy "pizza" that all pizza should be. also the mussels. and belgian beers. all are known to be quite good. oh and i saw a huge and delicious looking sandwich walk by. my friend tells me she's picky and is leaving everything to me. i always leave everything to the waiter, who suggests charcuterie. again. what the? as you well know, i'm having a lifelong affair with charcuterie and therefore this is the perfect place for me. it is. everything is meant to be shared and snacked on.

the bread is delicious here - i forgot to ask where it's from. charcuterie plate comes complete with caperberries, which i adore and believe that there needs to be more caperberry-serving restos. also, cornichons, artichoke hearts, various meats and a duck liver pate. yum sweet yum. our wine was perfectly paired for such an occasion. buttery smooth complimentary to the meats and pate.

i'm secretly worried that this isn't going to be enough for me, i'm so in love with this food. eat slowly everything will be ok, i tell myself. and it is. we are talking like you read about. we each recount the past 10 years of our lives. story by story by story. good, bad, ugly.

[speaking of, we're actually experiencing this right now - the scene at the tasting room is good for the food/wine/great service/cute sous chef, bad because there are no singles but us, ugly packed with tourists. damn. did i mention it's attached to the new lorien hotel and spa [a kimpton property - yay for old town]. we are totally gonna bounce after we eat to find a better looking scene with more potential. tasting room isn't going to be romantically productive for us. waitaminute... waiter over there is cute too.

well we proceed to get pretty comfortable here. i hope my friend isn't too keen on bolting because i have now engaged sous chef in conversation at his station in front of wood fire. about food and the fact that i too used to be a cook in a resto. blah, blah, blah. he's way cute, he is. i know he doesn't want us to leave because he's bored of looking at x-tra large fanny-packed patrons. i don't blame him.

me, i'm a vision in all white with my cute new saja top from ginger boutique and white linen pants. my friend she's a long blonde bombshell. he tempts us to stay by inviting us to pull up barstools at his station. really? this is legal? yes, do it, i'll make you ladies some nice things [impress you with my cooking prowess]. ok [don't need to ask me twice]. plus, i'm gonna get to know this sweetthing up close and personal. we have plenty to talk about and could bore the living daylights out of my friend if i continue talking shop with sous chef. sadly, tightassed manager who looks and behaves like a pit boss in an otherwise casual cool hangout, puts the kabash on our front row situation. he "needs the space" [to lean on while he watches the flat screen].


back to our spot at the communal, we're vip rockstars now and friends with everyone working here, 'cept manager. and we have a tart coming. a tart, people - topped with fresh mozzarella, virginia prosciutto and basil. i firmly believe when a chef wants to send a couple cuties food, it's the same thing as when a peacock spreads his plumage. i'm totally going to allow it and shower him with praise. an operative flirting tactic hopefully. i might be a little smitten kitten. i am.

next thing ya know. a couple of my blast from the past citronelle buddies come through the door - they work at brabo behind the bar. again, at home i am here at the tasting room. so i'm telling sous chef he should hurry with his silly closing inventory duties and change and meet us at our next spot. he's sadly so sadly got too much to do though and not sure he's gonna make it. thank goodness i have the wherewithall to get his number and email address [he's offering to help me cook for upcoming events - and this may be the one time i decide to take someone up on that, big big smile].

my girlfriend - now we're like old friends again - entirely in the know about each other's lives and fully supergirl bonded due to wine and deepdark secret sharing - shut down the tasting room and decide to head over to union street for some ridonkulous extension of this so-far perfect night. i know, what the? when was the last time you saw the insides of that place? we shut it down too and headed home. at 3 am. impressive, yes?

i will definitely revisit the tasting room. i wish i could think of a non-stalking reason to get there asap. after perusing my receipt i'm so pissed at myself for the 20% tip i left and wish i'd left ari more. i'm not known for being cheap normally. $hit. i'm guilt-ridden over that.

p.s. sous chef texted me the next morning. we're gonna get together this week for a cocktail. maybe i do have game.

the oakville grocery co, 7856 st. helena highway, oakville, ca

love at first sight.

{it's not just a song by kylie minogue}

some would argue that love at first sight is horsepuckey fairytalery. it's not possible. it's silly and nonsensical. well it is silly and nonsensical but you can't help it when it happens.

[if you must know, i think it's happened to me many times: matt damon in mystic pizza, dude from columbus, mr. strong, geez could i go on? i should really get a handle on this boycraziness.]

believe it when i say it's possible. i've somewhat successfully achieved it. at times. but i've preserved a love at first sight love for only one thing. and it's a place. here i go again sappy-sentimental me.

people wanna know why i'm a chef. well here's the real story. what sparked what i do today. i'm not makin this up. you never know what might inspire you.

as i was experiencing career-boredom in an irksome and dead-end corporate marketing job, my girlfriends and i took a trip to the napa valley. giggling, hungry, buzzed between wineries [and driving a rust-colored and heinous pontiac aztec i recall, that we were inebriatingly referring to as "the ass tec", which we thought quite funny] we happened upon the oakville grocery co., where we found the motherload of all things snacky to indulge in as we went about our winery tours. a happenin' place, the oakville grocery. it's packed with people. it's completely and utterly overwhelming with stuff you need and then there's a whole bunch more stuff you don't. but you know someone who might.

in a merryhappy wine-induced state [kind of like beer goggles i guess], little did i know i'd started obsessing about this place. long after i came back to dc, i was still harboring romantic feelings for the oakville grocery co.

the oakville grocery might be the best market ever. the idea is you stop in to grab some bread, snacks, gifts, whatever, between wineries. they have everything from wine to charcuterie to fresh salads and sandwiches. all to go.



then they have an inundating array of jams, tapenades, oils, vinegars, baking ingredients, chips, salsas, sauces, i could go on and have.



officially in love with the oakville grocery, i resolved to bring a similar concept to the dc area.



but once i started investigating what i thought i needed to do to get this endeavor going, i got sidetracked. you see, i am an all-or-nothing chick. overwhelmed by the fact i didn't know enough about food to open a market, i got paralyzed and gave up. that is, until my job pissed me off to the point of no return.



next thing you know i'm in culinary school. in order to graduate, i have to do an externship at a restaurant for 6 months. two years later i leave what was going to be a 6-month stint. and, i'm teaching at the culinary school. and then i cook at another restaurant for a year. all the while catering on the side to make ends meet. [never did miss a mortgage payment but there were some scary close calls].



blah, blah, blah. a major detour off highway 29 north. enough of that boring stuff.



i revisited the other afternoon before heading back to san francisco. it's exactly the same as i remember it. and i'm still head-over-heels.

cafe du parc - williard intercontinental washington

when i walked up the red-carpeted steps and entered the grand lobby of the williard, i was transported to another time and certainly another place. maybe paris. i know everyone says the williard is a washingtonian fixture, the dining room having served almost every president since the 1850's, but i felt like i was in a different city for the evening. adding to this was the fact that i was out with a french gentleman who speaks very little english. my french is limited to all things food related and though i've been studying, i can only remember how to say things like, "ou est la change mon bebe?" where can i change my baby? not so handy for a single girl on a date. we both had french-english translation dictionaries with us.

cafe du parc is a place i've wanted to try but i always forget about its presence. who, at my age, living in the area, thinks of grabbing a bite at the williard? the menu is designed by chef antoine westermann, a top-michelin starred chef who, as a matter of fact, dined at citronelle one night when i was working. i was in awe and quite frankly, scared, to be cooking for him as he ate at the chef's table situated in the kitchen, adding more intensity to an already high-pressure situation.

of course, antoine westermann isn't really working in the kitchen at cafe du parc, just like most famous chefs these days aren't working in the restaurants that extend their illustrious legacies. that aside, to be seated in the cafe du parc, from the grand lobby, you walk up a flight of stairs opening to the kitchen; a bustling, lighted, casual-feeling kitchen with several young (and good-looking) french chefs - supposedly all trained in france under the master, himself. a well-suited young expediter stands at the pass. it's evocative of a cafeteria, in a way (minus the chef's jackets, of course). and i don't mean that in a bad way, it's just right in your pathway the minute you reach the top of the steps.

well i only got a glance of the dining room (which had a good vibe) before my date and i were whisked back down the steps and out to the patio. it was a nice evening, and i always prefer to take advantage of the outdoors. i wonder, sitting just outside this celebrated hotel, who else has dined in this spot? dignitaries, famous, old-monied. yes, yes and yes. lucky me. i probably would not have taken my french date to such a french restaurant, truth be told, but the reservations were made for us by a lovely french gentleman who knows every chef in this city and perhaps in all the important restaurants in the world. it goes without saying that we were VIP tonight.

excellent.

we ordered a bottle of 1994 crozes hermitage, a syrah from the rhone valley. the very french menu was complete with all things you would expect to find at a bistro. no surprises here. therefore, i told my date in my broken english (evidently i speak broken english when i'm with with someone who doesn't speak english) that i'm going to order the charcuterie as my entree. i wonder what a french person thinks of the knucklehead ordering charcuterie as an entree. i don't really care, to be honest, that's what i want and that's what i shall have. in my defense, there are more things on this charcuterie board than most places offer. traditionally french. The waitress informs me that it's enormous - she might have to bring over an extra table to manage it. ok, do whatever you have to do; i'm to look a damn fool here, go for it. my date ordered the braised pork belly. alongside, gratin of potatoes. french people never tire of their own food. i guess we, as americans, don't either though.

the chef kindly surprised us with an appetizer of seared foie gras with sauteed chanterelle mushrooms and a wisp of frisee salad. it was sweet and slightly charred and pillowy. it paired perfectly with the wine, lucky for us. it's good when the food arrives because this is something we can communicate about.

my texas-sized charcuterie board came and it was, unnecessarily big. the waitress wasn't kidding but i did not allow a separate table for my 2x2' board.

we made room and two corners hung off the sides of the table and it was practically in my lap, like a study board from college (or a high chair seat and tray). everything was spaced out so much you could park (smart) cars in between each item. that's why it's so big - certainly not because i'm a piglet ordering way too much food. (well it was too much food - this bountiful platter could easily serve 4 people). anyway, the highlights included a creamy pork rillette served in a tiny mason jar, foie gras mousse (more foie gras - it was a good thing i worked out that day) and the pate. especially the foie gras mousse i think - it was my favorite. the board included prosciutto and saucisson (sausage) and crusty bread, whole-grain mustard and cornichons (the pickles tasted old though - a small thing to overlook but still....). i enjoyed a taste of my date's pork belly - that's all i needed though. the rich, layer of fat was crispy-seared and the meat i'm certain was braised for hours and hours. to me, it was still perhaps a little dry (i know but i have to say something!). i didn't try the pommes gratin.

dessert options were minimal and again, tres francais. no chocolate to be found was saddening. no creme brulee to be had was somewhat disappointing. this is why french people are skinny. we ordered a macaroon with rasperries and strawberries and a quenelle of raspberry sorbet. it was nice and i didn't need anything else. it was nice, what else can i say. the macaroon was flawless? it was.

this dinner, though simple, lasted for hours as we flipped through our dictionary over and over to communicate as normally as we could. we struggled with our conversation so much we only drank one bottle of wine. strange for me and i'm sure even more so for a frenchman. it was fun and interesting (and exhausting). i really need need need to practice my french. this all concluded with an espresso. well, two, because as a piglet american i have to have two. one isn't enough. i joked about this and this frenchman delightfully agreed and joined me in a second round of espresso.

if you made it this far through my story, you get a bonus. when you go to visit, be forewarned: valet parking at the williard is $29. try to find parking around the corner. it's a lovely view, this area of town, anyway, and a brisk walk after dinner (full of foie gras) does us all good. thank heavens i've been good about carrying cash lately.

sonoma

wednesday evening i had a date at sonoma. interestingly, since we didn't have a reservation, we were told we could sit at the bar or sit upstairs on those weird, too-low sofas. as we discussed leaving, we were interrupted by the hostess who informed us they would have a table in 10 minutes. (huh? why not mention that in the first place? of course we'll wait 10 minutes. geez, why is it so hard?!)



oh - a cancellation.



why is there only one sparkling wine by the glass at a "wine bar"? and it's a prosecco - sadly one that's too sweet to have more than one of, by the way.



charcuterie plate (of course i ordered it) was good but doesn't have the accoutrements that proof does.



i've only had meat and cheese at sonoma in the past so i was initially excited to see what they could do when using fire. i found the menu limited. i wanted something to jump out at me. the special sounded good but when i saw it arrive at the table next to ours, it didn't look as appetizing as it sounded.



waiter moved my OCD date's glass not by the stem but by putting his entire paw over the glass. i may not have noticed, but sadly he did, and he proceeded to obsess about it for the next 5 minutes until he could order another. ugh.



i ordered a cheese and mushroom tartelette as well as the pork tenderloin pate (both from the appetizer menu). i was a little saddened by the look of the tartelette (brown and dry) and by the fact it was slightly underseasoned; otherwise it was good - oh and the baby arugula salad perched next to it was lovely.



the pork tenderloin pate was - not surprisingly after i thought about it - dry. why attempt such a thing? pork tenderloin is always dry if cooked through. i needed sauce with my pate. or it needed a much larger fat percentage in the mixture. the viognier suggested was marginal too (and i usually love a viognier).



my date's hanger steak was undercooked and had to be put in the oven for a bit (um, i think refire in order here but what do i know? i'm just a cook). oh and the chefs knew i was there - love you chef b - come on though - had i been in that kitchen i would've been screaming at you - let's have some attention to detail when cooking for a fellow cook.



oh i hate sounding so negative but i must say i was disappointed. i looked so cute that night too. i should've had a big smile on my face with each bite.



perhaps it was just the company.

proof

wine is proof god loves us and wants to see us happy
ben franklin

i really enjoyed an evening at proof thursday night. i hadn't been since february and, at that time i didn't enjoy it as much as i had several times prior.

even sitting at the bar alone for 30 minutes - which i never do - was liberating. bartenders were sweet.

i really, really, really like this place. it was so light and summery inside (i thought it was a cozy winter spot). i moved outside when friends arrived. i didn't eat anything but charcuterie and cheese as this is what i typically do at happy hour. ann, our server, was fabulous, as always. wine great. i can't say enough good things. it was a perfect night.