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.

pov, w hotel, 515 15th street, nw, dc

at long last, it's open. dc's first w hotel. in all its glory glory hallelujah. formerly the tattered hotel washington - home of the best view in town [available to the public]. me, i don't give a sqeaky squirrel's arse about the hotel itself. the girls and i have been discussing how cool it would be to james brown style getonup to the rooftop terrace after years of construction. how touristy of us. as you know we like to be in the know though. [hey, a poem.]

a big hip hip hip. hooray. what the f took so long for those starwood dudes to bring a w to dc anyway? whatever the story on that, they did indeed procure the primest, fattest, ballin' property in town. and, though i haven't dined there yet, there'a also the jg steakhouse, by none other than jean-georges (our first jean-georges spot here. can i take a moment to ask 1) why did that take so long and 2) do we need another potbelliedsuitwearingman steakhouse in dc? hell. what about our rights to jean-georges genius asian cuisine?

back to the rooftop. everyone knows the former washington hotel had the best view known to [washingtonian] man. from here you can see the white house, all the executive office buildings - some brilliant architecture, the monument, the jefferson and all the way to the burbs. a breathtaking view.

so after months of trying to figure out what to do for one of my best girlfriend's birthdays, the w hotel opened in perfect timing last month and it seemed apropos of a celebration, considering we didn't quite get our $hit together for a trip to australia or greece.

i will say this: in this town, it's easier to pass a healthcare reform bill and confirm a supreme court justice than it is to get a reservation here. birthday hottie planned the party herself as she wanted to include her co-workers as well as her buddies. the w rat bastahd reservationists won't answer the phone so she had to be-bop over there in person one afternoon to speak with someone about space for 30 of her nearest dearest.

they have a weird reservation process for pov. stressing the words weird process. this is a bonus for all y'all's information [that's oklahoman plural possessive for fyi]. see, if i'm repeating this correctly, they take reservations from 4:30 to 6:30 pm, and then again after 8:30. so, if you're a walk-in, they can perhaps seat you between 6:30 and 8:30. i'm sure there's some scientific calculation to this seemingly nonsensical mumbo jumbo. but that's the dealio. do what you will with it. all i can say is thank heavens we reserved space. and i explicitly suggest you do as well.

running a tad late. shoulda taxied. taxi, people - there's no reason in midsummer to drive to downtown dc (through the mall and monuments over to the white house area) dodging the hotdogpretzel-eaters and fbi t-shirt buyin' bozos.

also, you never know what vip is staying at the w or next door at the williard and this can monkey wrench your timeliness. tonight it was the president of iran or someone reasonably important. the po po had f street blocked off and this raucous was using up the normal swarm of valet parking staff for themselves and their superstretched limos.

i'm not gonna bag on the valet guys at the w who perhaps saw this coming but didn't adjust their plan accordingly. when i drove up, idling behind a few cars, i could see there was some kind of cluster-f going on. i patiently waited a few minutes until steam started coming out of my ears. trying to get a handle on the hullabaloo, i put 'er in park and pressed that triangular hazard button [one of the great things about dc is you actually use this little red button in your car a lot. me, i love that clicking sound].

fortunately i was looking tremendously fabulous in a new missoni frock {they were practically giving it away at bergdorf's - mother of all chevron stripes i'm still in love with this dress and am so lucky to have snatched it up}. as you well know, sometimes it pays to feel like a million and one bucks because things fall into place for you in more ways than you can imagine. valet angel facilited my potential parking nightmare faster than you can say "nice shoes, biatch." he could tell my head was about to pop off and he swiftly and kindly said he'd take care of my car so i could join the birthday party for 30 people (yes i told him i was a part of the private party going on - clearly it might not get going til this gorgeoused up vision arrived). kidding. sort of.

all this and i'm still only running 20 minutes behind. nice, yes?

for the love of the not so secret service guarding the building [am i the only one who thinks guys wearing those earpieces with baby slinkies on them are hotter than they would be otherwise?], the new lobby entrance and "living room" as they call it is spectacular. i'm so having drinks here in the winter. a total clash of soho modern sleek with classic italian working in definitive harmony. i'm in love with this grand room.

what i'm not about to be in love with is the line for the elevator to the rooftop terrace. this is a serious warning, my friends: a line of 40 people awaiting their ride on the brass elevator. again, panic nearly sets in. thankfully i hold the ability to text with the speed of a peregrine falcon. as does birthday girl. next thing ya know "elevator hostess" ushers me right through those splendid doors and up i go. if you have this coveted status of reservationed, just speak with little gatekeepergirl in black dress holding clipboard. otherwise get in line with the cattle. and pray to the gods of see and be seen that you get a ride to the top.

the rooftop terrace looks much the same as it did the last time i was here 5 or 7 years ago. only cool. sleek, modern, red loungers, black tables, white and green accents. lots and lots of dressed in head-to-toe-black staff running around. we did get really great service i think, considering how busy it is up there.

i was somewhat troubled that the crowd here would be geographically undesirable [touristy] and ill-fashioned. delightfully not so. there were lots of attractives. i saw several people i vaguely recognized - most importantly a rare creature i'll call a dc-hottie i think know from somewhere, who knows. in my mind i planned to strike up convo with him. "you look familiar, how do we know eachother?" wasn't coming to mind though. rats. birthday girl recognizes him as being married she thinks. ah well, i had too many fun friends to catch up with.

and, due to the sweltering day it was, people are sweating like cochons (that's french for pigs). subsequently, my double-stacked platform patent leather louboutins were pinching my lil fred flintstone toes together, sending a shooting pain through my feet within 15 minutes. crap. managing to look cute while suffering such a cruel level of agony is a challenge. for some.

i can't speak about the food or even what's on the menu at pov; sorry. but who really cares with this type of view and crowd? [oh and huge bonus: bathroom is ginormous, thank you, kind w people.] i can tell you the drinks are fun. after enjoying a couple glasses of bubbly, i switched to this lovely looking and sweet-tart cocktail of fresh strawberries and lemonade with vodka. yummy. as pretty as they are, beware, they're shifty.

how do i know? the fact that birthday girl and i were (hopefully not) seen microwaving burritos at 7-11 later that night should enlightenscare you.