Stuff to eat. Mostly around St. Louis.
Pineapple and Pearls
I try to limit my word count in posts these days, but occasionally, a lengthy piece is warranted. Pineapple & Pearls opened in D.C. earlier this year and is already rocketing into the upper echelon of American restaurants.
Months ago, Pat Noonan, the man behind Pat Likes to Eat and the only food blogger with a six pack, convinced me that that missing out on a meal at Pineapple and Pearls in D.C. would be a huge mistake, even with it’s $250 per person price tag. Pat knows food, and we both loved chef Aaron Silverman’s sister restaurant, Rose’s Luxury, so I figured, “Be like Pat.”
I'm crammed in the shittiest Uber in D.C. with my brother, Logan, and his girlfriend, Kathryn, anxiously wondering what the meal will have in store. None of us have read any reviews. We're going in blind.
We pull up, point and laugh at the plebs waiting hours to eat at Rose's, and make our way through P&P’s matte black door into the bright white, gold, and wood interior—it's classy A.F. Don Draper would fit in here. We check in with the hostess and are presented with welcome drinks: a Kir Royale for me, soju and shiso the other two.
We're taken into the intimate 20-or-so seat dining room and told that, like Catbird Seat in Nashville, we won't be getting menus until the end of meal, so we’ll have no idea what each course will be—aside from peeking at our neighbor's plates.
Drink pairings, gratuity, and tax are included in the price of the meal—L&K went with the alcoholic pairings, but I wanted to see what a non-alcoholic pairing would be like. We toast our prosecco (and my pear cider), then the avalanche of food starts.
Fennel absinthe bonbons hit the table first, an emerald marble resting on an absinthe spoon over some kind of absinthe cocktail—I miss the details because I'm staring at my own reflection in the bonbon. I pop the yogurt-filled bonbon in my mouth and take a drink. We all nod in agreement. Baby Mexican street corn elotes served over a tiny smoker come next. Give me 11 more servings of those and I’ll be good.
And the winner for most beautiful palate cleanser I’ve had at a restaurant is...The oysters and vodka course comes out on a stunning tower that a slob like me doesn’t deserve, with the lower level's faux oyster shells holding pickled oysters with cucumber granita, fennel, and borage flowers, and the upper levels holding shots of vodka, cucumber syrup, and fennel bitters. The last time I ate oysters in D.C., I had the worst food poisoning of my life and I still haven't mentally recovered 100%. Still, I press on with no regrets.
Chef Silverman himself brings out our next course, which appears to be a bamboo box. He turns it outward and unveils three tiers hidden inside, like some kind of Russian matryoshka doll. The bottom tier holds a sour cherry compote, followed by a foie gras mousse with toasted hazelnuts.
At the pinnacle are three small squares of bread, which Silverman downplays as a mix between brioche and a biscuit. I split my biscuit in half and take a bite without any toppings. Oh god. I think I let out a guttural moan or a high pitched squeeee. It's flaky. Moist. Buttery. And even more buttery when I spread the foie gras mousse on. All three of us try to make it last as long as possible. We would all agree this was the best bite of the entire meal.
We're given a few minutes before the entrees commence, which is good, because my food refractory period is in full swing. Plus, I'm terribly depressed the pan au lait is gone.
Before we continue, let me tell you why the non-alcoholic pairings are even better than the traditional ones: the alcohol throughout the meal was primarily wine, with a cocktail and beer thrown in. My drinks were unique and, quite frankly, amazing. The Thai basil and lime soda was like gourmet Sprite; the smoky Arnold Palmer was the first time in my life I could enjoy lapsang souchang tea; the ginger beer in the coconut made me feel like I was at the beach; the peanut milk cherry cola melted my face off. Get the non-alcoholic pairing.
Entrees make their way out, starting with a petite charred Sungold tomato and peach broth bowl, an appropriate ode to the end of summer. The Fairy Tale eggplant caponata tart that follows looks like someone with far more patience than me spent a half hour delicately placing the basil, garlic chive flowers, mint and golden raisins. It's beautiful, and the flavors are balanced. I would happily eat it again—this coming from someone who isn't an eggplant fan.
The next two courses hop from Italy to Thailand. We're brought cardboard boxes, which open to reveal double-fried sweetbread stuffed chicken wings, accompanied by a watermelon hot sauce and a lime fish sauce. It's like the lunchbox you always dreamed your mom would pack you.
Our plates are cleared and a...what the hell is that? Our server sets what looks like something out of Walter White's lab onto the table, and tells us it's a Japanese coffee siphon—the bottom holds a summer red curry broth and the top Thai aromatics. As the pressure builds from the heat, the broth shoots into the top, picks up all those wonderful flavors, then settles back to the bottom. I immediately order a coffee siphon on my phone.
The curry is poured over crispy enoki mushrooms, shrimp, and coconut and the smell is absolutely intoxicating. I want to lift the bowl up to my face and drink every last drop.
We miscount what course we're on and assume we're moving on to dessert, but no. There's more. The entrees close out with a trip to a D.C. steakhouse: mini-popovers filled with chanterelle mushrooms, a crispy potato terrine, and two slices of meat from a retired dairy cow. I wish I was less full so I could appreciate it more, but the flavors are solid—I make room for as much of the popover as I can.
The parade of desserts kicks off with a blueberry shortcake paired with whipped Brillat-Savarin cheese, a fairly light but immensely satisfying dish. I give the win to the roasted fig crostata, though. Straight out of the oven and into my mouth. The crostata is bursting with end of the season figs, one of my all-time favorite fruits, and paired with a 'sundae bar' made up of toasted coconut, macerated figs, and three flavors of ice cream. It's a decadent, blow-out finish to the meal. Kathryn crushes me and Logan on this dish, finishing off almost every single ice cream herself.
Our guts busting, we've completed our meal. Wait, no, we haven't. Not until we finish off Logan's "freedom from a shitty job" Italian cake and gelato. Not until we polish off the Chartreuse, Campari, Grappa, and Nardini donuts. It's only then that we are allowed to raise the white flag of surrender and roll out of the restaurant.
As we headed towards the front door, the hostess gave us each a bag to take home with breakfast for the next morning: a bottle of iced coffee, shortbread cookies, and a thank you note from chef Silverman.
I had almost given up on high-end tasting menus years ago, after an extremely boring, extremely expensive meal at JAAN Singapore. This meal has brought me back. Truly, the food, the drinks, the service—I won't forget any of it. Silverman and his team know how to make people happy. It's not overly formal, there's no stuffiness that tends to go with high-end dining. The food isn't all foams, gimmicks, and molecular gastronomy. The meal was fun. And for me, that makes it worth the money.
Next time you're in D.C., go for it. Get a table at Pineapple and Pearls and have a meal you won't forget.
Eating Around D.C.
Regrets. Late night orders of McDonald's delivery in Singapore. That yellow crewneck sweater I wore senior year of high school. Getting so drunk in Korea that I was too hungover to visit the DMZ.
Picking Boston over D.C. for college. I don't know what I was thinking, choosing the suburbs of Medford/Somerville over Georgetown or Foggy Bottom. I never grew to love the angry Bostonians, the horrible drivers, or the consistently late, terribly run T.
My first visit to D.C. was in 2009, when my brother was a freshman in college there, and I've found myself visiting annually since then. Even with the horrendous traffic and bullshitting lobbyists, I've found myself growing fonder and fonder of it. It feels alive, and it feels like it's moving in a positive direction—particularly when it comes to food.
I don't know if it's a new generation of D.C. chefs rising up or investors drawing talent from other cities, but their restaurant scene in the last 5 or so years has become amazing. Last year, I hit up two of my favorite restaurants, Little Serow and Rose's Luxury, and this year I did even better (including Tail Up Goat, The Partisan, Maketto, and Pineapple and Pearls), though not every meal deserves its own post.
For breakfast, sister restaurants A Baked Joint and Baked and Wired served me well. The latter, in Georgetown, is known for its cupcakes—and they have a lot of them—but I couldn't resist the huge, golden caramelized onion and goat cheese biscuits. At A Baked Joint, it was matcha lattes and sriracha peanut butter toast.
Another morning was at Slipstream, where my brother's girlfriend insisted that we order chai lattes and various toasts (#BasicBitches).
Across from Dean & Deluca in Georgetown is Olivia Macaron, where I indulged in a pistachio macaron (I always need to try the classic), a Fruity Pebbles mac, a s'mores mac, and a Cinnamon Toast Crunch, which was easily my favorite. This was immediately following that giant biscuit, so I did my best to walk it off before we hopped in the car and drove to Union Market, maybe my favorite place to hang in D.C.
Union Market is packed full with food stalls ranging from arepas to bagels to local cheeses to rare spices. And it's only about 10 minutes from where my brother lives! I couldn't resist Neopol Smokery, getting a smoked whitefish sandwich my first visit, then the smoked salmon BLT and smoked mussels when I returned. Plus some Thai iced tea ice cream. And a donut. Oh, some chocolate bars too. And also a couple Korean tacos.
Besides being close to Union Market, my brother's also within walking distance of Shake Shack, so I had to sneak over there. Cheese fries, I can't quit you!
Tail Up Goat
I plan trips around food. For years, I'd scour over menus and reviews before and after picking a restaurant, but I found that going in with all these preconceived notions was ruining the experience. If they didn't have a signature dish, or it wasn't as good as I expected, I was let down. I decided that what I'd do is look for places that showed up on multiple "best of whatever city lists" or places recommended to me by friends/bloggers I trust, and just go. No reading the menu. No reading reviews. Tail Up Goat was my first stop in DC and I knew two things about it: Bon Appetit mentioned it in their Washington D.C.: Restaurant City of the Year article, and the team behind it came from Komi and Little Serow, the latter being one of my favorite restaurants I've ever been to.
Situated at the northern edge of Adams Morgan, Tail Up Goat has an almost beachy vibe, with pale blue walls and warm wood tones. It has a similar vibe to Rose's Luxury—it's comfortable enough to be a casual neighborhood spot, but could easily work for a business dinner or date night spot.
The menu is meant for sharing; the waiter recommended two dishes per person and, for the first time in my life, we three all agree on the same six dishes.
Crispy salt cod fritters nuzzled in a bed of smoked cauliflower puree start the meal off on a high note, taking us back to the trout beignets we had at a gut-busting epic meal at Niche last winter. Following close behind is the cucumber + melon plate, though after a few bites I wish the melon wasn't there at all—the rest of the plate, potato, smoked trout roe, pepitas, and dill, works better without it, in my opinion.
Jill Tyler, one of the owners, told us the bread courses—I'm hesitant to call them toast or bruschetta—couldn't be missed. I've been living off Union Loafers bread for almost a year now, so I consider myself the Jim Lahey of bread eating. I cut into the seaweed sourdough, making sure not to lose any of the pickled mussels, whipped lardo, or sea beans on top, and take a bite: pure gluten bliss. The brown rice bread is an umami bomb with summer squash, yogurt, black garlic, and benne seeds. If I could turn back time, I would just order 3 orders of each of these.
I'd later find out that Tail Up Goat's lasagna is a "must try" dish, but I had no idea at the time of ordering. Instead, we pick the sweet corn ravioli, finished with sungold tomatoes, fresno peppers, and caper breadcrumbs, a summertime dish that's gone in seconds. I appreciate there being a lighter option on the pasta side (which is the main reason we didn't get the goat lasagna).
It's not a Whiskey and Soba family meal if there isn't a mountain of meat at some point. In this case, that mountain is made up of grilled lamb ribs—my favorite fatty cut of lamb when I'm feeling like a glutton. I particularly enjoy them when they're prepared with Middle Eastern flavors, like sumac and dukkah.
I would consider my first foray into somewhat blindly picking a restaurant to be a success, and I'm convinced that by the time I visit D.C. again, this place will be nearly impossible to get into. Get in while you can.
[one_third id="rcp"]
Tail Up Goat
Address
1827 Adams Mill Road NW Washington, DC 20009 202.986.9600 [/one_third]
Little Serow
If you're wandering down 17th Street NW in D.C. trying to find the signless Little Serow, just look for the enormous line—that starts forming at 4:30pm—leading to an ordinary old basement door. There were a number of reasons that Little Serow (sounds like arrow) was on my must-try list this last visit to our nation's capital: the chef-owner is Johnny Monis, who also owns the untouchable Komi next door. The food is authentic northern Thai food, something near and dear to my heart. Plus, both Gerard Craft and Nini Nguyen told me to go. I'm a good listener.
There are no reservations. You get there, get in line, then wait your turn. Once you make it inside, you'll be greeted by darkness and bright teal walls. You don't order anything besides drinks—it's a $45 set menu. You sit, it starts.
The chefs work in a small kitchen to the left, close enough where you can see them but far enough away that you probably won't go bother them. We were seated at the long white bar (which I recommend aiming for) and excitedly got things kicked off. The first dish out was the Nam Prik Thai Orn, a spicy chili sauce made with salted fish, shrimp paste, and green peppercorns.
There's a whole mess of nam prik varieties, including the roasted green chili nam prik noom you can find at Fork & Stix, all of which are meant to be eaten as either a condiment or a dipping sauce. It's like the funky Thai version of ranch dressing, in that sense.
The Thai Orn had a deep, peppery flavor with a mild hit of shrimp paste. Paired with the veggies—or, better yet, the pork rinds—it was a perfect start to the meal. It assured me that what we were eating was nothing but authentic, the kind of food you rarely see in the U.S.
Our next two courses, the Ma Hor (sour fruit, dried shrimp, pork) and Yam Makheua Yao (eggplant, cured duck egg, mint), arrived together. We dug into the sour fruit plate first, a wonderful mix of sour and sweet. Every bite of this took me back to eating near the beaches of Southeast Asia, sitting out in the the tropical weather.
The Yam Makheua Yao brought back a different set of memories. After my first forkful of smokey eggplant, my body lit on fire from the inside out. Flashes of a misunderstanding with a Thai food stall in Singapore flooded my mind. I had tried to ask for my Som Tom salad less spicy, but apparently all she heard was MORE spicy. The result was me abandoning my lunch in a hurry, running to Starbucks to get something milky to relieve me of the burning pain in my mouth.
I wasn't going to bail on Serow for Starbucks, but like an angel sent from on high, our waitress appeared and asked if we were interested in their sweetened rice milk to help us cool down. Never has a drink tasted so good. It was like a Thai horchata. We each ended up drinking 3 or 4 glasses of that sweet nectar of the gods.
Laap Pla Duk Chiang Mai is not the prettiest dish by any stretch of the imagination, but this catfish and galangal salad is a winner. If my tastebuds were correct, it's kind of like all Thai ingredients blended together with grilled fish. Lemongrass, chilies, galangal—it punches you in the face with flavor. You can eat it with your fork, or you can spread it over cabbage, sticky rice, or whatever vegetable you prefer.
The runner up for favorite dish of the night went to the Tow Hu Thouk, crispy tofu tossed with ginger and peanuts. It was a fantastic mix of crisp and creamy. We definitely could have eaten another one of these.
We didn't eat much of the Het Grapao, stir fried mushrooms with basil and egg. The flavors were good—it's a vegetarian version of of the basil chicken I'd get in Singapore—but at that point it felt too heavy, and the strong soy flavor was killing my tropical buzz.
The best came last. In fact, it was the best thing I ate the entire time I was in D.C. Si Krong Muu, pork ribs with Mekhong whiskey and dill. I was surprised to see dill in a Thai dish, but a quick Googling revealed that northeastern Thailand does, in fact, use dill fairly often. The flavor was unreal.
Seriously. This has to be in my 10 top favorite things I've eaten this year. We were so full by the time they came, but still managed to polish these off. The meat, finished with a nice char, fell right off the bone. Like so many Thai dishes, the flavor was all over—sweet, sour, charred, bitter, herbaceous—but it's absolutely perfect. I thought I preferred my ribs smoked and slathered in BBQ sauce, but it turns out I was wrong.
The meal came to a close with these tiny glutinous rice squares topped with coconut cream and toasted sesame seeds, a perfect final note for the evening.
If you're an Asian food lover, Little Serow should be at the top of your list of places to go. Sure, you'll probably be eating dinner at 5:00pm like an elderly person, but it's well worth the sacrifice.
Shake Shack
I recently went to D.C. under the guise of seeing my brother, his girlfriend, KQ, and their adorable French Bulldog puppy, Taco (for proof, see the bottom of this post). Though, if I'm being honest with you, dear reader, I really went to D.C. because I had a free place to stay and lots of new things to eat. I've gone from world traveling businessman to that guy who shows up at your place and doesn't leave. I'm all about trying the best that D.C. has to offer—Masseria, Little Serow, Kapnos, etc.—but my super secret desire was to finally try Shake Shack. I never imagined I'd write about a chain on here, but there are always exceptions. Especially when the founder, Danny Meyer, is a St. Louisan who also went to the same summer camp that I did, Camp Nebagamon.
Basically, Danny Meyer and I are best friends but he just doesn't know it yet, so of course I'm going to check out my best bud's restaurant chain.
Like most people, I'm a fan of In N' Out. Double-double animal style with animal style fries, please. I like their simplicity, I like their flavors, and I like that things are made fresh. However, we St. Louisans do not have the opportunity to eat at In N' Out, nor Shake Shack. Instead, we have Five Guys and Steak & Shake, which is kind of like getting their fat, pimply, apathetic younger brothers.
I needed to see what the hype was all about.
I hit up the enormously popular Union Station location with KQ, a self proclaimed Shake Shack expert. As we waited, I began noticing the things around me—most notably Mast Brothers chocolate bars and Stumptown coffee. It's pretty surprising to see highly regarded companies like that in a fast food burger chain, though if Chipotle could take a quick Mexican concept that had already been done with great success and make it into something healthier, more sustainable, and with a higher level of quality and customer service, why couldn't a burger chain?
Based on KQ's recommendations, I went with a single Shack Burger, topped with lettuce, tomato, and ShackSauce, an Abita root beer, and we split cheese fries. The most surprising thing happened when our order was ready: the food looked like it did in all their promotional shots. Everything on the burger looked fresh. Bun, lettuce, tomato—it all looked like something made by humans and not a machine.
So, was it everything I dreamed of? Yeah, I think so. I didn't go in with unrealistic expectations of the world's greatest burger. I wanted a tasty fast food burger. Something on par with a Big Kahuna burger. The edges were surprisingly crispy, more so than any fast food burger I can think of, which immediately gave it a big boost in my book. It wasn't Carl's Drive In crispy, of course, but still—impressive. With the creamy, tangy Shack Sauce and the crunchy lettuce, I was a happy diner.
The fries, once a point of contention there, from what I've read, were crunchy and salty, which is 90% of what I look for in a good fry. The cheese sauce wasn't my favorite, though. I was hoping for something cheesier and goopier—theirs was a bit thin and didn't have much of a cheese flavor. Still, I crushed these and made sure to get every last drop of the sauce. Even mediocre cheese sauce is still cheese sauce!
All in all, I liked my meal at Shake Shack and would happily go back there for some cheat-day meals. Can we work out a deal where they replace all the Five Guys here in town? You're from St. Louis, Danny! Where's the hometown love?
As promised, cute puppy pics:
The Italian Store
Arlington, VA
When my friend recommended that we eat lunch at a local sandwich shop called "The Italian Store", I was agreeable. I'm always game for a good sandwich. What I wasn't expecting was that this place would be so popular that we'd have a 20+ minute wait. This is what we saw when we walked in:
So many people! Rather than being aggravated or deterred, this only made me want the food more. If some little Italian grocery in Arlington is going to have over 30 people waiting for sandwiches and pizza at any given time, I want to know why.
We grabbed numbers for sandwich/pasta ordering, then squeezed down to the other end of the store to get some of their homemade pizza. The smell of freshly baked pizza is what I imagine heaven smells like. I ordered a slice of the supreme looking one below, but all my friends got the cheese. I should have copied them. They knew what they were doing. My slice was good, but their slice was very good. Obviously this isn't any fancy pizza; this is a New York style slice. To put it in Missouri terms, it's like Sbarro but with flavor. It was gooey and cheesy, which only a fool wouldn't like, but also a little on the oily side. It would be very good football watching pizza.
I went halfsies with my brother for the sandwich portion of the lunch. We picked out [symple_highlight color="blue"]The Milano[/symple_highlight] and [symple_highlight color="blue"]The Napoli[/symple_highlight], which were $7.99 & $7.69, respectively. Each of these was the "small" option, which means the large sandwiches were probably the size of a baseball bat.
The Milano, below, is their most popular sub. It's packed with two types of Italian ham, Genoa salami, provolone cheese and all your typical sandwich toppers. You have the option of a soft or hard roll, and we picked soft for both of ours. We also got both sweet and hot peppers on both sandwiches.
The Napoli was my favorite of the two. Lean capacola ham, mozzarella cheese and some delicious, spicy pepperoni put this sandwich's flavor profile closer to pizza territory than submarine sandwich, so it should be no surprised I liked it.
I didn't love the Milano, but I'd get the Napoli again. I would also get them without the veggies and dressing, because with them on, the sandwich just got too messy and unwieldy. If I ever went back to The Italian Store, I'd probably just stick with the pizza and perhaps some of their prepared pasta dishes. A big Italian sandwich like this just doesn't do much for me. I'd much rather eat the equal amount of calories in Mexican food, pizza or perhaps a really huge Bahn Mi.
3123 Lee Hwy
Arlington, VA 22201
Rose's Luxury
Washington, DC
Who would have thought that trying to get a party of 5 into Bon Appetit's Best New Restaurant 2014, which takes no reservations, at 6 pm on a Friday would be difficult? We knew we'd have to be there early for any chance at all. Three of us arrived around 5:30 and were told that we wouldn't be seated until our other two guests arrived. We were also told that there were two other parties waiting for the same table, meaning whoever's party was complete first would get the table. THE RACE WAS ON.
The rest of our party was stuck in the DC Metro, delayed, so we made our way to the upstairs bar at Rose's and waited for the news. It was like sitting in the waiting room at the hospital's ER. The prognosis was not good. Train delay after train delay. Then the call came. "WE ARE ALMOST THERE!"
Incredibly, we were the first full party, so we got the table, which was at the far back of the restaurant. The whole place has an eclectic but homey vibe, and the back portion almost makes you feel like you're sitting outside with its high ceilings, skylights and strung up lights.
I got some kind of tequila cocktail that came in this trippy mushroom glass. The drink was good, but I cannot remember what was in it aside from some jalapeño.
Biscuits. Hot, delicious, buttermilk biscuits. That caviar looking stuff to the side? That's butter topped with burnt onion powder. It didn't taste burnt or even really like onion, but it was delicious spread on these biscuits. All restaurants should consider replacing their white bread with these. Look, the recipe is even online!
Rose's dishes are, for the most part, small. If you're in a big group, you'll be able to order nearly everything on the menu and still have room for dessert. Our first dish was the [symple_highlight color="blue"]bigeye tuna[/symple_highlight] with freshly grated Matsumoto wasabi. Matsumoto, a city Northwest of Tokyo by a few hours, is famous for it's large wasabi farms, so we were getting the real stuff; no green tinted horseradish at Rose's. This was more of a product feature than a cooking display, but when you have these high caliber ingredients, let 'em shine!
The [symple_highlight color="blue"]Mexican grilled corn salad[/symple_highlight] was the first cooked dish we got and it gave us a good idea about what we were in for. It sounds simple--grilled corn, guajillo pepper, lime and cilantro--but it was done absolutely perfectly. Bringing this to a summertime BBQ would win you friends.
Nothing was more inventive or delicious than the [symple_highlight color="blue"]Pork sausage, habanero, and lychee salad[/symple_highlight]. My brother raved about this from his first visit, and since his food opinions are usually close to mine, I believed him. It doesn't look much like a salad though, does it? The waitress told us to mix it up until it looked gross, which I didn't take a picture of, because it looked gross. It looked like a blind person made an ice cream sundae. Taste-wise was a different story. The pork sausage had some crispy bits and a hint of garlic while the coconut sauce had a bit of a kick from the habaneros. There were bits of red onion, basil, cilantro, mint, and peanuts.
I don't know how Aaron Silverman created this crazy 'salad', but bravo, sir. Eating this made me feel like a judge on Chopped.
A trick was pulled in the [symple_highlight color="blue"]Jerk chicken[/symple_highlight]. We each cut ourselves a piece of the chicken, took a spoonful of the pickled mango raita, then a hunk of the green papaya salad. I bit into the chicken, expecting the spice kick normally associated with jerk chicken, but it never came. The skin was crispy and tasted of the Caribbean, and the meat was incredibly tender, but no heat. Then I took a bite of the papaya salad and got punched right in the tongue with heat.
[symple_highlight color="blue"]Marco's gnocchi[/symple_highlight] was the dish I was least impressed with the whole evening. Sorry, Marco! The description said it had favas, mint and chervil in it, but our whole table agreed that this tasted mostly like your run of the mill mashed potatoes. My brother had the gnocchi his first visit and said it was totally different than this in terms of quality, so I'm just going to assume we got an off batch.
Luckily, the [symple_highlight color="blue"]bucatini[/symple_highlight] with Sungold tomato sauce and parmesan made up for the gnocchi on the pasta front. Simple & tasty. Too bad it had pine nuts in it. They're the worst.
I thought the entire "Other Goods" part of the menu was stellar. We got two orders of the [symple_highlight color="blue"]caramelized cauliflower[/symple_highlight] with Greek yogurt and 'some other stuff'. It may not look so impressive, but it was probably the best cauliflower dish I've ever had. Crunchy, creamy and deeply flavorful.
Prettiest dish of the night goes to the [symple_highlight color="blue"]Portuguese Octopus[/symple_highlight] with burnt lemon puree and fresh herbs. It was art on a plate; it was not just visually impressive, but it tasted fantastic, as well. The octopus was charred and tender. Its mild taste was countered by the bright herbs and indescribable burnt lemon. I guess the chefs at Rose's really like to burn things.
Needing a healthy counterpart to the yet-to-be-shown final dish, we ordered the [symple_highlight color="blue"]honey glazed carrots[/symple_highlight] with mascarpone, matzo meal and dill. These were cooked to perfection, then taken up a notch with a typical Rose's touch. Familiar but still exotic.
The final dish. The reason we couldn't order any desserts. [symple_highlight color="blue"]Smoked brisket[/symple_highlight] with white bread, horseradish and slaw. There was nothing tricky about this dish. No hidden surprises, like a white bread puree or horseradish foam. No, the only surprise was how fantastic this simple dish was. St. Louis has its fair share of great BBQ, all of which have smoked briskets, so I wasn't inclined to order this, but my brother assured me it was worth it. To his credit, he was right again. I would describe the brisket as being lightly smoked in taste but almost buttery in texture.
I wasn't expecting to finish such an imaginative meal with a slice of melt in your mouth brisket drizzled with horseradish over white bread. It reminded me of some of the meals I had in Japan where the simplest courses were the best.
Aaron Silverman and his team at Rose's Luxury are doing something special. The long waits and high accolades show that. The meal bounced between haute cuisine (edible flowers, burnt purees) and classic Southern fare (biscuits, brisket) with such ease and coolness that it takes away the pretentiousness one might expect from the restaurant.
I highly recommend you get to Rose's at 5:30 pm one night and dive into whatever's on the menu that night. I can't wait to get back to DC and see what these guys are up to in a year or so.
717 8th Street SE
Washington, DC 20003
202.580.8889