As much as I like Capitol Hill, I never make it over to that side of town, even though it's really close. That's unfortunate for me since a dozen much praised restaurants have opened during the past couple of years. My laziness is going to change on April 7th, when I join dc food bloggers for happy hour at Art and Soul. I can't wait to try their biscuits, which I've heard so much about, and, a quick peak at the menu reveals deviled eggs, pork rinds, and chips and dip. Oh dear. I better not eat lunch that day. Join us by RSVPing on theDC Food Bloggers Facebook Fan Page.
Thanks to the planning committee for their hard work in making these events happen:
Tasty lunch options are a critical part of one's quality of life. Thankfully, I work downtown, just south of Dupont Circle, so there are plenty of places to stop for a bite. Of course, even the tastiest lunch option can quickly become routine, and my particular block has grown old and tired. Enter: the new kid on the block, Maoz Vegetarian. Maoz serves falafel pita sandwiches and fries (sweet potato or regular). The best part, for me, is the "fixins" bar, which offers about 15 condiment options you can stuff in your pita sandwich (or use to build a hearty salad). I usually add beets, garbanzo salad, and order my pita with baba ghanoush.
In my past life, the one where I subsisted on Celeste pizza and yodels, the words delicious and swiss chard went together like avocados and peanut butter: not so much. Even after a huge paradigm shift in how I eat, swiss chard remained among the group of holdouts on the list of ingredients that were hard to swallow. I conquered kale and lapped up leeks, but not swiss chard. No one ever raves about the taste of swiss chard, but there's one thing chard does have going for it: it's mighty pretty. Each week, at the market, I'll admire the rainbow stalks, but, not sure what do with it, I leave it behind. That changed after I found Martha Stewart's recipe for Sicilian-style swiss chard.
Gorgeous weather makes people do stupid things. Let me explain. Last weekend, my friend Ethan was visiting DC to do some truth telling on health care reform.On Sunday night, I suggested we head to the waterfront for dinner on the Potomac.I had been looking for an excuse to try Farmers and Fishers and weather being above 80 degrees seemed like an excellent reason.Here’s what I forgot: the waterfront is an ideal location for Jersey Shore’s casting director.That is, it’s completely over run by drunken students, particularly the outside seating. Further, the fountain in the center of the waterfront development is under construction, making it a total eye sore, and, unfortunately, even tasty food at Farmers and Fishers couldn’t make up for the company or the view.
My blogger brunch at Birch and Barley was love at first bite. The first dish that landed on our table was a pecan roll stuffed with cream cheese and exploding with cinnamon, surrounded by a buttery, sticky cake. I'm not one for sweets, but this was more interesting than typical sugary, sweet pecan rolls. Next came a trio of donuts: lemon poppy seed, chocolate, and cinnamon. The lemon poppy seed donut was sublime and there is no doubt in my mind that the buzz about this particular pastry will become deafening. Mark my words, it will be next year's palak chat or salty oat cookie. It's an original.
I grew up on meatballs and chicken parmesan. On Saturdays, my Mom would fill a pot with tomatoes and assorted spices, and then go to work on the meatballs. I would sit at the table and watch her move the meat around with her hands. After the balls were rolled out, they would simmer for hours in the sauce, building flavor. Recently, I was craving some tasty meatballs, so I whipped up my Mom's recipe and made a meatball sandwich. It was comforting and delicious.
I want to like anchovies. I really do. But when I see them: their little, hairy, smelly, brown bodies, I get the willies. I know, my reaction sounds pedestrian, but there's no other way to say it: anchovies freak me out. In the past, I've been ok with my unsophisticated fear of anchovies. But occasionally, I'll hear someone credible, someone I admire, talk about the advantages of cooking with anchovies, and I'll re-think my fear. Usually, my reconsideration of anchovies as something edible lasts about 30 seconds, but recently Jane Black of the Washington Post wrote this article. Ms. Black succeeded where many others have failed: she helped push me off the anchovy avoiding fence. As a first step, I made this simple dish.
