Thing 46: Cafe Deluxe

Last Saturday, the Boyfriend and I were cruising up Wisconsin Avenue towards Friendship Heights, to do some lazy Saturday shopping. (Wasn't able to find pink seersucker capri pants...ideas? anyone?) The convertible top was down, the sunglasses were on, and wasn't life feeling just fine at that moment? Well...almost. Hunger pangs. Longings for salads or noodles or sandwiches...maybe sushi? bagels? eggs? Oh dear, hungry indeed as everything sounded good. And driving up Wisconsin there are so many options. A repeat of Rockland's BBQ? Thai at Busara? Indian at Heritage? Did we just pass a Chipotle?!

Pull the car over! I spy a patio. With red umbrellas. And wine glasses and fancy sandwiches. Today we eat at Cafe Deluxe. I so rarely eat out these days, that Cafe Deluxe was a delicious treat, a chance to be waited on while enjoying the sunny Saturday afternoon.

We asked to sit outside, on the sidewalk patio under the cover of the large red umbrellas, bathing all the diners in pools of golden red light. Our waitress was friendly, taking our drink orders and then hurrying off to attend to the many hungry customers enjoying the sunshine. As we sipped iced teas and studied the menu, our neighbors' food came. A beautiful onion and goat cheese tart was set in front of one of our dining neighbors, the other got a mountain of greens topped with a grilled salmon steak. We went back to the menus -- what were those items? How can we order them? Or do I actually want roasted beet with goat cheese salad? Steamed mussels in white wine with french fries? Herb roasted chicken with mashed potatoes? I was hungry enough that everything looked good. It was an indecisive kind of day.

By the time the waitress had rejoined us, I sucked it up and pointed at...the chicken paillard. I would like the chicken paillard, please. Except I didn't know what a paillard was. But it came with a salad of greens, figs, bacon and parmesan, so the chicken was kind of beside the point. The Boyfriend ordered a bacon cheeseburger. What can I say? Bacon on a summer Saturday afternoon. Life is good.


Our food was quite good, too. It turns out a paillard is just a sauteed chicken breast. It was served in a lovely sauce that, best as I can make out, was a reduction of chicken stock and butter and made want very badly to lick my plate. If the Boyfriend did not embarrass so easily, I most likely would have. The salad, also, was a wonderful combination of salty-sweet, crunchy-soft, fatty-acidic. Crisp, salty, warm bacon crumbles paired delciously with sweet dried figs and salty parmesan shavings. I shall be replicating this myself come fig season, with fresh figs and without any of that greenery to get in the way.


The Boyfriend's cheeseburger was juicy and just pink enough inside, topped with a thick slice of cheese and two pieces of bacon. Served with thin crispy fries that I totally did not eat off his plate. I swear.


And for dessert - a beautiful glass of strawberries, blackberries and blueberries, layered with creme fraiche. I adore creme fraiche, sour cream's lighter, sweeter cousin, and was again tempted to run my finger around the empty glass and lick it. The Boyfriend is a good influence on me in public.


Hunger sated, we relaxed on the patio, rubbing our full bellies and sipping iced tea. The patio was full of old friends catching up on the doings of their children, first dates, family brunches, and elderly double dates. Servers zipped by carrying beautiful salads and large pizzas and golden brown fruit crumbles. Fathers strolled down the sidewalk on Wisconsin, pushing baby carriages, sweatty joggers zipped past, AU students in the wrinkled clothes and sunglasses that tell the world they are hungover.

Cafe Deluxe is nothing fancy, not even particularly special. Franco-American semi-upscale bistros exist nearly everywhere these days, serving dressed up comfort foods. But stretching out in the sunshine on Wisconsin Ave with nothing to do all day and the most handsome man I've ever met sitting across from me? I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Note to DC Sarah: Yes, we walked past 2Amys to get to Cafe Deluxe. And yes, I'm sure it is a better restaurant. But I was still in the midst of doing a two week stint gluten-free (I don't have celiac, but it was a frienship solidarity thing) and I didn't know what I'd be able to eat there. But keep an eye out next week for a recap of it -- I am going this Saturday for sure!

Thing 45: Strawberry Cocktails at Vermilion

I feel like I haven't blogged in a long time...I know it's only been a week, but I usually don't go for so long without filling in the Internet public on my various be-boppings around this town. But there was a brief business trip earlier this week, and then also, have you looked outside? It's summer, people, and I'm really preoccupied with re-reading Harry Potter 6 by the pool and making every flavor of ice cream I can think of (I'm looking at you next, blueberries).

But I have been out and about, and last week I be-bopped down to Old Town to enjoy a round of seasonal strawberry cocktails, on special in the month of June at Vermilion.

The truly avid DC365 fan may recall that the idea for this came up back at Thing 39, when Jessica, inspired by my trek out to Delaplane to eat strawberry sundaes, invited me to Vermilion for a strawberry flavored cocktail or two. How could I resist?

I've been to Vermilion several times before, although never to eat. Tom Sietsema recently raved about the new chef there, and I would like to have a meal there someday. But generally, when I've been it's been to the bar, as it is one of the Boyfriend's friends' favorite venues. It is swank and dimly lit, with exposed brick walls, a long bar, a couple tall tables, and four booths tucked into the back, best suited for quiet conversation and a relaxed cocktail.

I was there with Jessica, who had suggested the strawberry cocktails in the first place, and to catch up with an old friend who'd moved to Texas sometime ago and was visiting. On the menu were three strawberry cocktails, along with their usual beer, wine and a rainbow of martinis. There was a strawberry mojito, a strawberry-rhubarb-vodka number, and a strawberry champagne cocktail, which I immediately ordered. I love champagne cocktails, and this one was wonderful! Sweetened with a strawberry syrup that gave it a beautiful deep pink hue, the flavor of the cocktail was rounded out by the addition of bitters. It gave the drink a spiced flavor of clove and cinnamon that was unexpected but really delicious.


Would that I had stuck to champagne cocktails though! I ordered next the strawberry rhubarb cocktail. It came served in a pint glass, heavily watered down with ice, crystal clear but with some stewed strawberries floating within (have you tried to drink stewed strawberries through a straw?...not so much). The problem though was that the drink was sweet. So sweet, I tasted sweet at the back of my mouth even after I was through with dinner. I think they were trying to balance out the sour rhubarb but went totally overboard. Stick with spicy champagne strawberry cocktails instead.

And after a couple cocktails, it was time to back up and make the rather long journey back to my place in DC (I'd hang out in Old Town more if the train ride back weren't quite so disheartening). I highly recommend Vermilion for a fun happy hour, good house wines, and tasty snacks. And perhaps someday, I'll even have a meal to report back on...

Thing 44: The Dupont Circle Farmers' Market

You may have noticed that I've kind of stopped going out to eat.

You see, I've fallen in love with my little Sunday morning ritual. Wake up at 8:00, make coffee, fry an egg. Check the Post. Grab my canvas tote bag, and then stroll the five blocks down to the north side of Dupont Circle to do my shopping for the week at my lively, friendly and colorful farmers' market.

My grandparents, who live in Oregon and grow nearly all their own produce, were surprised to hear that DC even has a farmers' market. In fact, there are a whole bunch of them to choose from, to suit your schedule and neighborhood. They had an idea that DC was a cruel concrete jungle, when in fact, just a short distance out in Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania there are sustainable and organic farms aplenty. They come into the District to sell their bounty and everything looks, smells and tastes so good, I may never go out to eat again.

There is the stand where I buy my basil, which is so fragrant that you can smell it from two feet away. The guys at the stand are used to seeing me there, and we chat about what I made in the last week with their basil (ice cream), their garlic scapes (pesto), their escarole (this salad). When I told them about the incredible basil ice cream I'd churned, they told me that if I bring them some in the future, they will barter with me for more fresh herbs.


There is the stand that sells the freshest, juiciest and brightest red tomatoes, still on the vine, and we chat about pickling techniques.

There is the stand where I buy any kind of salad greens imaginable -- arugula, spinach, a mescalin mix with brightly colored edible flowers sprinkled throughout. They sell dark red beets as big as your fist, and spearmint that makes the most extraordinary mint chip ice cream (buy this book. Do it now). They also sell four colors of radish -- red, purple, pink, and a half red-half white variety --which, along with the fresh local feta from the cheese stand, prompted me to eat this salad for an entire week earlier in the season. (I adore Molly's simple, seasonal recipes over at Orangette, if you couldn't already tell).


The women all speak French at the stand that sells croissants and fresh baguettes, and there is another bread stand that sells a variety of whole grain breads, with flax seeds or sunflower seeds, walnuts or olives, whole wheat country boules. I am partial to the flax seed loaf, which is a little sour and full of flax, sunflower and poppy seeds.

There is fresh dairy and local meats. Your choice of lamb, pork, beef or chickens, all raised organically and sustainably. The Boyfriend and I feasted on sweet Italian sausages one week, with a side of organic broccoli. There is a seafood stand selling live soft shell crabs, and last week there was a live eel for sale, named "Buddy." The sign said he bites. (I passed on the eel.)

The hot item the past couple weeks have been the local cherries, which I buy and then can't help but start eating on my walk home, spitting the pits out in the gutter on Q Street. And then there is the ritual of coming home, putting everything away, perusing cookbooks for recipes to make during the week to use whatever strange or familiar vegetables I've brought back. Preparing an ice cream base if I've bought something sweet. Readying the jars if I plan on doing any canning. And making a big farmers' market salad with whatever I bought that day, eating food that was growing in the ground only a few hours before.

So that's where the restaurant reviews have disappeared to. Can you blame me?