I was supposed to sign up for a gym membership sometime this week, but opted to go out every night for Restaurant Week instead. (I love writing for DCFud. Anywhere else I would have to defend that choice, but you….you guys really get me! *sniffle*)
The Boy took me to Neyla in Georgetown the other day. Neyla is named for the Mediterranean spirit of prosperity, abundance, and success, but while the regular menu includes dishes like baba ghannoug, stuffed grape leaves, and chicken shawarma, executive chef Faisal Sultani has mysteriously created a restaurant week menu showing almost no sign of Mediterranean inspiration–an olive here, some goat cheese there. I briefly considered ordering off the regular menu, as I am usually helpless in the face of Mediterranean temptation, but that idea fell by the wayside when I saw, I kid you not, watermelon gazpacho on the restaurant week menu. I was not about to pass up the chance to try watermelon gazpacho.
Of course, the problem now is that I have a fever, and the only prescription is more watermelon gazpacho. It was fruity and sweet but not overpowering, with rock shrimp and tiny scoops of pickled canteloupe and honeydew. The Boy, who practically has a black belt in gazpacho, also detected some red wine vinegar, which kept it from being dessert-y. In any case, this dish was the best thing I have had so far during this RW go-round. I wanted to pick up the bowl and drink from it, but figured that sort of thing would go over especially poorly in Georgetown. We also had the sauteed calamari tossed with scallions and shaved garlic served with a lime-tomato fondue, which was tart and spicy and tender.
We usually don’t order the same thing in restaurants, but neither of us could pass up the pan-roasted New York strip served with sweet and sour dandelion greens. That meant we didn’t taste the swordfish or the egg pappardelle, but I regret nothing. The steaks were beautifully marbled, tender, and juicy, and I thought they involved gorgonzola, but that might have been a beautiful dream, because it does not appear on the otherwise-accurate online menu. The coconut panna cotta was fine but not amazing, although I may have liked it more had I not just had the transcendental amaretto panna cotta at Coeur de Lion the night before. One thing–the server, who was mostly excellent, was a little taken aback when I asked for the panna cotta without the pistachios on top, due to a nut allergy. I understand that chefs don’t like omitting ingredients, but when your only real dessert option (nope, berries don’t count) includes a topping to which many, many people are allergic, you have to be prepared for the request.
Another nice thing about Neyla–it’s very pretty. When I heard that it was a “place to be seen,” I naturally assumed that it had the same kind of masculine, ultra-modern steel-and-glass decor found in Zaytinya, IndeBleu, and to some extent Rasika, but despite the huge windows, Neyla is softer and more feminine than other hot spots in DC. The windows look out onto a gorgeous old brick courtyard, and the light glow rather than gleam. The front patio is a great space to people-watch.
I highly recommend this for restaurant week, but I can’t vouch for the regular menu yet. More research is clearly needed!

Back when the Restaurant Week lineup was announced in July, I scanned the list and saw that Bobby Van’s was one of the participants. I quickly made reservations, given their sterling reputation in New York. I used to work with a young lady from Massachusetts who summered in the Hamptons, and she raved about Bobby Van’s Bridgehampton location. Now, I’m just a relatively middle class guy from Maryland. I’m guessing that “summered” is rich person code for “sunbathed in an expensive resort and did nothing but revel in luxury.” I’ve never “summered” in my life. I’ve “weeked” – well, if you consider Ocean City’s or Dewey’s crowded beaches, all-you-can-eat buffets and sexually-suggestive t-shirt stands luxurious.
In my previous Restaurant Week entry, an anonymous commenter told me I made a mistake in selecting Bobby Van’s for dining, saying that they catered only to the VIP crowd. I took the comments seriously – perhaps this anonymous person is a former employee, wrongfully terminated, or a diner who received shoddy service when they dared pay for their meal with a Discover card instead of an AmEx Titanium Card. Or, conversely, since the commenter chose to remain anonymous, perhaps it was a former employee rightfully terminated with an axe to grind, or somebody associated with a competing restaurant, hoping for a good plug. In the end, I chose to keep my reservation, and had four friends join me.
Let me assure you of this – a full 15 hours after dining there last night, I can still taste the perfectly-prepared medium rare Petite Fillet Mignon, accompanied by slightly-smoky mashed potatoes and creamed spinach. The Caesar salad, and the rich chocolate cake and incredible New York cheesecake rounded out the courses, and each bite was fantastic. I had feared that a “Petite” filet would be small 5 or 6-ounce serving, but our steaks were closer to 12 ounces. Even the well-done filets came out thoroughly cooked, and not butterfly-chopped like in other establishments. Our server was professional, friendly, and made a distinct point to make us aware of the Restaurant Week courses on a separate sheet from the regular menu. One of their chefs, Eric, made a friendly tour of the dining room, making sure everybody was enjoying themselves. The table adjacent to ours had a bit more menu diversity than my steak-obsessed crowd. Somebody there had the Crabcakes (the recipe is on their website) and another had the Andouille Sausage and Pulled Chicken Rigatoni, both of whom raved about the quality.
For a high-end steakhouse, the atmosphere was professional, yet relaxed. It’s classy, but not stuffy – there’s no dress code, and patrons wore suits or jeans in nearly equal numbers. Valet service is a manageable $6. The anonymous commenter’s fears couldn’t have been more dispelled – if not for a four-course tasting menu at Palena in May, last night was the best meal I’ve had in D.C. all year. Everything was so tastefully done that I have already planned a September dinner there, where their acclaimed “Porterhouse For Two” sounds less like a luxury and more like a rite of passage. I am so impressed by Bobby Van’s strong Restaurant Week showing that I practically walked out singing The Happenings’ classic tune “See You In September.”
Bobby Van’s
809 15th Street, NW
Phone: (202) 589-0060

Komi does not list an email on their website. This makes me truly saddened because my plans for the morning included reading Fark, messing with my hair, and writing Komi to thank them in unseemly detail for the best meal I have had in a long time.
Maw has already enunciated the allures of this perfect dinner place, so I won’t talk about the food, but allow me to add my 2p. Komi is good. Good in a way that makes you blather to your coworkers the next morning. Good, like your next meal feels vaguely profane and sacrilegious. Good, as in a week later, you turn to your dining partner and say, ‘that was a damn fine meal’ and he’ll know you aren’t referring to the pizza you just ate.
The room is small and pretty, and so are the expert staff. They guide you through the short but exquisite wine list, and then bring you dish after dish of the kind of mouthfuls you must close your eyes to fully enjoy. After an hour you start entering an olive-scented haze of alcohol and goodwill. 12 hours later I am still imagining the crunch of sea salt on a stuffed fig.
I can’t write a letter to you, Komi, so I can only hope you google your name now and then. Bravo.

Choosing which establishment to patronize during Restaurant Week is always a challenge – who will offer full (or nearly-full) menu selections? Who will have a reservation free? Who will feature servers that roll their eyes at you when you say you’re there for the RW menu?
Take all those challenges and add a pair of semi-picky parents (though really no different than any other set who don’t consider special tibs one of the four food groups), and you had my dilemma for RW lunch selection. Figuring seafood would be a safe bet (neither parent likes Indian or non-Chinese Asian; Dad doesn’t care for Italian), I settled on DC Coast.
The Tunks restaurants really do a nice job of making you feel special during restaurant week. Though they slightly limit your dessert and appetizer selections, for lunch, we had our pick of the DC Coast entree choices. The service was attentive, and prompt without feeling rushed.
Our selections:
Yellow Tomato Soup: My dad raved. I was expecting something along the lines of Ceiba’s yellow tomato gazpacho, but this was warm, and a much richer offering. It was garnished with a sundried tomato mousse; yum!
Scallops appetizer: Two scallops, perfectly cooked, and accented with a spinach/bacon mixture and a pineapple sauce. Sweeter than my usual tastes, but the flavors all blended well.
Cold cucumber soup: Flecks of crabmeat make this one a winner.
Trio of sliders: I’m not partial to BBQ (sue me) but my father ordered this – a selection of chicken, pulled pork and beef brisket mini-sandwiches, and was more than satisfied. We could have done without the accompanying cole slaw.
Roast chicken with pomegranate sauce: This was delectably juicy, and the sauce was a nice touch. Accompanying vegetables were a bit overcooked, but were a colorful selection and candied pecans added a special kind of sweet something to the plate.
Blackened Tilapia: This was the meal’s gem – the fish was spectacular, and the paprika hollandaise that topped the asparagus was some of the best I’ve had.
I’m not a dessert fan, but the selections were good, and not too large to overwhelm at the end of the meal. I’d particularly recommend the lemon/blueberry creme brulee for something unique and delicious.
DC Coast is a safe bet for Restaurant Week: All the elements are in place to make it a treat of an experience for those trying to sample somewhere new at an affordable price.

It’s a brave soul indeed who is willing to forge through the throngs of Midwesterners that make up Old Town Alexandria’s main population. They bounce ponderously up King street and down to gape at the balloon sellers of the waterfront, their army son-in-laws looming out of the humid haze. Yes, it’s a veritable corn- fed amoeba, polyester-clad and sweating, waving maps and strollers and frappuchinos and canvas tote bags at the embarrassed scenery.
Which is why it’s so bizarre to come across 100 King . In a sea of restaurants that offer menus in three languages and Ruby Tuesday food, 100 King is shockingly acceptable. And no surprise, they are owned by the same family that bestowed upon us the Lebanese Taverna restaurants. This is a family that knows their hummus.
Decor is Helix Lounge meets Creme: fashionable and industrial, with just enough empty space to remind of a hotel bar. But that’s alright, because the food, oh the food. I’d suggest just skipping the mains and ordering your way down the appetizers/ tapas menu. The zucchini cakes are delicious and crunchy, the crab meat perfectly fishy and fresh. I shall be salivating for the polenta soufflé with blue cheese and mushroom sauce for days.
I can’t, in good conscience, suggest this restaurant as a destination. But for those who find themselves in the area, flee to this sane, tasty, pretty restaurant like it was the last bastion of culture in a very touristy world.
100 King St
Alexandria, VA

I’ve been meaning to try Komi pretty much since it first opened in 2004. It seemed the obvious thing to do – it was close by, the menu looked interesting, and everybody was raving about it – but the excuses were endless: I don’t have time, I’m too poor, no one will go with me, et cetera.
This week, as I found myself following my birthday by gearing up to leave DC for grad school in Atlanta, I realized that I had the perfect opportunity. Why? Well, because that means I was able to convince my parents to take me to Komi for a combined birthday/departure dinner! And so it was that we found ourselves with 8:45 reservations at Komi this Tuesday night.
We arrived, and the host walked us back from the entrance to the end of the long, hallway-like dining room, to the one round table in the place, set apart from the other tables, at the back corner. Right next to the kitchen, with it open door and large picture window to the inside. My father hates sitting near the kitchen, but before he could complain (which he was beginning to do, despite there plainly being no other tables available), I cut him off, saying that I was happy to get to peek in to this famed kitchen. You can’t see much through that picture window, but you get a hint of what’s going on, and I for one enjoyed the view.
We decided to go all-out, and each ordered the complete dinner and wine pairing – which was clearly one of the best decisions I’ve made all month. We began with a glass of prosecco – lightly carbonated, dry, with some mineral flavors – and a small bowl of house-cured olives. These were bright green, but had a texture and mild taste such that my dad commented that if blindfolded, he might have thought them black olives. They were tasty, either way.
After the olives began our flight of small plates, most of which were simply one bit’s worth for each of us – just a taste, leaving room for all that was to come. First, we had a delicious seared Greek cheese topped with steak tartar. Next came the Buffala – creamy mozzarella topped with anchovies over a cucumber-and-something puree, also quite lovely. After that, the first of the evening’s real knock-outs arrived at our table: three dates, stuffed with mascarpone cheese and a few well-placed grains of salt, rosted to gooey heavenliness. Next was the one thing we disagreed on: little sandwiches of pork shoulder and beets that were reminiscent of Chinese pork buns but also different. My mom and I thought these were divine, my dad was blah on them. Then, two at once: a plate of two deliciously battered soft-shelled crabs, and a set of three crostini topped with a fish roe sauce, both quite tasty.
The last of our appetizers were a perfect summer dish, and a perfect cap to this extended first course: watermelon slices, topped with a bit of strong feta and arucola leaves. Delish! The pacing of these plates was slow – there was a good pause between each dish – and I found it perfect. We savored each small plate, and had time for its flavor to fade from our palettes before the next experience began. I should also note that, more than once, we didn’t even notice the servers clearing our empty plates – they were that quick, smooth, and unobtrusive.
Komi
1509 17th St, NW
202-332-9200

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