In 1926, the Michelin guide to restaurants began using star ratings to separate exceptional eateries from the mediocre. That system is still in use today. One star merits a drop-in, provided it is on your way. Two stars, according to the guide, denotes “excellent cooking and worth a detour.” And driving to that rare establishment with three stars is “worth the journey.” In 1979, Nina and Tim Zagat introduced their own survey of restaurants with a few more levels of criteria, including a scale of 1 (poor) to 30 (outstanding). To these, I would like to add the distinction between “city good” and “suburb good.”
Since moving to the Northern Virginia suburbs last April, my wife and I have been looking for a few restaurants to replace our favorite standbys in the District. In search of sushi, we read about a place down the street: “This friendly neighborhood restaurant in the Blankety-Blank Shopping Center does sushi American-style: big, with combinations that often snub tradition and with good results.” So we went. We won’t be back. Unlike the Sake Club in Washington, with its delicately arranged pieces of fresh sushi and intimate atmosphere, the Virginia establishment was lit with fluorescent bulbs, the service was slow, the miso soup used the preprocessed variety of tofu, and the sushi itself had a slightly rubberish texture. This place was “suburb good” at best.
When someone describes Tenpenh in the District as a good Asian restaurant, that person means “city good.” Its menu could have been featured in Bernardo Bertolucci’s film The Last Emperor. Meanwhile, a few friends and coworkers recommended a spot for excellent Peking duck that’s located in a strip mall in Virginia. The service was prompt, though I was distracted by the fish tank directly behind my wife. One sorry fish was trapped in the corner bobbing upside down while another lay on the floor of the tank, dead. Under the circumstances, we took a pass on the crispy whole fish, though the duck was quite tender. My friends had clearly meant this place was “suburb good.”
Nearly all the local critics rave about Citronelle in Georgetown. Winner of many restaurant awards, Citronelle is home to the acclaimed chef Michel Richard. It is the epitome of “city good” with its “promenade gourmand” menu of eggplant gazpacho, soft shell crab, halibut, duck, and lobster medallion. Another “city good” restaurant is CityZen. A colleague of mine called his dinner there one of the best gastronomic experiences of his life (and he would know). Esquire used the words “dramatic sensuality” to describe its food. The chef, Eric Ziebold, is a veteran of The French Laundry in California. His tasting menu currently offers “sashimi of bluefin toro with papaya confit, onion marmalade and umé gelée” and “carnaroli risotto biologico with Castel magno cheese and shaved white truffles from Alba.” I’m not sure what half the items are (umé gelée?) but it all sounds exquisite.
Not that I have been to either restaurant. Alas, the term “city good” also means pricey: CityZen’s tasting menu comes to $90 per person, and ordering that “carnaroli risotto biologico” tacks on an additional $30. And did I mention the oxymoronic dress code of “sophisticated business casual”? Meanwhile, at Citronelle, the “promenade gourmand” menu is a whopping $155 per person. With the “wine degustation,” the individual price rises to an even more preposterous $255.
Now, a restaurant marked as “suburb good” should not be dismissed out of hand. On a recent trip to the Hard Times Cafe in Arlington, a coworker and I ordered two drinks totaling $8. In D.C., this would have cost us double. Worse, “city good” places like McCormick & Schmick’s on K Street have the audacity to charge a “pouring fee” when you order a martini. And while Washington has witnessed a high-end culinary boom, it still lacks good pizza and Philly cheesesteaks.
Besides, sometimes you are in the mood for something “suburb good,” without an amuse bouche or a pretentious dress code. You want to eat somewhere with no rules, just right. I mean, of course, the Outback steakhouse. The service is friendly and the steak (if ordered medium or medium-rare) is perfectly acceptable. Dinner entrees range from $11-$24. The beer is fairly cheap too–and no pouring fee.
The chefs at the Outback might not make a sashimi of bluefin toro with papaya confit. I’m also certain they don’t make an onion marmalade. But they do make a Bloomin’ Onion.
VICTORINO MATUS
