Open City: Who Wants Meatcakes?

I cannot believe it, but I have finally found a restaurant worse than Tryst.

Of course, I should be able to believe it; they’re owned by the same people, after all, and Open City is kinda like Tryst's cousin, the one who is trying to be classy (real tables instead of couches) but is actually kinda skeevy when you get to know him. The service is faster, but that’s mostly because there are fewer people there.

So I have to write about this meal, because I think it was the worst meal I’ve ever been served at a restaurant and possibly anywhere. It wasn’t the server’s fault, and I don’t think it was the cooks’ faults, necessarily; it was just a dismal, dismally awful dinner.

Open City’s thing is that it serves breakfast all day long. I went in with the intention of ordering pancakes but, looking at the menu, thought it might be smarter to order something healthier. So I asked for two eggs, scrambled, and wheat toast. I got two eggs over easy and wheat toast.

This in itself is no big deal; I have nothing against a fried egg and was quite willing to eat the two eggs however they appeared. But these two particular eggs were so easy that as soon as I cut into them they drooled both egg yolk and egg white all over my toast. Disastrous. Even worse was that when I tried to eat the egg mess, it was cold.

I was very upset; less in the “oh noes my eggs are disgusting” way and much more in the “oh noes, how am I going to get out of this one without looking like a spoiled princess.” No sooner had I pushed my egg mess away from me than it was whisked off the table by an overly solicitous busboy, which meant that I was in the position of having to explain to my server that I wanted an entirely new dinner in place of the disaster dinner that, since it was no longer on the table, the server could not actually see for herself.

But Open City has, for what it’s worth, great service; I as the customer was of course right and the egg dinner was taken off the bill and a fresh dinner—pancakes this time, since I wasn’t ready for another go-round with cold eggs—provided in its place. (I gave the server a 50% tip for her gracious way of handling the situation.)

But then the pancakes came. They were warm, for a start, and visually appealing. But—and there’s no nice way to say this—they tasted like meat. Open City serves all-day breakfast, but it serves all-day burgers and fries too; and now I’m picturing, in the kitchen, one giant communal grill.

I kept re-tasting these things to make sure; after all, it’s been nearly three years since I last tasted a hamburger. But… yeah, these things were definitely burger-flavored. And while someone out there probably thinks hamburger-flavored pancakes are a great idea, I am not that person.

Oh, and despite the “free wifi” sign, the router has been down since December. Which means that I’m writing this blog post (and the two to follow) on Microsoft Word.

Still: a 50% tip for the service. But consider it a warning.

The "Beyond" Was Disgusting. So Was The "Naan."

In the spirit of culinary adventure -- and a longish, untold story as to why I didn't have a lunch packed with me -- I wandered out of the office this afternoon to a little place called Naan and Beyond.

I was very interested to learn what said "beyond" might be; but I think I've decided that from now on I'm not going to trust any place that advertises using that particular word. (Sorry, Bed and Bath.)

In other words: worst food I've had in a long, long time.

To understand why, you have to realize what this cafe serves. It's theoretically a fusion place, if one considers adding coleslaw to be fusion. Naan and Beyond specializes in "sandwiches" made of meat (or paneer, if you're veg), grilled peppers, coleslaw, mayonnaise, mint chutney, mango chutney, and of course the titular naan.

Coleslaw, mayonnaise, and two kinds of chutney.

So now we get to talk about what happens when you eat it. I ordered mine without mayonnaise, considering (and rightly so) that the two chutneys and the oil in the coleslaw would be lubrication enough; since the whole mess is wrapped, tube-style, in naan, taking any kind of a bite results in giant blumps of drippy chutney goo falling out of the other end.

Not to mention that the naan itself was incredibly tough and had to be gnawed at and ripped apart. There is no grace involved in eating the Paneer Tikka Masala Coleslaw Mango Mint Chutney sandwich. Thank goodness no one in the office saw me eating it, because I'm pretty sure I looked feral.

The internet says it's a great place to eat, and the lines usually stretch down the block "even on cold days." This I find (wait for it...) hard to swallow.

Zorba's Cafe: Lovely Atmosphere. Only Eat The Hot Food.

It started with a craving for dolmatas.

Then feta.

Then olives.

I suppose my body was minus its necessary quota of olive oil and garlic. I don't know. Either way I found myself at the outside of a charming blue-and-white painted building: Zorba's Cafe.


The price was right; $4 for appetizers, $6 for entrees. $3 for a glass of wine. The service was a little unexpected; although both the inner dining room and the outdoor terrace were set up like a "real" restaurant (and were quite lovely to look at, delightful to know), the cafe itself was a fast-food place in every sense of the word. To get anything to eat, you had to walk through the dining room to the kitchen, place your order, and watch it handed back to you (instantly) on a cafeteria tray.

Not knowing what was good (and being a little unnerved by the cafeteria trays), I followed my "when in doubt, sampler platter please!" rule.

And this is what I got:



Parts of the meal were great. The falafel was fine, and the hot bean soup thing in the northeast corner was fantastic (internet says it's called fasolia and Zorba's sells it by the bowl). The hummus and tzatziki were also very good, although the hummus had clearly been thinned out a bit.

The salad was a cheap restaurant salad, blah lettuce with feta thrown on the top. No big deal.

The worst parts of the meal were the dolmatas and the spanakopitta. Both of them had that chilled, clammy, "I was cooked three days ago and I've been sitting in a refrigerator ever since" taste.

Would I recommend? Well, the cafe was so cute and the night was so beautiful and the white wine helped smooth everything out, so... yes. I really enjoyed myself at Zorba's, despite the chilly dolmatas.

So when you go, choose judiciously! My guess is you'll do better ordering hot dishes than cold ones.

And sit out on the terrace if you can. The birds will come right up to you and say hello!

Little India: When In Doubt, Just Order The Thali

I got stuck in a thunderstorm after hearing Scott McClellan speak last night. Had no umbrella, of course (poor girls don't own umbrellas, or at least they don't replace them when their old ones tear apart in the wind). Not to mention that I don't like staying outside when there's lightning.

So I crossed my fingers (to prevent getting electrocuted) and ran across the street to Little India, one of the three "all-in-a-row" Indian restaurants that are directly across from the Woodley Park-Zoo metro. I'd already been to Taste of India, the middle restaurant, and... well, let's just say that it made me ill. Twice. But I wasn't going to waste my dwindling cash reserves on the nearby McDonalds. If I was going to be stuck in a storm for two hours, and if I was going to wait it out over dinner, I might as well try and enjoy myself.

The server beat me to the front door, holding it open so I could hurl my drenched, jumping-at-every-sound-of-thunder self inside. He smiled, and I decided enjoying myself at this restaurant might be easier than I thought.

There were only two other patrons in the restaurant, which worried me a little (especially considering that the craptastic Taste of India was packed), so I decided to follow my self-imposed rule of when in doubt, just order the thali.

It turned out to be fantastic.
(BTW, that little glob of saag paneer on the plate wasn't the restaurant's fault; I knocked it off when I was arranging the dishes for photogenicity. I figured my phone photo resolution was so bad that it wouldn't show up in the image. Guess I figured wrong.)

I had three servers hovering around me at all times, but in the good way. (It was nice to get a chance to chat with people, even if it was only about the raging thunderstorm.) Afterwards one of them brought me a bowl of kheer, which I took one look at and thought "this is going to taste awful."
And it did.

But the thali was well worth the $20 I spent on dinner ($14.60 plus an overgenerous tip since the servers were so friendly), and I would totes go back after I get a for-real job.

So I'm suggesting y'all go visit too.

Taste of India: "That Turd Thing Was Nasty"

Location: Taste of India, 2621 Connecticut Avenue NW, DC.

Cost: $38.71 before tip (this included drinks, entrees, naan, dessert, and tax).

Rating: Don't go. Ever.

I took my sister to Taste of India tonight, the middle restaurant in a trio of Indian lunch buffet/dinner places directly across from the Woodley Park Zoo/Adams Morgan metro stop. As the three restaurants all looked pretty identical, and all had the same amount of people crowded into their outdoor patios, my sister asked why I had chosen this one over the two others.

"I looked at the menus," I told her, "and this one was the cheapest."

I ordered baingan bartha,and my sister had the chicken biryani.

The biryani wasn't at all spicy or particularly pungent (which my sister appreciated -- she doesn't like heavily spiced foods), and tasted mostly of cashew. The baingan bartha had about twice as much onion and garlic as it did eggplant, and tasted mostly of cilantro.

I also ordered gulab jamuns for dessert, which my sister had never seen or tasted. When she saw them -- that is, it, as the entire palm-sized dish was filled with one enormous, lumpy gulab jamun -- she said "I'm not tasting that until after you do."

I tried to explain. "It's not supposed to look like a --"

"Shh!" She stopped me. "Don't say that word in the restaurant."

I tasted it.


"You don't have to eat this," I told her. "In fact, I'd rather you didn't."

But she tried a bite, and then another one. And then she stopped. And then we left.

As soon as we were out of hearing range, she gave her verdict:

"That turd thing was nasty."

It took just about a half-hour for me to become sick, and then five minutes for me to become sick again. Hooray!

I guess cheapest doesn't always mean best, or even good. In this case, cheapest meant indigestible.