Far from Perfect Imperfection at Rose’s Luxury

I type atop the lowered tray table of aisle seat 20-C on Aeroflot flight SU105, Moscow bound. At this point, all of my worldly possessions are either stored away in the garage of a family friend’s Takoma Park home or stuffed into suitcases in the belly of this former Soviet vessel. I’m leaving D.C. for a few months at least, setting…

Late Afternoons at Southern Efficiency

“I do not have a favorite restaurant or bar in D.C., nor in any city I’ve ever lived in.” So goes my answer to a question I get asked far too frequently. I have a favorite mood though, and it’s one I’ve been lucky enough to find myself in quite often lately. Relaxed on a late summer afternoon, thirsty for something shaken and…

Satisfied by Sweet Breads at Boundary Road

It was love at first sight. Goofy, silly puppy love. On a recent wine hop my friend recommended Boundry Road “for cocktails, for wine, for pretty much anything.” We spilled out of The Pursuit (a.k.a. that new place with the grilled cheese and wine) into Boundary across the street, nabbing a seat at the bar. I asked for a…

A Quick Stop at District Taco

“Smell my hands,” I insisted, reaching forward from the back seat of my friend’s car on Tuesday night. They smelled like ground corn, earthy and dank in the heavy summer heat. The sides of my mouth sizzled pleasantly from residual salsa, marred by aggressive little bits of habanero hidden amidst garlic and cilantro. Three tacos for…

The Patio Opens at Blue Duck Tavern

February 2nd must have been a big day for America’s most reliable meteorologist, Punxsutawney Phil. He probably noshed nervously on a soil-crusted parsnip root before emerging from his hole, only to return right back again, spooked by the dark shadow of his plump ground-hog body. He predicted 6 more weeks of winter. What he did not predict was 10 more…

A Mediocre Croissant and What That Means to Me

Last week a French-accented human metaphor marched straight into my radar, unwillingly shattering my composure and making me blush like a damn fool, but also unknowingly re-awakeing within me an interest in pastries as well as a nostalgia for the culture of caring – but like really caring – that surrounds it where I come from. A tiny shot of bitter,…