#56 -- Cafe Atlantico

The Washingtonian top restaurants list, candidly, shows that many of the top restaurants in Washington are not even in the District. But not wanting to drive into the Blue Ridge Foothills or to an office park way in the suburbs to have dinner with a visiting friend, we paid a visit to #56, the stalwart Cafe Atlantico.

Atlantico was, back when there was no such thing as Penn Quarter, one of the twin pillars of fancy and hip food in DC. The other being Jaleo. The arrival of numerous multilevel fusion palaces on 8th street and in DC's orbiting strip malls may have pushed it down the charts, but it still has a name brand Chef and a good name.

The decor is colorful, warm and vaguely latin, but quite sedate enough for clients or in laws. The modern art on the walls are unframed, loud and pretty. All in all well done. You are clearly not in Red Lobster here. The scene is business casual. In DC, this means dockers and bluetooth phone clipped to ear. The smallish bar is comfortable and blessedly lacks an enormous blaring plasma screen. And, as discussed, makes a lovely dark and stormy.

Walking to our table a woman stood inside the open kitchen video taping a chef casting delicious spells in a gleaming saute pan. We had found a temple of flavor, it appeared.

So wrong. Our knowledgeable waitress' pronunciation of the fantastic sounding entrees almost made me overlook the bizarre and insulting introduction. After being rousted from the bar and rushed upstairs to a half empty dining room, we were imperiously told that "if 10 people order drinks seven of them are mojitos" and what most people normally do "before they open their menus" is have the guacamole made at their table. Too late, we had already opened our menus. And we wanted dark and stormys. Her disappointment was palpable.

Some of us ordered the dulcet offered sopa del dia, a confit of sweet plantain, duck fat, drizzled with a chocolate based syrup. My friend wanted a mixed salad. It turned out that there was none -- the menu that half of us had had food the restaurant wasn't offering. Our soup arrived with skin. That may have been due to the fact the dining room was so cold those of us fortunate to have not checked our coats were wearing them. Even this strange skin business could not break the excitement of sweet plantain and duck. However, below the skin lied a greasy and flavorless brown porridge. The chocolate syrup provided the dish's sole flavor. The Jicama and arugula salad with cabrales cheese, corn & raspberry, taking the place of the phantom green salad, also failed to excite. One cheer for the sea urchin, though, which was very good.

Before the entrees arrived, we asked our waitress if she also found it cold. She remarked that our predecessors at our table said so and had asked her "if a door was open," but she didn't feel cold. She was asked to turn up the heat and said that she would.

When the entrees arrived, we realized that we had blundered again, with three of us getting the scallops with coconut rice, crispy rice, ginger, squid and squid ink oil. We found sweet juicy scallops buried in a gelatinous coconut milk risotto. Mixed in with crispy but soon soggy puffed rice, it was too clever by at least half and had no discernible taste to rescue a bad texture. After excavating a scallop or two, no further work was necessary. The feijao tropeiro proved more successful, with a searing spicy sauce. The salmon con quinoa was also better, but nothing to write home about. Or write more about.

On the strength of enunciation, we went another round further with the bizcocho templado de chocolate con banana for desert. It proved amazing, and worthy of its mention in Atlantico's Washingtonian brief. However, after an extended bought with bad food, annoying service, and fierce drafts from a hidden open door, it could not save the day. The fact that we were sitting a few feet from the #1 most hyped restaurant in DC, Minibar, which is actually a row of six stools against a thin bar and frosted sneeze-guard in an Atlantico dining room, made it ironic.

When we left, we told the maitre d' about the temperature situation, and he briskly sold out his waitress. He said that, if he had been told, he would have done something about it. If we were to ever return, we might find out if he would.

Number 56 down. And out. Next up, Mendocino Grill, #22. High hopes

Thirsty and Hungry

Great food in a great setting is a fine joy of life, and a chief reward of living in a great city. But For a city of such wealth and supposed cosmopolitanism, the situation with good dining here in DC is desperate. The phenomenon of extreme restaurant hype here is obviously self conscious and ineffective. My fiancee and I have clearly not been to every fine establishment in this city, but we have been to enough here, and in New York and elsewhere, to know when we have paid good money for the vapors, rather than for good food.

On our recent return to Arlington, after many years in NY, we resolved to locate and enjoy good food in the greater Beltway. Having been failed by hype on many occasions, we will be often relying on Washingtonian's list of the top 100 establishments. Its not exactly the gourmands' bible, but its a perennial and a trusted source. In these pages, we will seek and undoubtedly find, the great food in DC. We will also run afoul of hype. We have a long way to go, but we're going to stay thirsty and hungry.