leg meatballs neatly lined up on a strip of carrot gelatin. The chef ’s divine sablefi sh “dressed in red” is indeed scarlet (he marinates the fi sh in beet juice, soy sauce and lime zest), and my favorite dessert is a plate of cracked-open eggs — no, wait: The shells are designer chocolate, the yolks are tart lemon curd, and the whites are soft French meringue. Richard, with the support of chef David Deshaies, is a master wit. The underground hotel dining room is desperate for a makeover, but the buzz of a well-fed crowd and expert service help diners forgive appearances. The fresh gleam in the glass-fronted kitchen isn’t just from the pots and tiles. A life-size silver toque is now on display in the window. It’s a tip of the hat from the prestigious Association des Maitres Cuisiniers de France (Master Chefs of France), which honored its native son in September. Lucky him. Lucky us. // 3000 M St. NW; 202-625-2150; www. citronelledc.com. Open: dinner Tuesday through Saturday. All major credit cards. Prices: three-course fi xed-price $105, nine-course tasting menu $190, $280 with wine pairings. Sound check: 72 decibels.


★★★ MINIBAR It might be easier to land a seat at a White House state dinner than to secure a stool at the counter of Minibar, where José Andrés invites giddy patrons (“How did you get a reservation?” they quiz one another) to rethink their notions about food and cooking during a fast- paced, nearly-30-course meal. The high times might begin with “sangria” you eat with a spoon and end with a strip of bacon robed in chocolate fl ecked with a speck of gold leaf. Along the way, a team of several cooks — focused but friendly magicians who whip up edible wonders just feet from their audience — might also hand over a cloud of cotton candy that replicates Thai curry, brilliant near-liquid baby carrots, a blue-cheese-topped almond “tart” based on almond cream and liquid nitrogen, and (hang on!) prawns served with “brioche” that’s just yeast-fragrant air pretending to be bread. New: Silken bone marrow wrapped in “ravioli” coaxed from hearts of palm. “Feel free


The forest of copper pipes at Birch & Barley is a beer “organ” used for draft delivery. Review on Page 21.


to ask questions,” invites an apron-clad attendant. I have one: Is there no limit to your boss’s imagination? // In Cafe Atlantico, 405 Eighth St. NW; 202-393- 0812; www.cafeatlantico.com/miniBar/ miniBar.htm. Open: Tuesday through Saturday, two seatings per night at 6 p.m. and 8:30 p.m. All major credit cards except Diners Club. Prices: $120 fi xed-price tasting menu. Sound check: 69 decibels.


★★★ OBELISK Three things you can always count on at this intimate Italian restaurant run by the famously mellow Peter Pastan. 1) Dinner will commence with so many, and such enticing, breads and antipasti that you will be tempted to ask for the rest of the meal boxed up for home. 2) The house-made pastas and grilled meats, typically simply sauced, are models of restraint but also soulfulness. 3) The room, a mere 30 seats, is about as spare and beige as when the place opened in 1987. Other than some new place mats, there are no plans to dress it up or even replace the sign that’s been missing out front since last November and has prompted fans of the Dupont Circle restaurant to fl ood me with worried calls and e-mails. “Peter thought it was ugly,” says manager Tina Seashore. Anyway, she adds, “everybody fi nds us” eventually. Or should. //


38 THE WASHINGTON POST MAGAZINE | OCTOBER 17, 2010


2029 P St. NW; 202-872-1180. No Web site. Open: dinner Tuesday through Saturday. Visa, MasterCard and Diners Club. Prices: Five-course fi xed-price menu $75. Sound check: 64 decibels.


★★★ THE OVAL ROOM If there’s one lesson Tony Conte took away from his time at the four-star Jean Georges in New York, it’s this: “I try to keep things exciting,” says the chef of the Oval Room. Every dish, he notes, should have “a little pop and a little zing.” Thus, a late-summer cucumber soup is dolloped with a cloud of foam that smacks of lime and jalapeño, and duck breast is spackled with a paste of honey, thyme, soy sauce and kazu, the yeasty byproduct of sake that might be the next “it” ingredient. Sliced into rosy bars, that duck is divine, but it’s not the only draw on its plate. Conte adds to the entree’s allure with glazed turnips, golden “tots” shaped from confi t and potato, and pickled sour cherries to foil the richness. Vegetarians are welcomed with house-made whole-wheat pici (picture fat spaghetti) tricked out with sliced matsutakes, a warm web of Parmesan and hazelnuts shaved tableside. Walls the color of sage and chairs in burnt orange make for a tony place to eat raw slices of gingery hiramasa, the king of yellowtail fi sh and a refreshing fi rst course;


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