Crushin on My Man

Yesterday was my six month wedding anniversary, and Jon took me on a hot date, after sending me surprise work flowers. He even donned a tie for the special occasion. A perfect husband's work is never done.

On the way to the car, we were giggling like fools and for no good reason, except that Jon was taking FOREVER to hook up the GPS, which was hysterical at the time. Must have been the champagne, mixed with the giddiness that comes with husbands taking their wives on impromptu secret dates. I already had an inkling this night would be extra sweet.

Jon was saying, "Where are we?" And I was saying, "I have no idea." And, then, there we were. Eat Bar in Arlington. He'd discovered the place while dropping off some wine at Tallula, the fancier spot next door. In January last year, Tallula's loungey bar-in-the-back became it's rustic boho-chic counterpart. Jon had told me about it, said "You'd like it honey," and I did immediately. It makes perfect sense that this place is owned in part by the same guy who owns Evening Star in Del Ray.

The tabletops are like the tin roof of an old farmhouse, and the goth brothel lanterns cast a warm amber glow that made me feel cozy right away, and kind of like making out, which is probably why there were lots of couples there, who also must have been on hot dates, but there were also a few older folks, and even a young family with their two little ones. Could it get any warmer?

The service was pretty slow, but who cares? Clearly, this isn't a hurry-up kind of place, plus our waitress was cute and nice and smiley, and that's all that really matters. And my husband is even cuter and smilier, and really, that's all that matters. Even better, they had Higuerela, the red wine we served at our wedding, nothing fancy and all delicious, a different vintage, but no less nostalgic. And best of all, they poured our wine in perfectly giant bubbly wine glasses with extra skinny rims right next to good ole mason jar waters. I really do feel like I'm on the farm, a fancy farm. Maybe a farm in Napa, or maybe in a church that's in a wine cave on a farm in Italy; all this place needs is a stained-glass Jesus. Wherever the hell I am, Eat Bar oozes romance, and it smells amazing. I think it's the warm olives, house roasted, in at least eight shades of purple and green.

On the menu at next door's Tallula, the assortment of amuse-bouches are aptly titled "Amuse Yourself," but next door at Eat Bar, they are simply called snacks. A chorizo corn dog, a baby burger with truffle butter and onion marmalade, a bowl of maybe the most amazing hush puppies with honey butter I've ever tasted, rosemary fries. I wish I could snack like this everyday. We also had cheese and charcuterie: a soft goats-milk cheese from Humboldt and Grayson, a supple cow's mik cheese from Virginia, with house-cured tasso ham and salami, a dollop of sweet apple butter, and some yummy breads, one crispy and one soft.

And we were already stuffed up on food and love, but why stop there? Jon insisted on two desserts and a port, which I could've done without. Jon said it's an acquired taste, and I believe him, and I also believe I won't be doing much to acquire it. The homemade chewy molasses cookie sandwich with ginger pumpkin ice cream, heavenly. Apple pie a la mode, divine. And the best dessert of all, the rest of my life to celebrate half-year anniversaries with my precious man.

Tallula and Eat Bar are located at 2761 Washington Blvd. in Arlington, VA.

Chesapeake Chicks

This is a sad, sad post, only because I had such high hopes for Wood Chicks BBQ in Chesapeake, VA. This place has won nearly every award in the southern bbq book, which makes me wonder: Is my bbq palate simply not up to snuff? Do I have some serious affliction affecting my taste buds unbeknownst to me? Am I just impossible to please? I am choosing for now to believe that we just went on a bad day; after all, even the best have their unfortunate moments, don't they?

Jon and I both ordered the pulled pork sandwich platter, as usual, and with the spicy tomato-based bbq sauce. The sauce was damn good, but it was too overpowering and just too much for the dried-out pork. I know they cook their pigs for 16 hours, but this poor swine seemed like he laid in a smoker for a full day and then sat out in the hot sun for another. A sauna would have been better, then maybe some moisture would have found its way back into the meat where it belongs.

The baked beans were infused with the smokiness of Chick's own beef brisket, and I could have eaten a whole pound. Ditto for the mac n cheese, save the brisket, but sides should never outshine the star of the show. I think we might have to go back for part 2, because I'm hoping this show ain't over.

Give Me More

This might have been one of the best bacon bites ever, sadly, just a bite. It all started with a communication breakdown. Alright, so I started things off in kind of a gay way in any regard. Freakin wine spritzer. I just didn't want to get drunk, and my tolerance is really lacking these days. One of those things that goes with age that no one lets you in on. I wanted something light, not too much albeit not too little. I asked the bartender at Evening Star Cafe in Del Ray, "I'd like a wine spritzer please," which made me feel a little stupid, and to make matters worse, "with ice...and how is the mixed grill app?" He said, "well, how hungry are you?" To which I replied, "not very, why? Is there only one scallop or something." He chuckled, and said "yeah, you want soda or sprite?" "Sprite," I said, and regretted it later. I had never ordered a wine spritzer out; I'm too cool for that, and I guess before I'd had it with soda water. It was gross, yet slightly refreshing.

Back to the scallops. For some reason, I thought the bartender was joking about the scallops. I half expected a full plate of scallops, wrapped in bacon. Old school. But when the plate with one scallop was placed before me, I felt like I made a bad choice. This sure as hell isn't preventing any hangover at this rate. But what the one scallop lacked in size, it was made up for by the giant rectangle of fresh, house-cut, juicy, slabby, fatty bacon. It was like a sparerib, but saltier. I don't usually eat this much fat, even on a piece of bacon, but this time I couldn't get enough.
Soft, velvety even, melt in your mouth fat.

Creamed corn and avocado puree accompanied the land and sea combo. So small yet so good, I needed the two friends i was sharing my table with to try it. They refused, "I feel bad, it's sooo little." I implored them, and "yummm, mmm, wow, man," were the responses. A baby plate topped with a flavor bomb. Good things really do come in small packages. More please.

Evening Star Cafe is located on the corner of Mount Vernon Avenue and Howell Avenue in the Del Ray neighborhood of Alexandria, VA.

Bubba's Not So Hubba

Finding a good barbecue joint in DC is akin to meeting a Cowboys fan that isn't a complete jerkoff. But, that doesn't mean I won't keep an open mind – about the BBQ.

I was craving pork butt again, so me and Jon decided to venture over to Bubba's in Falls Church. I mean, check out their menu. Chili cheese fries are always a draw for me, but with three different versions of pork bbq, I was sold. Both of us got the classic pulled pork sandwich, as if there were really any other option. My plate was a pig pleaser all around, aesthetically. Rosy colored shredded pork piled high on a sesame seed bun, topped with a heap of slaw, two-colored baked beans, white and red, and collards with skinny white onions perched on the vinegary greens, all served on a bright blue plate, with separate baby bowls for the sides – an added bonus in light of the messy melee. The really great thing about this place is that they serve beer, by the pitcher no less.

Okay, let me first say that I hardly believe there is bad bbq, ever, anywhere. Even the driest, most tasteless, unspicy, stale bunned, slawless pulled pork sandwich is enjoyable, at the very least. That being said, Bubba's was somewhat of a disappointment. The slaw that looked like a heap just didn't measure up to the even bigger heap of smoked pig, and was sorely missed. Almost as much as a truly hot hot sauce, the lack of which was even more surprising considering they had several lovely looking sauces on the table, along with trivial pursuit cards, all of which are usually good omens. Of a sweet sticky bbq sauce, a yellow runny mustard sauce, and an orangey vinegar sauce, none had the kick I was looking for. And, Texas Pete just doesn't cut it; it's even less hot than Tabasco, which would have sufficed, but when that's the hottest option, I'm left wanting more for sure. The pork was tender but sauceless, not my fave, not Pierce's, not Buzz N Neds, not even close, yet just good enough to satisfy my craving.

The beans on the other hand were freakin fantastic. Chunky and perfectly chewy bacon knocked these little guys out of the ballpark. Collards are simple, but easy to screw up, and these ones were pretty middle of the road, but at least the vinegar was on point. Throw some of the bean bacon into the collards and jackpot...more fatback please!

All in all, Bubba's is a priceless little pork butt haven, but not quite heaven. If you get a hankering for hog, it just might be the place for a beer and brisket, which I'll be sure to try next time, along with the chili cheese fries.