Social

Columbia Heights is quite the clash of cultures these days. The streets are filled with hoodrats, latino workers, hipsters, and well, the other people who live there. It’s one of the few areas in Northwest DC where you can pick up kitschy photo frames from Target on one block, and get shot or stabbed on the very next. Fun!

Jen and I ventured up 14th street to the area to check out Social, one of the newer restaurants to open in the area and serve such a diverse crowd. As it was, we didn’t quite have any expectations when we arrived. The restaurant has two entrances- the left leads down to a bar area that’s packed with men who could care less if a woman walked in the door, and an upstairs dining area with luxurious leather couches and plush chairs for diners.

Almost too plush. No, actually, they were too plush. I nearly banged my chin on the table sitting down on the table, and the reclining angle of our seats nearly doubled the distance between Jen and I at our table. The decor here is, however, very tasteful and contemporary, with a myriad of professional photos adorning the walls.

The water service comes to each table with a bottle of water, but don’t be alarmed by the fact that you might be charged for a bottle of water, as Jen and I wondered through the majority of our meal. The water’s simply DC’s finest on tap, but a little clarification would have taken some stress out of the meal.

While we sat with our waters and poured over the menus, we noticed a certain absence, both in diners and staff. A fair number of tables were empty, but we attributed it to just a slow night. So it’d come with some logic that we’d be doted upon by our waiter.

So we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Even our water boy, keenly aware of our lack of attention by the staff, came by and asked if we had been checked up on by our waiter, to which we naturally replied, “No.”

“Oh great.  I mean, that’s not great,” he fumbled.

He scurried off, and a few minutes later, our waiter finally arrived.  We put in our order for food before he barely greeted us, but I’d consider that less rude or impatient had we not been sitting there for at least 15 minutes.

Their menu, on first glance, reads like an incomplete math problem. Three numbers accompany every dish, and you’re to make the assumption that those three numbers indicate the prices of differing sizes of the order. But how big are the sizes? Small, medium, and large barely denote anything of actual serving size.  Our waiter explained that the small serving was the size of a tapas dish for one, the medium a size suitable for sharing, and the large, something for a large party, or in my case, the perfect size for my main course.

Jen wanted to start with the tomato and mozzarella with fresh basil, which came out with an excellent presentation, but lacked any originality, making this all looks and no substance order the Jennifer Anniston of our selections.

The Guacamole comes with a heaping side of fresh fried tortilla chips, sharing a similar affliction as the dish above.  The guacamole was certainly fresh and well made, and the chips glistened with oil like a tour bus of retired ladies in the South Beach sun…but somehow this still just didn’t have anything to make this really stand out.  Adding in the fact that the chips were flimsy and snapped when scooping up the delicious green butter only exacerbated the situation.

The Oven Roasted Madeira Mushrooms are soaked with truffle oil, oven roasted, and then simmered in a wine cream sauce, then served atop fresh sliced baguette bread and a creamy goat cheese spread.  This dish seemed to follow suit with the others, being a reasonably average tasting dish with great presentation.  The mushrooms are cooked to perfection, the goat cheese pairs well with the baguette and the mushrooms, but there’s a certain lack of inspiration that comes through a really great dish.

As for my main course, I ordered the large basket of meatballs.  A large bowl filled with somewhere in the range of 10-12 meatballs, which I easily devoured on my own, these were pretty much what you could expect out of a good meatball- satisfying, meaty, and covered in just the right amount of tomato sauce without being drowned in it.  I can’t complain about these one bit.

The dishes here all hold the same level of quality, which is to say, passable, and not worth too much complaint, but lack the creativity or appeal to really give them substantial praise, either.  The kitchen uses quality ingredients and sticks with fairly tame offerings without offending anybody’s palette.  Getting someone to actually serve you, however, is a completely different matter.  That’s not to say Jen and I were the only patrons to get frustrated with the service here;  we watched another couple move tables from a back corner table to one closer to the back where the wait staff hovered in hopes of getting better service.  By the time we left, the two were slumped back in their lounge chairs, looking annoyed, disappointed, and ready for a cheque.

Well, it could have been worse.  At least they didn’t do this:

Social can be found on a map here.

Recommended For:

• Anorexics
• Narcoleptics
• Scallywags
• Non-Tippers
• Waiting For a Storm to Pass

Not Recommended For:

• First Dates
• Gastronomic Greatness
• Attention Whores
• Out of Towners
• Cheat Meals