Bibiana Osteria-Enoteca (directly translated to Bibiana wine cellar tavern) is another one of the aforementioned popular trend of Italian restaurants arriving in the DC metro region, and Bibiana sits near the heart of the District, at the corner of 11th St and New York Ave NW. The restaurant is a bit hard to find, as you have to walk around the block to find the right entrance to the restaurant if you’re coming in from any direction but south. The block is the former location of the main DC Greyhound Bus Station, although the only remnants of its former glory is an oversized greyhound logo at the north entrance to the building. On a side note, this does explain why so many NY-to-DC charter buses pick up and drop off people in the large parking across the street to the east.

The atmosphere inside is sleek and modern, which translates to dark with lots of sharp edges, and the possibility that you’ll trip over something going to or leaving your table. Luckily, no bloggers were injured in the review of this restaurant. The din of the other diners here can make it difficult to have a romantic dinner, but from what we saw, there seemed to be a greater attendance of quartets than couplets anyways.

The service in impeccable. Michael, Walter, Fred, or whatever generic American name our waiter had, was never more than a few steps away from our table, although nothing short of a blood curdling scream could cut through the noise in the room we were seated in and get his attention. Wildly flapping your arm up and down to flag down a waiter is much more effective here. He was never persnickety, despite our barrage of questions, which was fantastic given the fact that no one at the table could really understand half of what the menu was describing. Who really enjoys ordering something that doesn’t make any sense? I understand the appeal of having parts of the menu in Italian, but seriously, get it together. Put the descriptions in plain English unless you’re catering specifically to Italian diplomats.

The four of us in our party shared two appetizers: the saffron rice fritters and the whole figs stuffed with ricotta and topped with almonds and a balsamic reduction glaze. The fritters were, as best as I could compare them, a more subdued version of a hush puppy, although hush puppies tend to be much more satisfying than these fritters. I’m beginning to realize that while saffron is a fantastic spice and that I love how it tastes, it really doesn’t hold any dish down on its own. There has to be some sort of complementing flavor that doesn’t overwhelm the taste of saffron, but provides that happy dump of serotonin into your body when you bite into a truly amazing dish.

The other appetizer was much more enjoyable, and won over even the less intrepid tastes of Mandy and Jordan, our dinner guests for the evening. The figs had a mild sweet taste that well complemented the richness of the cheese, and the slight tart taste of the balsamic reduction, brought to perfection by the crunch of the sliced almonds.

To put it in a simple comparison, think of a perfect burger, and how each layer (buns, meat, cheese, and tomato/onion/lettuce) has a differing texture, giving you a certain satisfaction with every bite (the softness of the bun, the heartiness of the meat, the flavor of the cheese, and the solid crunch of a leaf of lettuce or a slice of red onion).

A well composed dish with not only have a symphony of complementing flavors, but also a multitude of textures to explore with every bite.

Or with a single bite, as our meals turned out. Every dish that was brought to our table seemed as if we were ordering from the children’s menu. Children with extremely refined gastronomic tastes who are bilingual and have a raging thirst for alcohol. Which oddly enough, is what I imagine most French children are like. Haugh Haugh Haugh!

The main courses came out due to the very dim lighting of the restaurant, were nearly impossible to photograph. I could have had Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster, Santa Claus, and Tupac Shakur sitting at the next table, and STILL not have been able to get a good photograph in Bibiana. Not of the steak Jordan ordered, not of the gnocchi Mandy and Jen both ordered, and not of the lamb filled pasta special (the waiter called it something that he said translates to pocket, although it definitely wasn’t tasca, which leads me to believe he’s a dirty rotten fibber) (why he didn’t just effin’ call it ravioli is beyond me, probably because he’s a dirty rotten bugiardo).

Not that I felt terribly saddened by this fact. Even though the dishes were of high quality ingredients and vibrant flavors, I have to reiterate how disappointed we all were with the portion. Maybe it’s the misconception we have as Americans that Italian food should be hearty and filling, but nobody at the table felt satisfied with the meal.

Which is a good thing that I picked up some Baked & Wired Cupcakes earlier in the day.

 

 

Two Sock It To Me (Pecan and Cinnamon Swirls) and two Smurfettes (Lemon Raspberry) cupcakes, one for each of us.  We ended up splitting the cupcakes so we could each try half of one, and it really was good that we did, because the Sock It To Me cupcakes were the first disappointing cupcakes I’ve had from B&W.  The Smurfettes never let me down, and I still believe that their Pretty Bitchin’ (Peanut Butter) cupcake is my all time favorite in DC.

While the food quality here is of a very high caliber, you should be forewarned that you’re going to be paying a lot of euros for a tiny portion of food. I even felt that the dishes at Kora were a little light, but still vastly more satisfying that the food at Bibana Osteria-Enoteca. I’m grateful for the good company and the opportunity to eat here, but I’ll keep looking elsewhere to find a truly satisfying Italian meal here in DC.

Bibiana is for:

• Italian Supermodels
• Diplomats
• Loud Talkers
• High Rollers
• Italianophiles
• French Children

Bibiana is NOT for:

• Bargain Diners
• Ravenous Gastronoms
• Trapeze School Dropouts
• Capricorns
• Armenians
• French Children

View a map of Bibiana Osteria-Enoteca here.

 

 

 

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Kora is one of the latest in a deluge of new Italian restaurants in the DC area, and the second restaurant by Chef Morou and his wife, Heather. The couple’s first restaurant, Farrah Olivia, has been closed since April, which has given Morou the time to properly focus his attention on Kora.

 

The new restaurant takes the place of the now shuttered Bebo Trattoria, and is named after Morou’s youngest daughter, who smiles proudly from an oversized pop art piece on one of the walls of the restaurant. The atmosphere is modern, but the type of modern you feel from perusing the home furnishings of a west elm catalog. Modern, simple and could easily transform into a retail space with a sales clerk hawking African ebony floating shelves for $800. Wall mount screws sold separately.

I digress. A lot.

The restaurant opens up to a large hostess table, and a large pizza oven that likely burns the midnight wood churning out flat breaded deliciousness.

 

Speaking of bread, the carbtastic surfboards served here are fantastic. They’re baked to perfection, with a slighly crispy exterior, and an aromatic soft center that smells vaguely of herbs. Make sure to get a few dabs of olive oil, poured into a dish of basil, fresh ground pepper, and sea salt. Tuck in.

 

I opted for a half gnudi to start. Half gnudi? I know, you must be thinking one of two things.  Which half?

 

Not quite. (but if you’re going to make me choose, I’d prefer going gnudi, Donald Duck style) Gnudi is a pasta that could probably be best described as a light gnocchi. It also has a much softer and chewier texture, and pulls apart like a piece of bread. In fact, I’d say it’s almost like a little dumpling, and this is definitely one dish that Kora does right. It’s served on top of a small lake of parmesan cream sauce, accompanied by a good dose of caramelized onions, asparagus, and sauteed spinach to top.

 

I love this gnudi so much, I want to take it behind the middle school and get it pregnant.  Despite the pasta and the cream sauce, this dish doesn’t make you feel overly stuffed.  Well, it might to a normal person, but not to a Norm on a cheat meal.  And you know how I treat cheat meals.

BURN IT TO THE GROUND.

Next, I tried the restaurant’s Salmone.  Pan seared Norwegian Salmon on a bed of sauteed spinach and saffron orzo, a veritable raft floating between the Creamy Basil and Saffron Infused Butter oceans.  Sounds good, right?  And again, the presentation is on point.  The taste?

 

Eh.  It falls a little flat.  The salmon is perfectly cooked, as are the spinach, orzo, and sauces, but this dish doesn’t really excite me.  Saffron tends to be a mild spice, and this dish tasted like it needed something else to really make it stand out.  For me, I felt like the salmon was the culprit.  The seared sides of the fillet almost begged for some sort of salted crust, but it just didn’t have the gustatory sensation I expected from the first to my last bite.

On a quick side note, the server gave me the wrong order of Salmone (I ordered the medium rare variant).  It’s an easy enough mistake (did you say steak?) to make when there’s three orders of it at the table, but it stands out in my mind after reading numerous review of how the service is lacking at Kora (apparently the leased space has a bad service curse attached to it, Bebo was plagued with similar problems).  It’s a simple error though, and really I’m just pointing out one minor mixup.  Our server was pretty good for the rest of our meal, always keeping our drinks filled (correctly!) and always popping in to serve the food or check on us at exact the right times.   I just swapped plates with the person sitting next to me (who also ordered the Salmone) and all was right again in the world.  Birds were singing.  Clouds were clouding.  Western Michigan still sucks.

So what next?  If you happen to be a bargain hunter, your 3 course power lunch included a dessert, which on the menu, all look delicious, decadent, and likely to cause temporary blindness.  Much like a half gnudi of Bea Arthur.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Except…except I couldn’t decide.  That, and I didn’t order the power lunch special.  So I went with my gut and ordered the Tiramisu.  The tiramisu here is an espresso laced caked, layered with mascarpone cheese, and a heavy dollop of zabaglione.  Then the chef knocks over a giant shaker of cinnamon and voila!  Edible art.

 

Two thumbs up on the presentation again, and this time, the taste delivers.  Nothing about this dish is overwhelmingly sweet, and it’s the perfect cap to an Italian meal.

If you’re a normal person who’s not on a cheat meal.

So I did what I’d normally do in these sorts of situations.  I ordered two desserts.  I opted for the Bongo Bongo.  A quartet of cream puffs, filled with a rich chocolate sauce, topped with a chocolate semi freddo and surrounded by alternating cranberry and almond dipping sauce pools.  Not as good as the tiramisu, but still tastefully done.

 

While I think Kora still has a few wrinkles to iron out, and could possibly use some tweaks to their dishes, the restaurant is a great places to get a truly fantastic Italian meal.  The breads and pastas here are great, and I highly, highly recommend the gnudi. It is literally is worth the trip over to Kora for a full gnudi.  None of the dishes are uberheavy, even with butter or cream sauces, so you’ll have room for dessert.  Best of all, the prices aren’t outrageous, so if you’re willing to look over the fact that it’s not downtown in the District, you’ll be happy with what Morou has to offer. View a map of Kora here.

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Dear 8 pound, 6 ounce, new born baby Jesus, don’t even know a word yet, I want to thank you for this wonderful meal of fine pastas and carbonated soft drinks from our unwilling sponsor Coca-Cola, that you have given us on this fine New York evening…

A game time decision for dinner on our last night in New York led Jen and I down to Little Italy. It’s interesting seeing the stark difference in environment when you come out of Chinatown and into the Italian District. Is it even called the Italian District? The Meatball District? What do I know. But the dark, unlit streets of Chinatown at night didn’t seem to invite late night diners as much as Little Italy. We wandered from restaurant to restaurant, trying to decide on a place to eat based on the patronage sitting outside as much as we were from the menus proudly displayed at each establishment.

When we finally wandered to the corner of Mulberry and Broome, we settled on the restaurant on the corner, Grotta Azzurra Ristorante. The host boasted their long history (established in 1908), their exquisitite service, and fantastic dishes, which really is hard to differentiate from the 32904849380 other Italian restaurants pushing the same agenda…bring in the customers. With a reasonably large menu and perfect people watching from the corner, we accepted a table outside almost right on the corner.

I started off with the Carpaccio di Manzo, delicately sliced raw beef, topped with argula, thick shavings of parmesan, and topped with a lemon vinaigrette. The ingredients were fresh, but for my next visit I’d opt for one of their other antipasta dishes.

The real stunnahs of this meal were their pastas. I ordered the 4 Cheese Ravioli, and Jen ordered the Gnocchi Al Telefono. Holy crap on a stick, this pasta is good. I really can’t think of any place in the U.S. where I’ve had such fresh pasta. I can’t recall the exact combination of cheese in my ravioli, but I do remember it at least having ricotta and marscapone cheese in it. The raviolis were absolutely enormous. The liferafts from the Titanic weren’t as big as these things. I’d guess they were somewhere around 5″x5″ big, and not completely overwhelmed by the accompanying sauce. Jen’s Gnocchi was ridiculously good, with large chunks of fresh mozzarella infilitrating the gnocchi ranks. The texture was soft, slightly chewy, and not at all gritty like you experience with many mass produced versions you’d get from even the highest quality of grocers. The pasta is made fresh daily, on site, and well worth the visit.

Be aware that the restaurant policy is to automatically include a 20% service charge to all checks, so if you feel that your service was exceptional, you can always add more to the coffers of your server, but you should’t be obliged. Thin of it as an bonus for those of you who did horribly at middle school math. Just leave room for cannolis and gelato across the street!

On a side note, make sure to check out the street vendors, and pick up a baby Jebus magnet for your refrigerator back home.

Amen.