Q d'etat?

In the city of Washington, D.C. with its wholesale self absorption and vapid desire to be seen, unpretentious charm is at premium. That's why establishments such as Ben's, Old Glory, and Lindy's Red Lion are such stupendous bastions of reality. All are fairly hole-in-the-wall-ish, all have excellent food at a price affordable even after the taxi zone hikes, and all have a staff that generally appreciates the fact that reservations and martinis are about as wholesome and friendly as a dominatrix tax collector in April.

It is with that thought that I present to you two additional D.C. haunts that emit the sweet smell of Bar-B-Q with a conviction Johnny Cochran would be proud of. Chinatown's Capital Q, and Glover Park's Rocklands are two cramped, aroma filled hovels that offer the promise of cowboy/backyard warrior nirvana. For those of you true barbecue enthusiasts I will concede that a side by side comparison is not wholly fair; Rocklands is technically Southern/Memphis style BBQ while Capital Q is Texas. Regardless, they both serve "dead things cooked good"* smothered in a tomato-vinegar based sauce, and of all the chefs I am acquainted with the singular person who would raise a furrowed brow had I not included that disclaimer is a college chum who worked summers at an eastern Tennessee rib shack...snob.

Capital Q has been fortunate in its urban positioning, the virtual heart of the once-dilapidated, now gentrified (read:where have all the Chinese gone/zhong-guo men zai nar?) "China Block". There could, and shall be an entire diatribe on the metamorphosis of yet another yuppie revitalization in a derelict section of D.C., so I shall limit my rant and write Capital Q's location off as either grand luck or sheer clairvoyance. Much has been written about the Q as "the best Texas-style barbecue in town"(Washingtonian), it has even won wide praise from true BBQ aficionados:

"Capital Q is a home-away-from-home for lost Texans. It is one of the few places in D.C. where you can wear boots and jeans, get a great meal, and even use Texas talk, like `howdy' and `fixin'."

This insight from Rep. Kay Granger (R-Ft Worth) leaves me wondering; is this a selling point? I too am a D.C. transplant, and while I do feel the occasional diasporic twinge in the form of longing for a cheesesteak or truly enraged Eagles fan, I never find myself waxing sentimental over the mispronunciation of words like water (wooder), can (keaan), or any other form of Rocky Balboa patois. But to each his own I suppose. My most recent personal experience at Q was tainted by the disproportion of fat versus meat on my brisket, the soggy bun and flavorless potato salad. The sweet tea, which is one of my favorite reasons the South did not successfully secede, was good. On previous visits I was duly impressed by the pulled chicken and "Texas Caviar", a black-eyed pea and jalenpeno laden cornbread. Hit or miss is an excellent review for a BBQ place in DimSum-ville.

Next we travel up-town, no metro but if you can tough it out on the 30 bus line you're in for a treat. Glover Park has many small gems and one of them is my beloved favorite BBQ palace. Rocklands BBQ serves up huge meals, fantastic sandwiches, and scrumptious desserts for mere shekels. A pulled pork sandwich to fill you will cost $3.98. Homemade chocolate chip cookies, apple pie and never-ending lemonade are all reasons to brush off the peanut shells and sit at a stool. Precious real-estate during busy times. I have eaten everything on the Rocklands menu and everything is fantastic. Not fatty, not too greasy, but perfectly tender, smoke infused meat, chicken, and fish. They have an 8-minute promise, and they live up to it. They also make you wait because its fresh, unlike Capital Q which goes for the lunch-lady approach of mass produce and pull together later.

Try both, love Rocklands!

*'Dead Things Cooked Good' is Rocklands BBQ t-shirt logo

New Heights Could Use a Boost

As the snow fell in Washington and I was forced into hibernation, I felt compelled to recall a recent experience that left me about as warm as that frozen sparrow on my windowsill...and about as gustatorily pleasing.
My excursion occurred while apartment hunting and I happened upon the oft praised New Heights on Calvert Street. I try and put reviews and comments from others aside when entering a new dining experience, as I believe each customer is a new chance to gain a loyal follower if the establishment so wishes. Although it is difficult to ignore New Heights begotten glory (rave reviews from the Washington Post, named Best Restaurant in America by USA Today, and Readers' Favorite by Gourmet Magazine)I tried and easily succeeded with the help of the lame decor and terrible glass of wine, recommended by the bartender, I had while waiting for a friend. In all fairness New Heights's reviews are antiquated (last one was awarded in 2000), and they didn't squeeze the grapes that made my medicinal tasting pino grigio, but a fall from grace if ever there was one.
My companion and I started our meal with the mussels appetizer and the lamb sausage. Both very tasty, both portioned for the heroin chic set. If splitting an M&M were my idea of an entree this first course would have been more appropriate, however the space in the tiny restroom would not allow for nosebleed inducing activities even if I chose to partake...how un-thoughtful. My companion and I both ordered the pork tenderloin served with onions not allowed to sauté long enough to become tender and absorb the pork jus. The pork was cooked perfectly but was coated with an extraordinarily salty crust. Perfect luring deer, passable as a meal for me. Dessert was a forgettable chocolate concoction, your standard mouse covered with a ganache layer showing the intense boredom of the pastry chef whose has too much heavy cream in his pantry.
Upon returning to my computer, and desperately writing down the dreary meal I ate so as to regurgitate it here, I realized that New Heights is owned by the name proprietor of Butterfield 9, another highly over priced and overrated establishment. Umbi Singh must be the best lay in town to obtain lavish reviews like he has serving such uninspiring fare as I just witnesses. Congratulations Mr. Singh, you've done a heck of a job!