Little Serow

This is not the coconut milk Thai from the country's central region, but the smokey, porky, sweet-sour-spicy cuisine from the mountainous terrain of the northeast. Our server at Johnny Monis's Little Serow explained this to us as we devoured a succession of seven courses on the prix fixe menu, rattling off the differences in climate and geography and how that affected the food in each region.

Four of us made the pilgrimage to the spinoff from Monis's nouvelle Greek fancy dining place Komi, which we managed to enjoy a couple of times before it rocketed to fame as one of the top restaurants in the country and became impossible to get into. We arrived at 4:50 to take our place in line and put our names in when the restaurant opened at 5:30. We weren't the first ones and in fact were among the last to get some of the 28 places available in the first seating, seated side by side along a white counter.

Decor is funky (Thai funky?), with the interior painted an aqua green, tables at bar-stool height, drinks kept cold in a utility sink and flat screens hidden in a file cabinet.

We started with a drink and the fried pork rinds with chile sauce and salad vegetables (nam prit narohk het). The sauce was very hot and the pork rinds were light as air. I had one of the vermouths to start with, the Perucchi Gran Reserva from Spain.

The next two dishes -- all were served "family style" for each couple -- came together with some rice. There was a dish with catfish, dried shrimp and mango (yum mamuang pla muek), which had a funny fish-sauce flavor (don't get me wrong, I liked it). The second dish featured pork (not listed in the decidedly sketchy descriptions on the menu) along with sour fruit, palm sugar and shrimp paste (ma hur). As with all the dishes in the menu, these braced you with new, exciting and unusual flavors. There were hints of the familiar cilantro and Thai basil and always a suggestion of heat from chile, but there were new things, literally, for this Westerner and Thai food novice, indescribable.

The next dish, gai laap ching mai, combining chicken and chicken livers, offered more familiar flavors, a taste of pate with some exotic seasoning. Our companions at dinner, who cook Thai at home, noted approvingly, "Lots of chopping going on in the kitchen." This was followed by a crispy rice and sour pork dish (naem khao tod - no photo) that upped the heat a bit and gave us some more of that marvelous pork flavor.

To my taste, the next dish of greens, salted fish and egg (gai lan bla kem), was even hotter, though it was supposed to bring us down again. It had us reaching the sticky rice and sniffling but made you feel like you'd been to Thailand.

The final course brought us back to more familiar terrain with pork ribs marinated in mehkong whiskey and grilled to falling-off-the bone tender (si krong muu). Something of a piece de resistance it was a useful bridge back to U.S. of A.

A fun place with great food and excellent service -- what's not to like. I'm not sure how often I'll like leaving at 4:30 to stand in line for dinner and the service seemed at times a trifle rushed, especially when they set out the clean plates and silverware for the next seating on the back counter was we polished off our ribs. But how should you cope with fame? At Komi, you can only get a reservation if you call the minute they open for  booking 30 days in advance. How long can you let guests linger when you've already booked two more seatings? Sometimes it's worth the trouble and this is one of those instances.

Crab season

When I lived in France, there was only one culinary experience I was bold enough to come back from the U.S. and brag about -- Maryland crabs. From the time my friends in Baltimore first took me to Bo Brooks and I tasted the sweet white chunks of meat you pry out of these hardshell crabs, I have considered it one of the top eating experiences anywhere.

Going out for crabs became a regular feature of my visits stateside, as we switched back and forth from Bo Brooks to Obrycki's. When I moved back to the U.S., I'd visit regularly from Princeton, and since I've been living in DC it's a ritual to go at least once a season for a real crab feast.

Nowadays we go to Nick's Fish House and Grill, perched on the water south of the port with a lovely address on Insulator Drive. But sitting on the deck, you see only the water, the docked sailboats, the stately old Hanover Street bridge, and dozens of people whacking away with wooden mallets at the steamed crabs.

The visit last weekend was exceptional because jumbo crabs were available (though in earlier times these were probably known as extra large) and we were all hungry, so we added steamed shrimp, mussels in chipotle sauce, corn on the cob, French fries and pitchers of Fat Tire beer to the mix.

The bigger the crab, the bigger the chunks of meat and the easier they are to pick out of the various little crevices. It's a lot of work to eat crabs and the joy of having the big ones is that the payoff is bigger. Crabs come out of the steamer smothered in the Old Bay spice mix and are dumped directly on picnic tables covered with thick brown packing paper so that participants can grab a crab, crack the pincers with a wooden mallet to extract that meat, split open the body with a sturdy plastic knife, and squeeze, pull, pry and pick out what they can from the sharp, cartilaginous interior. The succulent meat needs no drawn butter, dressing, sauce or other adornment.

Nick's is reliably good, though this two dozen crabs did not come immediately out of the steamer and as a consequence were not as hot as they should have been. Our table was only feet away from the hard-working reggae band (we so wanted them to take more frequent and longer breaks), making conversation difficult. But cracking, picking and consuming crabs requires a lot of concentration, so conversation was often suspended anyway. Plus, we had the entertainment of several fellow diners pretending they were in Aruba and dancing to the music.

One could be forgiven for pretending to be in the Caribbean, given that it was a rare summer night that is warm without humidity, a breeze coming off the water, and that full, full moon coming up over the masts of the sailboats. Truly a feast.

Union Market

It sounded too good to be true and it was. I dreamed of something at least faintly resembling Borough Market Hall or even the Baltimore markets, but Union Market in NE DC is not a new foodie mecca chockablock with quality products. Rather, it is a boutique-y dollhouse version of a real market. It has a smattering of products that are indeed good quality but generally overpriced and it is very difficult to get to. Maybe it will succeed as part of the redevelopment of that section of NE but for those of us in upper NW it's just not worth the trip.

I went hoping it could be a destination for one-stop shopping, in particular with a good butcher shop and some vegan-oriented food bars. Goshen does in fact offer some fresh juices and a couple of vegan dishes, but it really is just a market stand and they offer what they can carry in. Soup Up offers a vegan soup, but for $8 you expect something more original than tomato basil.

Red Apron Butchery was unimpressive. Why would I buy their sausages and salumi when I can get a better, more robust selection that is much closer at Stachowski's? Harvey's was much more impressive as a butcher, but Wagshal's either in Spring Valley or hopefully on New Mexico Ave. offers much the same. The prices are higher but it is much more convenient. And why would I trek down across the tracks in NE to Righteous Cheese, which is a pale shadow of Cowgirl Creamery.

The market seems much harder to get to than the 26 minutes estimated on Google Maps. For one thing, there is always plenty of traffic to slow you down via Georgia and Florida. Plus you then get trapped in what has to be DC's worst intersection at Florida and New York.

And once you get there it is just much too precious (read pretentious). Cordial, for instance, a wine and beer store, actually got a plug in Food and Wine for an extremely limited selection of $20+ wines. At Pearl Fine Teas, one of the "popup artisans," I got what seemed like an 8 oz. cup of "Hawaiian Zen" for $3.30.

The vendors, excuse me, artisans seem bored and listless, as well they should sitting all day in a cavernous space devoid of customers. I came at 2 on a weekday, so maybe they do land market business at meal times, but I don't think so.

Good markets, like good food, grow organically to meet real needs. Union Market seems like a totally artificial effort to force the issue. I'm much better off supporting my local Farmer's Markets, co-op and above-mentioned NW stores.

Long summer lunch in the country

I generally don't blog about meals at friends but we had a special lunch over the weekend that goes in our personal hall of fame right next to the idyllic meal in southern France a couple of years ago.

This time we were in rural Virginia on one of those rare summer days when it's not too hot or muggy or buggy or too overcast or too rainy to sit outside and enjoy the beautiful scenery -- and this on a Saturday to boot. Our friends built a house on a farm with a terrace facing their pond, framed by wonderful green trees and blue sky. They have been experimenting for some time to create the perfect "slow food" lunch -- where the pacing and amounts are just right to stretch out a meal for the full afternoon. It was our good fortune to be there when they succeeded.

A word of warning: Sitting in the summer sun (even in the shade as we were), you will get more dehydrated than you realize and this results, judging by my recent experience, in alcohol consumption having a bigger impact than usual.

We started with prosecco, and moved to white or rose and then red. There were radishes and other munchies that have faded in my memory after what followed. The first course was a lovely grilled toast with a canned truffle spread accompanied by a fresh burrata. As with all the subsequent courses, this was exquisitely plated and as pleasing to the eye as to the taste buds.

The second course consisted of shrimp, lobster and scallops gently grilled in a basket in the Big Green Egg so that they all were delicate, tender and moist. Again, the presentation knocked your socks off (though on a hot summer day none of us were wearing socks). There was only the faintest taste of smoke and a subtle taste of sea though we were deep inland at the foothills of the mountains.

The courses were spread out. Our hosts would disappear into the kitchen to work their magic while we continued a leisurely but stimulating conversation with the other guests, sharing views on travel, Europe, Santa Fe, food, wine, politics, movies, books -- the kinds of things you talk about when relaxed.

The third course was a delightful celeriac soup, creamy with a touch of green from some subtle herb and decorated with a drizzle of oil.

At this point we switched to the Chateauneuf du Pape for the homemade beef carpaccio, accompanied with thick stalks of asparagus and a tangy spaghetti squash and shaved parmesan, all al fresco as the perfect light main course for a summer lunch.

Dessert  (unfortunately no photo) was also delicious. It was a chocolate tort with whipped cream that was rich but still light enough to finish off this summer lunch.

After coffee and more conversation, we retired to the upper deck to enjoy some more red wine and the 360-degree view. Time had not so much flown by as just stopped and suspended us in a pleasant idyll.

Chicken with eggplant and basil

Elizabeth Minchilli said she learned at a recent workshop on food-blogging that people click most often on chicken recipes, so she obliged with this weekday recipe that is simple and delicious.

First step is to brown 4 thighs and 4 legs in 1/4 c olive oil. Minchilli stresses the importance of letting the chicken fry without moving it around in order for it to get good and brown, about 6 or 7 min per side. It really works! The skin side gets crispy and brown and stays that way through the subsequent stewing process.

Remove the chicken and add three cubed (but not peeled) medium eggplants to the hot oil, and again let it brown. Not sure how big her medium eggplants are, but mine filled the sauteuse that I was obliged to stir the cubes around a bit to get them all to brown. Then add 5 cloves of chopped garlic and cook for a further 3 minutes. Add 1-1/2 c white wine and bubble up a couple of minutes to deglaze bottom of pan. At this point, add 1 c water some of the 2 c of basil leaves, reduce heat, cover and cook for another 20 min or so. To finish, add the rest of the basil.

I'll confess that embarrassingly I was unaware we don't yet have basil in our garden, so I belatedly had to adapt by simply sprinkling in some dried Herbes de Provence. But it was still quite delicious and I'm not sure you need the herb or at least need to be confined to one or the other. I could imagine this tasting quite good with tarragon, for instance.

Minchilli has a short rif about how bland boneless skinless chicken breasts are and why she never uses them. Never say never, I say, but there's no question the dark meat is more flavorful. An the family pack price at Whole Foods for $1.99/lb meant that I could get 5 leg-thighs for $6.67 and have my 8 pieces for the recipe with 2 left over for stock.

The dish comes out creamily Mediterranean -- all that eggplant and olive oil! -- and went nicely with brown rice and a French rose.

Santa Fe

Rather than fight the medical conference crowds for reservations at Cafe Pasquale or other leading lights on this trip we sampled some of the more informal places favored by our friends in Santa Fe.

Harry's Roadhouse had the pride of place, where on three trips we had the blue corn turkey enchiladas, tacos with barbacoa, and the buffalo burger with Monterey jack and green chiles. But Santa Fe Baking Co. was right up there, too, for several breakfasts. Great pastries, and excellent huevos rancheros and blue corn pancakes (which really stole the show).

Two other down-home favorites were Counter Culture, which had excellent sandwiches, and Tune Up, where I enjoyed chicken breast with mole Colorado and grilled bananas, a great sweet, savory and spicy dish. We also met friends at Santacafe for a little Southwestern elegance in the their lovely courtyard and some great steak.

We will probably be more venturesome once again on our next trip, but we wanted to take it easy this time around. Among Santa Fe's many charms is that taking it easy could not be easier. There is not a single place in Washington that can match any of these in the combination of chic and quality, without any pretensions or falsity.