A Scoop from the Golden Age

(Eddie's exterior. Image from Yelp.)

Occupying a beloved corner space on Metropolitan Avenue for over a century, Eddie’s Sweet Shop in Forest Hills maintains its reputation due to an old-fashioned approach to serving America’s favorite dessert. Antiquity radiates from within this ice-cream parlor, as everything from the marble countertop, to the homemade soda floats, to the vintage cash register seems embalmed in a long-gone era when sweets, prepared with a localized family-owned passion, felt equally splendid on the tongue and heart.

[Note: Let me acknowledge that the past, when viewed from posterity, always seems infinitely better than it in fact was. That’s beside the point here. When a store can in the present encapsulate the past’s ideal and keep it feeling genuine, it has inarguably achieved something great.]

But nostalgia for those chrome postwar years aside (how many Hollywood cameras have passed through its doors?), Eddie’s can still deliver on its renowned signature product. The ice-cream – and especially the beverages, be they milkshakes, malts or floats with the soda brewed right in front of you – is usually thick, rich, and poised to clean the most soiled pallet. Ice-cream scooped from a vat in a freezer, however, can be inconsistent no matter where it comes from, so I advise the uninitiated customer to stick with soft-serve. No other such shop in the immediate vicinity (read: all of New York City) could match it.

The milkshakes, though, hold a notable distinction among my taste buds. Every time, Eddie’s serves me what is easily the best milkshake I have ever tasted. I’ve slurped up some fine milkshakes in my day. A handful of anonymous diners come close. Marvel, a seasonal parlor out on Long Island, comes close. Larry’s, which I plan to profile once I return to Washington, can hold its own. But Eddie’s has invariably proven itself to reign high above the rest, and probably always will.

Rustic entities have a hard time avoiding obsolescence. Quite often they visibly decline, and the shop’s cracked floors and rickety metal stools might put off an unknowing patron. Admittedly, any old building comes afflicted with the petty nuisances of age. But should an ice-cream parlor that looks fit for James Dean appear pristine and squeaky-clean fifty years after the Eisenhower Age ended? For me, the shop’s archaic qualities, be they charming or inconvenient, validate its relevance and enhance the overall experience of frequenting it.

In a time when everything we eat and enjoy seems pre-prepared by dispassionate machines in a far-off factory, a taste of some down-home, simplistic, fundamentally humane ice-cream from a longtime local staple goes to show that we have done, and continue to do, better that what we are used to. Thankfully shops like Eddie’s, despite growing rarer with each passing year, are still around to remind us.

A Bistro at Once Cool and Unpretentious

(D.C. Bread & Brew exterior. Even the ampersand seems ingenuous. Image from dcbeer.)

The monoliths of Foggy Bottom start to give way to the smaller, more charming dwellings of Dupont Circle somewhere between M and N streets NW. It is amid this abrupt shift in architectural tone that a mesa-colored, one-story café called D.C. Bread & Brew appropriately cuts off the huge glass federal building preceding it on 20th Street, welcoming passersby going north to an altogether new neighborhood. Here, a government worker on lunch break can sit on the front deck or inside on leather chairs and sip coffee, eat sandwiches and temporally feel like a human being again. Or, Dupont Circle denizens can rendezvous and enjoy the cozy, conscientious atmosphere befitting to any good cosmopolitan.

Around noon on warmer days the few tables out front fill up quickly, but sitting inside when the fans run remains pleasant enough. Order at the counter choosing from a narrow selection of pizzas, paninis, quiche, salads, and a daily special or two priced around $12, the most expensive meal on the menu. A wider breadth of drink offerings boasts organic coffees, teas and wine along with some beers of varying obscurity. Depending on the order, a polite and obsequious server, who always addresses the customer using formal titles (my name was, a bit goofily, Mr. Matt) will carry out the dish anywhere from 5-10 minutes later. Some orders will take a while even with crowds absent.

The quiche, whether of meat or vegetables, is at least two-and-a-half inches thick with a firm crust and rich taste. Order sandwiches on crispy ciabatta bread and prepare to taste one of the better paninis in the District. A reasonable lunch special consists of half a sandwich and a salad with dressing temperately applied. Dishes come and go at a moderate pace, but rarely does one feel rushed by the staff. I’ve sat and read for hours at a small circular table in the dim corner without anyone trying to hurry me along, even after the plate before me had long since disappeared.

It’s not daunting task to find a cool, comfortable coffee shop in the area (see The District Java Roundup Parts I, II and III). Nor are locals hard-pressed for an organic eatery conducive to urbane time-wasting. But with superior food and a natural, welcoming aura, D.C. Bread & Brew rises to a higher level. It doesn’t seem to try in achieving sophistication. It simply achieves it, transcending expectations for an establishment of its sort in a neighborhood like its own. Anyone wandering up on the right street from the city’s financial district must get a fine impression.

The Entire World Stuffed Into a Truck

(The "Saucamobile," parked and ready to dish out the globe. Image from Sâuçá's website.)

A new addition to the fleet of mobile food vendors prowling the District for customers started its engines two months ago. Sâuçá, a yellowish truck with a rotating and ever-expanding menu pasted on its side, serves its sizable title dish – a flatbread wrap encircling world food from any of all six inhabitable continents – for less than $10 each. On a single day, Sâuçá can conceivably cook up pork banh mi from Vietnam, croque-monsieurs from France, fish tacos from Baja, and some old-time American BBQ beef, depending on which global region the customer craves a taste of.

The truck appeared with little flare on campus one day last week. Passers-by stopped to look, but this vendor has not yet amassed a following like the multitudes that flock whenever the purple tidings of Fojol Bros turn the corner. I placed my order after the state of propane availability became ambiguous (growing pains – we understand) and waited around for a short five minutes before carrying away a heavy container holding my beef shawarma, a Middle Eastern dish treated with Chimichurri and Tahini sauce.

An appropriate mélange of vegetables accompanied the tender meat. The seasoning gave character without immersing everything to unreasonable levels. Sâuçá claims that its food is exceptionally healthy – a singular quality that, if given the right attention while dining, one can usually taste. As a meat-eater who buys organic, grass-fed beef every chance he gets, I attest that the multicultural wraps from this vendor taste the way they’re marketed.

Finger foods can get messy, and the staff did not provide a biodegradable spork to fish up all the fallen bits from my order as the pita unraveled. (I didn’t see if any utensils were available at the window). But, after unashamedly using my hands, I devoured everything in the container, and it left me content. A partnering drink would have been nice, but the choices were few and prices somewhat steep ($2 for water, $1.75- $2.50 for tea or coffee). But a brand new urban food vendor can have its minute drawbacks so long as it delivers on what it promises – cheap, unique and appetizing delicacies, without which the city it serves would be a little blander.

Sâuçá delivers. I foresee it conquering this town, one avenue at a time.

Dining in Southwest

(Top-tier eating: City Zen's interior. Image from https://www.ewatravel.com/)

As I've indiscreetly mentioned (read: shamelessly prostituted) in the past, I intern as a copy editor for The Southwester, a monthly, all-volunteer community newspaper serving the District's smallest quadrant. This week, our belated February issue hits the stands, and therein one may find a comprehensive dining guide to eateries within the boundaries of Southwest and Capitol Riverfont (hitherto known as Near Southeast).

Since many of the entries profile establishments unique to the city and neighborhood - including the renowned City Zen and its newer, more casual counterpart, The Sou'Wester, both helmed by James Beard award-winner Eric Ziebold - I'd like to link to our latest issue here. It's in PDF format, so scroll down to pages 7-9 to read our short takes on all the area's fine restaurants:

The Southwester Dining Guide 2009

Happy browsing, and happy dining.