Grapefeed

Last night, I enjoyed a long-overdue meal with my friend Gerry, whom I hadn’t seen in a long while. When he swung by my office to collect me, he suggested we go to Bistrot du Coin, a French place north of Dupont Circle. I’ve been in a dining rut lately, so I figured why the hell not.

After a significantly longer-than-expected wait, we finally sat in a cramped table near the back of the main dining room. Normally, I’d complain about such tight quarters, but it afforded me a rather unusual view: the kitchen, unobstructed. Not that I had much reason to look back there — Gerry and I had much catching up to do — but I noted it as interesting.

Until a few years ago, I was often hesitant about going to a French restaurant. Previous experiences featured insanely limited menus of stuff I wouldn’t want to come across in nature, let alone my dinner plate. But Bistrot’s menu was extensive and, to my surprise, moderately priced. I opted for the Gratinée des Halles (French onion soup) to start; Onglet à l’échalotte (a hangar steak, cooked rare, with fries and a sweet shallot sauce) as the main course; and for desert, Mousse au chocola a ma facon (a very rich chocolate mousse, dusted with cocoa powder).

The dinner was amazing, the service was prompt, the decor was eclectic-but-not-crazy like Friday’s or Ruby Tuesday’s. The long wait and cramped seats were long forgotten once we consumed our dinners. This was easily one of the best dining experiences I’ve had in D.C. in a long while. As we left, I wondered why I hadn’t eaten there before.

I see a return trip in my future.