Notice the orange letters in the middle of the photo.

Tee.

Hee.

Hee.

Last night, I went to dinner at Pizzeria Uno in Union Station on my way home. They sat me in the Senator’s Booth.

Here’s an update of sorts on the small park that recently had shrubs chopped and benches dismantled.

Whomever owns the land — I assume it’s whomever manages the adjacent building — posted a sign indicating the plot of land is off limits to the public at large.

I wonder if they’ll redo the landscaping. It could use a little freshening up.

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.

Despite last week’s fire, the 44th annual Market Days festival at Eastern Market went on as planned. Attendees were allowed to view the damaged interior of the building from a specially set up barricade at one of the Market entrances.

Check out more photos from inside the Market.

After work yesterday, I took photos of the destruction at Eastern Market. Pictures cannot do justice to what I saw; the interior is completely destroyed. Stalls were left charred. Electric wires swung about. Windows frames that weren’t destroyed had yellowed, melted plexiglass covering their gaps. That’s just what I could see from outside looking through open doors and broken windows.

Worse than seeing the damage was the smell. A combination of burnt plastic, insulation, produce, meat, wires and wood combined to form a strange odor. No doubt it will get worse as any meats — cooked or otherwise — left behind rot.

Mayor Fenty pledges to rebuild the Market, but it can’t happen soon enough. Eastern Market is vital to the community; local businesses (and a couple of corporate ones) sprang up nearby because of the Market’s draw. It afforded visitors a cross-section of Washington life you don’t get to see in the tourist zone. And it gave area residents a comparably-priced alternative to the local megamarts that specialize in food grown for quantity, not quality.

Before I left for the office this morning, I ate a bowl of cereal topped with strawberries my roommate picked up from Eastern Market on Sunday. I realized how much we take the Market for granted at home; we can never find produce that good at Safeway or Giant.

The Capitol Hill Community Foundation is accepting contributions for the vendors affected by the fire. Please give if you can; if you do, be sure to designate it for Eastern Market’s vendors.