As Joe Englert and I take a taxi (he rarely drives because he thinks it's cheaper to take cabs, once you figure in parking tickets in D.C.) to Enology, the wine bar he co-owns with Adam Manson, I ask the businessman if this indeed has been an average day for him. After all, by my reckoning, here's his day (at least the parts I witnessed):

• Eat breakfast with sons, Henry and Alex
• Call a taxi and take Alex to school
• Play tennis with buddy Matt Weiss
• Sign a few documents in his office
• Play bubble hockey with me
• Share some rum shots
• Eat lunch and crack jokes at Argonaut
• Pick out china and flatware for the H Street Country Club
• Drink a small glass of black muscat at Enology
• Make phone calls

Yep, Englert says, this is pretty much an average day, though he's quick to remind me that he did get some documents notarized at the National Capital Bank of Washington, where he traded jabs with Vice President John Gordon, who wanted to know when Englert moved to D.C. It was 1984, Englert remembered, right after he gorged on Big Macs in Los Angeles when McDonald's was giving them away for every U.S. gold medal won during the Olympics. "That explains a lot," Gordon says dryly.

But Englert says that sometimes he goes from place to place, checking on the Internet jukeboxes at his bars and restaurants. He wants to make sure that some evil music hasn't been automatically downloaded onto the machines. "You can show up one day, and George Michael is on the jukebox," Englert says. "It's just not good for your place."

Joe Englert keeps teasing me about a blog item I wrote, calling for a moratorium on stories about the H Street Country Club until the place actually opens. Englert thinks that I secretly believe the indoor miniature golf/Tex-Mex joint will never open. As if to prove me wrong, we stop by the construction site so that Englert can help select china, drinking glasses, and flatware.

It takes all of three minutes to make the choices. The rest of the time is spent cruising the three-story (including roof) structure that will, no doubt, once it's finally built and open, become the hottest goddamn ticket on H Street NE. (See sketches below of some of the proposed holes.) Part of its appeal will be the Tex-Mex menu, conceived by Ann Cashion and executed by former Cashion's cook, Pablo Cardoso, who just happens to be on hand at the Country Club to explain both the sit-down menu and the bar menu. There will be, Cardoso says, lobster tostadas, homemade tamales, Mexican slaw with chicharones, lamb shank enchiladas, snapper Veracruz, gorditos, and a dessert pineapple chimichanga with Mexican vanilla ice cream.

The joint will also serve a decent line of Mexican beers, which will be available even on the 18-hole miniature golf course (nine holes on one level, another nine on the roof). Englert plans to have a putt-putt version of a beer cart, delivering cold ones to parched putters on the course.

Later, after we cross H Street NE and step inside the office that's overseeing beautification projects in the neighborhood, I ask Englert if he's not worried that construction will do to his businesses what construction did to those on P Street NW---almost ruin them. He brushes off the question and says there's already a shuttle bus that operates along H Street and that many patrons don't drive over, but take the Metro to Union Station. The operators here, he adds, have learned the sad lessons of P Street NW.

In other words, I'm just being a pain in the ass again.

All outward appearances to the contrary, Joe Englert is not some overgrown man-child. He's a pretty serious-minded businessman, of which I was reminded when we took a taxi cab to his second office just off H Street NE. While in the cab, we had an in-depth discussion about the politics (and cash) required to get a business up and running in the District. Believe me, Englert sheds any pretense to silliness when discussing permitting issues.

Englert's success in the bar and restaurant business, it seems, merely allows him to behave as he wants. Sometimes he plays the role of middle-aged game boy; other times, he takes on the persona of a college senior perpetually looking for the next party. Englert admits that he likes hanging out with young adults in their early 20s as well as seniors, those who have a good eight decades under their belts. Everyone else seems a bore to him, just more workaday drones with no sense of humor and no willingness to drink at noon.

Which brings me back to Englert's H Street office, which was once a plumbing supply store. The space is actually more than an office. It's also the living quarters of Englert's nephew, Travis Englert, who has a very cool one-room apartment upstairs.  The first floor looks more conventional by contrast: big leather chairs and sofa, a desk, a wall of books.

But as Englert is showing me around, he pops open a bookshelf, haunted castle-style, to reveal a secret speakeasy behind the wall. There, inside, is a battered old bar. Several bottles of liquor sit on the shelves. A cooler is stocked with beer. This, says Englert, is where he conducts business when on H Street NE.

Then he insists that we have a shot. He pulls down a bottle of dark rum from Guatemala and pours a finger for me and his two construction workers/drinking buds, Steve and Josh. He pours three fingers for himself. The rum goes down sweet and smooth. It's only around noon, and I already have a slight buzz.

This, I think, is the price for hanging around Joe Englert.

When Joe Englert goes to work, he doesn't drive to some sterile office building in Arlington. After a game of tennis with friend Matt Weiss, Englert is chauffeured to work in Weiss' black Lexus. His office? It's a converted garage on Capitol Hill, where Englert's modest desk takes up a tiny fraction of the space. The rest is filled with pinball machines, Pittsburgh memorabilia (Englert's hometown), a TV lounge, a diner booth, a collection of random signs and souvenirs, a Ping-Pong table, and a bubble hockey game.

Englert does seem to perform work while in the office. He reviews extremely detailed variance reports from his various properties, trying to figure out if there's some suspiciously missing liquor. He also signs a few documents handed to him by his long-suffering assistant, Cheryl Webb, who plays the disapproving mother role to Englert's perpetual adolescent. Webb even hands Englert the latest paperwork from the Alcoholic Beverage Control Board, which has approved licenses for three new ventures: Joe's Coal & Ice House (a barbecue joint on H Street NE), Vendetta (an Italian restaurant on H Street  NE), and an unnamed po' boy shop on Capitol Hill.

I press Englert about the po' boy joint, since I haven't heard about it before. He won't say much other than to note that it will include the services of Dr. Granville Moore's chef Teddy Folkman and a well-known local chef. I try to guess the chef. I guess right, but he won't let me print the name.

Did I mention that Englert likes to play games? He swears he's a very good table-tennis player and that, given the right opponent, he can even turn it into a work-out. But while I'm there, he challenges me to a game of bubble hockey. It takes me awhile to master the handles and knobs, which allows Englert to jump to a quick 3-1 lead. But I score again, and Englert taunts me that I need to make another soon to force overtime. I'm resigned to losing---until I flip my wrist and, much to my surprise, I score again to tie the score at 3.

Just seconds into overtime, however, Englert smacks one by my goalie. He whoops as if he just won the Stanley Cup.

He's better known for his ability to keep the District's twentysomethings entertained and well-lubricated, whether at the Capitol Lounge or at one of his playpens on H Street NE. But Joe Englert's preferred form of fun includes a morning tennis match, often against his sometime business partner and Lounge 201 owner Matt Weiss (both picture here in an extremely crappy shot).

Weiss is the superior player. He has a killer serve. He hits harder, and he's not carrying around an extra 20 pounds in belly fat, like his opponent. But Englert is a master at mind games. What he lacks in skill, he makes up for with sheer cunning. Englert knows how to get under your skin. Every time he wins a point, he releases a vocal torrent that sounds something like this: Whooo-waa-waa-waa-waa!" It's Englert's version of Nelson's two-toned taunt on The Simpsons.

But Englert has other tricks, too, particularly when he's losing. At one point, when Weiss has a seven-point lead, Englert starts his serve with this announcement, "9-2, Douche-bag."

"Did you say Jew boy?" Weiss shot back. "I'm sensitive about that."

After losing to Weiss, 15-13, when his opponent allows a soft lob to land out of bounds, Englert complains, "That wasn't sporting at all."

Englert is apparently looking for favors.

If Englert is prone to teasing on the court, he says that at least one fellow player at the East Potomac Tennis Center can dish it right back. There's a Chinese gentleman who plays in his street clothes. Seriously. This morning he was wearing black slacks, a dress shirt, and black rubber-soled shoes. He likes to give people shit, particularly Englert.

Englert says the man likes to ask him: "Why you so fat? You play every day!"

Once I find a door that actually opens at Safari DC, I walk in and ask for owner, William Mukabane. The older man who greets me says the owner's here but is not feeling too well. So he directs me to Mukabane's wife, Alice, a gracious woman who, despite a crowded bar and dining room, tries to explain to me why Kenyans love to stay up so late. It has to do with family values and late-night business deals. I'm afraid I don't quite follow.

Regardless, the main thing you need to know about Safari DC is that it is the area's only Kenyan restaurant, and as such, it has embraced Barack Obama as one of its own, even if the president has spent little time in the country and barely saw his Kenyan father before he died in an auto accident in 1982. The restaurant has dedicated a corner of its bar to Obama pictures, knickknacks, posters, paintings, you name it. There's even a homemade welcome banner with empty spaces where Obama and family can leave their autographs, should they ever step foot into Safari DC. Not that Alice or William Mukabane have asked Obama over, but they have hopes that he and Michelle may stop by during one of their evenings out.

True to the Kenyans' habit of staying up late, Alice Mukabane tells me that she had to skip the inauguration today because she didn't get home from work until 7 this morning, after cleaning up from last night's pre-inaugural party at Safari. Saturday and Sunday nights were just as rough, she says, with about 250 customers crammed each night into her place at 4306 Georgia Ave NW. Tonight will be more of the same.

If she was disappointed to miss the inauguration, Alice Mukabane doesn't have time to express it. She excuses herself for a minute to take care of some customers in the dining room. That's when a man at the bar asks me if I write for a newspaper. I tell him I work for the City Paper. He asks if I'd like to interview him. He smells of alcohol, and his eyes have all the focus a stoner staring at a textbook. He says he's Alice's husband.

But before William Mukabane goes too far off on a tangent with me, whatever that tangent may be, a kindly friend escorts Mukabane outside for some cold air. Yep, he's not feeling too well. He's suffering from excessive celebration.

"They were just very minor," Taubenkibel says.

All rail lines are again operational. Metro is advising the crush of humanity entering downtown stations to stay at least two feet away from the edge of the platform.

Meanwhile, as of 1 p.m., more than 585,000 people have taken a Metro train today, the spokesman says. The lines to get into downtown stations are long. "It is taking some time to get in," Taubenkibel says, "but people are getting in."

Metro is not providing estimates on how long it may take riders to board a train, let alone reach their destination. In other words, take another swig from your concealed flask and relax. It'll be awhile.

Clifford Pugh, a colleague from my old Houston days, writes in his Cliff Notes blog today that Michelle Obama's glittery, eye-catching gold dress was designed by Isabel Toledo, a Cuban-born American designer who once tried to inject a more modern style at Anne Klein, where the designer used to work.

"Her choice continues a penchant for the First Lady-to-be for designers of Cuban heritage," Pugh writes prior to Barack Obama's swearing in. "Michelle Obama wore two outfits by Narciso Rodriguez to the pre-inaugural events on Sunday."

Shall we go ahead and read too much into these design choices? Why the hell not? I see warmer relations with Cuba in the immediate future.

Image by Flickr user davitydave

Committee members will be noshing on a luxuriant buffet spread, prepared and served by Central's superb cooks, as the parade rolls by the restaurant's front door, located near 11th Street NW and Pennsylvania Avenue. Zipin says the committee should have an okay view of the parade from Central's front windows, though it may be significantly blocked once the sidewalk starts to fill up. At around 11 this morning, there wasn't "a lot" of people out there, he says.

By 2:30, the start time of the parade, Zipin figures that will change. "So many poeple may be outside the restaurant, I don't if we will be able to open the door," the general manager says.

Assuming they can open the door, will Zipin let his hard-working cooks and waiters take a break and watch the historic parade? "I don't think the chefs will want to come out," Zipin says. As for the servers, though, Zipin says he "shouldn't have a problem with that, as long as it's civil."

Zipin says he may even let the cooks out, should they want to leave their buffet stations for the parade. He understands, after all, the importance of the day and its events. "It's exciting," Zipin says. "It's amazing."

The accident has limited service on the Red Line, Gates says. Passengers must now exit the Red Line at either the Farragut North or Judiciary Square exits. Gates did not know when full service may resume.

As far as the accident, the spokeswoman said it was still under investigation, and Metro does not yet know the cause.

Given the volume of passengers today, it's somewhat surprising that more accidents haven't occured. By 9 a.m. today, more than 409,000 people had already taken the Metro.

1. Chef Art Smith Does Brunswick Stew

2. One Dude Who Will Never Join PETA

3. Taqueria Distrito Federal II Adds a Little Color to Kennedy St.

4. Reagan Airport Still Sucks for Healthy Food

5. Whole Foods Wants to Sell You Shrimp for Thanksgiving

6. Lunch Call: Eat at Jackson's Roasting and Carving Co.

7. Not So Fast: Neighborhood Restaurant Group Not a Partner in Eatonville

8. Song Que Moves Into the Old Four Sisters Space

9. Picking Apart the Family Thanksgiving

10. A Blast from the Past: 1972 Burgundy for Thanksgiving

Here are the top blog posts from the Y&H blog, as picked by a neutral committee that weighed such factors as taste, newsworthiness, importance, popularity, and proper hygiene.

1. PETA Wants Lower Health Insurance Premiums for Vegetarians.

2. The Stacy's Pita Chips Challenge.

3. Organic? Nope. Environmental? You Betcha.

4. Junction Market: A Total Jerk Center.

5. Recipe for Disaster: How the Economy Is Affecting Cashion's.

6. AU Is the Most Veg-Friendly College in America.

7. North Sea Restaurant Goes Organic!

8. Andy Shallal's Eatonville to Symbolically Reunite Hughes and Hurston.

9. Jamie Stachowski on Obsessive Chefs.

10. Ashok Bajaj to Open Restaurant No. 7.

The football team was playing the Kansas Jayhawks in a Big 12 North contest. To most casual college girdiron fans, the game had all the sex appeal of a Colgate vs. Furman match-up. Not for me. Fox Sports Net was offering the game via pay-per-view, but as far as I could tell, I couldn't buy it on Comcast, so I started calling sports bars. I've been down this road before. I've been told at least three other times that a certain bar would carry the game, so  I would dutifully drive there, order a beer and some grease, only to find out that, oh sorry, they don't have my game after all. It really pisses me off.

On my third attempt to find a viewing spot on Saturday, I got a hold of the Green Turtle, a sports bar in the Verizon Center. The woman on the phone said they would have the game. I asked if she were sure. She said yes; they carry FSN and all its games. I emphasized that this was a pay-per-view game, not a regular FSN game, and I really emphasized that it's a long way for me to drive there. She told me not to worry; they'll have it.

The wife (who's not crazy about these Saturday afternoon time-sucks to begin with) and I hopped into the car, drove down to the Verizon Center, paid $15 to park, and got a seat under one of the many flat screens around the main dining room. It was still 35 minutes before kick-off. We ordered two appetizers (the pork-adillas were surprisingly tasty) and two sandwiches (both as mushy as sponge cake) and waited for the game.

Five minutes before game time, I asked the waitress to turn the channel to the NU-KU game. She was the same woman I spoke to earlier on the phone. She remembered our conversation. She goes to change the channel. Minutes start to tick off. Three minutes, four minutes, five minutes, six minutes. I'm getting anxious. The kick-off has already occured. I catch the waitress' eye from across the room. She gives me a reassuring look; they're on it.

A few minutes later, she arrives at our table with the bad news: No game. She feels awful. I make her feel worse by telling her how much we paid for parking. She apologizes a number of times but makes no offer to remove anything from our bill. I'm getting more pissed by the second. She leaves.

She comes back with the bill; the manager has agreed to take off almost exactly $15 worth of food. I am fairly satisfied with their gesture and finally let the waitress off the hook by saying, "It's all right," when she apologizes again, though I confess I'm not totally ready to forgive all just yet. I mean, how hard would it have been to check the FSN schedule, particularly after I pressed so hard? After all, I can't get back the wasted time or the wasted calories. And I never got the chance to watch the Huskers throttle the Jayhawks.

How many of the winners were part of COK's Restaurant Outreach Program?

Since COK launched our Restaurant Outreach program in 2004, we've worked with more than a dozen area eateries in the D.C.-Metro area, helping them create vegan options to add to their menus. This program, which is absolutely free to restaurants, has been met with incredible success largely due to the increasing interest in healthier and more humane foods. Restaurants we've worked that were voted as serving the "Best Vegetarian Food" of 2008 by visitors to VegDC.com include Java Green and Asylum, as you mentioned in your article in the Onion, as well as Ella's Wood Fired Pizza and Busboys & Poets. Other restaurants we've worked with include Equinox, Asian Grill, Pete's Apizza, Science Club, and more.   

Why didn't you mention this program connection in the press announcement?

This contest was created to celebrate the wide variety of delicious animal-friendly options available in and around the nation's capital. There are over two dozen all-vegetarian restaurants in the area, plus there are hundreds of other restaurants listed on VegDC.com featuring delicious vegetarian options on their menus. 

Did you think of not including these program restaurants in the final tally, since they have a connection and history to COK and its members?

This contest was not limited to COK members; it was open to everyone who visited VegDC.com. More 1,000 people participated in the contest, and we asked them vote for their personal favorite veg-friendly eateries.  

Did COK employees vote in the contest?

COK has four employees, and we did not vote in the contest.

Do you think that the awards give off the impression that they are rewarding participants in your Restaurant program?

No, I don't think so. I think people vote for the restaurants they like the most, and these happen to be the restaurants they vote for. While we're proud of the success of our Restaurant Outreach program and are thrilled that people are enjoying the vegan options available at the places we've worked with, we're even more excited by the growing availability of vegetarian food the area in general--which was what the contest was about. 

As you noted, our program isn't mentioned anywhere in the contest promotion, nor is it mentioned in listings on VegDC.com for these restaurants. Our goal is simply to demonstrate how delicious and easy it is to choose vegetarian fare in the nation's capital, and to encourage people to explore these options when dining out.