A tall Air Force officer walks into the new and low-ceilinged Cajun Experience restaurant in Dupont Circle, to pick up a carry-out order. He asks owner Bryan Crosswhite, who is situated on a bar stool, chatting and fiddling around with a broken door handle, if he knows of a dish called “gumbo-laya,” an admittedly fusion-y concoction he liked to order from a Cajun restaurant in California.

“Never heard of it,” says Crosswhite, a native of Lafayette, La., telling the customer how he tries to stay true to the fundamentals of Cajun cooking. An economist who moved to the D.C. area in 2007, Crosswhite is in the middle of explaining the authenticity of his restaurant’s Cajun cuisine, showing me the custom of enjoying a bowl of chicken and sausage gumbo with a spoonful of potato salad in the center.

America, you see, has “bastardized gumbo,” where diners have come to expect a thicker, fricassée-like consistency, Crosswhite says. “It has to be muddy, watery gumbo.... If it’s real, it’s gonna look like bayou water.”

With a handful of new Louisiana-oriented restaurants and eateries opening in Arlington and the District in recent months, it’s gotten a bit confusing to figure out what’s exactly Cajun, what’s Creole, what’s “real,” what’s not, and who’s mixing Louisiana’s various traditions together.

Should D.C. diners, who are largely clueless about these differences, care about intra-Louisiana culinary divisions? To Crosswhite, who is quick to tout his Cajun heritage through eight generations in the Atchafalaya Basin—with ties to the Guillot and Darbonne families, to be exact—they should.

“In Louisiana, we are picky,” he says. And the newcomer to D.C.’s restaurant scene, with two Virginia locations in Leesburg and Purcellsville under his belt, is not shy about pointing out that the other new entrants in D.C.’s Louisiana-dining market lack, well, Louisiana roots. At least most of them. (Bayou Bakery’s David Guas, formerly Acadiana’s pastry chef, grew up in New Orleans and spent many summers in Cajun country at his aunt’s house in Abbeville, “about 20 minutes away from where Bryan was born.”)

The authenticity game can get tricky.

“They have no credibility in the market,” Crosswhite says of Hot N Juicy Crawfish, which opened up in Woodley Park in January. Hot N Juicy’s first (and only other) location, in Las Vegas, was recently featured in the Travel Channel’s Man vs. Food show.

The first Hot N Juicy opened in Las Vegas’s west side Chinatown in 2007. The Woodley Park location is co-owned by Rita Nguyen, whose brother, Tim, started the Las Vegas restaurant with wife. The Nguyens are a Vietnamese family from Texas; Rita says they hope to expand the restaurants nationally.

Hot N Juicy opened its second restaurant in D.C., she says, because Washington has always been a city she’s loved (Sarasota, Fla., another of her favorite spots, might be a future location).

There was also, naturally, a business opportunity here. For starters, there aren’t a whole lot of places in D.C. where you can put on a bib, suck out the contents of a crawfish head, and peel shrimp on easily replaceable tablecoverings. Certainly not at white table-clothed Acadiana, which opened in 2005 on Mount Vernon Square.

“We wanted to bring something new… something fun, young,” Nguyen says.

From the bubbly Katy Perry songs blaring from the sound system to the neon beer signs on the walls, you definitely get that feeling. It’s a place for groups to feast on spicy seafood, nosh on fried oysters, and drink beer.

“We’re definitely not Creole,” Nguyen says. Hot N Juicy keeps the menu pretty simple. Crawfish and shrimp come seasoned in 1-pound plastic bags. You choose the spice level—a waitress warns new customers that Hot and Spicy takes its name seriously—and a type of seasoning.

The garlic butter option is no joke—there’s plenty of finely chopped garlic, which might make your pores quite fragrant the day after. There’s also the special Hot N Juicy seasoning, which Ngyuen says has “an Asian twist” and “a lot of love.” She declines to disclose the recipe, but says the night before, she was in the lower-level kitchen until 4 a.m. making it and the other seasonings, including what Nguyen says is a more traditional Louisiana Cajun seasoning.

“It’s all about the spicy,” she says.

That Cajun description is what peeves Crosswhite, along with topping boiled seafood in sauce, a Cajun no-no. Then there are, more broadly, the non-Louisianans who have muddled, and disrespected, traditional Cajun cooking, he says. They’ve “bastardized our cuisine for years. And that starts with Emeril Lagasse,” the famed television chef who Crosswhite notes is just “a guy from Massachusetts.”

* * *

Talk to Crosswhite for just a bit, and it’s clear he thinksLouisiana’s culinary traditions have been overthought by tastemakers from outside his home state. “Cajun food is not supposed to be fancy,” he says, referring to Acadiana, helmed by chef Jeff Tunks, a partner in the Passion Hospitality Group, which also includes TenPenh, DC Coast, and Ceiba.

At Acadiana, Tunks says, “we didn’t want to be Cajun, we didn’t want to be Creole. We wanted to be a Louisiana restaurant.” And since Acadiana caters to a more buttoned-up crowd, he couldn’t have bibs be part of the equation. “We wanted to give that same flavor profile, just without the muss and fuss.”

Guas says part of the beauty of cooking is the ability to adapt and present culinary traditions. But he admits that in Louisiana, “it’s complicated, it’s sensitive.”

On a larger scale, Crosswhite, Guas, Tunks, and their colleagues in the Louisiana cooking world have larger identity issue to deal with: demystifying the common thought that all Louisiana cooking is spicy. Guas says Louisiana cooking should be about the flavor, not the spice level. And if you can’t taste Louisiana cooking’s “holy trinity” of ingredients—green pepper, onion, and celery—you’re off track.

Cajun does not mean New Orleans cuisine, which has been heavily influenced by Creole cooking traditions from Europe, the Caribbean, and Africa. The Acadians from France’s former Canadian territories resettled in Bayou country following the French and Indian War, bringing bits of provincial French food culture with them. The mish-mash has always made identity politics complicated, especially when cooking traditions are added to the mix.

Guas says he learned to cook from his aunt in Abbeville. But “I don’t call myself a Cajun,” he says. “I would never pigeonhole myself... I don’t talk about that to give me clout. I am who I am, I was born where I was born. Do I think I’m honoring a culture I was raised in? You’re damn right.”

Though he is very proud of his roots in Acadiana, “I’m not anti-New Orleans,” Crosswhite stresses, admitting that his own white tablecloths and brick back patio might remind some of “New Orleans 1940s.” The Cajun Experience also offers a Crescent City classic: beignets, made according to the original Café Du Monde recipe. (Why tinker with tradition, Crosswhite says.)

Regardless of Crosswhite’s culinary roots, the boundaries of his restaurants are poised to expand. A Capitol Hill location is in the works, he says. After that? Cajun Experiences in Europe and the Middle East may come, too.

Crosswhite says he’s cooked in Egypt for private parties to rave reviews. He plans to expand there “as soon as we have a new government in Egypt.”

But first, Crosswhite needs to prove Cajun Experience as a restaurant in Washington. Three months after opening, it’s probably too early to predict where it will land, though there’s intriguing promise. On my visits, dishes have been good, but markedly uneven. (Watch the salt on the collard greens with those otherwise nice, slightly sweet hushpuppies!) Service has ranged from attentive and informative to, at times, slightly schizophrenic. All of this is to be expected of any new restaurant starting out.

Generally, Cajun Experience has a nice vibe going for it, below sidewalk level, tucked inside a cozy 18th Street NW rowhouse space down the block from the hoopla atmosphere at Lauriol Plaza. Crosswhite says to cement his Cajun authenticity in D.C., he’s planning food tastings and educational events.

In the near term, there are Saturday all-you-can-eat crawfish specials for $35 per person. This summer, expect similar specials on Maryland crabs—not steamed, but boiled Cajun style, and likely alongside the crawfish.

Though the Cajun Experience gets its oysters from local Chesapeake waters, Crosswhite says the shrimp are from the Gulf and crawfish are regularly shipped in, 2,000 to 3,000 pounds at a time from the heart of Cajun country.

Cheaper Chinese crawfish have crippled the Louisiana crawfish industry, he says: “Our restaurants don’t serve any Chinese crawfish.” If they did, “my momma would slap me in the face and my father would rise from the dead and kick me in the butt.”

Nguyen, meanwhile, says Hot N Juicy gets its shrimp from Ecuador. The restaurant’s crawfish is sourced “in Louisiana,” though she doesn’t say where because of competitive reasons.

Guas says he’s “proud” that his crawfish comes from Houma, La.

While Crosswhite may be fussy about authenticity, the recent expansion of Louisiana dining in D.C. has been nice. Food has always been one of the state’s best cultural ambassadors, something that any Louisianan living locally knows well. Crosswhite says Louisiana expats have come into his restaurants, “they sit down, they eat the food, and they say ‘I’m home.’”

Because that’s where the true authenticity is, anyway. “People in the rest of world eat to live,” Crosswhite says. “We live to eat. That’s what separates us.”

Photos by Darrow Montgomery

Cajun Experience, 1825 18th St. NW, (202) 670-4416

Hot N Juicy Crawfish, 2651 Connecticut Ave. NW, (202) 299-9448

Acadiana, 901 New York Ave. NW, (202) 408-8848

Bayou Bakery, 1515 N. Courthouse Road, Arlington (703) 243-2410

Between the RAMMYs, the Food & Wine Festival at National Harbor, Teddy Folkman's turn on The Next Food Network Star, and the (I shit you not) Kids' Restaurant Week, I think one legitimately serious gastronomic event has been overlooked: Chilean chef Matias Palomo's week-long stint at Ceiba.

Palomo is offering a five-course prix-fixe menu through Saturday, June 13, at the modern Latin American outlet. The meal will run you $39 — or $59 if you want to pair each course with a Chilean wine, which of course you do.

Now I haven't sampled Palomo's menu yet — that'll happen later this week — but I have been reading as much as I can about the chef and how he has been working to transform and elevate traditional Chilean cuisine. What I found striking is that his approach mirrors the one that revolutionized the Chilean wine industry: Palomo is borrowing heavily from other cultures to make Chilean food more accessible (read: hip enough) for fine-dining gastronomes in fussy, First World countries.

Born in Mexico after his folks fled Pinochet's reign of terror, Palomo eventually studied cooking at a culinary school in Santiago. But his real education took place outside of Chile when he accepted a kitchen position at Arzak in San Sebastian, the Michelin three-star performer under chef Juan Mari Arzak, who's considered a pioneer in the Spanish avant-garde culinary movement. Palomo would later work with Daniel Boulud at Daniel as well as with Ferran Adrià, the Spanish legend himself, at El Bulli.

Much like how the Chilean wine industry relied on European and American techniques and expertise (not to mention money) to become an international player, Palomo leans on French techniques and the anything-goes Spanish mindset to raise the profile of Chilean ingredients and cuisine.  As he noted in a recent press release:

"My goal," says Palomo, "is to make a change in the national cuisine of Latin America. South America is home to some 80% of the quality products used in the culinary world, but its cuisine is not recognized at the international level, unlike Asia and Europe, for example. And our kitchens have the same root. In Mexico, there are empanadas and in Chile we have pastel de choclo. We cook the same ways and this can be empowering."

Palomo's restaurant in Santiago, Sukalde, has already earned the toque a Chef of the Year award in Chile, not to mention a glowing mention or two in American food magazines. But now you can sample his innovative Chilean cuisine this week at Ceiba, where he will serve, among other fusion specialties, a mini-braised short rib sopaipilla and a Chilean sea bass with red cabbage gelatine. His full five-course menu is below.

See you at Ceiba this week.

Amuse
Mini Braised Beef Short Rib Sopaipilla
Pebre
Sauvignon Blanc, Haras, Maipo Valley, Chile, 2008

First Course
Chilled Spicy Corn Soup
Seared Sea Scallops, Popcorn Powder
Riesling, Cousino Macul, Dona Isidora, Maipo Valley, Chile, 2007

Second Course
Chilean Sea Bass
Red Cabbage Gelatine, Curanto Sauce
Chardonnay, Los Vascos, Colchagua Valley, Chile, 2007
OR
Grilled Beef Tenderloin
Potato Puree, Chilean Mushroom Sauce
Cabernet Sauvignon, Montes Alpha, Maipo Valley, Chile, 2006

Dessert
Yogurt and Chilean Olive Oil Mousse
Basil Macerated Summer Berries
Riesling, Miguel Torres, Curico Valley, Chile, 2006

Cheese
Patagonian Andes Cheese
Wine Jelly

Much of the region's inauguration-themed food and drink, ranging from an all-Hawaiian menu at fyve restaurant lounge at the Ritz-Carlton in Pentagon City to deep-dish pizza at Rustico in Alexandria, will roll out later this week. But here at Young & Hungry Central, we've been combing the area, trying to find those inauguration eats already out there. Here's what we've found:

The Dream and The Spirit: These specialty cocktails are available at all five restaurants in the Passion Food Hospitality group, including Acadiana, D.C. Coast, and PassionFish. I tried them both at Ceiba, on 14^th Street NW, and completely bought The Dream. This hand-warmer of a drink is served in an Irish coffee glass; the bourbon provides just the faintest hint of alcohol burn to counter the drink's sweet butterscotch and caramel flavors, while the orange garnish adds both a fruitiness and a welcome hit of acid. I'd sneak a flask of this stuff onto the Mall, if I could. It'd make the whole waiting around for the Grand Moment more bearable.

The Spirit, by contrast, lacks the complexity of The Dream. I enjoyed its lychee flavors, but found the cocktail, with its triple threat of Champagne, grape juice, and St. Germain liqueur, too fruity by half. This is not a time for frou-frou drinks.

Galena Cellars "Eric the Red" Marechal Foch, Illinois: I asked the bartender at Oya Restaurant & Lounge what she thought of this French-American hybrid grape from Illinois. She made a face and said not much. She poured me a sample so I could figure out if I wanted to invest in an entire glass. After the single courtesy sip, I knew I didn't. I found the wine's extremely ripe fruit flavors off-putting; they were so up in my face that I didn't even notice the grape's acidity, which, as sommelier Andrew Stover later told me, gives the wine good balance. I include Stover's comment in the name of fairness to this underdog varietal, which he says is similar to pinor noir.

Obama and Biden Rolls: This may be the only time I'll actually choose Biden Bush over Obama. Asia Nine's Biden Vice President Roll Presidential Lame Duck Roll, with its deep savory roasted duck and sweet and spicy accents, is superior to the one-note wonder known as the Obama President Roll, which essentially tastes like spicy, toasted sesame seeds. For an extra $3, you can pair either roll with a glass of sake, which comes with these little wisps of gold leaf floating on the top. The waiter explains that gold is a sign of success and wealth in Japan. I tell him it's a sign of success and wealth in the United States, too.

Image by Flickr user Eden Weaver