This is not a formal review, but rather an off-the-cuff first-impressions-style riff on a brand-spankin' new D.C. restaurant.

Of the various al la carte offerings at chef Enzo Fargione's new Elisir restaurant (roughly pronounced ale-ee-zeer), which opened on Wednesday, the smoked carpaccio di branzino immediately snagged my attention. The $18 fish dish comes served in a cigar box. The server pops the lid and—poof!—a visible cloud of Applewood smoke fills your nostrils.

Initial impressions: The aromatic presentation immediately recalls chef R.J. Cooper's "Fowl Play" dish at Rogue 24 (No. 8 on the Coop's 24-course journey, during my visit), but the morsels here are far more substantial. Several bite-sized slices of seabass line the bottom of the serving tray, drizzled with a citrus dressing and topped with shaved mushrooms, pea tendrils and blood oranges. I enjoyed the combination of flavors—salty, sweet and a little peppery—but wondered whether the thing might be just a tad overdressed. The fish is really buried under all that stuff. It is altogether tasty, nonetheless. Finishing up, I noticed a few stray shards of crystalized salt in the box and promptly popped 'em. The salt really seems to really trap the smoke.

The cooking process breaks down like this, according to a server (you can also find the recipe here): the fish is cut right off the loin, dressed and put in the cigar box. (The restaurant has about a dozen of the boxes on hand, he says.) Meanwhile, he tells me, the wood chips are placed on the grill and heated briefly to get 'em to start smoking. Then the chips are put in a little ramekin, which goes into the cigar box with the fish and the lid comes down.  The box is then basically left alone to cook for about four minutes while it makes its way to your table. "It's perfect timing," the server says, "because it gets to the table and it's been about four minutes and the server will just open the box and, of course, remove the wood chips." He laughs, "We don't want anyone eating the wood chips."

Photos by Chris Shott

"It had the same dense, meaty and yet flaky texture of eel with a real sweet aftertaste to it," he said. "It's a good fish. It should be. It spends all day eating bass and other tasty fish."

Photo by Brian Gratwicke/Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license

Dishes We Dug

Dishes We Didn't: Corona-battered fish 'n' chips, made "with real Corona" at Grand Central. (May taste better than actually drinking that Corona!)

Best Acceptance Speech at the James Beard Awards: "I had money on [Grist.com's Tom] Philpott. That's all I have to say."—former Young & Hungry columnist Tim Carman, winner in the best food-related columns/commentary category

Photo by Chris Shott

Chef Jonathan Seningen

Earlier this week, Y&H did something he hadn't done in nearly a year: hit the gym. Summoning up whatever athlete's pride I have left, this former cross country runner went 30 minutes on the elliptical without stopping, a solid 2.50 miles. (Don't figure out the time per mile, I'll just be embarrassed.)

I then went to Hook and downed a three-course lunch. I didn't even feel bad about it.

How could I? Despite one glaring technical error, this was a solid lunch, top to bottom, all for $24 for those three courses.  I instantly put Hook and executive chef Jonathan Seningen, former chef de cuisine at Oya, on my watch list for next year's Young & Hungry Dining Guide.

I started with the heirloom tomato gazpacho, a rather unusual take on the cold soup. Seningen's version doesn't try for an opaque, uniform texture. The look and texture of his gazpacho, I swear, reminded me of tomato placenta, the gelatinous interior of the summer fruit. It's not a turn-off, I promise. It looks light, even refreshing. The orange-colored liquid is dappled with lump crab meat, corn kernels, and pine nuts, which provide a crunchy element here or a sweet hit there. The most pleasant spoonfuls, though, were those loaded down with lump meat, whose sweetness seemed to multiple by a factor of 20 when surrounded by that ever-so-acidic soup.

My entree was the rather drab-sounding barramundi with broccoli and soft polenta. I ordered it mostly out of respect for my trip to the gym. I was really eyeballing that fried oyster sandwich. For once, I'm glad my conscience guided my choice. This dish was an unexpected pleasure. The fish's skin was crisp, its flesh melt-in-your-mouth soft. Its flavor was mild with a light undercurrent of the sea. The fish, however, wasn't complete without its plating partners. The flavors of all three ingredients — the barramundi, the steamed broccoli (with their final squeezes of lemon, yes?) and the polenta — just locked into place on first bite, as if nature somehow meant for field and stream to join together.

I wouldn't call the final course of corn crème brûlée disappointing, but it did have a serious technical flaw. Its dusting of sugar was torched to a five-alarm shade of black, providing an unmistakable bitter edge to Heather Chittum's dessert. It was an unfortunate misstep in the kitchen. The custard itself, part of Chittum's thematic "Cornucopia" dessert, is a brilliant combination of two different styles of sweet — those plump kernels of summer corn and the traditional sugary custard. The accompanying polenta cookies added little to my semi-enjoyment of the corny custard, although the salted grape tomatoes were an amazing counterpunch to the palate.

All said, that lunch was one helluva way to say goodbye to the summer — and to the calories I just burned on the elliptical.