Per a release, "Entrepreneurs and brothers David and Christopher Wallis along with their wives have signed a seven-unit franchise agreement for the greater Washington D.C. area, the first of which will open in Hyattsville in March."

Elevation Burger, which opened its first spot in 2002, started franchising locations in 2008 and plans to expand into California, Nevada, and Maine.

Last month, Elevation inked a deal with a Bahrain-based company to open locations in the Middle East, with the first to open in a Bahraini shopping mall later this year.

From Wheaton to Falls Church, I’ve tried countless bowls of pho looking for one with the depth and pure heady aroma of Pho 75’s. I have yet to find one, which is why when I need a fix of this Vietnamese noodle soup, I continue to roll right into Hyattsville. I can’t vouch for the other Pho 75 locations, but this spot always treats me right. I don’t come for the joint’s Spartan, prison-mess atmosphere. I come for the soup, which benefits from the cooks’ doing nothing but doting over its long-simmering flavors.

1510 University Blvd. E., Hyattsville (301) 434-7844

Part of what I love about ethnic eateries (you know, I'm beginning to hate the term "ethnic" in conjunction with restaurants, but I can't come up with an umbrella term that works in its place) is the sense of being dropped into another world. To me, it's part of the pleasure of eating at small, mom-and-pop Latino or Asian or Indian restaurants — that feeling like you have escaped your usual routine, your regular environment, for something different. It's like overseas travel, without the add-on baggage fees.

My recent visit to Taqueria La Placita is the perfect example. The place feels untouched by American culture, which is part of the reason I adore it. Check out more photos after the jump, including one for some very tasty Mexican "chips."

La Placita's massive wall mural in which the Virgin Mary bridges the cultural divide between two worlds.

The view from the middle of the dining room, looking at the front door.

La Placita has a sizable kitchen brigade to prepare all those succulent tacos.

A few of the offerings available at La Placita, including the cecina (or salty beef) tacos on the right.

These were described to me as Mexican chips, although they are puffier and airier than traditional tortilla chips. They're also salty and, when doused in hot sauce, spicy. I loved 'em. Cheap, too. About $2 a bag.

Sometimes in the morning, when I'm not feeling loaded down with work, I like to get lost (briefly) on the way to the office. It has its benefits. You discover places you never knew about, like Rhode Island Reds Cafe on (where else?) Rhode Island Avenue in Hyattsville.

Owner Chris Brophy wasted no time making me feel like a regular. Before I could even pick up a menu, he asked if I was interested in a freshly prepared breakfast sandwich, one that would kick the crap out of the Egg McMuffin. It's served on a multi-grain Kaiser roll, he said, and comes stuffed with steamed herbed eggs, ham, and a slice of American cheese. All that for $3, he added.

How could I turn it down?

As Brophy made my sandwich, I picked up a to-go menu and started to review the other options available at this faintly country, faintly artsy cafe. That's when I saw the actual name of my breakfast sandwich: The McTrotsky. Suddenly, my morning repast was not just a sammich; it was harmonious melding of Marxist theory and American capitalism on a roll allegedly named after Emperor Franz Jozef.

Parse that one, you wonks.

As Brophy, a former theater rat turned restaurateur, wrapped my McTrotsky to go, I asked him about the name. I should have expected his answer:

"We figured we needed a good Commie name to go along with Rhode Island Reds," he said.

He's got himself a pretty good breakfast sandwich, too. My eggs were fluffed to a downy consistency, which the roll nearly swallowed whole with its soft, airy crumb. The cheese provided the lone bit of "resistance" and "meatiness," since my sammie was missing a crucial ingredient—the ham.

Damn Commies.

The menu is also built for comfort, mostly sandwiches, salads, burgers, and a few reasonably priced entrees. There's even a 33-ounce beer stein, priced around $10, to help raise your spirits even as your stocks plummet. But the thing that really caught my eye was the side of barbecued potato chips. The kitchen makes them in house.

The chips are nestled in a paper cone, which itself rests on a metal stand. The thin fried rounds sport nice little air pockets, and the chips crackle loudly when you bite into them. The sound alone is very satisfying. But the most surprising thing about this housemade snack is its flavor, which is decidedly sweet, not hot, as you'd expected from barbecued chips. I asked my server about this, and she reported that the kitchen sprinkles two types of sugar on the chips.

I wouldn't go so far to say that the sweetness ruins the chips, but it does go against your expectations. I'm looking to irritate my tongue. Hank's, for reasons I don't understand, wants to soothe it. After all, even mass-produced barbecue potato chips feature more heat than sweet; for once, Chef Geoff has the marketplace's clear permission to burn up our palates. But even here, the good chef opts to play it safe. He may be the most trustworthy neighborhood restaurateur in D.C., but when it comes to barbecued chips, I'm not looking for Ned Flanders.