How Not to Hire a Chef
Andy Shallal hired the winner of a glitzy contest to cook at Eatonville. Then he fired him.
By Tim Carman
Restaurants, Briefly
Sea Side Crab House
Vietnamese, Cajun/Creole, Seafood
Falls Church: 6799 Wilson Blvd, Falls Church, VA
$$$$
Gulf Coast dishes—Alabama crawfish, Texas blue crabs, Cajun shrimp, and Louisiana oysters—dominate the right-hand side of the menu at Sea Side Crab House; the left-hand side features a list of wok items, including a number of seafood dishes tossed with garlic and scallions. The idea that Vietnamese would adopt a Cajun specialty like crawfish may seem odd, but owners Tom Vo and Danny Nguyen took their inspiration from the Vietnamese-run crawfish houses on the Gulf Coast. What does that mean for the mudbugs at Sea Side? It means that these specimens, before they ever reach boiling water, are marinated in garlic, ginger, scallions, tangerine juice, lime juice, and fish sauce, that great umami agent of the East. From there, the crawdaddies follow a more traditional Louisiana path, a hard boil with that blast of cayenne we all associate with the shellfish. All told, the recipe makes for the best-tasting crawfish I’ve had, anywhere, even without the array of tableside condiments that the Vietnamese so love. Sea Side’s Vietnamese approach leads to other surprises, some more pleasing than others. An order of raw oysters arrived on the half shell sans their liquor and topped with ice cubes; Vo claims that Vietnamese don’t like “all the dirt and the sand and the flavor from the original shell,” so Sea Side thoroughly cleans its oysters to remove the grit—and flavor. If you like a taste of the sea, just tell someone; they’ll leave the liquor in. My favorite example of fusion, however, is probably not even a blend of cultures at all. It’s a dish of North Carolina soft-shell crab, which is battered, deep-fried, and quickly tossed in blazing-hot wok with sugar, ginger, scallions, onions, jalapenos, and garlic. These sweet, spicy clumps of crustacean are then served on a bed of dressed lettuce and garnished with cooling sprigs of cilantro, the whole thing so tasty, crunchy, and complex that I start to salivate just by thinking about it again. Now, if you’re myopically American and refuse to believe that Vietnamese have a tradition of deep-frying softies, you might call this an East-Coast meets-Southeast-Asia dish. I’d prefer to call it what it really is: A dish in which the Vietnamese school us in how to best prepare one of own signature ingredients.
(Washington City Paper review: Tim Carman)
Present Cuisine
Vietnamese
Falls Church: 6678 Arlington Blvd, Falls Church, VA
$$$$
The early word on Present in Falls Church was almost too good to be true. Such praise tends to, at least for me, set the bar impossibly high, especially for a transplanted Vietnamese chef who’s just beginning to understand the American palate and the D.C. market — and how they differ from back home. But I’ll tell you what, after my first visit last weekend, I’m itching to roll out the superlatives. From my perspective, chef Luong Tran isn’t necessarily re-inventing Vietnamese cuisine for our market as much as he’s taking an extremely fresh approach to it. Everything I sampled—from the autumn rolls to a slippery Vietnamese-style rice crêpes—popped with freshness, down to the bright orange julienne carrot garnishes, which are often dry, scaly afterthoughts in lesser restaurants. Now, granted, Present is a little precious, in that Eastern religion-meets-New Age puffery that kept so many self-help gurus employed in the ’90s. The interior is truly a calming, wood-heavy space with a silent waterfall in the middle. The menu attempts to further create a meditative setting with its philosophical introduction that suggests we all have gifts and presents in our lives. “Whether we can receive them or not depends entirely on our ability to be present in the moment to enjoy them,” the intro tells me. The truth of that statement is unquestionable, and I can see how owner Gene Nguyen has meticulously groomed his space to try to ease my burdens upon entry so that I can open my mind and palate to his chef’s handiwork. But the whole serene concept took a left turn when I started reading some of the dish descriptions, which are written in both English and Vietnamese and which carry an extra, fable-like name. I’m sorry, but I laughed out loud at such anthropomorphic names as “Pig and Friends Crepes” and “Resting Steer on Haystack.” Yeah, that creature is resting all right. My fable-resistant personality aside, I savored the real-life food in front of me, particularly the “Silken Shawl Imperial Autumn Roll,” which takes a filling of marinated and minced prawn/pork meat and encases it in an exquisitely crunchy rice wrapper that looks as if Jackson Pollock created it. I asked our server how the chef makes the wrappers, and the guy provided me with a delightfully detailed story. Chef Tran, he said, takes the rice batter in his hands and lets it drip from each finger, as he zigzigs his arms over a hot wok. At precisely the right moment, Tran peels these lacy wrappers from the wok and uses two sheets for each roll. While the aforementioned Pig and Friends Crepe couldn’t match the autumn roll’s designer quality, its noodles, fresh and soft and delicate, were the perfect contrast to the rock-hard shrimp cake (which had the quality of a fossil, with its empty tail shells cemented right into the maroon block) and the thick slab of pork cake. The simple preparation of grilled pork over vermicelli was even better: Once all the ingredients (carrots, daikon, lettuce, peanuts, scallions, pork, noodles, summer roll, and sprouts) were all mixed together, I dug into what was one of the freshest, most flavorful entree salads I’ve ever tasted. As good as the food was, the service surpassed it. Present takes a collective approach to wait staffing. Any one of several waiters may sidle up to your table during the course of your meal. They will all know what they’re talking about, and if by chance they don’t, they will actually go and find an answer—rather than hoping you’ll just blow the inquiry off. One waiter even honored my tablemate’s request for an extra spicy “Gregarious Lemongrass Chicken” dish. The plate came loaded with sauced breast pieces, each laden with those tell-tale red-pepper flakes and more than enough lemongrass (and maybe sugar?) to give that considerable blast of heat a proper sense of balance. My dining partner was practically giddy that Present didn’t treat her like a gringo—or whatever the slang term would be in Vietnamese. To top it all off, the check even comes with a helpful tipping guide at the bottom.
(Washington City Paper review: Tim Carman)
Pho Saigon
Vietnamese
Falls Church: 6795 Wilson Blvd, Falls Church, VA
The first time I visited Pho Saigon in the Eden Center, at the urging of a Vietnamese acquaintance, I sat there listlessly over my bowl, wondering who or what was most off: my friend, my thin pho, or my tastebuds. Turns out that Pho Saigon was merely having an off day. I have since returned to the Vietnamese noodle house and have found its soups spectacular. My most recent order came swimming with thin slices of richly fatty brisket, crunchy/chewy tripe, exquisitely perfumed beef broth, and a garnish plate brimming with fresh sliced jalapeños, Thai basil, bean sprouts, and even that rare saw-toothed leaf, culantro. Pho Saigon also pays attention to the noodles in its soups; they’re soft, supple, and so easy to slurp. The tiny pho shop, overstuffed with trinkets and pictures and even boxes of kitchen supplies near the bathroom, might remind you of a crowded Vietnamese street stall if not for the overhead flat-screen TV set to the Speed Network, where racing school buses provide a little Southern redneck comfort. Yep, you get a melting pot along with your noodle soup. The truth is, if not for the dark memory of my first visit, I’d rank Pho Saigon over Pho 75, that suburban institution that consistently hits the mark at prices impossible to resist. Perhaps in 12 months that memory will finally be evaporated—by all the steaming bowls of noodle soup I plan to slurp down at Pho Saigon.
(Washington City Paper review: Tim Carman)
Dogfish Head Alehouse
Burgers/Bar Food
Falls Church: 6363 Seven Corners Center, Falls Church, VA
$$$$
Think of the Dogfish Head Alehouse less as a place to eat than as a food trough to fill your stomach so you can enjoy more of the Delaware brewery’s high-alcohol, highly addictive craft beers. The Falls Church ale house, the second locally owned franchisee of the famous brew pub in Rehoboth Beach, looks more conceptualized (kind of a Bennigans-meets-boat-house ambience) than the Gaithersburg outlet, even though both places share virtually the same menu. Grease and carbs will demand all your attention, but don’t overlook the lowly Caesar, a small bowl for chopped romaine served with a powerful, tart roasted garlic dressing and slivers of Parmesan. The double-patty barbecue burger, by contrast, is a mountain of meat, tomato, bacon, cheddar, and a lone onion ring; if it weren’t for the sandwich’s utter mushiness, you’d never be able to get your mouth around the sweet-and-savory concoction. The ultra-thin-crust pepperoni pizza comes with three different cheeses, including, ugh, provolone. It results in a pie so thick with cheese that you can hear Peter Pastan’s heart breaking (or stop beating) all the way over at 2Amys. The only reason to walk in the door at the Dogfish Head Alehouse is found not on the food menu, but at the bar, where they pull some of America’s best beers, including a coffee-like Chicory Stout that’s good drinking during these cold winter nights.
(Washington City Paper review: Tim Carman)
