Tuesday, November 10 at 11 AM

Well, maybe you should think about inviting me along to some of your meals, because mine have been generally disappointing.

Love the space, love the mission, love the cocktails, but don't, unfortunately, love the food. And it's expensive.

20 percent's standard.

If service is "phenomenal," I'll generally tip something on the order of 23-25 percent. And without blinking. I think it's important to acknowledge and reward the people who take care of you. And to me, a great server is one who does just that — leaves you with the feeling you've been cared for.

Talking about "phenomenal service," of course, has got me thinking — how do we define "phenomenal"? What are your criteria, and how often do you see them being met or surpassed? And where?

Hold tight, Bethesda.

(And everyone else who's got a Thanksgiving-related question this cool, clear November morning.)

We'll have a Thanksgiving menu roundup, and a couple of other Thanksgiving pieces (including a guide on where to get take-out Thanksgiving food) in about a week on the website.

The link will be: washingtonian.com/thanksgiving

Ha, good one!

Although it does sound like something your "clinet," Mr. Tony, could get all a-dither about, doesn't it? 

Very well put!

And boy, are you ever right: Is there anything in the kitchen heavier than a Le Creuset dutch oven? I do enjoy mine, though, and get a lot of good use of it (well, use; I don't get to do all that much cooking anymore, really; a few times a month, maybe.)

It's funny. You mentioned the relationship that people perceive between the equipment and the ability to cook well. It's the same way with something like tennis. You see so many people wearing the latest and best outfits and gear who haven't the faintest idea how to hit the ball. 

Not being precedes essence; being pretty precedes playing pretty.  

Good to hear it, and thanks for writing in to tell me.

I'm with you on the pad Thai with shrimp: best I've ever had, too. I order it every time I go. Nothing else I've had in the area — or any other area, for that matter — comes close.

I remember when I was in the process of reviewing the restaurant in its original location. I went seven times, and on one of those visits I got to talking with a woman about the pad Thai. We were both raving, and she said, Oh, yeah, I come here 3-4 days a week just to get this. I asked if she worked nearby, and she said: Nearby? No. I live in Virginia. 

The secret's in the fact they get a good, dark caramelization with the plum sugar. And the little nuggets of smoked tofu they use.

Fusion: bad name, good place.

It's in Petworth, on the same block as the excellent pizza/Salvadoran spot Moroni & Brother's. The chef comes by way of Rasika, and — how to put this exactly? He appears to know the dishes at that celebrated hot spot very, very well.

If you're a fan of the crispy fried spinach with yogurt and tamarind sauce, well, the version at Fusion is pretty much a dead ringer.

The samosas are terrific, the seekh kabobs are wonderful, and I've had a number of good curries (particularly the chicken korma). 

It's a much-less assuming atmosphere, of course (I'm not criticizing, just pointing out the obvious: I like its coziness and the graciousness and homeyness of the service), and being a small independent, Fusion can't afford to splurge on its ingredients in the same way.

But this is a significant step up from most neighborhood curry shops, and residents of Petworth ought to do all they can to encourage and support this place. 

Gordon,

I'd definitely call that a hiccup, and no, I don't think that that chicken was completely cooked — no matter what the server told you. Traces of blood are traces of blood.

Glad to hear they handled it so well — the response, to me, matters more than the offending action, always. A busy restaurants simply can't avoid mistakes and mishaps.

Did they bring another dish to replace it? Take the uncooked chicken back and give you a new, fully cooked chicken? 

Worth your time? How much do you like food?

Sorry, I just don't enjoy eating there. I find it expensive, dully conceived, sloppily executed, and corner-cutting when it comes to ingredients. The wine list, though, is markedly improved, a really interesting and generous list.

Hey, Elissa! Long time, no hear. (I promise not to set you up on any more blind dates! ; )

You need to drop me an email — tkliman@washingtonian.com. Since you moved on, I don't have an address for you anymore …

Anyway, I'd look into any of these three: The Source (sit downstairs and order from the upstairs menu), Bistro Bis, and the new J&G Steakhouse (which isn't really a steakhouse; you can go three meals here without even considering a porterhouse.)

Of the three, The Source is the loudest — downstairs, anyway. My 82 year old mom, however, does not mind AT ALL. This might just be her favorite restaurant in the city. The pork belly dumplings, the crispy whole fish, the cocktails, the simple, sophisticated setting, the excitement in the room …

That's a good description of very good service, Clifton.

But I think there's another kind of service, that does all that you describe, and is NOT unobtrusive. The service at Komi, for example. Or Obelisk. These restaurants are models for the industry. These staffs really and truly get it.

I just want to say a few more words about obtrusiveness. It's an interesting thing. What to one person appears obtrusive, to another may come across as — well, personality. Warmth. Some diners don't want any interaction, and I can respect that, even if it's not at all what I want from a waiter or waitress. A good waiter or waitress, of course, is one who can suss out the needs of a table, and adjust accordingly.

Your suspicion is largely correct.

I'd go with an early lunch at Leopold's Kafe, right in Georgetown. 

I don't find myself eating in those kinds of chains all that much; an occupational non-hazard, i guess you could say. ; )

Local chains, that's different. 

I enjoy Hard Times Chili — the 5-way chili mac and the burger are both good, and the vibe is always great.

And I'll tell you, I had the occasion, very recently, to eat three times in a matter of two weeks at Silver Diner, another local chain — one that has undergone a big menu revamp in recent months. How big? BIG. I'd never have recognized it, if I'd gone in blindfolded.

I loved the pomegranate acai berry shake — I'm not making this up; they're serving a straight-up yuppie/health nut drink at Silver Diner, and it's terrific — and I found all of the sandwiches I tried to be vastly improved. This was not the greasy, sloppy place I'd remembered. I'd gladly go back. 

January. As usual.

Last year, an election year, was an exception. It's always January, otherwise. 

What about Eatonville?

Terrific energy, the salads are good and monstrous, and the dishes are simple and soulful. And be sure to get the pecan pie, which is made with oatmeal — cutting the syrupy dense sweetness that too often undoes a pecan pie.

You know, so many people have commented on the fact that Eatonville is a tribute to Zora Neale Hurston, who attended (but didn't graduate from) Howard University. (Similar to, but very, very different, from a certain S. Combs.) Black women are so rarely honored anywhere, much less a public place, that this is a significant and important thing.

But how about the fact that ZNH is a WRITER. Think about how radical that is. And how sad, actually, that that should appear to be so radical.

GAR is, generally, very, very good when it comes to things like this. 

I don't think I've ever had a bad experience with service in one of their restaurants, and almost always, I come away very impressed by the level of energy, the level of attention and the warmth and interest on the part of the staff. 

Well, overpaying has its advantages, too — like, really, really great attention and a really stiff, well-made drink (if that's in the barman or -woman's ability).

And you can be sure as hell he or she is probably going to remember you the next time, too. 

If you never go into Adams Morgan anymore, that's because you never need to go — you're got a wife and you've got good eating in Wheaton.

(I'm sure I'll get some piece of hostile email showing up in my inbox for saying this, but hey, I speak as a former Adams Morgan resident.)

Best restaurant in AM remains Cashion's. And it remains a pretty good value, too. You should be able to keep within your budget.

For dessert, I'd head south on 18th St. and hit Bardia's New Orleans Cafe for the wonderful beignets (provided the oil's been changed recently) or, further down, and to the left, Locolat for a waffle or tart.

Sure thing.

And as for a loaf of sourdough, I'd call over to the new G Street Foods, Mark Furstenberg's new venture. I didn't notice any sourdough when I was in last, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. The breads there, in particular the marvelously crusty baguettes, are superb; this is masterful bread-baking.

(I wish I could say the same of the attempt to recreate a Montreal bagel.)

Otherwise, there's Marvelous Market, which ought to carry sourdough loaves. And you could also try calling the bakery at Potenza. 

Kevin,

Thanks for sending this along.

But remember that the chatter talked not just about red or pink color in the meat, but blood along the bones. 

I've said it many, many times, but I don't mind saying it again because I think the place is that terrific: the best cheap sushi in the area is at Kotobuki, in the Palisades.

It's not good because it's cheap. It's good because it's good. The fact it's cheap is just a bonus.

Thanks for writing in and sharing your insights.

For some reason, this makes me think of all these cosseted little kids I see at a place like 2 Amys. What are these kids learning? They're learning that 2 Amys is the BASELINE for pizza — that a margherita made with first-rate tomatoes and creamy mozzarella, and with a perfect, well-turned crust, is what you should expect whenever you go out for a pie.

Thus indoctrinated, no "lesser" pie will ever be — can ever be — good enough for them. Which means, either they will grow up to become really passionate foodies, or, much more likely, since how many foodies can there ever be at any one time — total snobs.

It's not pretty …

Anyway, I've got a lunch coming up in just a few minutes and I'm running late. Time to run. Be well, eat well, and let's do it again next week at 11 …

Oh, but before I do — I want to take just a quick second to let everyone know: The yearly anthology Best Food Writing 2009 is in stores now, and includes an essay many of your first read on the chat, about my father.

I remain deeply grateful to all of you who wrote in to express your condolences, and your warm and thoughtful words about that piece meant more to me than many of you will ever know. Thank you again.

(Missing you, TEK … )

Submit your questions in advance to Todd's chat next week, Tuesday, November 17, at 11 AM.