By: Becca

When The Cajun Experience opened for brunch a few years ago, I dragged along college friends Fontaine and Liz for a debaucherous afternoon of Abita Purple Haze and hurricanes. You see, Fontaine (real name: Scott, last name: Fontaine. Therefore, obviously, he must be called Fontaine) is from New Orleans, and his lovely wife Liz (my former college roommate) has since adopted his hometown as her own.

The pair are very particular about their Cajun cuisine, and I value their opinion a great deal. At the Cajun Experience, they were initially impressed at the authenticity of the food, but after returning for many crawfish boils and brunches, the place has since (they tell me) gone down hill. They even took Purple Haze off the taps—the horror!

So Liz suggested we trek out to discover other D.C.-based New Orleans brunch spots. First up, TruOrleans, which is right on H Street in that newly restaurant-heavy block of the Atlas District. I arrived early with my beau, and it was a beautiful day, so we sat at a patio table on the street level.

We sat there because there was, to my disappointment, a private party on the open-air upper level. I had wanted to sit upstairs. But the downstairs patio was cutesy, with strategically placed beads hanging from the lamp posts as if it were the morning after a ridiculous Mardi Gras down H Street.

We ordered bottomless mimosas. The mimosas were extremely orange juice heavy, and got more so as the brunch continued. We tried to ignore this by lapping up the sun. Liz, Fontaine and Brooke arrived shortly thereafter and were pleasantly surprised that the place had their beloved Purple Haze on draft.

But, after that, it all started going down hill quite quickly.

I think it all began when we were ordering our food, and the waiter told us, simply, “We don’t scramble eggs.” Excuse me? You don’t scramble eggs?

“A little bit of me just died inside,” my boyfriend mumbled to me. “Can you just serve me an omelet with nothing in it, then?” he cheekily asked the waiter.

We shared the Cajun wings to start, which were fine, but unfortunately ended up being the best dish that we would eat at brunch.

The French toast tasted simply like bread with egg seasoning. There was little to no batter on the dish. It was accompanied by two little plastic containers of syrup.

So the egg issues went beyond their unwillingness to scramble them. The French toast tasted like expensive toast.

My boyfriend said he could have forgiven this if he was served some booze, and not simply orange juice in a champagne flute.

The grits were uninspiring and crusted nicely in the sun. The potatoes—which were touted as hashbrowns on the menu, but what we actually got were breakfast potatoes—arrived cold.

Brooke had the veggie omelet, which was fine. Just fine. She wanted to customize it, but apparently that wasn’t allowed. And what sort of omelet doesn’t come with cheese?  And why can’t you prepare scrambled eggs, again?  If you make both omelets and poached eggs, I know you aren’t using egg beaters. Seriously, get a line cook and figure it out.

As for me, I ordered the eggs Benedict, which was actually the most disgusting Benny I’ve ever had. The eggs were not only undercooked, the whites were completely runny. They might as well have cracked an egg open on a stale muffin.

A couple of quick notes on the service:  I know we are sitting outside, but bring things when asked. It’s not like we were making ridiculous requests or asking for things that are not standard. Coffee should come with sugar. Waffles should come with syrup. Patrons should have silverware. Those are just a few examples of the many things that went missing.

It’s not a big deal if things are forgotten and you have to ask once. But when you have to ask two or three times, it’s no longer OK.

As for Fontaine and Liz, I can do nothing except let Liz tell the story in her own words …

“The waiter brought everyone’s food except mine and didn’t say a word to me about it. Typically an ‘I’ll be right back with yours’ or ‘Sorry, your order is taking a bit longer’ is fine, but we got nothing. I did hear him mumble about a missing fruit bowl as he walked away, but no one ordered a fruit bowl.

“Then, five minutes later, he came to fill water and asked if we needed anything. I said, ‘My lunch!’ I think he was a bit surprised. I assumed he forgot to put it in, but 10 minutes later when everyone was done eating I decided I was over the wait and went to cancel the order.

“I even asked if he forgot to put in my order because at least that would make sense, but he said no, that crawfish just take a while to cook. (A) This is not true. My in-laws are from Louisiana; we know exactly how long crawfish take to cook and it’s not 20 minutes. (B) If that’s truly your stance, why didn’t you tell me that when everyone was served lunch except me?

“Of course, two minutes later my food was magically ready and he asked to box it up for me. Nope! Who wants soggy bread for $15?

“Then the bill. We were charged a 15% ‘service charge.’ It did not say tip or gratuity. Since I didn’t get to eat at this eating establishment, I did not feel a mandatory fee was acceptable. I spoke with the manager who was very taken aback. He pointed to the menu that had in small print that every patron (regardless of group size) is charged a 15% service charge. I asked what for and he could not answer.

“I offered my own answer: crappy service and not getting to eat brunch. He wasn’t amused. He said there was nothing he could do; the fee was mandatory. I said, we aren’t paying it. He said he’d give us a credit for the same amount, but not reverse the charge.”

“Low and behold, the new bill came and the charge was indeed reversed. Thankfully, we didn’t get locked in the restaurant like these people.

The Bitches say: D-. Barely edible, horrible service, and other ridiculous things such as required gratuity and the inability to scramble eggs. The only saving grace is it has a decent patio.

TruOrleans
400 H ST NE
Washington, D.C. 20002
(202) 290-1244

By: Becca

A few Sundays ago I brunched in Del Ray at the sold-out Carpenter’s Cookoff. It was the 10th anniversary of the annual neighborhood food event—which raises money for Carpenter’s Shelter, a homeless shelter in Alexandria—but it was my first time attending.

The cookoff was held at the Birchmere, an old but charming music venue hidden off Mount Vernon Avenue. As soon as I arrived I was checked in by friendly volunteers in aprons. I grabbed a mimosa at the bar, perused the silent auction lots, and settled into a chair to watch the live recording of Foodie & the Beast.

Three girlfriends joined me there, each arriving one by one, and once Nycci and David Nellis were done interviewing the participating chefs for the radio show, the Alpha Dog Blues Band took the stage with their guitars and harmonicas. It was the perfect soundtrack to all the food we were about to eat.

And eat we did. The place had tables and tables of food on display from restaurants across the D.C. area. Brabo, Jackson 20, Rustico, Southside 815, and many more were giving away signature dishes in an attempt to win one of four awards: Best Starter, Best Main Course, Best Dessert, and Peoples’ Choice.

Of the 10 different types of barbecue we tried,  the drunken pot roast (cooked in Yuengling!) served with mac n’ cheese from Southside 815 was the best. We also liked the sausage sliders from TJ Stone’s and the ribs from Overwood. Some other dishes that really stood out were the Dragon Creek oyster shooters with green Bloody Mary juice from The Light Horse, and the salmon with spinach from Geranio.

For dessert, Ben & Jerry’s was shilling its new Greek frozen yogurt, but we also snagged colorful cupcakes from Bittersweet and lots of sweets from Bread & Chocolate, including vanilla napoleons. The winner of the Peoples’ Choice Award? The Majestic.

Thanks to this great event, Carpenter’s is able to provide shelter, guidance, education, and advocacy for the homeless.

By: Becca

When Cori Sue and I walked into the National Building Museum, we could smell the sweetness. Chocolate. Pure, rich, decadent chocolate—in all different forms—was waiting right behind the check-in desk. Hurry, hurry, I thought. My sweet-tooth is calling.

It was our first time actually attending the annual Charity in Chocolate fashion show, which benefits the Heart of America Foundation. And what a shame—we should come to this every year! That night, the organization was celebrating 15 great years and its success in revitalizing more than 200 impoverished school libraries and providing children in need with nearly 2 million books.

When we arrived, we scoped it out. Two huge bars—one at the end of the enormous room and one in the center—had tuxedo’ed bartenders at the ready. The perimeter was lined with tables of restaurants, their pastry chefs offering up the most creative of their sweet treats.

Nearly 40 restaurants were participating, and we got to try everything, from the macaroons by Adour at the St. Regis to the passionfruit mousse by Chima Brazilian Steakhouse. There was even carrot cake with walnut brittle from BLT Steak. But, I’ll never forget the beautiful mint buttercream biscuits with luminous blue filling from Blue Duck Tavern.

Policy was there, too, as pastry chef Deth Khaiaphone had created gorgeous flourless chickpea chocolate tarts. Each had a sugar flower on the top that was so perfect it was a shame to eat it.

But it wasn’t all dessert. Some restaurants were doling out hors d’oeuvres. The Mayflower stuck with the chocolate theme and created bitter chocolate pasta (served with lobster no less), which, surprisingly, was not gross. There were chilled tomato shooters with avocado cream and crab toast from the Ritz-Carlton. There were also gorgeous shrimp boats from the Mandarin Oriental.

After filling ourselves with amazing pastries, desserts, and chocolate treats, we made our way to the VIP Lounge, where we snagged seats to enjoy the fashion show. Leon Harris and Natasha Barrett from ABC7 were funny, fabulous hosts, bantering back and forth and drumming up pledges from the audience.

The most touching moment of the program came when CharityWorks’ Leah Gansler was awarded the National Hero of the Heart Award. Her moving acceptance speech made us all pause and appreciate the hard work and good that charities in the D.C. area do.

And then, it was onto the fashion show! This year it was themed children’s classics, and so we had everyone from Charlie (from the Chocolate Factory) to Thing 1 and Thing 2 bopping down the runway.

Little Bo Peep had a dress made of macaroons—and a dog trailing behind, eating what fell off. Our favorite model, Lindsey Becker, was Alice in Wonderland. The winner of the show was the Queen of Hearts, created by Shaun McCarty, the pastry sous chef at the Reagan International Trade Center.

By: Becca

It had been a long week. In fact, it had been a long few weeks. I am nearing the close on my condo and my love just left for a war zone. And Brooke found herself actually in D.C. between two of the million business trips she’s taken recently.

So, we needed pampering. After I had the most miraculous spa manicure and pedicure from Red Door and Brooke indulged in a facial and a pedicure, we waddled from the spa to Boqueria on 19th and M. Little did we know that the pampering would continue through brunch.

Boqueria is trendy. Really trendy. Yet somehow it’s still welcoming. It’s a bit retro, with light wood paneling and cream leather booths. The tables are all high-tops, with chairs that are upholstered in brown leather with orange trim, like a 1960s gym outfit. However, it’s still contemporary and warm, with sleek bars and tables, but chalk boards and stands of fruit. Oddly, it’s right above the Chipotle, but it does have a gorgeous outdoor patio on 19th Street.

As soon as you walk in the front door, you’re greeted by a bouquet of gourmet meats and cheese behind glass, where you can see one of the chefs preparing desserts and tapas. They’re just tempting you, giving you a taste. You are also greeted by some sort of suckling pig, plopped right there on the counter. Just staring at you. Brooke was slightly disturbed, but then quickly distracted by the hunks of Spanish cheese on display.

We went on Saturday, which was day one of their first weekend serving brunch. We were greeted by a chalk sign outside that announced “Brunch is here!” The restaurant itself has been open for two months, serving dinner, and has already made itself into a bit of an evening hotspot for  downtown worker bees like me. Not yet for brunch, through. The place was empty, as it was the first weekend. But a few other tables trickled in.

We sat down at a high top that was bathed in light from the big windows. Immediately, we ordered coffee from our very tall but very lovely waiter, who told us that they just printed the brunch menu the night before, and whipped out his cheat sheet, which he had clearly studied. We could tell by the scribbles and drawings all over it.  He even let us take a glance at it, and we saw he had carefully drawn sketches of what certain dishes looked like. He was clearly prepared but nervous for the new menu.

No coffee machine yet, he apologized. But he got us cappuccinos and Americanos (Brooke crisis averted). We eyed big pitchers of what looked like fruit cocktails being made at the bar. “What are those?” we asked. Sangria, of course. He brought us a taste of the blood orange beer sangria. It was delicious, so we ordered it—but with cava. It was made with blood orange puree, lime-infused tequila, and house-made lime cordial.

Yes, Brooke and I split a pitcher. A pitcher holds about five drinks. And they were pretty potent—yet you couldn’t taste it. But we could feel it.

One thing I loved about their drinks menu—besides the selection of sangrias and other cocktails, including a Bloody Mary that looked absolutely divine—is that two out of their three beers on tap are local: Port City and DC Brau. This New York transplant could have easily just kept at it New York-style, but instead they’re embracing their local sources. Kudos. (The third beer, fittingly, is Estrella Damm, from Barcelona.)

We ordered two starters. Well, actually a side dish and a brunch entrée to share. First, the Churros Rellenos, which are nutella stuffed churros coated in cinnamon sugar. They were warm and spongy inside, but crispy and had a kick on the outside. It was a heavenly way to kick off brunch, and gave us good feelings for the food to come.

And this point, I whipped out my camera – amazingly suspicious in a nearly empty restaurant.  The waiter wandered over and asked shyly – are you reviewing the restaurant?  Should I know about this? I told him it was for the ‘food porn,’ which made him a little comfortable. Then defensively blurted out “It’s a hobby!” Yeah, those drinks had a kick to them. Why don’t more restaurants add tequila to their sangria?

We also split the pan con tomate, which is grilled bread rubbed with tomato, garlic and olive oil. The bread was long triangle pieces of fresh bread, and the tomato was spread on the top. It had a bit of a garlic kick, and was soaked in oil, but the bread was crunchy on the bottom.

It came with a little bowl of Spanish olives. Our waiter, who we had now become buddies with, encouraged use to try the pickled garlic that it came with. So we did, and he stayed to watch our reactions to the decidedly bizarre taste and texture. He smiled and wandered off.

For our entrees, I ordered the cochinillo al horno, on the waiter’s recommendation. He had tried it the night before, and described it as a fried egg set atop a bed of house-made potato chips. Just split the yoke, he said, and it will cover the potato chips. Eat it with the roast suckling pig, and it’s so delicious, he promised. I caved.

When I got it, I was a little confused. I hadn’t had roast suckling pig before, and wasn’t ready for what I got. To me, it was a steak of pig fat, with a crispy top, and I felt like I was chewing pure greasy fat. It grossed me out. I think our waiter saw my faces and rushed over. Let me get you something else, he insisted, it’s no problem. It’s the first time I’ve ever not felt guilty about sending something back to the kitchen. It wasn’t bad; it just wasn’t my cup of tea.

When adventure failed, I went to my standard—the Benedict. This time, the huevos benedictios was atop an English muffin, with Serrano ham, piquillo peppers and hollandaise. The ham was paper thin and simply delicious. The egg poached absolutely to perfection. The Hollandaise was amazing, and the pepper gave it a nice kick. The perfect Benedict? Close to it.

The fries on the side were OK. They tasted much like fries I’ve had at restaurants that aren’t as nice as Boqueria. I expected more—more crispiness, more kick—just something more.

Brooke wanted to get the Huevos con Bistec, Boqueria’s steak and eggs, which is hanger steak a la plancha with one fried egg, fingerling potatoes, shishito peppers, mojo verde. After the waiter’s descriptions of the other dishes, she changed her mind—that doesn’t happen often with brunch dishes, as she always researches the menu the night before.

She went with the Tortilla de setas, a rolled omelet filled with the things she loves the most: mushrooms, caramelized onions and goat cheese. It may not sound particularly unique, but she said is was absolutely delicious. An aspiring food snob, she said that it was amazing what a difference it makes when restaurants prepare the most simple foods very, very well. And that was done at Boqueria. The dish was served with French fries on the side, and also Catalan tomato toast, which we wished we would have known before ordering the pan con tomate—as it was the same thing.

Besides the 10 Spanish brunch dishes, you can also order their classic tapas, salads and sides. Also, they presented us with a dessert menu, but we were completely stuffed. We tottered out, slightly drunk, but very happy.

The Bitches say: A- But it was day one, and I could see this being an A+ brunch with a coffee machine and a few tweaks. The quality is nearly there, and the ambiance is so perfect.

Boqueria
1837 M Street N.W.
Washington, D.C.
(202) 558-9545
Serves brunch Saturday and Sunday.

By: Becca

This week is going to be in-sane. I am closing on my new condo on Friday (woah, adulthood, woah), and I have a gaggle of sorority sisters flying into town Thursday night for a weekend of mayhem, punctuated by Gold Cup. Here we go!

Monday

Start the week chill with an amazing Belgian beer dinner at H Street’s Smith Commons. A five-course menu prepared by Brewery Ommegang culinary ambassador chef Teddy Folkman of Granville Moore’s will be paired with several craft beers from Brewery Ommegang. Guests will have a chance to win a six-pack of vintage Ommegang beer as a door prize, and anyone not lucky enough to snag one of the 55 tickets for the dinner can enjoy Ommegang beers on tap on the second floor as part of #CommonsMonday. Tickets are $85, get them here.

Tuesday

One of our fav brunch spots, Station 4, is hosting a Spring Hops Patio Party. $3 drafts of Blue Moon and Peroni, $3 cans of Leini’s Summer Shandy, prize giveaways, and nothing but the beautiful weather on the restaurant’s gorgeous patio. Get there early because the beer is complimentary from 5 to 7 p.m. Food and drink specials from 7 p.m. to close. 1101 4th St. SW; (202) 488-0987.

Wednesday

The Network for Teaching Entrepreneurship is celebrating our area’s young entrepreneurs and future leaders at the NFTE DC Region’s 15th Annual Dare to Dream Gala. Guests will have the opportunity to network with 800 top entrepreneurs and business leaders from the region, purchase products and services made by NFTE students, and enjoy dinner and an awards ceremony celebrating entrepreneurship. It raises funds to provide entrepreneurship education to over 900 youth from low-income communities in the DC area. Get tickets here.

Thursday

Cori Sue will be at the grand opening of Ligne Roset’s newly renovated showroom, hosted by DC Magazine. Make sure you RSVP, and go check out the goods. 6:30 p.m. 2201 Wisconsin Ave.

Friday

Who knew that a refurbished twenty-­foot potato chip truck could be so chic? Joey Wolffer has cooked up a truly modern shopping experience and put it on wheels.  The Styleliner, filled to the brim with extraordinary accessories from around the world, will roll into D.C. for six weeks, starting Friday. The Styleliner will be parked in the PNC Bank lot at M Street and Wisconsin Avenue in Georgetown from 11 a.m. to 7 p.m. Then, it bops around to other locations around D.C. Check out the full schedule here.

Saturday

It’s GOLD CUPPPP! Cori Sue will be attending the 87th annual steeplechase horse races at Great Meadows in the Plains with the Capital Club. I have my own North Rail tent for 30 of my Bitches. But we’ll both be at the University Row tent at 2 p.m. to judge the Gold Cup’s Best Dressed Contest. Come say hi! Don’t have tickets yet? Roll with them.

That night, Cori Sue will be getting all decked out for the sold-out Ball on the Mall, co-chaired this year by Barbara Bush and Jenna Bush Hager. The fourth annual event, held by the L’Enfant Society and the Trust for the National Mall, will be a beautiful evening of dancing, gorgeous food, and open bar, right on the National Mall between the Capitol building and the National Monument. 8 p.m.

Sunday

Brunch, if you can. Lately we’ve tried Café Deluxe, Le Cirque at Napoleon, The Hamilton’s Gospel Brunch, and Southern Hospitality. Check back this week for reviews of Teaism and the new Boqueria.

By: Becca

A couple of weeks ago we were invited to speak on a panel at the Social Learning Summit at American University, along with Mark Gunderson from Dunkin Donuts, the prolific D.C. food writer Nevin Martell, Alejandra Owens née Frijolita, and Tammy Gordon of Florida Girl in DC.

After yapping for an hour about food and tweeting, and tweeting while yapping, we were hungry. Famished, in fact—even after all those delicious Dunkin Donut holes put before us.

We nipped over to nearby Wisconsin Avenue, by the cathedral, to Café Deluxe, which touts itself online as Bethesda’s favorite brunch. The patio was packed, but we snagged a table inside. We were meeting with a potential web designer.

Yes, you read that right. The time has come, loves. After two years, we think we need a little touchup here and there. Perhaps a few ways to make these brunch reviews more searchable and easy for you to reference. So, we found ourselves a lovely, amazing, talented web designer. (And if you have any suggestions of how you’d like this site to work, we’d love to hear it.)

There we were, sitting at a table in the back of Café Deluxe. The tablecloths were paper and so we were scribbling away our big ideas for a fresh new Bitches look right onto the tabletop, lovely Laura patiently listening and taking notes.

We were seated right by the entrance to the kitchen, right by the servers’ computer, and there seemed to be hundreds of servers buzzing about. Sadly, our service in this pseudo-diner was slightly atrocious.

We never had the proper silverware, nor the proper plates. We got moldy fruit (yes, really, more on that later). And even though we were routinely “checked on” in passing by what we assumed were managers, they never actually bothered to stay at the table long enough to hear our complaints.

Deluxe is sort of an upscale diner. The tables are close together, so not a place for private or business conversations. The restaurant is loud and buzzing. People are reading their newspapers and doing their crosswords at tables by themselves. The place is packed, but I’m unsure why.

Where to begin? How about the bread basket, which was big hunks of bread–fluffy and fine. It came with standard butter. I should mention that they do offer Marys and mimosas, for $7 and $6.50 respectively. Not a bargain, but not extortion either. The coffee was subpar.

I ordered the Benedict, of course, which was a slice of what seemed to be deli ham on two slices of mushy toast. It was topped with a creamy Hollandaise that unfortunately crusted before I could finish the dish. One of the eggs was undercooked, the other, cooked all the way through. How does that even happen?

Might I add that this was touted as the “Deluxe Benedict” on the menu. Their signature brunch dish. The toast was sourdough and the ham, supposedly, black forest ham. The Hollandaise was meant to have a sun-dried tomato taste, but I didn’t catch it.

I also ordered a tomato soup, as I was pretty sick that day and suffering from a bad cold, but it never found its way to the table. I was disappointed, but it was one of those service situations where it would have made it painful to bring up their slip.

Laura had the omelet. The omelet was nothing to speak of, filled with spinach, feta, and tomato. There are other omelet options, too, but they’re probably just as bad. They serve these dishes with breakfast potatoes and a biscuit, so you have the carbs to fill your belly after you’re disappointed by your main dish.

My boyfriend ordered the steak and eggs, cooked medium. When he got the dish, it was a rubbery piece of meat placed on top of another soggy piece of toast. This was supposed to be a New York Strip. Instead, it was more poorly cooked fatty flank. The dish was cold—so we sent it back—and they microwaved it (seriously), making the steak even more rubbery.

Cori Sue got the scrambled eggs mixed with salmon and green onions. The onions were chopped fine and the salmon was mixed into the eggs. The eggs were cold when the dish arrived—and nobody likes cold scrambled eggs. It was supposed to be served with a toasted bagel and cream cheese, but she didn’t get that.

Instead, she got a side of fruit. And, this fruit was rather gross. She picked up a strawberry off her plate and the entire underside was moldy, as if it had been sitting on that very plate for four days. She made a face, and put it down on the table beside her plate, and then failed to get the attention of one of the rushing managers sweeping by.

Later, when they were clearing the plates, the waiter looked at the strawberry, and said “My my! What a large strawberry!” clearly perplexed as to why it would be on the table, rather than the plate, or in her stomach.

“It’s covered in MOLD,” CS replied curtly, content she’d already filled the Twitterverse with pictures of her fruit woes after failing to get managerial attention at Cafe Deluxe. (Never mess with her when she’s hungry.)

“Oh,” said the waiter, and everyone present—including the waiter himself, I’d venture—seemed shocked he showed such little concern.

I was rather disappointed with this neighborhood diner brunch (to quote my love: “That place sucked”), but we got our business done and left. In hindsight, we should have sat outside, as the patio is quite lovely. It has red umbrellas and wicker chairs, sort of like a Parisian café. It probably would have boosted my opinion of the place.

The Bitches say: D. Boring and barely edible. Don’t venture out if you’re not in the ‘hood.

Cafe Deluxe
3228 Wisconsin Avenue, NW
Washington, DC 20016
(202) 686-2233

Brunch is Saturday and Sunday. Four locations, including Bethesda, Tyson’s Corner, and Gaithersburg, in addition to this Cleveland Park one.

By: Becca

Party brunches are popping up like spring tulips around D.C. First there was L’Enfant Café & Bar’s La Boum. Then, the boys at Napoleon Bistro & Lounge decided they were going to break off from the La Bouming and start their own party. More recently, we’ve seen invites for Lost Society’s Champagne Campaign and Neyla’s Koodeta brunch.

But what makes a successful, fun party brunch in D.C.? They are notably different from the ragers in New York (most things in D.C. are, after all). I liked La Boum because it started off as a restaurant brunch, then they zipped up the blinds, pumped up the music, and started spraying champagne. Maybe it was the progression and pace that I appreciated.

Last Saturday I went to Napoleon Bistro & Lounge to check out its party brunch, called Le Cirque, which Timur Tugberk started with John-Michael Villarama. Instead of taking over the beautiful, vampy, baroque restaurant upstairs, Tim and John-Michael send their guests down into the basement and into the little bar underneath the restaurant.

This dark room with gold damask wallpaper would be a great place to brunch in if you were coming off a 14-hour cocaine binge and desperately needed to keep the party going. It would also be great if the weather outside was total shit. Alas, I was experiencing neither of these scenarios. It was a beautiful day, and I was sober and not really in the right state of mind to be jumping into a club atmosphere at 2 p.m. on a Saturday.

The brunch started off fine. Timur and John-Michael were extremely welcoming and kind hosts. The carafes of mimosas and Marys were always full at our table. We even got a “you Bitches aren’t drinking fast enough” playful slap on the wrist from Timur, who was clad in a cardi with a big red bowtie.

We were a table of six, which included one random person who had decided to join us from another party. I loved that first impression: that other tables were welcoming and eager to meet other people. It, unfortunately, ended with that one person. As much as I drunkenly attempted to start conversations with other people during the course of the party, I was woefully unsuccessful. And I’m usually pretty good at making new friends in drunken situations.

There was a huge, long table in the center of the tiny room, which was reserved for a big birthday party. Those guests started to arrive, decked out in campy gear, masks and wigs. We clearly missed the masks-and-wigs memo. Besides our table and that long table, there were two corner couches with low coffee tables. That is the extent of the seating. So, a small party in a small room.

The DJ is set up on a pedestal at the entrance to the room, and there’s a long bar against the far wall, to which you pay you $35 upon arrival. The music is loud and thumping from the beginning, and it’s slightly hard to talk to others at your table. There is no “kick off” to the brunch party, really; you just arrive and the party is already going. At some point the lights dim a bit.

We were urged to get food from the buffet, and told that there would quickly be a line forming. We jumped at it. In the metal heated cases were French toast, spiced potatoes, and scrambled eggs. There was no bacon. In fact, that was it for food. It wasn’t anything amazing, and so it doesn’t merit much more description than that.

We ate quickly, some went back for seconds, and we drank as fast as we could in our attempt to push ourselves into the party mindset. Soon, Timur and John-Michael were clearing tables and people were standing. Some were dancing, but there weren’t enough people to fill the entire room, and so we stood along the perimeter, observing, somewhat awkwardly, much like a middle school dance.

At one point a burlesque dancer took the stage. Except there was no stage, and so this strange creepy woman just sort of circled people in the room, taking bits of clothing off, until someone realized that she was a performer, and then we made some space. As the clothes shed, a circle grew and cameras came out, but she didn’t take much off—she just got down to her skivvies and then shimmied off. Lame. And awkward.

Timur and John-Michael kept bouncing around with carafes of mimosas, refilling.

The birthday girl from the big table got a cupcake cake lit with candles, presented to her by a pimp with a black wig and big gold chain. The music stopped. The entire room sang happy birthday. Who the hell is this girl? I have no idea. Again: awkward.

We stuck around for three hours, attempting to enjoy ourselves, attempting to get drunk, attempting to talk to other people, but eventually we lost patience and nipped out to get back into the sunlight. It was a beautiful day outside, and so we sat out on Napoleon’s gorgeous patio, on its comfy cushions outside, and lapped it up.

After a few glass of champagne and some delicious, incredible desserts, I went back downstairs to use the restroom, and poked my head in the party room, to see how it was raging. It was desolate. Everyone had cleared out well before the expected 5 p.m. kick out. Sad.

The Bitches say: C+ Too trashy nightclub, not enough fabulous, friendly brunch rager.

Le Cirque at Napoleon Bistro & Lounge
1847 Columbia Road Northwest
Washington, DC 20009
(202) 299-9630
Le Cirque brunch is Saturdays at 2pm. Email Timur for a rezzie.

By: Becca

Emancipation Day, Tax Day, Earth Day, oh my!

Monday

One of our favorite brunch spots, Lincoln, is celebrating one year in business tonight with a bash that coincides with Emancipation Day. The celebration will feature cocktails, food, live music, and Abe himself—in wax—lended by Madame Tussauds Wax Museum for just one evening.

Keep your eyes peeled for the Ben & Jerry’s Scoop Truck around D.C today. It is touring the country this summer, and the District is its first stop. It’ll be giving out free scoops of the new Greek frozen yogurt. Check Twitter to see its location.

Tuesday

Yeesh … it’s tax day. After you’ve filed your life away and are ready to hit the bottle, head to Casa Nonna or BLT Steak to drink it off. The sister restaurants are giving away all their booze half off for one night only.

Wednesday

I give you three options for Wednesday evening: shopping, fitness, or philanthropic fun.

Shopping: The Georgetown Boutique District is hosting the Georgetown Sip & Sample Sale, a premiere shopping event with markdowns, cocktails, food, live music, and prize giveaways Wednesday evening at the Georgetown Courtyard (behind Café Milano).

Fitness: Get over your fear of Pilates machines. Mint is hosting an open house with its Pilates instructors Wednesday evening. Head to one of Mint’s two locations to meet the instructors, check out the equipment and learn basic exercises.

Philanthropic Fun: Help Shaw Main Streets’ celebrate the Shaw neighborhood’s revitalization with its 2012 gala, Shaw in Bloom, at Long View Gallery Wednesday night. There will be a live auction hosted by Town Dance Boutique’s famous drag queen hostess, Lena Lett; the evening’s master of ceremonies is Paul Wharton, TV fashion and lifestyles guru and “Real Housewives” star; beer, wine and a signature-crafted cocktail by The Passenger’s expert mixologist, Derek Brown; live, acoustic jazz performances by 1905 Bistro regulars, Laissez Foure. Tickets are $75, get them here.

Thursday

A month before Joan Miro’s work gets a major retrospective at the National Gallery of Art, the Kreeger Museum’s complete Miro holdings have gone on display. “The Mallorca Suite,” a collection of 36 etchings Miro created in honor of his beloved island retreat, is the centerpiece of the exhibition. The museum is open Friday and Saturday from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. and Tuesday through Thursday by appointment. 2401 Foxhall Road, NW; Washington, D.C.

That night, join Cori Sue and the other 99 ladies of The Madison for their annual Party on the Patio at Smith Point. Featuring an open bar from 9 to 10 p.m. with Madison guest bartenders. They will be accepting $10 donations at the door to benefit No Greater Sacrifice.

Friday

The Board of Trustees and the Women’s Committee of the Corcoran Gallery of Art and College of Art + Design present the 57th Annual Corcoran Ball this Friday. This year, guests will join Honorary Patron His Excellency François Delattre Ambassador of France to the United States and Madame Delattre, as well as Honorary Chair and internationally acclaimed artist Sam Gilliam. Get tickets here.

Don’t miss The Water St. Project, an 11-day flash art exhibition and temporary gallery from No Kings Collective. The Georgetown space under the Whitehurst Freeway will become a premier cultural anchor for 11 days and will feature a variation of pop-up projects as well as semi-permanent installation pieces, bringing art, music and fashion together. The opening event is Friday night. The exhibition runs through Sunday, April 29th, with a variety of different music and entertainment programming every night. See the full rundown here.

Friday night is also the American Museum of Natural History’s One Step Beyond bash, held in the main hall of the Rose Center for Earth and Space. The new monthly dance party will feature Brooklyn’s own DJ Nickodemus and Bonobo, a laser light show and other artsy visuals. Get tickets here.

Saturday

Chef Jamie Leeds and her Hank’s Oyster Bar is hosting its fifth annual Oyster Fest this Saturday from 11 to 3 at both locations. Get all-you-can-eat oysters, draft beer from several breweries, and fun door prizes to be raffled off throughout the event. Get tickets early; they always sell out. $80, get them here.

Sunday

Celebrate Earth Day in the great outdoors—listening to fabulous jazz on the steps of the Jefferson Memorial. A variety of jazz musicians will be performing Thursday through Sunday, celebrating the final weekend of the National Cherry Blossom Festival. We hear Loide Jorge, a D.C. based jazz vocalist, who will take the stage at 1:15 on Sunday, is particularly amazing. See the full lineup here.

Of course, don’t miss brunch. Lately we’ve loved Southern Hospitality, Station 4, and Cedar. The Collective Action for Safe Spaces is also hosting brunch this Sunday at Coco Sala. The group fights against the sexual harassment of women in public places, and was recently in the news for working with WMATA to do a PSA campaign about sexual harassment and assault on Metro. Help support them and get a three-course brunch; get tickets here.

By: Becca

Working out with Cori Sue is a depressing state of affairs. For me, not for her. The girl is running the Boston Marathon this weekend—her second marathon. She runs 22 miles on a Saturday morning and then shows up, a little pink in the face, but her hair and makeup perfect. You know, a normal Saturday morning. No big deal.

On top of this, she stalks fitness classes like a masochist. Fusion Barre Bikram Pilates? “Not hard enough.” A ridiculous amount of cross fit? “My arms hurt a bit, I guess.”

Meanwhile, I’m a tall woman, which means I’m blessed to be slender; but I am certainly not fit. It takes me a solid three months of training to work up to a 10k. If I make it to the gym in the morning, I consider it a small victory.

So when Mint told us they wanted to work with us, we were both really happy. Cori Sue, because she now has access to some of the best fitness and boxing classes in the city; and me, because working out in their beautiful gyms allows me to trick myself into thinking I’m at the spa. (It’s the locker rooms, people. They’re really nice.)

Then Chris Carnecchia, one of the directors at Mint, invited us to work out with him. Cori Sue yelped with happiness; I cringed.

The Friday night before the dreaded Sunday torture we get this ominous email: “Ok ladies. Don’t be drinking late Saturday night. No excuses when I kick your asses. Looking forward to it.”

Eep! I hydrate. I rest. I go to bed ridiculously early on a Saturday night.

Meanwhile, Cori Sue runs another 22 miles that Saturday and then goes out with friends that night. She shows up at Mint slightly hung-over and with wobbly knees from hitting the pavement for three hours before a night of dancing until 2 a.m. Chris scolds her mercilessly.

Regardless, both she and Chris kick my ass. First, some cardio uphill on the treadmill. Then, a series of rotations on some scary machines with metal cords. At one point, Chris makes me bounce a near-flat ball as high as it will go, which makes me feel slightly ridiculous. At another, I am jumping in the air as high as I can reach. We are twisted, contorted, and pushed to our limits. Then, we roll it out on foam rollers.

Afterwards, I stumble to those blissful locker rooms for the sauna, a hot shower, and some relief. Cori Sue keeps at it on the machines, crazy Bitch.

When I’ve given myself a minute to recover, we walk through Adams Morgan, up 18th Street, to brunch at Southern Hospitality (or, SoHo, as AdMo locals call it). I nearly collapsed in happiness at the sight of a $5 mimosa and a chair to sit in.

Chris had joined us for brunch, too, along with Kristin, Mint’s Director of Marketing. Kristin quickly noted that the interior of the location has improved immensely since it was the former Adams Mill Bar. Most of us had never seen it in daylight until that Sunday. It’s on a busy corner, and there’s a huge front patio for great people-watching. Inside, the restaurant is all dark wood and iron chandeliers.

The music could have done the name of the restaurant more justice. We were  expecting a little Credence Clearwater Revival, classic rock, country spin. Instead, we received the likes of Rhianna, Lil Wayne and Lady Gaga. We bopped away anyway.

I finally had my mimosa, which was served in a tall glass with ice. Cori Sue opted for the Blood Orange Mimosa, which had orange juice and Sicilian blood orange liqueur and was served in a martini glass. Typically, this beverage is made with fresh blood oranges, but, in this instance, it merely tasted like a mimosa with sugary liquor at the bottom. Next time, it’ll be a Bellini or a traditional mimosa for Cori Sue.

Kristen had the Bellini, which she says was a little tart, and she was bummed it didn’t arrive in a fun flute. However, “it is HUGE for a Bellini!” Chris jumped on the Bacon Bloody Mary with infused bacon vodka. When he ordered it, he thought out loud: “Well, of course, bacon and tomatoes go together, like a BLT.” But he was slightly disappointed. The bacon, olives, Bloody Mary mix and various spices just didn’t mesh will together.

After that workout, I ordered the most ridiculous fried thing I could find on the menu. The thing that combined two of my favorite brunch dishes into one glorious dish: The Fried Chicken Benedict. Yes, you read that right. A fried chicken Benedict. And yes, it was as good as it sounds. Poached eggs on top of boneless fried chicken that was tender and juicy. The hollandaise was excellent and the entire dish was a dream.

My boyfriend ordered the chicken and waffles, which was another truly impressive dish. Larger than any of the other dishes on the table, it made a statement. Big fluffy waffles sprinkled with powdered sugar, fried chicken piled up high, a side dish of fresh fruit, and a big scoop of breakfast potatoes. It was the best plate of the entire brunch.

For her entrée, Cori Sue selected the shrimp n’ grits … and then devoured the entire plate before anyone could get a bite (no lie). In addition to shrimp, the dish contained asparagus and corn topped with a rich, spicy Cajun cream sauce. It was heavenly.

Kristen ordered the portobello Benny. She approved. The eggs were very tasty and the portobello thinly sliced, which was key. It had flavor and wasn’t too chewy. The hollandaise sauce that came with both of the Benedicts was perfect—not too thick and it didn’t overpower the dish.

Chris had the Southern Omelet, and spilled the secret that he had worked at an omelet station in a Mexican restaurant while in high school. So, his expectations were high, as omelets are simple dishes to make. This one was slightly overcooked, but nonetheless enticing, and met the minor requirements for an omelet.

As for the potatoes that came on the side of every dish, they were a great mix but the regular ones stole the sweet from the sweet potatoes. It would be nice to have an option of just the sweet potatoes.

Cori Sue mandated that we order dessert and mac n’ cheese to compensate for our healthy morning of exercise. The mac n’ cheese was good, creamy, and made with traditional macaroni noodles. They used cheddar, Swiss, pepper jack and Parmesan cheese for a blend that was creamy, comforting and not overpowering.

Chris managed to sneak in a bite, as he missed out on Cori Sue’s grits. He admitted he’s not a huge fan of ordering mac n’ cheese (your basic Kraft works fine for this guy), but, having tasted the Southern Hospitality creation with perfectly al dente noodles and cheeses, it gave him a new perspective on the traditional comfort food dish.

We concluded with dessert: chocolate cake and bread pudding, which happens to be a favorite of both the Bitches. The bread pudding was drizzled in chocolate and topped with whipped cream and strawberries.

The dessert plates were really beautifully presented—like pieces of art. It was tough to take a bite of them, not only because they were so pretty, but also because we were positively stuffed at this point.

So, we nixed the effects of our workout at Mint by brunching at Southern Hospitality. But you can get your own workout (so you can have a Southern brunch) at either of Mint’s locations. If you tell them the Bitches sent you, they’ll give you an amazing deal: zero enrollment fee and $79 a month. And we would never recommend something to you that we didn’t truly love.

The Bitches say: A-. Brunch at Southern Hospitality is truly comforting and good. The drinks and music could use a little work, but the cuisine, beverage prices and ambiance make it worth a visit nonetheless.

Southern Hospitality
1815 Adams Mill Road N.W.
Washington, D.C.
(202) 588-0411
Serves brunch Saturdays and Sundays

By: Becca

I really wanted to love Tap & Parlour. Its website had all the makings of a great brunch spot: It seemed low-key, focused on beer, and open to big brunch parties. The best part was that bottomless mimosas were being offered for $7, making this the cheapest bottomless deal I’ve seen in this city.

I emailed. They said sure, we’ll take a table of 10. I left it at that.

I was running late that Sunday morning, taking the Metro because I knew there would be many mimosas involved that afternoon, but my Bitches had arrived promptly. I started getting text messages:

“Pretend you don’t see us when you come in so you can properly experience the miserable bitch at the door.”

“Can we go somewhere that’s not blasting rap music? It’s 11 a.m.”

Oof. I was preparing myself for the worst when I walked in. The woman at the door clearly had refused to seat the group until we were all present. We were lead to a big table, and I got to take in the surroundings.

Tap & Parlour is one of the ever-revolving restaurants that take up the space above Bohemian Caverns. It’s such a prime space for a restaurant, right on the corner of U Street and 11^th. Floor to ceiling windows give prime people-watching vantage on such a busy corner.

Unfortunately, Tap & Parlour is just a bit shoddy. It tries to go all Eighteenth Street Lounge with its vintage-looking sofas, chairs, and coffee tables, but then there’s a flat screen TV on every wall, confusing the lounge for a sports bar. The floor and the bathrooms seem dirty from the night before, and the tables are rickety.

Not to mention, they really were blasting rap music. At 11 a.m.

Deciding we needed a drink or five to stomach the bass thumping that early, we ordered mimosas and Marys. The Bloody Marys were interesting—they came packed with bits of veggies (tons of garlic), which all gathered at the bottom of the glass once you drank it. They were properly spicy, just sort of odd tasting, and didn’t really hit the spot.

The mimosas came in wine glasses and at first were pleasingly bubbly with just a tad bit of orange juice. However, as the restaurant started filling up, the orange-juice-to-champagne ratio swung quickly the other way, and soon we were drinking merely orange juice.

That orange juice was refilled quickly, though. In fact, our service was excellent. I didn’t catch our waitress’ name, but her attitude made a stark contrast to the hostess. Our table was loud and demanding, as usual, and she was managing us efficiently and without complaint, along with numerous other tables around us.

She didn’t even mess up our enormous brunch order. But maybe that’s because 7 out of 10 of us got the chicken and waffles. It was teased on the menu with a simple, “Well … you know” So, well, we wanted to know.

They give you the option of white or dark meat, but honestly we couldn’t tell the difference. The chicken pieces were sort of pathetic—not much meat on the bones, and didn’t have any flavor. The waffles were just as meh. The plastic pee cups holding the syrup didn’t really help the presentation much.

My beau got the French twist, and was mighty pleased with it. Two flaky croissant halves were dipped in cinnamon and vanilla and topped with kiwi, strawberries, and cream cheese. This description sounds amazing, but in reality the dish looked like a teenager had gone shopping on the wrong side of Giant and decided to make something colorful for breakfast.

The Cuban Scramble did seem a bit more thought-out. Scrambled eggs were served with black beans, sharp cheddar cheese, sour cream, fresh salsa, and fried plantains. The plantain slices were huge, and there was a massive dollop of sour cream on the top. I always love a bit of Florida in my brunch, but this was hard to stomach.

And what is this? It’s a croissant out of the bag topped with some canned whipped cream. It’s dubbed “French toast” on the menu.

We also tried the shrimp and grits, which were not great. The grits themselves were meant to be stone-ground, but they looked and tasted like a pile of mush. The grilled shrimp and tomatoes in the white wine garlic sauce wasn’t anything to wax on about; in fact there was lots of oil floating on top of that sauce. Also, why is this dish $18?

There was a dish on the menu that resembled the Denny’s Grand Slam. It wasn’t very creative, just standard pancakes, eggs, and bacon. The pancakes seemed homemade and the eggs were cooked sunny side up.

In fact, the brunch dishes were much like the interior of the restaurant: a bit shabby and thrown together. Not completely fresh, but I guess you can overlook the crappiness if you drink more.

There are a couple of vegetarian options on the menu—a veggie burger and a Mediterranean vegetable pie—which we appreciate. And they also offer a selection of omelets and salads, but I can’t vouch for their freshness or taste; I can only say that the scallions on the Parlour Salad slightly resemble worms.

One thing to note about this brunch is that they don’t split checks more than three ways, which is tricky when you’re always brunching with ten or more people.

The Bitches say: C- The only redeeming qualities (and why it’s not a D) are the ridiculously cheap bottomless price tag and the good table (not hostess) service.

Tap & Parlour
2001 11th Street NW
Washington, DC 20001
202-299-0800