There are so many new restaurants opening up in my Logan ‘hood that I am absolutely spoiled for choice at the moment. There’s not a top spot I want to try on any given Friday night—there are four or five top spots I want to try.
A few Saturdays ago, Cori Sue deftly arranged a stellar GNO, beginning with dinner at the new B Too, followed by drinks at the also-new Black Whiskey, then the continuation of our bar-hopping all the way up 14th Street. It’s an unreal time in Washington being that I can skip to so many new and fab places, all within three blocks of my house.
Dinner that night was fun because we had a fabulous group of ladies holding court around a table in the middle of the new Belgian restaurant. We had plenty of bottles of champers, cocktails, mussels, apps, even dessert. Even though we had a blast, we weren’t that impressed with the food quality or the service. Opening weekend woes, we shrugged it off.
During dinner, Chef Bart Vandaele stopped by our table, flirting and cooing at us. He teased Cori Sue for being offended by the bathroom wallpaper (you have to see it to believe it). He brunched off my pestering about when brunch service was to begin. Then he ordered another round of drinks for the table and was off.
So when brunch was finally announced, Cori Sue and I decided to drag ourselves back there (post-Saturday Electric Brunch Party, post-Pride Parade ridiculousness, post-Epic Saturday of all Saturdays). The main reason was because we wanted to stuff ourselves with a ridiculous amount of Belgian waffles. Because what better way to start your post-epic Saturday, pre-Penthouse Pool Sunday?
We were seated downstairs this time—our first visit to the lower level of B Too. Upstairs, the décor is eclectic enough. There are cowhide tapestries on the wall, a random saxophone scattered elsewhere, and, did I mention the bathroom wallpaper? Downstairs, it’s like a wine bar, with bottles lining the walls, plush loveseats, exposed brick, and a few tables near a giant wall mural of a pig’s nose. Yes, the decor is random, yet cheeky.
The brunch cocktail menu is stellar. Oh wait, let me call it by its official title, the “Bloody Good & Pimp Mosa Cocktails” menu. Heck yeah, I will have a pimp mosa cocktail! This place has personality. Exhibit A: Chef Bart. Where was the Top Chef contestant that morning? Parading around the tables in bright yellow denim.
“I’ve been living in D.C. for 17 years. BORING! Wakey wakey time to shakey!” he proclaimed in a thick European accent to our table. Gotta love him. And we do.
The brunch menu had a nice selection of non-brunch entrees and, of course, the standard eggs and such. But we had our sights set on waffles, and there were pah-lenty to choose from. You can get waffles with mixed fruit, waffles with berries and mint, waffles with just sugar, if you’d like. There are waffles with Grand Marnier, waffles with cinnamon syrup and poached pears, even waffles with mussels and celery.
I got the weirdest of them all, the cornbread waffles with pulled pork and avocado. It was like a Belgian huevos rancheros, except, you know, not Mexican. My thought process: I like waffles; I like avocado; I like pulled pork; anything with an egg on it is fantastic; I’m feeling childishly adventurous this morning. It was a risk, but the biggest risks always have the biggest payoff: It was amazing.
Cori Sue got the lobster waffle, with lobster meat, lobster oil, tomato and salad. She was also initially hesitant, planning on the berries and mint waffle, but leaping in and taking a risk last minute in opting for the lobster.
She didn’t know what to expect, but, upon its arrival the lobster waffle was heavenly. Savory, moist, filled with chunks of lobster and served with a side salad with a light dressing. It was one of the best brunch entrees she’s sampled, and she will certainly go back for it. (It happens to be on the menu at all meals at B Too, and that’s a good thing).
Stephanie, who got baby reprieve from the hubby and was joining me at the pool that afternoon, got the poached eggs. Slow-poached eggs, that is. Not to be confused with those speedy poachers. It was topped with smoked salmon and hollandaise, with a few spears of asparagus. Essentially, a benedict. A Belgian benedict? If that’s the case, I’ll stick with their waffles.
The sole male at the table ordered what we all wanted to dessert, and apparently didn’t hear us ladies grumbling. I give you: the decadent crepes, filled with banana, Nutella, and topped with whipped cream and a raspberry each. On the side, a dish of vanilla ice cream for dipping. They were four little rolled crepes, like sushi rolls, so perfect for sharing at a table for four. For dessert. Silly boy.
Of course, we had to order the frites to share. You can’t be at a Belgian place and not order the “real Belgian” frites. They arrived with three dipping sauces, garlic mayo, chipotle mayo, and a yellow one we believe to be a honey mustard mayo. Each had its own kick.
I also ordered the “bucket of bacon” on the side. Because if there’s a bucket of bacon available anywhere, why would you ever pass up such a thing? The bacon was a bit dry, but that’s how I like it. Less chewy. It came in a little silver bucket, with fried onions at the bottom. Cute.
We eventually kicked the aforementioned male out before he could touch his food (just kidding; he had a flight to catch). This meant we could actually split his amazing crepes between us—the perfect dessert ending to a pretty incredible weekend. Off to the pool, post-brunch, to snooze it off.
The Bitches say: A. Pretty solid. Bart has worked out his opening kinks and serves up a solid brunch with flair.
1324 14th Street NW
Washington, DC 20005