By: Josh, Guest Bitch

A note from the Bitches: Our best Boy Bitch Josh is back with another review. Josh and Cori Sue went to Gospel brunch together a few Sundays ago. There was music, gossip, carbo-loading and Bitching galore. Here’s Josh’s take, approved by Cori Sue.

Gospel Brunch at the Hamilton is not something one goes to, it is something one experiences. Full disclosure, I’m solidly and stubbornly anti-Clyde’s group restaurants as a general rule. I feel they cater to the most mediocre of cuisines and clientele. Had I not seen their info at the front door of The Hamilton, I would not have believed it was their work. Walking through the bar toward the stairs down to the gospel brunch, I found the decorations tasteful and the crowd lively.

The brunch itself is a buffet style affair—$25 gets you in the door with a ticket for a mimosa, Bloody Mary or soda, and features live music. Seating is first-come, first-serve at tables seating anywhere from 2-12 people. Dress it up folks, this crowd had obviously come from church and looked it. My decision to forgo jeans was a wise one. Cori Sue appeared in a sundress and hair bow, of course, so we fit right in.

The food is a blend of traditional breakfast favorites and Southern style brunch options. Vegetarians will be happy to find a large variety of options on this buffet that easily finds something for even the fussiest eater. The standouts, however, are the Southern dishes: chicken gumbo, cheddar shrimp and grits, BBQ pork hash and that most delicious of all—chicken and waffles. My advice, get a half waffle, pile on two pieces of chicken and butter, then douse it in syrup. Delicious.

(Give the other half to your non-meat-eating date).

As for Cori Sue, her first plate consisted entirely yellow (no judgement) mac n’ cheese, shrimp n’ grits, potatoes and eggs and girlfriend chowed down the entire thing (again, no judgement).

Outside of those dishes, the main allure of the food is the sheer amount. It’s nothing to rave about, but nothing to get too up in arms over either. The affair spread out over several locations throughout the dining room, including an omelet station close to the stage. This can make hitting each one in one trip difficult, but it does diffuse the lines rather well. The dessert selection is ample, I never saw any empty serving dish and the staff was perfectly attentive.

The music on this particular Sunday was Jacques Johnson and Friends, a jazz and blues group featuring a talented female singer who brought the soul, the funk and the dance moves. Every table provides a great view of the stage, and from our view we were able to converse and girl talk our way through brunch without having to yell, which was great. Her covers of popular favorite like “This Little Light of Mine,” “Whole World in My Hands,” “I Know A Place,” “I’ll take You There,” and “I’ll Fly Away” were inspired and fun for the crowd.

My take on The Hamilton’s gospel brunch: come early—there are 10 a.m. and 12:30 p.m. seatings—and leave full. It’s a great place to come and enjoy live music, good food and open seating, it would be perfect for that day when you have maybe six or maybe ten people coming, and need flexible space. Tickets can be purchased in advance or at the door. The $25 price tag is a steal in all honesty considering you could conceivably eat your weight in food along and you get a show and a drink included. Hallelujah!

The Bitches say: A for an amazing experience! The food, if compared to all brunch cuisine, is a B-. If compared to buffet food, it’s an A. Make sense? We’re converted.

The Hamilton
600 14^th St. N.W.
Washington, D.C.
(202) 787-1000
The Hamilton Gospel brunch is only Sundays, but regular brunch is both Saturdays and Sundays.

Gospel Brunch Video

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 and Cori Sue

Back in November, we kept getting emails from a very persistent guy. We’ll call him Scott (which, whatever, that’s actually his real name). While we love it when our readers reach out, we generally don’t accept random brunch invitations from strangers—our mothers taught us well.

But, he kept at it, and after a few emails, his pitch caught our attention:

I wanted to reach out to you in hopes of organizing a guest brunch slot for my girlfriend, also named Becca. She is an avid reader of your blog (how I was turned on to your great site), and most importantly, loves brunch. It’s a favorite past-time, and she seems determined to try all of the places you mention.

Yada yada yada (insert flattery and Bitches blushing here) it continued …

Anyway, she’s a great girl, 24 years old, from Richmond, VA, works in Democratic politics, fun-loving, and again, an inveterate bruncher!

OK, anyone who uses the word ‘inveterate’ in the same sentence as ‘brunch’ has our attention …

If so, I was thinking I could just tell her to meet a family friend or a cousin of mine in from out of town for a “girl’s brunch” at a location of your choosing… and surprise, it’s her favorite bloggers!

Heh. Um. Surprise?

Would be an awesome present under the tree!!

OK. Give her the present, Scott, we replied, slightly worried.

Christmas came and went, and we eventually heard back from Scott. She was delighted, excited, on top of the world. Oy, we thought. We’re not that amazing. This poor girl might be disappointed by her so-called Christmas present. Well, at least her lovely boyfriend is creative.

We arranged to meet for brunch at Station 4, our newest partner. We had been once before, right when the restaurant opened, but the place has since revamped its brunch menu and started offering bottomless cocktails every Saturday and Sunday from 11 a.m. to 3p.m., so we needed to head to Southwest to check it out again.

Priced at $25 per person, brunch includes one entrée from Executive Chef Orlando Amaro’s a la carte brunch menu along with bottomless mimosas, Bloody Marys or a nectar and champagne cocktail—a total steal. Plus, on the first and last Sunday of every month, a live jazz band, The Defractions, plays from 11 to 3.

Becca the Bitch arrived first, and Becca the guest was already waiting. They chatted, grabbed a table, and Becca the Bitch (let’s just call her BB, yes?) was immediately relieved that the other Becca wasn’t a complete weirdo. In fact, she was pretty great, and they quickly got to talking about her life in D.C. and her lovely, kind boyfriend. Before she knew it, Cori Sue and our very pregnant friend Stephanie had joined.

We four girls shared a round table by the big windows. The restaurant is gorgeous. Swanky at night; light-filled during the day. It also has a lovely patio for when the weather is nice, and you can do some good Southwest people-watching. There are big glass chandeliers over some tables, plush, high-backed chairs, and comfy booths. The bar is long and sleek, and there are high tops, which we have utilized for happy hour more than once or twice.

The brunch menu itself offers all the necessities—with a D.C. twist. For instance, in a nod to the team just around the corner, The Nationals is a fresh croissant covered with scrambled eggs, diced ham, onions, green peppers, tomatoes and melted cheese. There are also two kinds of “local” mimosas, The Waterfront mimosa, made with vodka, lime, peach juice and sparkling wine. And The Southwest mimosa, made with gin, homemade raspberry syrup, lime and sparkling wine.

The mimosas were served in big wine glasses if you order them individually. If you’re bottomless, you get a different, shorter cup, which is constantly refilled.

Pregnant Stephanie was craving a burger, so she got the “Die Hard.” Yeesh, thought vegetarian Cori Sue beside her. It was a half-pound of lean, black angus beef on a kaiser roll with cheddar, bacon, lettuce, tomato, onion and mayo. Preggers devoured the whole thing—don’t worry, it was well-done. It came  served with a side of duck fat fries, which we had already ordered for the table, or a salad. Stephanie opted for the Greek salad, which was lovely, light and refreshing—and just the right size.

So back to those duck fat fries. They were scrumptious, and arrived with delicious dipping sauces, which were amazing, too.

Our newest Bitch Becca ordered the farm fresh omelet, which was filled with mushrooms, onions, tomatoes, spinach and melted cheese. It was a good size and made with fluffy eggs, and served with toast.

We could not go without the Nutella croissant, and we shared it at the table. The warm, crispy croissant was filled with Nutella and topped with fresh strawberries and cream. Just the perfect amount of crisp and chocolate.

The Brioche French Toast was also just as much of a dessert. It arrived topped with a heavy dollop of cream and fresh fruit, raspberry butter, maple syrup and powdered sugar, as well.

Becca got the classic biscuits and gravy. The dish is country Berkshire sausage gravy over an open-faced biscuit, served with two eggs any-style and a sausage patty. It was comforting and delicious.

Cori Sue opted for a dish that combined two of her most favorite things—a bagel and lox and a Benedict—making the dish a salmon bagel benny, oy vey! A toasted bagel with cream cheese was topped with house-cured smoked salmon and poached eggs. It was garnished with diced onions, capers and scallions, just as it should be. She devoured the whole thing—and touts marathon training, rather than pregnancy, as her excuse.

We’re not going to grade Station 4, because they’re our partners in Benny-bagelerific bottomless brunching. Instead, you should go try it for yourself.

Station 4
1101 4th St. S.W.
Washington, D.C.
(202) 488-0987

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

By: Becca and Cori Sue

We know it’s hard to fathom that it’s already Easter and Passover weekend. But in your disbelief, try not to procrastinate on your Sunday brunch reservations; places are already filling up.

Here are our suggestions for a lovely holiday brunch in Washington, in handy-dandy alphabetical order even (Hint: Forget egg dying, try mimosa-dying).

Blue Duck Tavern

The newly appointed chef Sebastien Archambault is bringing new seasonal, American classics to the restaurant’s Easter menu. The three-course, fixed-price menu begins with a choice of starters, including seasonal salads, meats, breads and cheeses, on display in the open kitchen. Next up, guests will have a choice of entrée and sides from the holiday menu, such as duck confit, leg of lamb, veal paillard, and others. Then, seasonal desserts from the pantry (how ‘bout pears poached in prosecco? Yes, please). $90 for adults; $42.50 for kids; under six years old free. 10:30 a.m. to 3:30 p.m.

Co Co. Sala

Indulge in the D.C. chocolate heaven’s multi-course Chocolate & Champagne Brunch. They’ll have an amazing Easter dessert display, a champagne cocktail for grown-ups, and a chocolate surprise for kids from the Co Co. Sala Bunny. Executive Chef Santosh Tiptur will serve up dishes such as French Toast S’mores, Breakfast Flatbread, Crispy Creole Crab Cake, and Grown-Up Grilled Cheese with truffle-scented brioche. $60 for adults; $30 for kids under 10. 10:30 a.m. to 4 p.m.

Mon Ami Gabi

If you’re in Bethesda, head to this neighborhood spot for a Mary from its elaborate Build-Your-Own Bloody Mary Bar. Have your heart set on waffles for brunch? Try the Waffle Banana’s Foster or the oh-so-European Waffle with Hazelnut and Cocoa Nutella. Or maybe you’ll just want the Ham and Cheese Crepe or the classic Quiche Lorraine. No crazy prix-fixes or Sunday best here. Kids even get a Mon Ami Gabi Easter basket full of their favorite treats. 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Two locations: Bethesda and Reston.

Pearl Dive Oyster Palace

If fewer eggs, more seafood is your mantra, then head to this 14th Street brunch spot, which will be offering up a New Orleans-inspired feast on Easter Sunday. Executive Chef Danny Wells’ Easter menu will feature fresh, sustainable seafood, of course, with standouts like the Stuffed Brioche “French Toast” with chocolate Frangelico ganache and candied hazelnuts. Also on the docket, the Fried Chicken Dinner, Wood Grilled Redfish, Pontchartrain, as well as Texas Gulf Shrimp Remoulade with shrimp salad, grilled romaine heart and brioche Texas toast. A la carte. 11 a.m. to 3 p.m.

Ping Pong Dim Sum

Finally—a bottomless deal on Easter; and a fun one at that. Ping Pong answered our prayers with $25 all-you-can-eat dim sum and $15 bottomless mimosas. Better yet, show up in your PJs or a bunny costume and you’ll get an extra 15 percent off. In a grown-up twist on the day, the restaurant will be hosting mimosa-dying parties, with table-side mimosa bars where guests can color their own cocktails. Too much fun! Two locations: Chinatown and Dupont Circle.

Policy

Policy is also (blissfully) offering all-you-can-drink mimosas on Easter. They’ll be serving up specials along with their great signature brunch items such as coconut pancakes, Mexican chorizo and egg skillet, crab and eggs Benedict, and more. Don’t miss the spring lamb hash and sunny-side up eggs—plus a Green Eggs & Easter Roasted Ham. The brunch cocktails there are not to be missed, including our two top choices: the spiked Japanese iced coffee and the house Bloody with Policy’s own blend of fresh juiced vegetables and spices. Delish. A la carte.

Ris

Our favorite chef Ris is celebrating Easter with a hand-picked menu. It will feature an Easter salmon sampler, Easter ham wellington with gruyere potatoes, pan-roasted asparagus, glazed carrots and mustard sauce, and a roasted rack of lamb. Guests can also enjoy Easter cookies, hot cross buns (how delightful), colored eggs, and candy. 10 a.m. to 3 p.m.

Sou’Wester

The gorgeous restaurant in the Mandarin Oriental is serving up brunch with the Easter bunny in attendance. The brunch menu itself has been designed to be shared and will be served per table family-style. It includes delights such as bourbon-glazed honey ham, leg of lamb, shrimp and grits, and more. There will be a children’s Easter egg hunt on the hotel lawn at 11 a.m. and 1 p.m. $65 for adults; $35 for kids up to 12. Children three and under free. 11:45 a.m. to 3 p.m.

Station 4

Not brunch, but a great Easter dinner deal: Head to Southwest for a three-course, pre-fixe menu at $38 per person, from 5 to 11 p.m. Chef Orlando Amaro will be preparing seasonal appetizers and entrées, such as Rockfish Crudo, Roasted Leg of Lamb, Spring Vegetables Casserole, Prosciutto Wrapped Shad Roe, and more. To complete the meal, Carrot Cake or Cherry Essence Chocolate Lava Cake with Coconut Sorbet. Yum.

Virtue Feed & Grain

Our favorite Old Town pajama brunch gets a little fancier for the holiday, offering special holiday cocktails in addition to its Irish breakfast, quiche Lorraine, and eggs Benedict. Try the Church Tea, Honey Bunny’s Michelada, or Toigo Orchards Bloody Hell. If you find one of the lucky golden eggs planted throughout the restaurant, you win a gift card to its neighborhood and sister joint, Restaurant Eve.

By: Becca

It’s not very often I take free brunches for this blog. I like to be stealthy with my reviewing—snap quickly, judge harshly, and exit swiftly—without making my presence known. I’ve even been known to lie to servers. Upon predictably being asked “Why the massive camera?” I quip back, “Assignment for a photography class.”

But when the great PR champ Jill Collins calls, I cannot resist her charms. Even if she’s luring me to a restaurant that Cori Sue previously had dismissed. It was Jill’s birthday, after all, and so we must celebrate by being spoiled at her favorite restaurant, by everyone—especially its new chef, Aaron McCloud.

Spoiled we were. This review is clearly not unbiased, as we were given the royal PR treatment in Cedar. We got the Cedar-encyclopedic waitress and were checked on frequently by one of the managers. A water glass never went half-full. Having provided that preface, the Mizzou J-school grad inside me prevents me from calling this a review. And so I will simply tell you about my experience.

Cedar is tiny. Jill tried to warn us of this by saying it’s “like a New York restaurant,” where you walk downstairs, underground, to a small room with a few tables and a very attentive chef. Also in the small room, a fully stocked granite bar that has pineapples infusing and mixologists at the waiting.

Indeed, there are only 60 seats in the entire restaurant. You are given the full luxury-in-the-forest experience as you walk down the steps from the entrance on E Street in Penn Quarter. The walls are covered in wallpaper with a big photo of a cedar forest—our feelings on that and the mirrors are being censored. Let’s look past the interior for a second.

The food took us to another place. For some, the pitch is that it’s supposedly like “Ivanka Trump eating in an upscale hunting lodge” (Jill’s words). Cedar’s brunch menu is meant to be rustic, heavy, and full of gourmet meat. I almost wished it were blizzarding outside and we were eating brunch by a fireplace in the cozy space.

We started with cocktails, of course. Tammy and I both had champagne cocktails, of which there are six to choose from. Tammy went for the Snowflake, a concoction of white cranberry juice and champagne, which didn’t taste like cranberry juice at all. She thought she was making the healthy choice; instead she just made the cool-looking and delicious choice.

I had the Stratosphere, which was made with crème de violette and champagne. The color of it was stunning, like a silver grey. It was delicious. Later, we tried the Poodle, made with grapefruit juice and champagne, and the St. Germain, which is made with Elder Flower Liqueur. My favorite was still the Stratosphere.

Eric had The Uziel, which is named after the bar manager’s wife’s maiden name. It was made with vodka infused with grapefruit, lemon, and honey from the bar manager’s family’s beehives in West Virginia. The drink was smooth and didn’t have a bite, which is perfect in the morning. That honey came around to our table again later during brunch.

We didn’t get much farther than that on the cocktail menu. Instead, we ordered coffee, which came in French presses. There was the option of Sumatra (bold), Brazil (mild), and decaf, of course. Cedar’s Bloody Mary is made with house-infused vodka, garlic, jalapeno and habanero. I love that the cocktail menu had so much thought behind it.

On top of our brunch menu, the servers dropped a small card with options for wild game sausage. Our choices: venison with blueberry, wild boar with cranberries, rabbit, and buffalo with chipotle. OK, we’ll try all of them … if you insist.

The buffalo was amazing, the wild boar, so good one of us asked where it came from. “Um, it’s wild, of course, so who knows?” The rabbit, we were all scared to touch. Though I did try a small taste and it was fine.

The best part was that the sausages came chopped in pieces on a cedar plank with four different choices of mustards to dip them in. Those mustards were amazing. The apple mustard was made with white mustard seeds, reduced apple cider, sage and roasted Fuji apples. The bourbon mustard (yes, bourbon mustard!) had brown Indian mustard seeds mixed with white and prepared Dijon, raw bourbon, and a touch of Vermont maple syrup. It was smooth.

The spicy mustard had black mustard seeds, the chef’s hot sauce, which includes pickled habanero peppers, pickled jalapenos, and 16 different spices. Finally, Cedar’s Honey Mustard is made with bar manager’s farm honey (there’s that honey again).

Along with the sausages, we ordered a side of the housemade banana bread, which was served in thick slices, and covered with a sprinkle of powdered sugar. In hindsight, we shouldn’t have ordered this. Even though it was delicious, there was no need to stuff ourselves with bread before the rest of our brunch.

I loved how the dishes were presented at Cedar. If they weren’t on crisp white plates in various shapes, they were placed on the table balanced on cedar or wooden planks. The slices of bread, for instance, were balanced on top of one another on a cedar plank. Light and fluffy, and slightly grilled and covered in oil, the bread was still light and good for dipping, or eating with cheese, which we found out later. It came with delicious butter and house-made jam.

For our entrees, we each ordered the most interesting sounding item.

I ordered the smoked salmon benedict, because I wanted something that had been smoked on cedar, to live up to the name and the hype. The chef came out to our table and told us the story of the restaurant’s smoker. It was his grandfather’s, and it probably 70 years old. It’s tiny, but he smokes many of the menu’s dishes in it.

The chef, we should mention, is brand new at Cedar. Well, a few months new. He started back in December, coming to the D.C. area from various restaurants around the country. The cool part of his story is that he was a child prodigy, an accomplished violinist when he was young, and found his way into restaurants after a chance performance at a restaurant. It was there he decided to jump into the restaurant business, and worked his way up from being a dishwasher.

Cedar doesn’t offer a regular ham Benedict. But that’s okay because the salmon Benedict was delicious, and so the crab cake Benedict must be just as worthy. The smoked salmon Benedict was perched on potato cakes, the perfectly smoked salmon was topped with poached eggs and a delicious caper hollandaise sauce. Probably the most unusual (lumpy, certainly) and strongest hollandaise I’ve ever had.

That hollandaise sauce had such a distinct taste to it, I could barely taste the salmon or the eggs. But it was so great. On the side of the dish was a pile of mixed greens, which was refreshing after the strong hollandaise sauce. It was sprinkled with balsamic.

Jill ordered the braised pork belly BLT, mostly out of curiosity. It was Cedar’s interpretation of a BLT, with braised pork belly, fried egg, smoked tomato, basil aioli, and mixed greens, all inside two pieces of toast. The basil aioli held it together, and the entire sandwich had a mix of tastes once you bit into it.

Eric ordered the French toast, which was supposedly banana nut crunch French toast. We think it was the banana bread, toasted with butter and oils, and given a corn flake trimming around the crust. Delicious nonetheless. It was served with Chantilly cream and maple syrup.

Tammy, much to my dismay, ordered the omelet of wild mushrooms (I hate mushrooms, and I love to try everything on the table). It looked quite plain when it arrived, but it was filled with spinach and cheddar, along with all the slick, slimy wild mushrooms. She cut into it so I could take a photo with a peek of the inside. On the side, garlic roasted potatoes, which were not greasy at all, but rather firm and filling.

There were a lot of dishes on the brunch menu that we wanted to try, but couldn’t, as there were only four of us at the table and our stomachs were already so full. The deviled chicken hash looked interesting (what the heck is deviled chicken hash?). There’s a fried oyster sandwich, which would have been daring. Oh, and Jill really wanted the Hangtown Fry, but we were selfish and wanted the pork belly BLT instead.

Jill wasn’t going to let us leave without trying dessert. We were so full it was painful, but we persevered. We ordered the carrot layer cake, which was served with bourbon sauce and caramel pecan ice cream. We also ordered the coconut tres leches cake, with passion fruit sauce and pina colada sorbet. I tried neither of these. I was too focused on our third dessert dish …

We got the artisanal cheese plate—all five cheeses. It was extravagant and amazing. When the plate was dropped, I marveled at how pretty it was, and then turned my nose up at the smell. Who took their shoes off? Stinky cheese, indeed.

On our plate, there were four American and one foreign cheese (British! From the midlands!), and we were okay with that. Domestic cheese included the San Andreas, a sheep milk cheese from California, a camembert (my favorite) from New York, a Grayson from Virginia, and an extremely decadent “ash” goat cheese.

Our foreign cheese was a blue cheese from Nottinghamshire. It was rich and both moist on the inside and crumbly on the outside. It was during this cheese course that we learned that morning milk and evening milk produces different flavors of cheese. Who knew?

We were so full after nearly five courses of food that we had to be rolled onto the nearby National Mall and to the Tidal Basin, where we plopped ourselves under the Cherry Blossom blooms and admired the sights in gluttonous agony.

Alas, I cannot grade this brunch, because we were given the royal treatment, and that’s just not fair to you, dear readers. But now you know what Cedar is, where it is, who is in the kitchen, what it’s like in the tiny space, and what they’re serving at brunch. No bottomless here. No big parties. Rather, a gourmet, hearty brunch in a cozy little restaurant, served by friendly staff and a very talented chef.

Cedar
822 E St. N.W.
Washington, D.C.
(202) 637-0012

Edited with help from Tammy Portnoy, who loves chefs who can talk a good cheese and cherry, and bakes.

By: Cori Sue

It’s usually the co-Bitch who hosts the raucous brunch parties for groups of ten or more, while my brunches tend to be more intimate catch-up sessions among a few girlfriends. Such was not the case on a Sunday in early February when I gathered a dozen of my Bitches for brunch at Pearl Dive Oyster Palace.

I’d been to Pearl Dive’s upstairs bar, Black Jack, three times in the preceding weeks for the purpose of beer drinking and bocce ball domination. However, I’d failed to hop downstairs to Pearl Dive, 14th Street’s most buzz-worthy new restaurant, owned by the Black Restaurant Group.

The décor and ambiance at Pearl Dive emanate an authentic Cape-side feeling, with worn wooden floors, re-purposed metal light fixtures, and old wooden chairs in front of long hardwood tables. Of course, there are some nautical touches, like crab nets strategically hung in the corner, but they’re not so prevalent as to make the place cheesy.

Everything is worn and rusted—as if salt water blowing in from Cape Cod had actually eroded the charming restaurant and the oysters really came from right around the corner.

As it took a while for the whole group to gather, some of the more prompt Bitches gathered at the bar. Danny and Lauren, Washington’s most charming couple, waited patiently enjoying some beverages.

Lauren says, “While we were waiting at the bar, Danny had a spicy Bloody Mary that he absolutely loved. The bartenders were so friendly—they gave me coffee free of charge and chatted with us about anything and everything. I’m a huge fan of nice people who work at restaurants and we’re excited to go back for brunch or dinner.”

As our group settled in to a long table and a booth, we ordered rounds of doughnuts and sides. You wouldn’t expect doughnuts from a seafood place to be delectable, but these certainly were. All three flavors—vanilla sprinkles, cinnamon sugar, and raspberry filled—were moist, soft and comforting. What more do you want from a doughnut?

There were plenty of beverages on the table. Mimosas are light, with a hint of tartness, and served in a wide margarita-style glass rather than a champagne flute. I led the charge for spiked coffees: “Irish my coffee,” I quipped, and our waiter happily obliged, bringing out mug after mug of coffee and Kahlua to appease the group’s growing desire for both caffeine and alcohol.

I ordered a side of latkes, which were served with Apple-Serrano Pepper Jelley and Chive Crème Fraiche. The latkes were really good, but it was the unique sauces that made them really great. I also snuck a few bites of Maureen’s stone grits, which were perfectly prepared, buttery and rich.

Both Lindsey and Lauren began with the assorted fresh fruits and berries, crème Chantilly, basil, and peach schnapps. Both ladies said they enjoyed the fresh fruit and unique flavors, but that the fruit was a bit soggy and the honeydew melon was undesirable. Lindsey quips, “Unfortunately, it had bits of honeydew in it, which I consider a cheap fruit filler for restaurants. Who likes honeydew anyways?”

The second Lauren (for there were three at this brunch), who is an authentic Masshole from Cape Cod, had the day’s special, an omelet with mushrooms, green chilies, steak, and pepper jack cheese.

She says, “The presentation was pleasing, but the egg was a little runny for my liking, while the steak was spicy but nice. I ordered a side of grits that had a kick to them but I’m a weenie with spice so I couldn’t finish them.

“Luckily, I got my hands on an oyster that the table shared and it was the best part of my meal. The oysters had a little grit, which I always appreciate being from the Cape and cocktail sauce was a classic mix, which I also appreciate. All and all, the sides were better than my omelet but I would go back for seafood based items in a heartbeat.”

The third Lauren, one of my football and running pals, opted for the French omelet, made with three farm eggs, Kennett Square mushroom ragout, and Pleasant Ridge Reserve Farmstead Cheese. She says, “I didn’t think the omelets looked appetizing at all, but they tasted quite good. I also think the portions were quite small for the prices—I’m more of an eggs, toast and bacon type of girl. However, the grits and desserts were amazing.”

For my main dish, I ordered the shrimp po’boy, which was fried shrimp, cayenne aioli and dive fries. It came with pickles—not mentioned on the menu—and I am terrified of pickles. That’s right, deathly scared of a vegetable. As in, normally I’d send it back if a pickle was on my plate.

Not wanting to be a bigger pain in the ass than the girl that brings a dozen people to a packed restaurant, I shoved them off my sandwich but I could still taste the remnants. That being said, the sandwich was rather dry. The cayenne aioli was delicious and the sandwich bun soft and toasted. So I did my best to slather on the aioli to combat the dryness.

The French fries were good, but nothing to write home about. If I was Pearl Dive, I’d work on the fries, as they are served with a lot of the seafood dishes in large quantities and should be more memorable.

Also on the table was a cheeseburger—good, I assume, as Maureen chowed down the entire thing. Danny devoured the farm egg sandwich, made with toast, ham, cheese and scrambled eggs. Meanwhile, his friend across the table, Carter, had order envy but cleaned his plate of toast, steak and eggs as well.

Multiple people opted for the Pontchartrain Benedict, made with two poached farm eggs, an English muffin, blue crab, tasso and crawfish and topped with Cayenne Hollandaise. Everyone that had this dish cleaned their plate, that’s for certain.

Lindsey says, “It was tasty, flavorful and spicy, but a little heavy on the butter for my taste.”

Not one to leave without oysters at an oyster palace, we ordered a dozen and they were fresh and delicious.

A few hours later, we made our way to the dessert menu. We ordered key lime pie—it was tart, creamy and heavenly delicious. Some of the best key lime pie this South Florida girl has ever had. Not to mention the adorable upside-down ice cream cone presentation.

Last and most definitely not least was the mouth-wateringly delicious caramelized apple black iron pie, which came served in a cast iron skillet and topped with cinnamon gelato. The apples were caramelized with cinnamon and cognac and very gooey. The pie crust was moist, but not too flakey. The gelato was creamy and pleasant.

The Bitches say: A-. The seafood is fresh and delicious, the ambiance enjoyable and lively. The service can be spotty and some of the entrees need to be perfected. That being said, we can see why there’s hype.

Pearl Dive Oyster Palace
1612 14^th Street N.W.
Washington, D.C.
(202) 968-8777

By: Becca

So, GM called. And while I never take free shit for this blog (journalistic ethics and whatnot), when someone is handing over the keys to a brand-new, never-been-driven, cherry red Chevy, no questions asked, I couldn’t resist the urge to pocket them and drive all over D.C. And Virginia. And Maryland. (Insert obligatory note about the great gas mileage, XM radio, leather interior, and smooth ride here.)

The weekend’s plans were then nothing but road trips. First, to Shenandoah to hike Old Rag. Then, on Sunday, we bopped north to Frederick, Maryland, to explore the tiny town and have brunch at its most infamous dining establishment, Bryan Voltaggio’s Volt.

Brunch at Volt was extraordinary. There is no other word for it. It wasn’t just one of the best brunches I’ve ever had in my life, it was one of the best meals I’ve had in my life.

It was the service that did it. Phenomenal service means you’re taken through your meal without ever having to worry or wonder. When the service is that amazing, you don’t even notice it.

There are swat teams of waffle-weilding waiters carefully placing your plates before you. They appear magically, all at the same time. Before every course you suddenly have brand-new shiny silver. Your glass is always full. You have a fresh napkin each time you get up. It’s effortless and easy to slip into being pampered that much.

The fun part is that Volt offers up this amazing service with a bit of tongue-in-cheek. The entire staff, for instance, is decked out in black vests and black tuxedo pants—but with brown Chucks. It’s those little hints of personality that make the place. They make you feel like Bryan himself has given it his personal touch.

When we arrived, we were ushered into a lounge area, with plush couches, coffee table books, flower arrangements, and the bar. Above the bar was a plasma screen showing live video from the ceiling of the kitchen. Before we were even seated, we were gaping, open-mouthed, at that kitchen in action.

And then we were seated in the room that adjoined the open kitchen. And that’s when the conversation began to center around the kitchen activity, which was quite extraordinary. A entire team of chefs, sous chefs, assistants, and servers were buzzing about in their Chucks. Some with Mohawks, some with tattoo sleeves, all of them in epic concentration on the masterpieces they were creating.

There are two brunch menus at Volt—a five-course set menu or a three-couse menu with about six options for each course. Both menu option No. 1 and option No. 2 offered beverage pairings and a cheese course for a bit extra. I, of course, went for the five-course set menu. The rest of my Bitches went for their options, orderings from the three-course menu.

Regardless, we each got twelve courses. There was no stopping it. I think they just couldn’t be rude and serve me more courses than the rest of the table, and so we each got at least five courses dropped before us—and then cheese, and then dessert, and then a coffee cake to top it off.

It all started with the fennel and sea salt bread sticks. Four little bread sticks in a shiny silver cup. After that, a basket of amazing breads and pastries was offered up. Pastries that wouldn’t normally be found in some of the most amazing pastry shops in D.C.—sitting in a basket, just waiting to be chosen. There were chive biscuits, cinnamon rolls, chocolate croissants, French bread with sea salt. Which would you like? They asked. Um, one of each?

We ordered cocktails. I had the Betsy, which was the champagne cocktail but ended up being almost all foam—like a beer with lots of head that never went down. Brooke and Joanna both had bloody Marys, which were obviously not a mix and were perfectly spicy. The servers were quick to bring the accoutrements, such as extra olives.

Eric had a spiced apple cocktail with a lemon peel on top. Very tart, but delicious. We all had coffee—which was served in a French press, of course, with steamed milk. We would have expected nothing less.

Before we even started on our main courses, a gorgeous dish with four macaroons was presented. Perched on little spoons, the pink dollops were just enough for a mouthful. Joanna, being the most adventurous, tried one first, and told us all that we would be surprised. She was right. It melted on your tongue—like a piece of chalky candy—but had a distinct, slightly odd taste.

Where to begin on the food? It’s all a blur of endless, amazing plates. The most memorable taste, in my opinion, was also the most unexpected: the maitake steel-cut oats with sea greens and yeast. Sounds atrocious, right? It was a positively extraordinary, and savory. They cooked the oats into a risotto-type creamy mixture, and topped it off with meaty trumpet mushrooms that looked like tree stems.

I had two salads. Yes, two. The kampachi was super fresh. It was served with blood orange, ginger, and fennel. Not everyone likes bold favors, but the vegetables had a tangy sauce that worked well. I love how Volt serves some of its dishes, including the salads, with a bit of crispy pork on the side. It’s a textural contrast that you can choose to include or leave out if you like.

My second salad was the burrata dish, served with thin slices of country ham, kalamata olives, and basil. The burrata was so creamy it spread across the greens. Brooke spent a good chunk of time marveling at the chefs in the kitchen who were treating the burrata as if it were a gently poached egg. This dish is quite the piece of art.

We each got the ravioli dish, which was actually only a few pieces of ravioli, topped with foam (always with the foam, you crazy chefs). The pasta was filled with goat cheese, and again topped with trumpet mushrooms and parsley root. The goat cheese was the anchor to this dish. We each had mixed feelings about the foam, saying it tasted like different things, but agreed it added a light texture to the pasta.

The sturgeon was a beautiful dish that showed the high points of the fish but didn’t cover up the taste with too many additional flavors. It flaked perfectly onto the fork. It was moist and buttery, and served in a bowl—with a bit of foam, of course. The roasted brussel sprouts and root vegetables (faro, butternut squash) made for a lovely pairing.

Our third (fourth?) course was the lobster omelet. We were all a bit surprised to see a plain omelet with a lobster salad on the side. The salad came with my favorite new vegetable, salsify, which is actually a wildflower (read: weed). There were large satisfying chunks of lobster, so we did not feel cheated in any way. The flavor was perfect for a breakfast item, and the presentation allowed you to mix the lobster chunks with your omelet, or enjoy the salad separately.

There was another omelet on the table, too. The mushroom omelet, which was very rich and made with a lot of butter. The mushrooms themselves almost had the consistency of shredded beef. Filled with gruyere cheese and caramelized onion, this omelet was much heavier than the lobster variety. Plus, the breakfast potatoes it was served with were the most upscale breakfast potatoes I’ve ever had, with a balance of garlic and herbs. Perfectly cooked, of course.

Part of my five-course meal was the beef baby turnip. Three tiny bites of beef tenderloin were surrounded by colorful balls, which I wasn’t entirely sure were turnips, potatoes, chard, or other vegetables. I didn’t care; I popped them into my mouth. The beef was cooked to a perfect pink in the center.

Brooke had hen eggs, which she ordered with beef hash instead of pork belly. When she broke the egg she commented that this is exactly how poached eggs should be cooked. They were creamy and gooey without being cool. When mixed with the hash, this dish is the ultimate gourmet comfort breakfast.

The Belgian-style waffles were stunning, and we were served a double portion. They were a little chewy but crispy on the outside. Topped with cubes of apples, almost like an apple pie filling, they tasted delicious. It was accompanied with amazing fresh whipped cream.

I could not resist ordering the maple glazed bacon doughnuts. I knew it would be too heavy with everything I ordered, and indeed they were rich, but I’m so glad we got them. The three small donuts were perfect to share with the table. They were fresh and warm, and topped with finely crumbled (perhaps shaved) bacon—completely mind-blowing. It was just enough salt to bring out the sweetness of the maple. A slight meaty aftertaste, which was very adventurous for a doughnut.

We started getting delirious when the cheese plate arrived. We were all about to explode from gluttony, but again, the dish was too amazing to resist: five artisan cheeses, big portions, beautiful presentation. Slices of walnut toast were balanced on top of one another on folded napkins. The creamy, pungent cheese flavors—some super stinky, even—were a perfect ending.

Except we weren’t done yet. Apparently we had ordered another dessert dish to share, the chocolate marshmallow. Another piece of art: the chefs had melted a marshmallow and scraped it across a plate of caramel so it became sculpture. It was drizzled with chocolate and little pieces of crunchy peanuts. Served with tiny scoops of ice cream. It was another amazing textural contrast, which this chef does so well.

We ended up spending nearly three hours at that brunch table. It was epic. In hindsight, we should have planned better going into this: fasting all morning and readying ourselves for such an epic meal. We just weren’t expecting it to be so grand; it completely took us by surprise.

Afterwards we rolled ourselves out of the gorgeous restaurant and set off to explore. Adorable Frederick is full of old churches with pretty spires, museums, shops, and bridges over a picturesque canal. We made like a Chevy commercial as we sped out of Frederick and back to D.C., windows down, sunglasses on, completely satisfied from brunch.

The Bitches say: A+ Worth the trip, spend the day in Frederick, prepare yourself and your stomach, and be ready for an unforgettable brunch.

Volt
228 North Market Street
Frederick, MD 21701
(301) 696-8658

By: Becca

St. Patrick’s Day broke a few brunch records for me. Those being earliest, biggest, longest, and perhaps rowdiest brunch ever.

It happened like this: The kind managers at P.J. Clarke’s succumbed to my week’s worth of begging and gave me a much-coveted table for that Saturday morning. Even though they were hosting a massive St. Patrick’s Day event, I kept pushing my luck by making it larger and larger until, eventually, I found myself emailing lovely Emily, the manager, that I’m so sorry, but I actually have 20 people coming. Yes, twenty.

No problem! She replied. Life is just so easy when you’re planning on dining at a restaurant full of ridiculously nice people. Her great attitude extended to the hostesses and bartenders, and especially to our two great servers that morning, GeGe and Dan, who were patient and kind to our increasingly drunk, and increasingly rowdy, party.

When we arrived at 10 a.m. (10 am! On a Saturday!) we compared our shades of green attire and ridiculous statement shirts (“Green Shirts Are For Pimps,” ahem, Frenchy), and immediately asked for pitchers of mimosas, Bellinis, and Marys. No can do, they said, claiming it’s the law (really?!), promising us that our glasses would not be empty for more than 30 seconds.

We drank our hardest to make them falter, but GeGe and Dan kept that promise. If my mimosa glass was half-full, and I quickly glanced to the side to chat with my neighbor, I turned back and it was topped off. If someone took their last sip, Dan was pulling the glass from their hands and immediately replacing it with a full one. Amazing. Why can’t every brunch have servers with a full glasses of champagne constantly at the waiting?

The bottomless deal wasn’t just for brunch cocktails that morning, though. Thanks to our luck of the Irish, Guinness and Harp were bottomless, too. The Kegs & Eggs deal on drinks came with your choice of a brunch entrée and side, all for only $35. What a steal. It lasted until 1pm, at which point we waddled off to other watering holes.

Brooke’s sister, Brenda, arrived from running the Rock and Roll Half Marathon, to thunderous applause, and immediately the two sisters slammed Irish car bombs, to even more thunderous applause from all sides of the restaurant.

We chose to be seated in the main level (we want sunlight! and lively people!), but the basement level, known as P.J. Clarke’s Sidecar, was equally as packed with revelers. P.J. Clarke’s is very K Street D.C., meaning, around happy hour it’s full of downtown workerbees, lobbyists, and people generally trying to look important in suits. They all gun for tables in the Sidecar, downstairs, which typically serves a different (and presumably more upscale) menu to those who are lucky enough to snag a spot.

We were quite glad we were sat upstairs, in the end, because traversing up and down those stairs to play some cornhole and get some sunlight would have become tiring. The weather was perfect on Saturday; gorgeous, not a cloud in the sky. The restaurant had set up a big tent over what’s usually its front patio (overlooking 16th Street), and there were high tops, a bar, and cornhole, which we dominated, obviously.

There were also the His-and-Hers Vespas that the restaurant raffled off to raise money for the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial Fund. For a $20 raffle ticket, which bought a spiffy P.J. Clarke’s St. Patrick’s Day 2012 T-shirt that will likely stay in my drawer for the next three years, two lucky people won those gorgeous shiny red and white Vespas. I’m slightly sad that it wasn’t me. I was beginning to day dream about zipping to brunch on a red Vespa. No, really.

Soon a bagpiper arrived and started marching around the restaurant, as we egged him on with our hooting and clapping. Tammy started a GroupMe text to communicate around the enormous table, and we immediately started chattering about what we were all to order.

There were only six options available on the brunch menu that morning (or if you didn’t want to do the $35 deal, you could order from the larger menu), so there were a lot of repeat orders. The crisp apple pancakes were by far the prettiest dish.

A stack of small cakes were piled on top of each other, with sliced apples, whipped cream and cinnamon butter on top. The whipped cream tasted homemade—not from a can or tub. On the side, an adorable pouring cup of syrup. So lovely.

The spinach and coach farms goat cheese omelet was rather plain. It was nothing to write home about, but it was cooked well and had a good amount of spinach. I wished it was slightly more customizable (perhaps some tomatoes, please), and the goat cheese could have been better distributed. But on St. Patty’s day, I am sure the kitchen was working on overdrive.

The Parmesan crusted garden fritatta was the most popular dish on the table. It looked much like an omelet, and was topped with a bit of fresh greens. It had a good amount of vegetables, but was fairly bland. Also, the Parmesan crust was not so much a crust as just a little bit of Parmesan sprinkled on top.

There was a burger option, which lots of people had. It was the morning “Cadillac” burger, served with a fried egg on top. The egg broke apart immediately and was super runny, which kept the burger nice and juicy. It came with bacon, lettuce and tomato.

I had the eggs Benedict, of course. It was served with thick slices of Canadian bacon and hollandaise sauce. I wasn’t that impressed with this Benny, sadly enough. Even after many, many mimosas. The egg was completely overcooked – hard all the way through, not poached. The hollandaise sauce had dried into a crust on top of the dish. The biscuit was just an English muffin, as far as I could tell. Le sigh.

There was also the option to get the country breakfast, with eggs any way you want them, home fries, and choice of bacon or sausage. With your entrée, you could have a side, and choose between three options: smoked country bacon. Chicken apple sausage, and buttered potato home fries. All the bacon on the table was cooked perfectly—just a bit crispy. As for the potatoes, I had one, which burnt my mouth, and then they were given to the general cause of the table.

It wasn’t the food that was memorable at this brunch—but I suppose it wasn’t meant to be. Of the four hours we were there, we only spent maybe 30 minutes devouring the food. Rather, we had a ridiculous amount of fun. As soon as the plates were cleared, we were up, chatting, switching seats, running amok. It was great to have all my Bitches together for one massive brunch. After all, P.J. said it himself, this is the party that was 129 years in the making.

The Bitches say: B for bottomless! Great service, great brunch deal, food was average, but this might have just been because it was a special holiday event. So, try it for yourself.

PJ Clarke’s
1600 K Street NW
Washington, DC 20006
202.463.6630

By: Cori Sue

Buenos dias, Bitches! Right now I’m in Buenos Aires, Argentina, wandering the vintage markets of San Telmo, eating Empanadas, catching up with old Argentine friends and dancing the Tango with tall strangers. Not too long ago, I was far away in the snowy streets Amsterdam, where of course I brunched. Here’s the review.

I never had a desire to visit Amsterdam. Why would I want to smoke marijuana and see naked girls in the Red Light District? Pop culture and awful movies like Eurotrip had preemptively negated my desire to visit the Dutch city.

Nonetheless, when an opportunity to visit Amsterdam through my day job arose, I jumped at the opportunity. (Because you don’t say no to Europe.) I’m glad I did, as Amsterdam is one of the most unique and charming cities I’ve encountered in my lifetime of frolics across Europe, the United States and South America.

Despite the bitter cold and grey skies of January, Amsterdam charms and delights. As you wind through the narrow streets and canals wind of the consolidated town you stumble across beautiful brownstones so old they start to lean over the canals below.

It is an Old World European city, with enormous churches and beautiful palaces and government buildings reaching high into the sky. Below, there are cozy little cafes, print shops, used book stores, and more boutiques than any Bitch could want.

Dutch citizens tend to navigate the narrow canal-side streets on foot or by bicycle. I’ve never seen so many people on bicycles—much less looking so stylish. During rush-hour, hundreds upon hundreds of bicyclists ride by on their way to work and school, rain or snow (and there was snow), and they look impeccably chic despite it all.

As a pedestrian, I was nearly knocked on my tail by a flurry of bicyclists each time I stepped off the sidewalk prior to my adequate dosage of morning espresso. “THINK BIKE!” yelled my co-worker and out came the mom arm. He nearly saved my life upwards of a dozen times and for that I am eternally grateful.

On the Thursday of our trip, it began to snow and, soon enough, the city was covered in a lovely white blanket of powder that remained through the weekend.

Amsterdam is a cosmopolitan city, and so is its cuisine. Traditional Dutch food has German and Dutch influences—lots of sausage, cheese and bread served with mustard alongside wheat beer in rustic cafes. For breakfast, it’s heavenly croissants and cappuccinos. For lunch, you head to a cafe for a sandwich and more coffee. Brunch is harder to differentiate in Amsterdam, as most citizens opt for breakfast, or lunch, not both.

After a morning of shopping, my friend and I decided upon Café Nielsen, selecting the cafe over another brunch spot on the same block that served pancakes and was titled by the same name.

The staff was friendly and accommodating as we nestled up to the bar to wait for a table. Starving, we opted for croissants and coffees as we waited for brunch. In Europe, the coffee and croissants are always delightful, and at Café Nielsen this statement held true. Unfortunately, the rest of brunch was merely average once we were led to our table.

The brunch menu at Café Nielsen is simple and affordable—with typical “American-style” egg breakfast plates. My brunch date opted for such a dish—scrambled eggs served with two slices of toast and fruit. It was fine, but nothing to write home about. The eggs could have been creamier, but instead they were dull.

Also on the table were smoothies, of which we selected both menu options. I slurped down a strawberry banana smoothie made with orange juice that was light and refreshing. My brunch date chose the Black Forest, made with yogurt and berries and far too thick.

My brunch entrée was a vegetable quiche, which was cheesy and filled with vegetables, but, again, nothing memorable. It was served with a fresh side salad of mixed greens, tomatoes, cucumbers and red onions topped with balsamic vinaigrette.

While Amsterdam was charming, delightful and memorable, I’m sad to say Café Nielsen was not. I should have opted for the obviously titled Pancakes restaurant down the road, but, luckily, my charming week was hardly affected.

Cafe Nielsen
Berenstraat 19  1016 GG
Amsterdam, Netherlands

Beyond brunch, here are my recommendations for your Amsterdam adventures:

To stay: Hotel Arena
To shop: Shoebaloo and SPRMRKT.
To see: Van Gogh musem, Rijksmuseum and the Royal Palace.
To lunch: Café Noir
To dine: Bond is a less-known, upscale restaurant tucked away in  a residential part of town. De Blauwe Hollander for traditional and satisfying Dutch cuisine.
To drink: Momo, an upscale sushi bar, is perfect for a snazzy night of cocktails.