By: Becca

My favorite band played at Kastles Stadium at the Wharf a few weeks ago, and afterwards a group of us staggered from the tennis court down the street to Station 4 for some late-night grub. We didn’t realize what a swanky place it was until we piled into our red patent leather booth and started knocking over all the glassware on the table.

After that semi-ridiculous night, I figured I better go back and check it out for real, and perhaps make amends for causing so much chaos in such a serene restaurant. So I planned a big brunch.

Little did I know it was to be a week of natural disasters. First an earthquake, which scared the living shit out of me, and then a hurricane, which just reinforced my belief that the world was, in fact, ending. Nonetheless, during the beginning hours of last weekend’s downpours, eight of my Bitches drove from miles around to the Southwest Waterfront to gather for a pre-hurricane brunch. I even had a friend fly in from Florida for the weekend. Oh, the irony.

Outside, the weather was already roaring. I nearly lost my favorite polka-dot umbrella running from the car. But inside, the restaurant was calm and soothing. Frank Sinatra was crooning, candles were twinkling, and a modern horizontal fireplace was burning at the end of the dining room. The waiters and hosts were cool as cucumbers. We had the place to ourselves—and the staff, I think, were pleased that such a large group had turned up on such a disastrous weather day.

Station 4 is very swanky on the surface. Someone clearly put a lot of effort into the décor: beautiful lighting fixtures, glittering chandeliers, plush armchairs, and shiny booths. Plus, it has a lovely outdoors patio for when the weather is nice. Unfortunately, the brunch just doesn’t live up to the atmosphere. Everything is so inviting, but where’s my breadbasket or choice of appetizers? Where’s my bottomless drinks?

My Benedict Oscar was just odd. It was one big hunk of meat (sirloin steak) on top of two half English muffins with poached eggs on the top. All that was topped with sautéed crabmeat, asparagus and béarnaise sauce. Quite a construction, but unfortunately the steak was tough, gritty, and not cooked to my specifications; the eggs were overcooked and not runny enough; and the sauce was mediocre. Strikes one, two, three. But perhaps the other Bennys are better: There’s a classic version and a salmon version to choose from; the salmon one perched on a bagel.

The omelets were sadly average, as well. The Mardi Gras omelet, filled with smoked Andouille sausage, red peppers, crawfish and scallions, topped with delicate, tomato-hollandaise sauce, was actually a bit bland. The Andouille sausage and crawfish inside were good, but they weren’t mixed with the eggs and there wasn’t much meat in there. Most of the dish was made up of egg.

The French toast was so sweet it didn’t need the syrup. It was topped with powdered sugar, bacon and maple syrup. Pretty standard.

One glimmer of menu hope came in the huevos rancheros. Made with crispy corn tortillas smothered with vegetarian refried beans, two over-medium eggs, avocado, white cheese and ranchera sauce—it wasn’t that bad. The cheese was unusual and delicious, but the whole dish was a little salty. Was it the best huevos rancheros we’ve ever had? No. But it was alright. And certainly the most adventurous dish on the menu.

The drink situation made me a little sad. I was ready to booze, as I knew I’d be trapped in my apartment building for the next 24 hurricane-fueled hours. But there was no bottomless deal or drinks specials to be found at this brunch. At $7 a pop, the bloody Marys are average (though they did whip up a virgin Mary for my pregnant Florida friend). The mimosas cost the same, though they are served in large white wine glasses, which I always appreciate.

The service was great—we were well taken care of, and coffee came before we even asked (we had just mentioned to one another how much we needed it, and the waiter overheard us). Plus, one of my Bitches arrived a half hour late and the kitchen made the extra effort to get her order out within five minutes of everyone else’s. That being said, this excellent service might have been due to the fact that the place was nearly deserted.

The Bitches say: C+ Great atmosphere and service, but blah food. What this place needs is a solid bottomless deal. It would surpass the mediocre food and boring menu.

Station 4
1101 Fourth Street SW
Washington, DC
202-488-0987

By: Cori Sue

Buffets—they’re usually busted.

My father has adamantly refused to dine at buffets since I can remember, and his strategy was proven when we realized the buffet brunch at Taberna del Alabardero was awful. Similarly, the other buffet brunches we’ve tried in Washington—Becca’s ruined Mother’s Day brunch at Farmers & Fishers and my post-marathon yuck-fest at Beacon Bar & Grill—have been similarly dreadful. The buffet at the Kennedy Center is decidedly sub-par as well.

That’s because, if you do a buffet brunch, it should be at the Four Seasons. Because, well, it’s the Four Seasons, and they know how to pull out all the stops and really impress. The folks at Seasons, within the hotel, invited us to brunch, which they bill as a “station” brunch, rather than a buffet, as they work to maximize the amount of food that is prepared fresh, in front of you, rather than sitting there in typical buffet fashion.

The dining room at the Seasons is lovely—traditional white table clothes, big fluffy club chairs, and lots and lots of flower arrangements and potted plants. The greenery paired with floor-to-ceiling windows giving off loads of natural light really made you feel like you were dining outside, albeit with air conditioning, rather than in. The room was filled with dozens of families, and I assumed they were celebrating birthdays and other notable accomplishments.

There are a whopping eight stations: carving/meat station, omelet station, seafood station, breakfast station, taco stand, market salads, hot sides, and a cheese station, plus an entire room dedicated to adorable desserts.

We headed first to the carving station, which offers flank steak carne asada, mojo marinated shrimp, miso marinated wahoo, tarragon roasted quail, which Lacy tried, and Maryland Crab Cakes with Cajun Remoulade, which I had, and absolutely loved. The quail, which was a novel item on the menu, and served whole, did not go over well with Lacy. She says, “I wasn’t a fan of the quail despite the hype—and even I, a raging carnivore, wanted to tear up at the presentation.”

Then, to the omelet station, where Lacy had the cook whip up an omelet with Virginia ham, gruyere cheese and scallions that was extremely fluffy and her favorite part of the meal. From the station, I picked up the French toast, which was fluffy, warm, and heavenly. The theme of this station was fluffy and fresh, and we were fans.

I also scooped up some cinnamon-sugar doughnut holes—which remind me of childhood state fairs—that were warm, fluffy and perfection. The pastries at Seasons are amazing: croissants, chocolate croissants, etc.

Then, we headed to the taco stand, a recent addition at Seasons, made to look like it should be sitting on a beach outside Acapulco. The tacos were shrimp, pork shoulder and short rib tacos on corn tortillas with sides of tomato salsa, pico de gallo, tomatillo salsa, and tortilla chips should you have room. I loved my shrimp taco, made with pickled red cabbage and citrus chimichurri—really yummy.

In the center of the room lies a long table filled with fresh market salads and hot sides—a dream-come-true for someone who loves her veggies but gets bored with your run-of-the-mill salad. Hot dishes include mac n’ cheese with broccoli, smoked cremini mushrooms, polenta cakes, summer vegetable gratin and more. The salad table had a really neat cantaloupe, cucumber and radish salad with prosciutto (that I picked around) and balsamic vinaigrette that I really enjoyed. There was also a watermelon, feta and olive salad, which was fresh and yummy. My favorite part of this table was the white gazpacho, which you pour out of a beverage cooler into little shot glasses—a cute touch, and a delicious summer soup.

The seafood station, which encompassed a large portion of the room, was visually charming, filled with little nautical details like boats, anchors and fish, hand-written signs and mason jars—very Southern, cute display.

It had a astonishing amount of options, some better than others, including oysters, shrimp cocktail, crab claws, coconut ceviche, grilled octopus, classic lobster rolls, black cod dip, seared ahi tuna, sardines and tapenade on toasts, bagels and lox, seared scallops. I was not crazy about the ceviche—I couldn’t find the seafood. However, the scallops and lobster rolls were really delicious.

I think a smart diner would have to be discerning in order to choose the best options on the buffet. Lacy, who whipped up a bagel and lox from the seafood stand, says, “The seafood bar was my favorite display, and the house-smoked dill-marinated salmon was the best I’ve ever had.”

On our way back we passed an entire table full of cheese—cheese, glorious cheese! You know how I love it. Sadly, we were so full we might burst.

After taking a breather, we finally headed to the dessert room, a visually stunning display of a few dozen different types of mini-pastries, a candy display, and a frozen lollipop station that would put Willy Wonka to shame.

The frozen lollipop station was the best part of dessert. The frozen pops, made on a tray with dry ice, were creamy and delicious, a combination of ice cream and whipped cream made into a lollipop. The flavors were creamsicle, chocolate crunch, strawberry granola parfait and raspberry cheesecake. Lacy and I both that the pops were to-die-for.

The desserts were made to be visually stunning and impressive, with a zillion flavors, but the flavors were mediocre. Seriously, any flavor combination you can imagine. Chocolate banana peanut butter tiramisu-style. Corny cakes—vanilla cakes topped with caramel corn. Key lime pies. Lemon meringue pies. Deconstructed chocolate tiramisu. Chocolate cheesecake. Chocolate parfaits. Chocolate cupcakes. Red velvet cupcakes. Pink-and-gold mango crème brulees. Creamsicles. Milk chocolate caramel crème brulee domes. Traditional crème brulee. Strawberry shortcake.

All of the desserts were miniature, and meant to blow patrons out of the water with their bright colors, fancy whipped toppings and plethora of options. However, I found that, the less pretty it looked, the better it tasted. The lollipops and the traditional crème brulee were delicious, as was Lacy’s shortcake, meanwhile the caramel-chocolate crème brulee topped with a fancy painted piece of white chocolate had too much going on—all the flavors blended together and my taste buds were just confused.

At the end of the meal, the pastry chef brought out a Twitter-themed cookie display, made just for me, and I nearly fell out of my chair. The sugar cookies were amazing, definitely the best sugar cookie I’ve ever had. This proves my theory that the more simple, less ridiculous the dessert—I’m looking at you, gold-topped mango domes—the better the quality and taste at Seasons.

The pastry chef, who is truly gifted, should focus on quality, not quantity and spectacle. However, if I were a tourist, or a child, or less of a Bitch, I’d probably be thrilled by Willy Wonka land—so I understand why they do it.

Meanwhile, I ran into Aisha and Danielle, who I met when they attended our Summer Brunch Soiree in July. They felt differently about the dessert room. Their synopsis: “The Four Seasons optimizes the our idea of brunch! From free-flowing champagne, to a raw bar as far as the eye could see, to Willy Wonka’s dream dessert room and need we mention the service? Fabulous! The ladies of threeLOL  give the Four Seasons brunch an ‘A’ for Absolutely Decadent!”

The Bitches say: B+. The service, ambiance and options were spectacular. The food, overall, was really great, but I do wish they’d work on the quality of some of the seafood and dessert dishes. That said, when compared to other buffets in town, Seasons makes a well-deserved A+, as it is blows other buffets out of the water—everyone will be able to find something delicious that they’ll enjoy. It is a spectacular venue for special occasions, family functions and out-of-town guests, as the large space and amazing staff will be about to accommodate large parties splendidly, I’m sure.

Seasons at the Four Seasons Georgetown
2800 Pennsylvania Ave. N.W.
Washington, D.C.
(202) 342-0444

By: Becca

“Baltimore doesn’t brunch,” my boyfriend said to me matter-of-factly in the car. We were on our way to a mid-Sunday-morning meal in south Baltimore that included bottomless mimosas and benedicts. But it wasn’t brunch, of course. Not in Baltimore.

The restaurant was Little Havana, a Cuban inspired joint right on the water in Federal Hill. It looks like a warehouse from the outside, which is fitting, as the place used to be an old car garage, according to my man, who hails from these parts.

Photo credit: Becca Clara Love

Inside, there’s not much effort to displace that first impression. There’s lots of metal and iron work, haphazardly placed tables, and faded Cuban-postcard-style (and slightly phallic) paintings on the walls. The outdoor deck overlooks the water through a chain-link fence. The whole place has an open warehouse feel, but there’s a dining room in the back made for big tables.

Photo credit: Becca Clara Love

No reservations necessary here. It’s laid back, like Baltimore, and I liked it. The place is built for mingling and socializing: everything is centered around a big bar in the middle, which was cranking out pitchers of mimosas and Marys. Oh, and there’s a shuffleboard table, which we played until there was sand under our fingernails.

Let me say this: Only in Baltimore can men make mimosas look manly. I think it’s because they serve them in plastic cups and load the pitchers with ice. Yes, ice. In my mimosas. It seems a crime to me, but it actually made them go down faster. After a few hours, I was sidling up to the bar with two empty pitchers, asking for refills for the poor men I was crushing in shuffleboard.

Photo credit: Becca Clara Love

The bartenders weren’t stingy, either. They were quick and efficient, zipping around their busy bar taking orders. And your food comes out fast. Clearly the kitchen is cranking out the brunch dishes one after the other in anticipation for the next big order. Speaking of which, let me tell you what a deal this was: $16 for bottomless mimosas or Marys and an entrée. We stayed the entire time, from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. It was an impromptu brunch party.

Photo credit: Becca Clara Love

All the egg entrees come with bacon, cuban toast and a fresh muffin. I had the Huevos Habana, Havana-style baked eggs topped with sofrito (which is basically peppers and onions stewed in a spicy tomato sauce). Totally satisfying. My boyfriend had the crab omelet, or the Tortilla de Cangrejo, which is eggs with crabmeat and sofrito. That was promptly polished off.

Photo credit: Becca Clara Love

But the entrée selection is great: You can get Spanish-style eggs, Cuban scrambled eggs, huevos mixtos, huevos fritos a la Cubana, or even just an egg omelet. There’s tortilla de huevos y queso, and avocado omelet, huevos rancheros, or simply French toast or buttermilk pancakes.

Or if you don’t feel like breakfast, go for the Cuban sandwich, made with ham, pulled pork, dill pickle,  swiss cheese and mustard on Cuban bread with potatoes. Definitely not Tampa-style, but worth a shot. There’s also boring things like hamburgers or chicken sandwiches, for those less adventurous.

Photo credit: Becca Clara Love

Then there’s a selection of desserts, which goes above and beyond the $16 deal, but after a few pitchers you might be tempted. Try the Friturtas de Plantano, plantain fritters dusted with powdered sugar, or the Sopapillas, sweet pastry dough drizzled with chocolate and berry sauces and served with vanilla ice cream. Or just go for the Flan.

The music was loud, the brunching crowd was loud, and so that rowdy bar atmosphere inevitably called for dirty bathrooms. And dirty they were, though after hours of bottomless pitchers you hardly care.

Photo credit: Becca Clara Love

I don’t care what my boyfriend says: No matter what Baltimore residents call it, they’re brunching. And they’re brunching right. I think they’re all just in brunch denial.

The Bitches say: B for Baltimore. A great time and a great deal, even if the food isn’t absolutely amazing and the bathrooms not spik-and-span.

Little Havana
1325 Key Highway
Baltimore, MD 21230
(410) 837-9903

By: Becca

It was about the second week of June that I really started freaking out. I had just gotten over a crazed week of work in Vegas. The week prior, Cori Sue and I had signed our lives away to Ris and promised to donate the rest of our livelihood to DC Farm to School. We had to coordinate more than a dozen sponsorships and organize a fashion show in, oh, 15 days. I was experiencing the onset of event-planning panic.

So, I called Kiara, PR maven, Edelman queen, and woman about town.

“Alright, lady. Take a breath,” she said from across the table at Coppi’s on U Street.

I breathe. Pause. Take a swig of my mimosa.

The restaurant was empty this particular Sunday brunchtime, and we were sharing the round table in the window alcove at the front, giving us a clear view of the occasional U Street walk of shame. I was grateful that there wasn’t anyone else in the place to see my breakdown. Plus, the bottomless blood orange mimosas were helping me to relax.

Despite the lack of patrons, Coppi’s actually turned out to be a solid brunch, serving all organic omelettes, pastas, pizzas, and panini baked in a wood burning oven. But it’s an odd location for such a restaurant.

That part of U Street is mostly back-to-back with great Ethiopian spots, trendy new steakhouses and wine bars, and Thievery Corp-owned bars and lounges. A narrow little Italian joint just seems, well, a bit out of place. Plus its deep red walls are covered in photos, jerseys, and mementos of the Italian cyclist legend Fausto Coppi, making the place more Bucca di Peppo than Armanis.

Kiara spent the next few hours rattling through my marching orders: businesses to hit up, press releases to send, people to talk to. I sat there, sucking down mimosas and Italian food, and listening, my eyes as big as saucers. All the while thinking, I am not an event planner. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

I was in such a tizzy that afternoon, I can hardly remember the food, just that it was substantial and tasty. I had the frittata, which is made with organic Pennsylvania eggs. It was filled with cremini mushrooms, red onions, and red peppers. It was tasty, but a bit too heavy on the mushrooms for my liking.

There were roasted potatoes on the side, which were more like French fries than actual breakfast potatoes. I did love the Italian styled bacon, which is thin and greasy. Oh, and another great addition to the plate was the warm, soft biscuit served with whipped butter.

Kiara had one of the paninis, though I can’t recall which (I would ask her, but the woman is too busy, honestly). Perhaps it was the Melanzane, which has roasted eggplant, cremini mushroom, red pepper, smoked mozzarella and baby artichoke. That sounds amazing.

Or perhaps it was the Santino, with prosciutto, soppresatta, smoked mozzarella, mixed greens, red onion, roasted red peppers, and pepperoncini peppers. No … maybe it was the Merguez, which has feta, cucumbers, red onion and lamb sausage. So good. Why didn’t I get a Panini?

We didn’t attempt one of their famous pizzas, though the wood burning oven and bored kitchen boys sitting at the bar made it very tempting. There are many Italian pizza options, from the Biana Sette Colli (mozzarella, pancetta, and garlic) to the Salmone Affumicato (smoked salmon, sheep’s milk feta, ricotta, and more). Will definitely try go for a traditional pie next time.

Perhaps because there was no one else in the restaurant, the service was excellent. We were pampered: mimosas refilled before they were empty, advice given on the dishes, even a free dessert at the end of the meal: delicious cinnamon bread with powdered sugar on top.

After a few hours of charting my course, Kiara was done with brunch, and I was near tears. My list was enormous, and though Cori Sue was already off running with hers, how ever would we get it all done in time?

Breathe, I thought. And then take another sip of your mimosa. That’s how.

The Bitches say: B+ Great bottomless drinks, decent food, good service, just desolate and a bit odd.

Coppi’s Organic
1414 U Street NW
Washington, DC 20009
(202) 319-7773

By: Becca

A month ago Cori Sue and I received an invitation to a Luxury Rendezvous Brunch at Cities Restaurant downtown. I was immediately intrigued. Is this another debaucherous party brunch of epic proportions? If so, I am so there.

We gathered eight beautiful girlfriends and trekked through the sweaty streets of downtown to arrive promptly at 1 p.m. that Sunday afternoon. We were hungry, and we were thirsty, and we expected to roll into loud thumping music and fountains of champagne.

Alas, there was barely a soul at Cities.

The staff were just arriving and setting up, but they didn’t know for what. No one knew about a party brunch, even when we invoked the name of the person who invited us in the first place. Our gaggle of women were dressed to the nines, cranky, and perspiring. So, we left.

First we wandered the streets of downtown to find somewhere nearby. Kellari Taverna? Been there, done that. Bombay Club? Apparently they don’t serve brunch that late. The next best option, besides climbing the Connecticut Avenue hill up to Dupont Circle eateries, was to hop in a cab and head to P Street.

My roommate, Tammy, made the location suggestion. She had been taken to Scion a few weeks before on a date. The reason for the guy’s selection was its menu of beer and fried pickles (Tammy is a connoisseur of both). Five of us girls tumbled out of a very cramped cab ride and into the tiny restaurant, which was packed. Please, we begged, give us a table and mimosas, somewhere near an air conditioning vent. We were melting.

We were rescued by a very cute waiter named Alex, who not only secured us a private room complete with its own beer tap built into the table, but also pitchers and pitchers of mimosas and enormous wine glasses. I was blissfully grateful to be settled into this late brunch, even if I was eating at a restaurant seemingly named after my boyfriend’s car.

The lovely thing about Scion is that it’s a total neighborhood spot in a very lovely area. Clearly people are quite comfortable with just rolling out of their Dupont apartment, comfy clothes and all, and grabbing a table with friends for brunch. It’s also got a nice patio, though it was too hot for that when we went.

Another major plus is that this is first and foremost a liquid brunch. Any of the drinks on the menu can be made bottomless for just $5 more than the cost of the first drink, including beermosas, bloody marys, bellinis, and all sorts of interesting cocktails (I’ll take a Road to Recovery, followed by a Second Wind, please).

We hydrated on mimosas for hours and hours. And by the end of this brunch, the five of us were literally dancing on P Street trying to hail a cab. I hadn’t had such a solidly drunk brunch in a while. But, we’ll get to that later.

After the pitchers of mimosas were ordered, the next stop was to the fruit table, which is piled up high for the picking. Though it’s just a simple selection of sliced melons and grapes, the fruit gives you the chance to eat something refreshing while you peruse the brunch menu. And it’s free with any entree.

We went in for a selection of appetizers. The fried pickles, of course, were the first to be ordered. Thinly sliced, fried, and served with a side of ranch. They weren’t the best fried pickles I’ve ever had (living with Tammy for years means I’ve sampled my fair share), but they were decent to get things started.

The honey glazed baked brie was served on crostini with toasted almonds and srawberry preserves. Not only was this a very pretty dish, it was tasty, too. It went nicely with the curried potato chickpea croquettes, which were served with a cucumber yogurt sauce. There were lots of good appetizers to choose from. We even dipped into the hummus, which is made out of edamame.

For brunch, you can order salads and sandwiches, or a selection of breakfast and egg dishes. The nice thing about the salad and sandwiches menu is that you have an array of carnivorous toppings to choose from: grilled or crispy chicken, smoken salmon, steak, shrimp, or even scallops.

Brooke built her own scramble, which was fantastic. The protein selection for the a la carte eggs are just as impressive as those for the salads and sandwiches. You can get lobster, crabmeat or rock shrimp, ham, bacon, ground beef, chorizo or turkey sausage. For the veggies, a veggie crumble, black beans or veggie. Then, cheese and veggies.

The winning dish at the brunch table was actually the lobster Reuben, made with lobster meat, sauerkraut, 1000 island, Swiss cheese, and served on rye bread. It was packed with flavor, and toasted nicely.

Likewise, my lobster hash was tasty and massively filling. It was made with red potatoes, bacon, poached eggs, and Old Bay Hollandaise. We had high hopes for the cinnamon vanilla French toast, but it wasn’t as amazing as we had hoped. It was served with vanilla dipping sauce, maple syrup and crispy bacon, but the toast itself was a bit soggy.

The rest of the brunch options sounded mouthwateringly satisfying, especially after buckets of mimosas. Unfortunately, we didn’t get to try the Scion Sunrise, the breakfast sandwich, the crab cakes benedict, the steak and eggs, or the smoked salmon. That menu is like a roster of classic brunch dishes served without frills. I will definitely be back.

After nearly four hours of brunching the way brunching should be done, we staggered out to P Street to catch a cab. Ten minutes into our efforts, Alex, our server, ran out after us. Silly girls … in the midst of our raucous brunching, we had forgotten to sign our credit card receipts.

The Bitches say: Solid A. Awesome bottomless deal, and the food wasn’t anything gourmet, but it hit the spot.

Scion Restaurant
2100 P Street Northwest
Washington D.C., DC 20037
(202) 833-8899

By: Cori Sue

When I first moved to Washington, dance-maniac Becca took me to Policy for a crazy night of dancing amid the graffiti-laden walls and glitzy chandeliers of Policy’s second floor. I had a blast, but had no idea the nightclub served food. I think a lot of people in the District have had similar experiences with Policy.

Well, listen up, because you should go downstairs for dinner, and brunch, because what’s cooking in the kitchen is just as good, if not better, than the music and dancing upstairs.

It’s been years since this experience, and, as a 14th Street resident, I’ve had multiple delicious dinners at Policy. I even walked the runway at a DC Magazine and Saks Fifth Avenue fashion show held at the restaurant. Then, last month, Policy launched brunch.

Between vacations, Bitching, party planning and birthdays, it took me awhile to get there—but when I did, I enjoyed every bite. (Full disclosure: this brunch was complimentary, but that doesn’t take away from the incredible food and experience.)

I was joined by Hilary and Lindsey, and we requested a seat on Policy’s upstairs patio, which has big cushy patio furniture, string lights hanging above your head, and a funky graffiti mural of Washington on the wall. You could not find a better space for brunch with your girlfriends.

On this occasion, Belvedere vodka representatives were on hand doling out complimentary Bloody Marys to diners, made with a new Belvedere Bloody Mary vodka. The vodka smelled delicious, and exactly like a Bloody Mary—it’s infused with seven ingredients: black pepper, horseradish, bell pepper, chili pepper, vinegar, tomato and lemon. The Bloody Marys were flavorful and easy to drink. I finished the whole thing—a rarity for me, as they are usually too thick for me to finish a full cocktail. At brunch, Policy offers a bottomless Bloody Mary bar, and allows you to concoct your Bloody exactly to your liking. (Policy also offers bottomless mimosas, and both options are $18.)

Brunch began with a complimentary bread basket filled with miniature portions of the Laotian Pastry chef Deth Khaiaphone’s best treats. The basket included cranberry scones, blueberry muffins, chickpea quinoa muffins, and a chocolate bacon muffin. They were all unique and delicious—fluffy and moist, each with its own unique flavor.

I couldn’t sample the chocolate bacon muffin, but Lindsey says it was sweet, salty, savory and absolutely scrumptious. I can’t imagine the amount of thinking, baking and time that goes into making those cute little muffins—just one of the details that makes Policy so special.

The yogurt and fruit dish was actually a fruit plate with a citrus Greek yogurt dipping sauce, which, to me, was even better. As you may know, Miss Lindsey and I are harsh critics of restaurants’ fruit plates. Because, as our saying goes, if the fruit isn’t fresh, the rest of the food probably isn’t either. Lindsey says, “We always rate the quality of a restaurant based on the freshness of their fruit, and they definitely passed. The plate was delicious, featuring cherries, strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, mango, and pineapple.” Those happen to be all my favorite fruits—so I was happy as a clam.

We also shared the cinnamon sugar beignets in blueberry compote. The enormous, fluffy beignets were coated thickly in cinnamon sugar, which, it should be noted, remained on the beignet and not on your lap. The beignets were very sweet, but the compote was not too sweet, not too syrupy, or too jammy, but just right. (Gotta love those Goldilocks moments!) There were whole delicious blueberries throughout the compote. You simply must order the beignets.

For her meal, Lindsey ordered the hot smoked salmon. She says, “It was served in a classic smoked salmon style on a plate with capers, diced red onions, diced eggs, and a cream cheese and chive spread. However, as usual, Chef Brian added his own creative touches. The salmon was warm and fully cooked, rather than the usual cold lox. Additionally, rather than a bagel, the spread was served with latke like hash browns that were a unique, yet delicious, pairing for the salmon plate.”

For my main course, I ordered the crab and eggs Benedict, which, at this point, I know surprises none of you. The English muffin was made in house by Policy’s pastry whiz, and topped with wilted spinach, fresh crab meat and a tomato Old Bay Hollandaise. Adding wilted spinach to a Benedict often makes the dish oilier, and this Benedict was no exception. However, it was not overly oily to the point that I didn’t enjoy it. The Old Bay Hollandaise changed up the flavors and really surprised my palate—I’ve eaten so many Benedicts that sometimes they all run together. This flavor, however, was memorable and unique.

Also on the table were the truffled asiago stone mill grits. Hilary, a Southern Georgia girl, thought the grits could have a bit been better, labeling them too watery and not fully cooked. I, however, really enjoyed them. But, I love anything with truffle oil and cheese, and I am no Grits expert.

The meal concluded with Policy’s candied bacon. Part of Policy’s brunch shtick is a “bacon brunch,” meaning you can add bacon to anything. Again, I didn’t try the bacon, but, Lindsey says, “I was surprised I loved it. I typically don’t like bacon or even most candies, but the sugar-salt combination was dangerously addictive.”

Chef Brian is a creative mastermind in the kitchen and adds a unique flair to every dish, making each plate just a little bit different and just a little bit special. Lindsey always told me Chef Brian is the best kept secret in Washington, and I agree. Here’s the kicker, ladies: He’s a total dreamboat.

The Bitches say: A. Policy’s dishes are creative, original, and artfully prepared. There is something for everyone on the menu—and your taste buds will enjoy every bite.

Policy
1904 14th Street NW
Washington, DC
(202) 387-7654

By: Becca

Have you ever met Chef Ris Lacoste? She’s one of the most phenomenal women in D.C. She’s not just a talented and respected chef with a resume to be envied, she’s also a dedicated philanthropist and savvy businesswoman. She has incredible taste, she’s kind (she hugs her employees every day), and I swear, she’s changing the D.C. culinary and philanthropic scene as I type this.

Within a few months of her namesake restaurant opening, Cori Sue and I were battling for mayor on Foursquare. And when she launched the brunch at Ris, we were officially in love.

My gushing will do this brunch no justice (just check out the mouth-watering pics, below). The Washingtonian just named it “Best Surprise Brunch” in their “Best Of” issue. And it’s true: the small-plates style is exactly what Washington needs. Brunch is for big groups of friends, for sharing, for amazing food and bottomless mimosas and Marys. Ris’ menu has all that, set in understated elegance and comfort.

We’re so honored that Ris is hosting our Summer Brunch Soiree next Saturday, July 9, to benefit the D.C. Farm to School Network. She’ll be serving up the very best of her extraordinary brunch menu at the event. The dishes will be made smaller than usual, to be passed, cocktail-style, at the party. They’ll include everything from shrimp tempura, to beef short rib hash in puff pastry, to cinnamon gnudi and other treats. It’ll be a sampling, but a magnificent one.

We don’t want to give everything away, as we want you to try it for yourself. Make sure you get tickets by clicking here.

By: Becca

Spring had sprung and I was determined to get outdoors. The new directive? Cycle to brunch every Saturday and Sunday morning. In my head, this ingenious plan served multiple purposes: 1) it would save me the excruciating weekend-afternoon Metro or car ride to brunch; 2) the cardio-fueled jaunt across the bridge and up into the city would do my body good; and 3) I would be able to say that I actually accomplished something on a Sunday besides polishing off pitchers of mimosas and falling back into bed.

Well, that lasted all of one day. And, who am I kidding? I never feel guilty about sucking up an entire Sunday afternoon on brunch. Or polishing off mimosas. Or napping.

But on this particular Sunday morning, feeling unusually alive for that hour of the weekend, I whizzed across the Memorial Bridge on my new-ish bike. My poor boyfriend, painstakingly trying to keep up and not wobble into traffic, was trailing behind on my roommate’s light blue single-speed Huffy (I torture him; it’s true).

When we finally made it to Hudson Restaurant, locking up our bikes up as if it was something we do all the time and strolling in covered in sweat and bike grease, I realized, oh, this probably isn’t the place to show up post-bike ride. The tables were covered in white linen; there was beautiful, original art on the walls; the bar is sleek and colorfully lit; and there’s this gorgeous little back room with plum walls and floral art that is just asking for a girls’ birthday dinner party. The patio wasn’t open when we brunched there, but it likely is now.

Perhaps I should have made it a point to dine at Hudson sooner. Certainly, I should have made it a point to not dine while covered in cycling grime. The restaurant positions itself as contemporary, chic—cosmopolitan, if you will. But still, it’s very comfortable. And, so, our party of eight kicked off the white-table-cloth brunch with bottomless mimosas and Marys, and baskets of lovely cornbread. And continued there for four hours, per usual.

We started with the banana and granola bruschetta, which, frankly, sounds like breakfast heaven, doesn’t it? Toasted bread coated with peanut butter, slices of banana, and a sprinkle of granola. All this, drizzled with lavender honey. It was a sticky, gooey, sweet way to start off. So we countered that with some soup, the Matzo ball soup, to be exact. Made with pulled chicken, carrots, turnips, celery, it was veggie-hearty and packed with flavor.

Then the entrees arrived, and things started to go downhill a bit with the service. Once the main course was on the table, it was hard to grab a server to refill our bottomless glasses. The Marys were authentic and some of the best we’ve had, and the mimosas were adequately bubbly and pulpy, but it was next to impossible to snag a fresh glass, or any attention whatsoever from the servers.

To be honest, I worry that the owners might be steering a lot of their attention towards their new venture, Lincoln, a few city blocks away on Vermont, and are loosening their grip on the service at Hudson. Please tell me this isn’t true; Hudson has so much going for it.

The Maryland crab cake Benedict didn’t hold a candle to any we’ve had at other brunches. But the salmon scramble did. It was made with scrambled eggs, salmon, scallions, tomato, cream cheese, and capers, and practically covered arugula. The salmon was not smoked (surprising considering the Eastern European/Jewish tendency of the menu). It was good, but the most memorable thing was how freaking massive it was. In fact, come to think of it, each of the egg dishes on the menu were particularly large. They come with four eggs. Four! That’s sort of ridiculous, no?

My Hungry Man’s Pot (because, hey, why not just go for it?) was a huge bowl of cheesy eggs, bacon, chorizo, and country gravy, all mixed together, with a few biscuits buried deep underneath. I could barely make it down to the biscuits, never mind finish the dish. So much egg. Likewise, the steak and eggs were filling, but also came with four eggs atop them (along with some delicious fontina cheese). This place wants to fuel you up with protein … perhaps it is the perfect place before a bike ride, after all.

Going along with the Jewish theme, we had side orders of potato pancakes, which sort of resemble hash browns. They came nowhere close to Brooke’s mother’s latkes, she attests, but they were still pretty darn good. Our only complaint? They were served with ketchup instead of applesauce and sour cream.

Poor beau ordered his usual Belgian waffle, which was supposed to come with pecans, sliced bananas, and syrup. Instead he got a naked, nearly cold waffle with a shot glass of syrup and a couple sprinkled pecans. To this day he still refers to it as “the Bullshit Waffle.” Ha! I had to laugh at that dish, especially because I had the Hungry Man’s Pot in front of me.

The barbecue pizza, however, was sort of perfect. The crust was just crunchy and soft enough—a tricky medium to attain. The sauce wasn’t overpowering, and it was covered with cabot cheddar cheese, shaved red onion, and an arugula mix.

The Bitches say: B-. So much potential! Don’t forget about lovely Hudson while opening Mr. Lincoln. The service and kitchen are slipping and still needs to be top of mind.

Hudson Restaurant & Lounge
2030 M Street NW
Washington, DC 20036
(202) 872-8700

By: Cori Sue

I simply adore ACKC Cocoa Bar—what’s not to love? It’s a boutique chocolatier with cards, unique gifts and chocolates that’s perfect for picking up a last-minute birthday or hostess gift. It has amazing desserts, coffee, and hot chocolate, making it perfect for meeting a friend or for studying and reading the newspaper on a lazy afternoon. Best of all, it’s in my neighborhood.

ACKC also offers Sunday brunch. I was slightly unnerved at the idea of eating a full meal at the café, as it is the only meal it offers and it’s more of a dessert and coffee shop. But, if it involves chocolate, I’m willing to give it a try.

I opted for my go-to hangover beverages—tall glass of water, cup of coffee, and orange juice—rather than ACKC’s great bottomless mimosa deal, $10 for all-you-can-drink. While the coffee was stellar, the orange juice was mediocre—definitely not fresh-squeezed and not even as good as Tropicana, either. (I’m a Floridian, we know our OJ, people). Meanwhile, beau had a delicious cappuccino.

For brunch, I chose the lavender chocolate stuffed French toast, which is flavored with paprika and sprinkled with powdered sugar and lavender petals. You choose from white, milk, or dark chocolate filling. I initially opted for white chocolate, but the waitress politely led me the way of dark chocolate, saying the white may be too sweet.

The French toast was decadent and unique—two pieces of fluffy white bread flavored with paprika and oozing with rich dark chocolate. I’d never eaten lavender before (isn’t it more for lotions and eye pillows?) and was surprised how well three unique flavors—paprika, lavender and chocolate paired together.

Meanwhile, beau opted for the chocolate bacon torta, which was essential a variation on the chocolate French toast with bacon thrown in. He says,

“My torta was a really awesome dessert-as-a-meal entree. It was pretty much french bread, with melted chocolate and bacon mixed in. The bread was moist and fluffy, and the bacon was pretty good and added a much-needed crunch. The fruit cup that that came with it didn’t really go with the torta that well—watermelon and grapes are not a good compliment to chocolate and syrup, in my opinion.”

I concur on the lackluster fruit cup. While it was not as awful as Mei n Yu, I’m a stickler for quality, delicious fresh fruit and this did not meet my standards.

Meanwhile, beau thinks it’s a bit overpriced—after all, the dishes were plastic. He explains,

“I take issue with the pricing. $14 for an entree would be pretty normal at a nicer  sit-down restaurant. This is a chocolate and pastry retail shop that happens to serve brunch on the side. I’m down with drinking from plastic cups and using plastic forks and knives, but don’t charge me a premium.”

The Bitch and Beau say: A-. You go to ACKC for chocolate and carbs, essentially dessert-for-breakfast. If you arrive expecting that, it’s a great experience—and the bottomless mimosas are a great deal. We’d obviously prefer fresher fruit and real silverware, but we quickly forget about that when you put a plate of chocolate-covered deliciousness in our face.

ACKC DC
1529C 14th St. N.W.
Washington, D.C.

ACKC Virginia
2003A Mt. Vernon Ave.
Alexandria, VA

By: Becca

After one too many disappointing New Year’s celebrations (it never lives up to expectations, does it?), I finally did it right in 2011. And the formula was quite simple.

I gathered 15 of my closest friends and made a restaurant reservation at the only joint on Open Table that could take such a large table at the tail end of December. That place happened to be Kellari Taverna.

We arrived, donned party hats, sucked down champagne, and enjoyed a delicious five-course prix fixe. In the back room we created a pseudo dance floor, and once midnight struck, we started pulling strangers at other tables up from their chairs.

It was a blast. And we didn’t spend a small fortune on a big-ticket event or in long lines at the bars. Instead, we dined and enjoyed each other’s company. And then skipped off to our respective after parties.

But, the entire time, I remember thinking, we are celebrating with the Greek Mafia here. We certainly brought the average age of the restaurant’s clientele down by 40 years. And the old men at the tables looked like they were in desperate need of their cigars and brandy.

Even the décor calls for it. It’s all dark wood paneling, white tablecloths, and Greek text scrolled on the walls in gold. There’s a section built into the restaurant’s wall where they pack fish on ice and you can wander up and select your very own carcass for the evening. Everything is well lit, old money, and elegant. So Mafioso.

I guess I have a fondness for the place. Partly because of that New Year’s celebration, and partly because it’s around the corner from my office, so I’ve been there for work dinners. I’ve always thought it a bit unfortunate that it’s never suggested as a dinner destination or a happy hour spot unless deemed necessary (read: there’s nowhere else left to go). Likewise, it’s never suggested for brunch.

This was made evident when we went for brunch a few Saturdays ago. We met up with another blogger, whom we’ve admired for quite some time—Belle of Capitol Hill Style. She was as lovely and as stylish as we expected her to be (even more lovely and stylish, in fact; it just made us adore her more). But Kellari was so deserted, we were almost embarrassed we had suggested it.

With such a great brunch deal, what gives?

For $24.95, you get a basket of mini pastries, a choice of entrée and unlimited champagne or mimosas. Not bad, right? Or if you want to stray from the prixe fixe, you could do a brunch of Mezedes, or small plates. But a desolate restaurant isn’t really the atmosphere to pummel down champagne in. It just makes us feel like we’re alcoholics, boozing in isolation.

So we skipped the fab deal and each went straight for the Bennys. Which were alright, but nothing extraordinary. Belle explains the reasons for our brunch indifference best.

“When eating poached eggs in an air-conditioned restaurant, you’re basically playing beat the clock. If you place a cold sauce (in this case tzatziki) on top of the eggs, you’re cutting you’re dining time in half. Thus, the Eggs Ulysses was cold after the third bite.

“As for the flavor, all you could really taste was the celery in the tzatziki.  It was a nice flavor, but I wanted to taste the lamb patty, and it just wasn’t there. However, the grilled pita had great flavor. I would go back for another meal just to try the pita as a stand alone.

“The sides were interesting. The meal came with a basic spring mix salad featuring a basic vinaigrette. Pass. The fingerling potatoes were roasted, sliced and drowning in pickled vegetables (peppers, onions). They tasted good for a bite or two, but then the flavor became overwhelming and you just couldn’t eat anymore. I think Cori Sue definitely made the right choice by substituting the fries.

“I would go back to Kellari again, but I wouldn’t go back for brunch.”

Cori Sue went for the salmon benedict, which was served with a lemon mint hollandaise. She was excited to try a different, out-of-the-ordinary Benny. Here are her thoughts …

“Like Belle mentioned, my salmon benedict did get cold rather quickly, which always makes it kind of awful. I wonder if the air conditioning was particularly strong around our table? The salmon on the Benedict was fresh, the English muffins correctly toasted, and the sauce was different—it tasted very strongly of lemon, but I noticed no mint flavors.

“A lemon-based hollandaise is by nature lighter and less rich than a typical hollandaise, which paired really well with the salmon, it was a unique touch. The fries I ordered to accompany my Benny were limp and below average, which was a bummer because I love some good fries.

“I enjoyed that they brought out complimentary pastries to start, and they were good, but not anything special—no foodgasms for me. The coffee cups were teensy tiny, and needed to be refilled regularly, which was more of an annoyance than anything else.”

The Bitches say: C+. We want to love Kellari for its brunch deal, but there’s no atmosphere when it’s deserted, and the brunch dishes are blah.

Kellari Taverna
1700 K Street NW
Washington DC 20006
202-535-5274