10/27/16 Update from the Bitches: This restaurant is now closed.
For me, the Eastern Market area is a quaint, quiet oasis from all the hustle and bustle of the rest of D.C. On a sunny Saturday or Sunday morning, the area is filled with pleasant scenes—lively groups brunching curbside, couples and friends walking their dogs, people picking up fresh flowers from the market to brighten up their living rooms. I can not venture there nearly enough.
After perusing the market for a variety of finds, my favorites being the aforementioned fresh flowers, fresh fruit, and antique clip-on earrings and other baubles, my thoughts , per usual, turn to food. The wait for the restaurant inside Eastern Market is always enormous, and I’m never that patient on a weekend morning. Twice now, I have turned to Montmarte, just steps from Eastern Market. This could be a result of the very attractive French host taking names, or the outside seating—that’s for you to decide. Said attractive French man always manages to seat my party within 20 minutes at a shaded outside table, but this could just be lucky chance.
Crepes and benedicts are by far my favorite brunch foods—and Montmarte does both deliciously. I love that their crepes are buckwheat—makes me feel slightly less guilty. I had the buckwheat crepe with smoked salmon, spinach, mushrooms, Swiss cheese, crème fraiche. The ingredients were fresh and perfectly combined, with just the right amount of each, so as not to overwhelm the palate with one ingredient.
My one complaint would be the lack of pizzazz, garnish, decoration, ect. The tables (outside at least, I can’t speak for inside) are barren— no flowers, candles, condiments—nada, on the table. Then, I had to twice beg for silverware, and then again for water. The crepes (see above) come barren on the plate—no side salad, no grapefruit wedge—ya got nothin’. Ashley also had a buckwheat crepe—with spinach, tomatoes, eggs and prosciutto and was equally pleased with the taste– but it was hard not too notice the crepes nakedness on the barren plate.
Danielle had a very large omelet—with spinach, tomatoes and garlic—and, lo and behold, a side salad. You can’t really screw up omelets, and they didn’t, so, life is good.
The bitches say: B+, great food, convenient location, prompt seating, but lacks unique or memorable dishes, mediocre service.
327 7th St. S.E.