Cafe Toulouse Reborn
By Fritz Hahn
Washington Post Weekend Section
Friday, April 8, 2005
Thousands of art lovers have passed through the National Gallery of Art's "Toulouse-Lautrec and Montmartre" exhibit in recent weeks, taking in paintings of high-kicking dancers, exotic nightclubs and seedy brothels.
Washington's biggest tribute to the turn-of-the-century artist, though, is in Adams Morgan, where the landmark facade of Cafe Toulouse (2431 18th St. NW; 202-332-2550) features a multi-story rendering of Toulouse-Lautrec's portrait of singer Aristide Bruant, depicted with his signature black hat and vibrant red scarf.
Inside the unpretentious bistro, reproductions of Lautrec's posters for the Moulin Rouge and the Divan Japonais hang on cream-colored walls, alongside vintage liquor advertisements and an enormous, second-rate ceiling mural that could be generously described as "in the style of" Toulouse-Lautrec.
Two decades ago, this bar was known as Cafe Lautrec, one of the most popular nightspots in the city. It was a crowded, grungy little dive, where local legend Johne Forges tap-danced his way across the bar top on weekends while a jazz band wailed away. Lautrec was the proverbial watering hole where no one cared what you did for a living, what you were wearing, who you were there with -- a rarity in Washington.
A dispute among the owners shuttered Cafe Lautrec in 1998, and set off a chain of events that left regulars confused and frustrated. Lautrec reopened in summer 2000 but closed soon after. The bar became Cafe Aristide, then closed again. Rechristened Cafe Toulouse in 2001, it closed two years later, sat vacant for a time, reopened and shut down late last year. (If the current incarnation isn't successful, what are the odds another restaurant will pop up as Cafe Bruant in a year or two?) Hoping to bring some stability is new owner Stoyan "Stan" Tzenkov, who until recently ran the neighborhood's Cafe Sofia -- a restaurant with a nod to his Bulgarian roots. Tzenkov says Sofia was doing well, but he wanted "something bigger, and this is on the main strip."
No longer the gritty little club Lautrec himself might have enjoyed, it's still a little rough around the edges -- notice the nicks in the walls? -- but the room has been dressed up with dark wood, flickering candles and simple wooden tables and chairs (though there are now white tablecloths at dinner).
"I knew about [the bar's history], and I wanted to keep it the same," Tzenkov says. "I kept the posters, the pictures and the mural. The bar and the kitchen are brand-new."
The most charming feature is still the second-story balcony, up a short flight of rickety stairs. Eight tables fit snugly in the tiny mezzanine, with room for no more, but it provides an excellent view of the bar and, on weekends, the bands that fill a low, makeshift stage in the front window.
Tzenkov wants to "make this place appealing to a middle-aged crowd," so he's booking jazz and blues groups Thursday through Saturday -- nothing too loud or high-energy, perfect for a date or quiet night out. ("Quiet" being the operative word, as audiences have been sparse on my recent visits.) The menu, laced with Bulgarian specialties such as chicken stroganoff and Zagorka beer, is something of a draw, but Tzenkov is trying to spice things up with flamenco performances and monthly poetry readings.
