Surf Before Turf
The best thing to order at a hot new steakhouse isn't the meat

By Tom Sietsema
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, March 8, 2009

"Have you been to Bourbon Steak yet?"

It's the question every food fanatic in Washington has been asking the past few months. The new restaurant in the renovated Four Seasons Hotel in Georgetown launched with a Potomac-size splash in December, spurred by a designer label and a novel approach to cooking meat: Michael Mina, the California chef whose starry portfolio includes an eponymous restaurant in San Francisco and three other Bourbon Steaks around the country, swears by beef that is slowly poached in butter before hitting the grill.

To further distinguish itself from the pack, the Washington hot spot lured a general manager from CityZen and a top mixologist from San Francisco, and upped the ante in the amuse-bouche department by serving three flavors of french fries with three distinct dips. If there's a more decadent freebie than those golden bouquets, I have yet to taste it. But the treat is so heavy that it falls into side-dish territory. And it's trailed by a skillet of pull-apart rolls flavored with truffle butter that induces further guilt, considering the ease with which a diner can dispatch them.

Bourbon Steak assumes the acreage that once belonged to the Garden Terrace on the ground floor of the hotel, which comes as a shock to some fans of the old power lounge. "They ruined it!" one of them cries as he walks into the sepia-toned dining room with me. I disagree; toward the end of its run, the plant-forested Terrace had grown tired. But I understand where the naysayer is coming from. For a high-end restaurant, Bourbon Steak is pretty plain, a detail underscored by bare tabletops and wood floors. The few flashes of color come from the bottles of booze at the bar, which are visible from the tables in the center. Some nights, Bourbon Steak pulses with club music. The contrast -- brown room, blasting beat -- is jarring.

Of the estimated $40 million the hotel lavished on its upgrade, the restaurant appears to have gotten shortchanged. But here's the biggest surprise: "It's not about the steak," a gal pal says, echoing my sentiments and the feeling of a lot of carnivores who have tested the turf here. Not exactly the feedback the kitchen wants to hear, but she's on the mark. Although the grass-fed rib-eye is thick, juicy and ignited with black pepper, and the dry-aged New York strip gets a zesty lick of red pepper sauce, neither cut of meat is likely to threaten the competition or send anyone into protein heaven.

(Buttery Wagyu beef from Japan, on the other hand, transports us somewhere magical, but it also sets us back $28 an ounce.)

Still, there are plenty of reasons to save up for a meal here. Many of them are the creation of David Varley. The chef is only 28 years old but has already packed in cooking time at such reputable restaurants as Clio in Boston and the Ryland Inn in Whitehouse, N.J. Mina lured him to Washington from the Trump International Hotel and Tower in Las Vegas.

"Delicious!" a guest of mine actually shouts one night. His exclamation is inspired by nuggets of veal sweetbreads warmed in brown butter and fragrant with curry leaf, mustard seeds and other sensual spices. A garnish of diced green apple cools things down.

"Delicious!" a second dining companion echoes from across the table. I glance over to see that she's making short work of her first course, ricotta cavatelli tossed with lightly breaded chicken oysters (meat from where the leg meets the back of the bird) and an earthy mushroom jus. The pasta is al dente; wisps of green and lemon zest lighten the composition.

"Oh. My. God." You'd moan like the third member of my recent Friday night outing, too, if you had tasted his appetizer. Pink ribbons of raw hamachi interspersed with fresh herbs and strips of tender young coconut make a gorgeous Asian garden that is at once delicate and assertive. Sheer slices of jalapeno pepper detonate in every other bite, and what look like clear jujubes (but are actually coconut jelly and aloe) add a subtle sweet note to the score. When we learn that Varley earlier was a pastry chef, we are not surprised. His food is frequently beautiful.

Meanwhile, I'm smiling over a plate of neatly shucked oysters that are so meaty and sweet, I don't want to share them.

Bourbon Steak? Bourbon Seafood might be a better name for this restaurant. Because meal in and meal out, it's the fish and seafood that catch the eye and dazzle the tongue. At lunch one day, I'm tickled by the sight of six little corn dogs, each attached to a small stick and each filled with a fennel-laced lobster mousse. Beach food designed for Poseidon! This is a kitchen that knows how to fry, a fact evinced at another meal by hot beignets sporting centers of sweet stone crab. To cut the richness, a slice of bruleed lemon clings to each golden orb.

An entree described as "true" red snapper prompts a question: What's with the adjective? Genuine red snapper has a short season, Varley explains on the telephone. The restaurant's catch, he adds, is "head shot" with a spear gun, which causes less stress for the snapper and results in better eating. All I know is that it's a fine piece of fish that needs nothing more than its roasted lemon half to keep it company.

The most impressive entree on the menu might well be the billowing lobster potpie, which is rolled to the table on a serving cart and presented with quiet ceremony. The pastry lid is deftly sliced away, releasing a puff of steam, and placed on an empty plate. The thin round of pastry becomes the surface on which the treasures inside the copper pot -- velvety lobster, sweet carrots, fingerling potatoes -- are arranged by the waiter and moistened with a cream sauce shot through with the flavors of brandy and lobster. A Michael Mina signature, this may be the lightest and most luscious potpie I've tasted.

The wine list is a beauty, with some terrific red and white burgundies in the mix. Helping you navigate the book are a table of contents and three wine stewards. Feeling adventurous? Head to pages 12 and 27, where the "secrets of the sommelier" run to Chateau Ste. Michelle's bright Eroica Riesling and a bunch of intriguing possibilities from Mendoza, Argentina. The wines by the glass aren't inexpensive, but when was the last time you saw a 1998 Saint-Emilion offered by the six-ounce pour ($15)?

Some of the entrees come with accompaniments, but there are also several side dishes to consider. I was delighted to find aligot, the indulgent French whip of potatoes, garlic and Cantal cheese. Festivals are devoted to the dish, its texture a cross between satin and taffy, in aligot's native Auvergne. At Bourbon Steak, however, the potatoes are more like glue. Far better are the hash of Brussels sprouts tossed with smoky diced bacon and the (lightly) creamed spinach topped with crunchy shallots.

Desserts, prepared by Jerome Colin, are clever and delicious. The most amusing is an elegant spin on an Almond Joy candy bar. The most refreshing is passion fruit panna cotta set off with pink grapefruit bound with shaved avocado. The best-tasting is three chunks of moist pumpkin cake, each piece sporting a ribbon of candied sweet potato and arranged on a thin layer of butterscotch pot de creme (custard), its surface freckled with toasted pumpkin seeds. Even if you don't order dessert, you get something sweet at the end of the meal. "House-made chocolate bourbon caramel bars," announces a waiter as he deposits foil-wrapped "cigars" for everyone at the table. They're like Tootsie Rolls, only classier.

Don't misunderstand my experiences at Bourbon Steak. Some of the meat here, including the duck and the lamb loin, is admirable. The succulent, well-seasoned fowl arrived with fluffy couscous; the lamb showed up with plump merguez sausage and croutons made from chickpeas. And I appreciated the gentle crackle of sea salt on the pink slices of beef atop a salad any Thai restaurant would be proud to serve. But if I had to pick a single strategy here, I'd go fishing.

Bourbon Steak's lounge takes elements of the classic steakhouse bar (brown leather armchairs, dim lights) and gives them a serious style upgrade, with long banquettes, low metal cocktail tables and stylish overhead fixtures. So far, so good.

Then you open the leather-bound cocktail menu and your mouth starts to water. The H.B. Shrub, made with rye whiskey, sherry, brandied cherries, burnt orange peel and a piece of huckleberry shrub, is as rich and decadent as it sounds. The Last Word, a gin/maraschino liqueur/green chartreuse concoction, is accented with lime peel and redolent of spring.

Mixologist Kevin Diedrich, a D.C. native, was recruited from San Francisco, where he had worked at Bourbon & Branch and Clock Bar, two of the most praised cocktail bars in the United States.

"It was an opportunity to do a bar program from scratch," he explains. "At [other bars], there'd be an existing program and I'd learn it. Here, I have full control."

Also, he added: "D.C. has a great cocktail scene, and I thought it would be great to be involved with it. It's my home town."

Diedrich says his is a "West Coast" style, influenced by the slow food movement; his cocktails involve lots of fresh fruits and vegetables.

Every month, he says, he goes to farmers markets and orders seasonal fruits (at the moment those include rhubarb and strawberries) and works them into the menu.

All this pleasure comes at a price, though: Cocktails are $12 to $16, as are glasses of wine. But the lounge usually stays packed from 7 p.m. on.

"I think it's phenomenal," says Clarence Wooten Jr., the president of Maryland Internet company CollectiveX. "You come in here and it's a who's who of Washington, D.C., business. And the mixologists are fantastic. . . . You'll be here for hours."

"This is the new D.C.," says Brian Davis, the Duke basketball-star-turned-developer, who's relaxing on a banquette with a cocktail. Davis lives nearby and says he stops in often. "Great drinks, great restaurant."

In the next month or so, Diedrich says, things will get even better: He's planning a menu of champagne cocktails, Pimm's cups and punches that will be served on the hotel's secluded patio.

-- Fritz Hahn (May 8, 2009)