By Tom Sietsema
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, Oct. 18, 2009

Tom Power does light better than just about any other chef in town. In his hands, even lamb loin accessorized with garlic sausage and whipped potatoes -- one of many reasons to book a table here -- seems delicate. Indeed, one of his latest appetizers, inspired by a summer trip to Japan, is a dish that practically levitates: gingery shrimp sashimi arranged around a fine nest of shredded cabbage and minty shiso. The silver-maned chef strikes a serious pose in his open kitchen, but the guy knows how to be playful. Consider his creamy tomato soup, covered with a golden saucer of baked Parmesan with a hole in its center that allows us a peek of what we're about to eat. There's not much to mull over on this tightly edited American menu, introduced with passion by a dedicated staff, but what's there is enticing: pretty salads, lovely fish, sauces that you can't stop lapping up, and desserts that somehow manage to be both rich and restrained. The easy elegance of the cooking extends to the rest of this sleek, two-story townhouse across from the convention center. The wood is mostly blond, the lighting is easy, and if you're in search of a place where you never have to raise your voice to be heard, even at the (smart upstairs) bar, Corduroy is the answer.

The More Things Change . . .
At Corduroy, the same great menu beckons from a new location

By Tom Sietsema
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, Aug. 3, 2008

Sound Check: 68 decibels (conversation is easy)

At Corduroy at the Four Points by Sheraton downtown, Tom Power was responsible for breakfast, lunch, dinner, room service and banquets. "It was complicated," the 40-year-old chef remembers. A sudden rainstorm, for instance, might keep hotel guests inside their rooms and swamp the kitchen with "200 orders for hamburgers" at the same time Power and staff were trying to put out lunch or dinner in the restaurant.

Power doesn't have to worry about lunch or room service or wet weather anymore. He left the Four Points by Sheraton in January, taking with him the Corduroy name, to open a shop of his own across from the convention center in May. Now the veteran Washington chef is calling his own shots.

Some of the differences between the two Corduroys are significant. The original, in a drab room on the second floor, resembled an airport lounge; the new restaurant, set in a renovated townhouse, is all clean lines, soft lighting, blond wood and comfy leather chairs, a place you could imagine taking a date or celebrating a raise (remember those?).

But there's plenty here that people will recognize immediately. Power took with him to Ninth Street five of his original servers and all eight kitchen workers, including three dishwashers. And the menu, a concise roster of dishes that emphasize ingredients over ego, is something that will look familiar to Corduroy regulars. Maybe too familiar: Early visitors to the new location griped that the chef could have used his time off to come up with a few new tricks.

In small ways, he has. Freed from the demands of a hotel, Power now has the time to prepare a fig sauce a la minute for a plate of duck, and to steam to order a bowl of crab soup, which he thickens with egg. Most diners won't notice those flourishes; they probably will be too busy admiring the chef's treatment of some prime ingredients. Like a handful of competitors in Washington, Power knows how to infuse simple-sounding dishes with a dash of excitement. Thus "chilled pea soup" shows up with a dab of pepper-spiked whipped cream floating on its grass-green surface, and a jolt of smoke finds its way into every spoonful (the secret: pureed bacon and ham hock). You might think you know what's coming when you order "beets, baby carrots and goat cheese." The pretty garden that arrives arranges the earthy marinated beets and tender, delicate carrots just so atop a tangy veneer of goat cheese that blends into the white plate. Not until you touch the tine of your fork to the cheese do you realize the ingredient is there. Sly.

Carpaccio (of any sort) now rivals tartare (typically tuna) as The Most Ubiquitous Appetizer Out There. Maybe that's why I almost skipped ordering the lobster carpaccio at Corduroy. It's a good thing I didn't (and shame on me for underestimating Power). Arranged on a slender white plate, the thin coins of seafood are raw, as expected, and dressed up with pinches of chervil and red beads of roe. The surprise flourish is a drizzle of warm emulsified butter, which heightens the sweetness of the lobster and gives the appetizer a welcome lushness.

In my experience, the only appetizer that belly-flopped teamed fat sardines with an olive puree. The dish's swagger was undermined by mushy fish.

Power is a careful buyer. His bread is from Breadline, his beef is from Iowa, and his salmon might be wild, with flesh the color of ivory. Eating that (king) fish is a revelation for anyone who considers salmon boring. Plus, its warm cake of diced potatoes, skeined with herbs and creamy with mayonnaise, is picnic food raised to glory. I like the veal tenderloin, too, a roseate piece of meat offered simply with buttery whipped potatoes and velvety maitake mushrooms. Power's prime beef strip loin has heft and character, and the aforementioned duck shows off a Muscovy two ways: as roasted and sliced breast meat and as confit. Cinnamon gives the breast a touch of sweetness; thyme, garlic and brandy lend savor to the duck leg; and the bok choy to the side adds lightness to the entree.

All these enticing meals get a boost from the staff, which is smart and efficient, and the wine cellar, which is stocked with high-quality, food-friendly choices. The American labels lean to blue chips, and here's the place to splurge on French burgundy, both red and white. (Stop the presses: Everything is poured at the correct temperature.)

Vegetarians won't be happy with Power's idea of a meatless meal. His "melange of seasonal vegetables" turns out to be a collection of side dishes rather than a single composition. Granted, the English peas are bright and crisp, the fried potatoes are stacked like Lincoln logs, the baby carrots glisten with butter, and the creamed spinach is something you'd expect of a great steakhouse. As tasty as they all are, though, they look like a heap of accompaniments, an afterthought from an otherwise considerate chef.

One of the few reasons to praise the ambiance of the original Corduroy (now the District Grill) was its volume. I routinely directed readers seeking a quiet restaurant to book there. The new restaurant is similarly civilized, in part because Power decided not to play music in the main dining room. Not only is that good for conversation, but the relative hush focuses attention on the plate.

Not that the interior is without its charms. It's fun to see the silver-maned Power front and center in his open kitchen, and it's good to know about the semiprivate booths for two (Table Nos. 21, 24 and 41) to the sides. When one of my party asks for the restroom, a waiter insists on escorting him from his seat in the main dining room to the second floor. "It gives me the excuse to show off the upstairs," he says, which is home to an 11-stool bar and two intimate party rooms. (A historic property, Corduroy is not wheelchair-accessible.)

Remain seated for dessert. Power makes his own sweets, and like much of what precedes them on the menu, they are deceptively simple and include a twist. I'm particularly enamored of the fruit desserts, including an elegant strawberry tart served with strawberry sorbet hiding vanilla ice cream.

Leave it to Power to improve on a simple Creamsicle.