2008 Fall Dining Guide
By Tom Sietsema
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, Oct. 12, 2008
Some fans mourned the move of the popular seafood haunt from Dupont Circle to Capitol Hill two years ago, and I did, too, because consistency was not always part of a meal at the relocated Johnny's. Time has been kind to the sprawling restaurant, however. If you're looking for a first-class crab cake, here's the place to head, and the classic is honored with sprightly coleslaw and herb-brightened tartar sauce. The kitchen's spicy Maine lobster is just that, and plenty rich without the drawn butter beside it. Domestic red and black caviar scooped onto tender blinis makes a rich treat; catfish gets nice support from loose risotto scattered with pearly shrimp and feisty andouille. Co-owner Ann Cashion is a stickler for quality; over summer, her tomatoes -- bright, juicy and tasting of the season -- stole the show (and were great with a salad of olives and feta cheese). The occasional slip (dull and starchy rice and shell beans with that lobster) is more than made up for by a fine collection of dishes that stretches from house-made granola and creamy stone-ground grits at breakfast to some of the most charming desserts around. But food is not the only lure. At lunch on weekdays, there's live piano music on the patio. At dinner on Friday and Saturday, a jazz quartet accompanies your fishing expedition.
The Food section rated this restaurant's crab cake for a July 2009 story about the area's best.
Of all the offerings on the menu, a great crab cake is one of the hardest to get right, says chef Ann Cashion. She has pulled it off in the beautifully formed cakes served at her sprawling Capitol Hill grill. Each patty pulls apart to reveal hefty lumps of sweet American crab, seasoned with just enough Old Bay, Tabasco and Worcestershire sauce. Our only complaint: They're just not big enough.
Two 3-ounce jumbo-lump crab cakes, $32.50
(July 29, 2009)
Tom Sietsema wrote about Johnny's breakfast as part a longer story in November 2008.
Johnny's Half Shell reminds me that in the right hands quiche can be an object of admiration rather than the butt of jokes. Order a wedge of the dish here, and what you get is a tall, trembling slice of verdant spinach mixed with eggs and nutty Gruyere, plus a dash of nutmeg for good measure. The crust is a model, too: golden and tender, yet sturdy enough to stand up to the filling. And offsetting the richness of the meal are tomatoes, sliced so thin you can almost see through them, decorated with sheer rings of white onion.
Quiche is but one reason to start your day here, in the shadow of the Capitol. Johnny's light beignets, dusted with powdered sugar and served hot, and its meaty grillades with stone-ground grits point to the Southern roots of co-owner Ann Cashion. Meanwhile, the bracing espresso, elegant fruit plate, thick napkins, genuine maple syrup and abundant nooks and crannies -- this is the Hill, after all, where movers and shakers sometimes require privacy -- demonstrate attention to detail.
The vast, light-filled restaurant, decorated with mounted fish and colors plucked from the ocean, is best known for serving seafood at lunch and dinner. But its morning menu is a compelling reason not to sleep in.
Breakfast served 7 a.m. to 9:30 a.m. Monday through Friday. Dishes $7 to $12.50.
(Nov. 30, 2008)
but would not go back.
On May 30, 2012, I took friends visiting from Germany to Johnny's Half Shell for dinner. Here is the assessment, in an easy-to-read format. --Congress was in session, but the dining room and terrace were barely one-quarter filled. This should have been the first clue. --Our waiter demonstrated the charm and grace of someone called up from retirement to fill-in for a staff no-show. He was absolutely humorless. I tipped him 20% out of pity. --Two of us ordered the crabcakes; what came were two pre-formed pucks of gray, shredded backfin and flipper meat. For $32.50 I expected lump crabmeat. The cole slaw resembled bad kimchi --In sum: This is an expense account restaurant that begs for an intervention.