Latin Beat
Once you get inside, Lima pulses with lime-infused cuisine and an inviting setting

By Tom Sietsema
Washington Post Magazine
Sunday, May 21, 2006

Even on a slow Monday night, Lima Restaurant parks a velvet rope outside its front door. The marker's presence is curious. If you're looking for an unwelcome mat or a sign of exclusivity, a velvet rope is as sure to do the trick as a hulk with crossed arms.

But this not-so-subtle checkpoint contrasts with what a diner finds inside: an easy smile from the young hostess, who gets a cardio workout as she leads you from the street-level bar, with a retractable video screen and a few couches, to an inviting restaurant a staircase away. There, the visitor takes in a sparkling sea of stemware, including champagne flutes, atop every table, and a color scheme that soothes rather than excites. The walls are alternately sage or grass green; the chairs are wrought from stitched leather; and the wine is displayed in what appear to be stacked tops of wine barrels. The overall look is about as open, natural and airy as you can find indoors. And there isn't a bad seat in the house, though frisky types might prefer the tucked-away tables in the rear and voyeurs might like a seat near the front windows, which offer a view of the intersection of 14th and K streets.

"Lima" suggests you'll be drinking pisco sours and eating papas rellenas -- mashed potatoes wrapped around ground beef -- but Lima doesn't recognize Peru in any serious way. Instead, the restaurant incorporates citrus (lima is Spanish for lime) in many of its dishes, including the butter served with the bread. Chef Raynold Mendizabal-Betancourt, who consulted at Ceviche in Silver Spring, shares a few of the flavors of his Cuban childhood. The result is a menu that is both restaurant-fancy and homespun.

A handful of "citrus-cooked" seviches and tiraditos (using sashimi-grade fish) beckon at the start. They include thin panes of whitefish, decorated with a slice of jalapeno and fresh cilantro, and red cubes of tuna tossed with sesame seeds, ginger and scallions. Not all the opening acts revolve around fish: Morsels of raw beef splashed with lime juice and jolted with capers are as light and tasty as the company they keep. The chef needs to go lighter on the olive oil, however, which overwhelms a few dishes. One night's special of octopus tossed with tomato, olives and potatoes would have been more successful with half the added fat.

The two standouts among the first courses show a chef that can juggle haute and homey. A sumptuous chicken croquette rises from its plate like a tall crab cake, and the presentation is made more fetching (and kicky) with sauces of orange (tomato and chipotle) and green (spinach pureed with cilantro). An enormous white plate bears two empanadas distinguished by their fine pastry shells and pleasantly sweet filling of crumbled beef, tomatoes and raisins. Adding color and dash to the snacks is an emerald swab of cilantro sauce.

Picture Mom's cooking with an elegant twist. The kitchen offers a cheese plate, too, with four Spanish varieties arranged in thin slices, with almonds, walnuts and dried fruit. If the presentation is a little austere, it makes for a nice shared snack with a mojito or margarita.

Looks can deceive, of course. The home-liest fish dish on the menu turns out to be the best-tasting. Sea bass patted down with a gray-green crust of cashews, cilantro and Parmesan cheese doesn't make for a great visual, but the silken fish and the zesty cover add up to a satisfying match. Was the "wild king" salmon I ate recently really wild? The fish I got lacked the rich intensity and deep color of that prized catch, and it was also overcooked and a little dry. Saving the main course from complete ruin, however, was an excellent fresh corn tamale, sweet and custardy, banded in banana leaf. The kitchen also overcooked a flatiron steak -- my companion and I had asked for medium-rare and got meat that was not the least bit red, not even pink -- yet the entree somehow remained succulent, helped along by a stinging chimichurri sauce draped over the meat, and accompaniments of fragrant rice and grilled purple onions. The lobster in a pretty paella was soft and sweet; too bad the rice didn't cooperate (it was salty). For a dish that cost $42, overseasoning is unforgivable. There's talent in the kitchen, but one gets the sense that the crew isn't always paying close attention.

Thump! Thump! Thump! Dinner is interrupted one night by pulsing music from two floors below -- a basement lounge with a deejay booth and another velvet rope "greeting" visitors. If you want some solitude with your seviche, it's best to dine early at Lima. And if you've come to see someone on the sly or trade state secrets, be aware that the restaurant has a not-so-hidden camera suspended from its black ceiling (a total of seven security cameras are scattered around the three-level venue).

Lima is seriously invested in its liquid assets. Here's the place to investigate small-batch bourbons and 23-year-old rums from Guatemala, as well as wines from around the world. The choices aren't obvious and include a number of labels (California's Helen Turley comes to mind) that aren't everyday finds. Bargains are few, but the wine program shows thought. Every red wine I've ordered here has been decanted into a beautiful pitcher, adding a celebratory note to any meal.

Much as I'd like to boycott chocolate cake with a liquid center, a dessert craze that shows no sign of dying, I have to admit the decadent version at Lima found me eating more of it than I expected. (Perhaps it was the thick, caramel-rich ice cream that accompanied the cake.) When served warm, the curly, sugar-dusted fritters called churros are my favorite conclusion to a meal here. The twists come with two dips: a watery chocolate sauce and a thin syrup brightened with lime zest. Focus on the latter.

I would be happy to offer more detail, but the restaurant wouldn't let me. On my last visit, a waiter announced that the restaurant was out of my first two dessert choices and that the bulk of the dessert options were changing the very next day. And just as this review was headed to press, Mendizabal-Betancourt told me he intended to add more unusual meats to his menu -- rabbit, pheasant and veal brisket.

The owners say they want food to be the focus at Lima, and they're off to a respectable start. By keeping the tunes in check and taking down the ropes, they might lure us for dinner and a side of dancing rather than the other way around.

At Lima, DJs and Dancing Are on the House
By Fritz Hahn
Washington Post Weekend Section
Friday, November 3, 2006

Even before you get inside, Lima is eager to make an impression.

Day or night, a flat-screen TV in the window of the K Street restaurant and lounge is playing an endless commercial for the place -- a video montage of attractive, well-coiffed men and women dancing in a nightclub and sitting around tables sharing drinks, a DJ's hands gliding over turntables and a mixing board, bartenders pouring martinis, chefs serving fancy-looking seafood dishes, crowds waiting in line to get in.

And whether you stop by the chilled-out bar on Tuesday for happy hour drinks or show up late on Saturday to hit that dance floor, a chain of velvet ropes lines a red carpet that extends from the sidewalk to the front door. (On Saturday, though, there's an extra rope in front of the door and a rather large man standing behind it.) It seems a bit over-the-top, but take another look -- there's a sleek, hip lounge behind those doors, and besides, how many venues in the District offer DJs and dancing with no cover on weekend nights?

Lima is the latest concept from Masoud Aboughaddareh -- the veteran promoter known as Masoud A. -- and his partners, a marriage of a fine-dining restaurant (with Latin-inspired $31 entrees) on the top floor, a relaxing lounge with couches and rum drinks on the street level and late-night dancing in the basement, where a row of tables for pricey bottle service lines one wall, an attractive bar runs the length of another and a DJ booth sits in between.

After years of throwing parties at Love, Platinum, Paper Moon and a slew of long-gone nightspots such as DC Live and Eleventh Hour, Masoud A. has the formula down. He knows how to draw good-looking international crowds in their late 20s and 30s who like to dance to house and trance and don't mind dropping $12 for a cocktail. A mix of white, black, Asian and Persian, sometimes heavy on striped shirts and hair gel (guys) and short skirts and highlights (women), his clientele is always ready to have a good time.

For most of the week, the first-floor lounge does double duty as a bar and a waiting area for diners, and it's a pleasant space with rusty red walls, chocolate-colored leather couches and a row of modern-looking barstools. Drum 'n' bass, acid jazz and soulful house play from the overhead speakers. It's not a bad place to pop in for an after-work drink downtown; between 5 and 7, beers are $4, and call drinks -- basically your name brands such as Tanqueray or Stoli -- cost $5. When Friday and Saturday roll around, though, those inviting couches are hidden behind velvet ropes and "reserved" signs. If you want to get one, prepare to drop a few hundred dollars on bottle service. (One odd touch: A large pull-down projection screen on one wall plays "The Matrix" over and over. And over.)

"When is a lounge not a lounge?" That's the question I've been asking after visits to Lima. Its promoters and owners are very careful to refer to the basement as a lounge instead of a club, but there's a good-size dance floor with dozens of people getting down to jumpy, funky house music as colored lights rotate overhead and smoke periodically shoots out of nozzles near the bar.

So many of the nightspots that have opened in Washington in the past year place such a focus on couches, bottle service or cocktails that actual dancing has become an afterthought. Not here. The roped-off VIP section is little more than banquettes and a row of tables running down one wall, sitting on a low wooden platform. It's nice, but if you weren't looking for it, you might not even notice it was there. Most of the space is for people to cut loose.

If I were a film director looking for a spot to shoot a good generic nightclub scene -- dimly lit, packed, plenty of action, nice design -- this would be the place I'd head to, particularly on Fridays, when DJ duo Kream Dip gets the room moving with a fun mix of progressive house.

Sundays are given over to Marc Barnes, who until recently was Masoud A.'s partner at Love, and his longtime collaborator Taz Wube. It's a more relaxed (and less crowded) affair than on Fridays and Saturdays, with a crowd that runs the gamut from sweaters and dressed-up jeans to blazers and ball caps. DJ Harry Hotter (of Love) spins hip-hop in the basement level, where the party really seems to start after midnight. In the street-level lounge, the velvet ropes guarding the couches have been moved aside, allowing anyone to relax for a bit, and a football game is playing on the projection screen.

It's surprising that Lima offers DJs Tuesday through Sunday without a cover charge, because I'd expect to drop $10 or more at the door, as at Masoud's other events at the F Street club Home on Fridays or down the block at kstreet on Saturdays. Not here, a manager tells me. Lima's philosophy is that "we don't do cover charges at the door. Ever."

Admission may be free, but that doesn't mean getting in is easy. One Friday night, I'm standing behind a group of four men who complain to the bouncer that they've been waiting for a while without getting past the velvet rope. He shakes his head. "With four guys tonight, you're going to have to buy a table." Masoud A.'s philosophy is that there should be as close to a 1-to-1 male-female ratio as possible, so it's advisable to arrive in mixed-sex groups. (When I showed up solo on a Saturday, though, I got in pretty quickly.) Although the dress code is "dress to impress -- nothing too baggy or too casual," I've seen guys wearing Chuck Taylors with skinny jeans or cool Lacoste sneakers with a blazer. Still, it's better to be safe than sorry.

Since you're not paying for admission, you're going to make up for it at the bar, and for what these drinks cost, they could be better. A bare-bones mojito made with Bacardi Silver and a little mint will set you back $12. Bartenders are inconsistent -- I've paid two prices for a drink in the same night, and sometimes a cocktail that cost $9 on Saturday is $10 on Sunday. One bartender in the lounge on a Friday made me what is officially the worst gin and tonic I've ever tasted. I sat for a minute trying to figure out if I'd somehow made them mad. But I'll give them another chance. Lima's big enough to meet up with a large group of friends, it's cheap (until you hit the bar) and that dance floor buzzes.