In Logan Circle, a pearl of a place
Tempting oysters and more from Jeff Black
By Tom Sietsema
Sunday, Dec. 18, 2011

An admission: To keep restaurant staffs that recognize me from knowing whether I like a dish, I leave some food on my plate.

And yet, no amount of discipline can keep me from polishing off a whole catfish po' boy at the new Pearl Dive Oyster Palace in Logan Circle.

Blame my lapse on the deftly fried, clean-flavored fillet. Point also to the pedigreed Allan Benton bacon tucked inside the sturdy (but not too!) roll. Indict as well the gently cooked farm egg that floods the Delta prize with even more flavor when teeth strike yolk.

Finally, to all those imbibers who swear by menudo as a hangover cure, allow me to suggest this po' boy, delivered with a mound of thin, house-made french fries, as a worthy rival to the Mexican tripe soup.

Pearl Dive Oyster Palace is the fifth restaurant from chef Jeff Black, whose domain includes Addie's in Rockville, Black's Bar & Kitchen in Bethesda, Black Market Bistro in Garrett Park and BlackSalt in the Palisades.

His latest might be his greatest, or at least the most fun. Danny Wells, a longtime chef with the Black Restaurant Group, heads the kitchen, where he and his mates crank out big, bold-flavored food that suggests a Crescent City denizen is stirring the pots: Cue batter-fried shrimp with Vietnamese-style slaw, and the three zesty gumbos. The dining room staff couldn't be more doting. And Core Architecture + Design has done a terrific job of taking a vacant shell and turning the space, which includes an adjoining bar, Black Jack, into a beacon on its block.

The effect is weathered, and welcoming. What appears to be a timeworn sign out front is a recently minted glass-and-metal box that was prematurely aged by spending time in a junkyard. Inside, the front bar is illuminated by an impressive "chandelier" wrought from a long, rusty chain; the dining area, too, shows signs of clever industrial recycling. Catch the ship portholes and the table tops made from old floor joists? A fleet of little mermaids watches over the crowd from the ledge of a small oyster bar in the rear.

Dropping anchor at Pearl Dive without trying oysters is unthinkable, like not dunking a beignet in a cup of chicory coffee. Typically, there are more than a dozen types to choose from; regardless of your picks, they show up cleanly shucked and with condiments that extend to yuzu-mirin and a green "dive juice" shocked with jalapeño. (Imagine eating a sparkler.) Don't care for raw oysters? Try them dipped in bacon fat and warmed through, or, better yet, dusted with cornmeal, fried till they're golden and perched on a snappy hash of sweet potatoes and andouille. The one treatment that doesn't work for me here is broiling. The topping of spinach, bacon and mayonnaise masks the reason I order oysters in the first place.

The soups and stews, including a crawfish etouffee crammed with celery and tasso ham, come with rafts of garlic bread for sopping up their goodness, although what you might really want is another of the white rolls that made such a splash when the bread basket was introduced. Black has resurrected a recipe used by his grandmother, Addie Emerson of Houston. Eating the treats, which rely on lard for their richness, always puts me in a Norman Rockwell frame of mind.

Jumbo-lump crab cakes are among Pearl Dive's best sellers. The two crusty seafood patties shored up with tangy greens and a puddle of mustardy cream sauce would please a Baltimore snob.

Restaurants that specialize in a certain type of food, as Pearl Dive does, are sometimes criticized for treating other appetites indifferently. Not so this kitchen. Among the appealing starters has been a riff on French onion soup: a mass of soft, sweet onions and duck broth supporting a crouton piled with rich shredded duck confit. The hanger steak arrives pink, juicy and sharp with blue cheese, while the succulent fried chicken dinner, strapping with fingerling potatoes and crisp coleslaw, is straight out of Dixie lore. Well, almost. The bird is something that Black served to his dishwashers after-hours when he captained the kitchen at Addie's. Leftover pieces of coq au vin (chicken braised in wine) would be dredged in flour and fried just until the skin set. Catfish po' boys, it turns out, have a rival for my affection.

Of course, there are great cocktails; a restaurant with any ambition can't afford to launch without them anymore. Pearl Dive's contributions to the scene run from a classic Sazerac served in a short oval glass to a sparkling Fleur 75 swirling with gin, lemon, creme de violet and thyme.

The dessert list is packed with pies, and three cheers for the effort. But must they be so sweet? I realize that derby pie is meant to be decadent, but the slice here is so full of sugar, you can barely taste the bourbon or the walnuts. The winning exception is the apple pie baked for two and served in a skillet. Fruit, butter, brown sugar and ice cream come together in fine fashion.

Despite the sweet creep here and there, my frustrations with Pearl Dive are less about food than about its sound pollution and seating policy. Suffice it to say that you'll be eating to a noise level approaching that of chain saws, although the booths afford modest relief from the racket. As for reservations, the restaurant doesn't take them, except for a chosen few. Diners who identify themselves as Logan Circle residents can make reservations for as late as 6:30 at night. "We're working on the honor system," says Jeff Black.

Instead of reservations, Pearl Dive passes out numbered tickets to customers waiting in the bar, who then monitor an overhead electronic board to watch for their digits to light up.

"The DMV with alcohol," jests Black.