Tom Sietsema wrote about Perrys for a June 2009 First Bite.

Here I am in Adams Morgan, sitting high above the ground and snacking a spring night away on small plate after small plate. The mostly Spanish combinations crowding my table look and taste very familiar.

Sure enough, when I pierce an order of roasted sweet peppers with my fork, a stream of warm goat cheese spills forth, just as I had thought it might. A dish of chicken croquettes involves a crackle and a creaminess that I recognize, too.

The only reason I know I'm not eating tapas at one of several branches of Jaleo is because I've got my eyes open, and the rooftop at Perry's looks nothing like any of those festive Spanish eateries.

"People want to share more," Saied Azali tells me when I call the restaurateur to confirm the debut of a new way to eat and the arrival of his new executive chef. Plus, "tapas are more affordable."

Since it opened in 1985, the sort-of-American, kind-of-Asian restaurant has been rethought more times than Michael Jackson's mug. Two months ago, while retaining his sushi bar (and popular drag brunch on Sunday), Azali sent entrees packing and added a Spanish sensibility by installing Jose Picazo in the kitchen. Picazo, 53, has worked at a number of restaurants since he arrived here from Madrid 11 years ago, none more significant than Jaleo, where he cooked for six years.

That explains those velvety peppers and one-bite croquettes, but not the salty fish soup or flat-tasting mushroom risotto I encountered during another dinner at Perry's.

Consistency isn't a given, but fun is. Personally, I can't think of another restaurant that lets us enjoy snappy chorizo on mashed potatoes, or a sushi roll designed to taste like a BLT sandwich, so close to the stars.

Small plates, $4-$11.

(June 3, 2009)

At Perrys, Polishing Up A Neighborhood Gem
By Eve Zibart
Washington Post Weekend Section
Friday, August 11, 2006

If there's one formula that restaurateur Saied Azali knows, it's don't fix what ain't broke, and Perrys has been holding its own a long time. Its rooftop dining area and view, its coolly elegant main room, even its old-style Adams Morgan drag brunch, which is sort of like the last great lady of the tea dance generation, has made it a neighborhood staple (and something of a Sunday suburban-tourist attraction).

On the other hand, tastes and expectations change, especially in terms of cuisine, and "holding" isn't a good concept, except sometimes in poker. Perrys fare has in its lifetime ranged from quite good to merely pedestrian. Even the sushi bar, which was unexpectedly cool when it was introduced, isn't unusual anymore (and the sushi was sometimes even more pedestrian than the entrees). So from time to time, Perrys has needed a little facelift.

Toward that end, Azali has repeatedly brought in established chefs to tighten and tone the menu -- body sculpting rather than radical surgery -- most recently area fave Morou Ouattara, who continues to perform biweekly checkups while preparing to open his own restaurant in Alexandria. (Fare disclosure: I am known to Ouattara, who was there on my last visit.) You can trace the tweakings -- adjustments to saucing or sides, nips and tucks to presentation -- but the overall impression is of a stable, popular and varied but manageable menu. He has also encouraged on-site chef Avinesh "Nesh" Rana to experiment with amuse bouche, such as an Asian flat-bottom spoon of chili-oil-dressed barley with cilantro.

Azali has also decided to move the sushi bar into more modern territory, and for that he has hired Nori Yasu, formerly of the Nobu-inspired Bond Street in New York (and also of the D.C. area's Matuba). Although Yasu has begun by focusing on bringing his staff up to speed on the niceties of sushi making -- Perrys's sushi was always pleasant but never exactly polished -- he plans to gradually add new-style dishes as he goes and is already offering a little omakase (chef's sampling) to knowledgeable diners at the bar. Daily specials have included tairagai nigiri (slices of fresh giant scallops) and "Kobe roll," the famous beef serving as a carpaccio wrap for tempura bits, a trendy dish but one that doesn't really play up the meat's assets, since its fattiness can make it bland.

In general, however, the sushi already shows much more definition: The seasoning and consistency of the rice is better; the quality of the fish seemingly a little higher (and including such less common but welcome options as sea eel and white eel as well as freshwater); the slicing more even and exact (made traditional size, rather than the grotesquely cheek-bulging style passing for generosity these days); and the tempura frying as well as the batter itself much improved. Special requests are honored whenever possible (engawa, the translucent flounder fin membrane). Now if all the wait staff can grasp the distinction between a request for fresh wasabi ($3) and just more reconstituted wasabi.

The tempura is on display in the soft shell crab appetizer, a true batter (rather than a flouring) and a delicate one at that. The crabs are served over a thin sheet of black mustard sauce that manages to be refreshingly sharp and delicate at the same time -- somewhere between fig vinegar and squid ink. An even finer appetizer from Yasu's side is fresh tofu skin, more delicate than any crepe, in a white miso sauce, the creme fraiche of Japan.

The revamped kitchen is still shaping up, obviously, and there are slips. The lamb croquettes are Middle Eastern inspired, ground patties on skewers served over a yogurt sauce, nicely cooked but in need of herbal aids. White gazpacho with a poached shrimp inside is refreshing, given a little tang by its swirl of yogurt, but it would gain distinction from even a passing acquaintance with white pepper or perhaps yuzu juice (which the bar possesses in abundance; a saketini with yuzu approaches grapefruit juice in acidity). One night the orange aioli that was supposed to frame the halibut strongly insinuated that it had been at least adulterated if not replaced by the pork loin's raspberry coulis. And a request that the duck breast be grilled rare resulted in duck breast raw -- and if it isn't going to be trimmed and pounded thin for carpaccio, that's a very amateurish mistake. Even the figs were better cooked. (The dish has since been reconfigured as duck two ways, breast and confit.)

On the other hand, the successes are increasing. Pan-roasted chicken is very fine, the skin high-seared right to ideal crispness and the meat left luxuriously moist, and the sweet-hot poblano mole beneath sets it off nicely. The presentation is fun, too, an "airplane cut" -- the breast with the small tenderloin cut away for more uniform look and cooking -- with the wing bone cleaned and offering a handle so tempting you want to pick it up like a drumstick. And the "cauliflan," a Gruyere-inflected ramekin-size souffle, on the side is so good you'll be tempted to order a few extra. At $6 apiece, I'd have three for dinner.

(Incidentally, if you have a sneaking affection for bubble 'n' squeak, but wonder if it could be make less heavy, try the potato and cabbage stir-fry.)

The pasta option is the sort of summer dish your Saveur-savvy neighbor makes for Sunday dinner, simple but precise: penne tossed lightly in a fresh pea pesto with pea vines and good Parmesan julienne. The halibut, which was as proficiently pan-seared as the chicken, has been replaced by a nice, sweet butterfish. And coffee heads take note: Espresso-crusted tenderloin (an old personal trick) gives unexpected depth to the usual pepper roll.