Since 1960, this old smoothie has been counseling decision-makers both Democrat and Republican in the wisdom of the saying, "An empty stomach is not a good political advisor." The Congressional Record may not show it, but intentions are spoken here, alliances formed, and deals sealed.

Just a stone's throw from the Capitol, the Monocle might connect to it by secret tunnel, with a golf-cart shuttle to move the belly politic from work to dine and back.

"There's no tunnel," says owner John Valanos.
But he acknowledges that when Congress is in session, the maitre d' might field 15 calls in a row for patrons. Two upstairs rooms, or the whole restaurant on weekends, are frequently reserved for private parties, strategy meetings, and fundraisers. During the week, however, no visitor pass is required. In this unpretentious setting, tourists in sneakers are as comfortable as lawyers in pinstripes. There are no surprises here.

Reliable, risk averse, genteel, the Monocle's menu is dominated by seafoods and meats. The New York strip, specially butchered for thickness, is served in a red wine sauce. Many patrons swear it embarrasses steaks at Washington's more expensive houses. On a recent visit, the crab imperial, a succulent baked cake of pure crab, embarrassed us for how quickly we devoured it. The paradise salad, romaine greens generously mixed with crunchy hearts of palm in a light dressing, was finished fast, too. And it all began with an appetizer of Virginia smoked trout transporting us to an earlier age in America when simple delicacies like this were slow-cooked in clapboard houses.

The Valanos family has owned the Monocle since it opened and it has changed little in that time. It remains half pub, half restaurant. The pub part, thick with cigar smoke, seats drinkers at sticky tables. The bar area is modest and resembles a wet bar at an Ivy-league fraternity. Men in white shirts and loosened ties, their jackets slung over an arm or nearby chair, talk shop. At a table, two pretty young women -- perhaps interns -- eye the scene and are eyed right back.

The restaurant half, just out of smoke range, is an open area ideal for seating large or small groups and for eavesdropping. Washington words of wisdom are stenciled around the cornices and beams: "If you can't feel things you can't see or hear, you don't belong here." "If you want a friend in Washington -- get a dog." And the aforementioned quote about an empty stomach. The walls boast 40 years of autographed 8-by-10s; from the legends of the 1960s, like Bobby Kennedy and Everett Dirksen, to a near quorum of current senators and representatives.

When famous faces are expected, Valanos admits he will rearrange the photos to display those faces more prominently, or to allow guests to sit under Kennedy's or George Bush's portrait as requested. People are touchy about the photos, says Valanos. If he retires them before their time, people notice. Vigilante patrons have also retired photos themselves. One night, Valanos found Richard Nixon in the ladies' room -- his photo, rather. It was broken out of its frame and ripped to shreds.

-- Rob Kunkle