Building a Brand in Bethesda
David Craig is worth getting to know

By Tom Sietsema
Sunday, February 26, 2006

** 1/2 David Craig Bethesda
4924 St. Elmo Ave. (at Old Georgetown Road), Bethesda
301-657-2484

Open: for dinner Sunday through Thursday 5:30 to 9:30; Friday and Saturday 5:30 to 10 p.m. Closed Monday. V, M, AE. Metro: Bethesda. No smoking. Street parking. Prices: dinner appetizers $7 to $12, entrees $20 to $29. Full dinner with wine, tax and tip about $75 per person.

David Craig is a chef whose name might not immediately sound a gong with food lovers but whose work over the years has certainly made the area a better place to eat. His résumé reads like a list of choice neighborhood haunts: Tours at Pesce and Tabard Inn, both near Dupont Circle, were followed by a run of almost five years at Black's Bar and Kitchen in Bethesda.

Now the native Scotsman has a place of his own, and he's christened it after himself; 20 years of cooking for others, and winning polite applause here and there, seems to have given Craig the confidence to do so. The space, most recently home to the short-lived Singh Thai, is long, narrow and not very big; it has fewer than 50 seats. But the location -- in the heart of Bethesda across from a parking lot -- "was too good to pass up," explains Craig. With his business partner, John Fielding, a longtime pal from their days working together at the Tabard Inn, the chef spent five months transforming a little mess into a quiet charmer. Layers of paint were stripped away, a new ceiling was installed, and faded carpet was ripped out and replaced with porcelain floor tile. The look is clean and fresh -- qualities that also surface on the menu.

You might think all oyster stews taste the same. Craig shows you otherwise, with a bowl of warm cream, fat oysters and sweet vegetables that have been minced so finely they look like confetti on the surface of the liquid. The garnish adds not just welcome color to the picture but also contrasting texture: Each silky spoonful of soup yields a delicate crunch.

Every other American restaurant seems to be serving pumpkin soup this winter, but Craig takes the extra step of adding ravioli to his bowl -- hats of pasta stuffed with dried cranberries and caramelized shallots, to be precise. His eye for what looks good together, and for which ingredients flatter one another, is apparent in dish after dish. Razor-thin slices of roasted portobello mushroom appear as a "carpaccio," drizzled with butternut cream and served with golden marbles that turn out to be deep-fried gnocchi. The idea satisfies both the vegetarian and the carnivore at my table. As ordinary as spinach salad sounds, it gets a fair amount of attention, too, dolled up with golden raisins, almonds, pink sails of crisp serrano ham and just enough dressing to moisten, rather than drench, the leaves. A main course of chicken arrives pale but exceedingly moist, simply sauced with pan juices, and nicely paired with red cabbage and skinny fries made with polenta instead of potatoes.

The front of the restaurant is just two booths and a few tables hugging cream-colored walls. A stroll down a short hallway leads to a second dining area, where a collection of old mirrors gives the illusion of more room, and a big window lets diners watch Craig and his cooks prepare their meals. (Note to the decorator: Could you please add some pillows or cushions to the banquette, which offers all the comfort of a gym bleacher?)

"I have a penchant for the dramatic," says Craig. "I want to show off a little." And so he and his crew do, particularly when one of them whips out a blowtorch to singe the top of a custard on its way to becoming creme brulee. The bright lights in the kitchen prevent the staff from seeing more than the faces nearest the window, and the glare in the dining room is strong, so Craig plans to replace the plain glass with tinted.

Maybe then the chef can see how happy he's making the people who come here. The appetizers and entrees are separated on the menu by a handful of dishes that can be ordered as either course. But what will it be? The choices make for some difficult decisions. Ravioli stuffed with pumpkin and brushed with a brown butter sauce is simple and elegant, its sweetness countered with fresh sage and a sprinkle of salt. Risotto, studded with bites of lobster and apple, is richer for the inclusion of mascarpone in its mix. There's also a turban of thin noodles tossed with butter, wine and shrimp stock and circled by shrimp -- a few good ingredients making a delicious case for minimalism.

The difference between everything Craig has cooked before and now? The chef says he's serving dishes "I've perfected over the years." One example is his duck served three ways: as a succulent breast, as an ethereal flan and as a coarse sausage on a plate rounded out with carved potatoes that look just like the little beauties you get in precise French restaurants.

The kitchen doesn't always deliver silver and gold. Sometimes a diner is handed mere bronze: a routine beef filet, outclassed by its rich whipped potatoes, or a piece of cod that smacks of yesterday's haul but is somewhat redeemed by a base of tangy tomatoes and soft fennel. Moments like these can bring the party to a halt. But such moments are infrequent. And the food is accompanied by a wine list that finds standard markups but better-than-usual variety in terms of grapes, sources and flavor profiles.

The restaurant's desserts tend to be as unfussy and appealing as much of what precedes them. Chocolate bread pudding gets an escort of homey vanilla ice cream, while triangles of poundcake are sauteed in butter to give the sweet confection more of an edge. Just try not to finish every lick of the sauces -- caramel, chocolate and sour cream sweetened with brown sugar -- that the cake rests on. A third dessert, pink grapefruit segments set in a runny custard and finished with a bruleed top, then garnished with "cat's tongues" (wisps of cookie), is something you might expect to see in a much fancier restaurant but are pleased to splurge on here.

David Craig Bethesda is a small package with some big surprises tucked inside -- including a brand you can trust in the kitchen.

To chat with Tom Sietsema online, click on Live Online at www.washingtonpost.com, Wednesdays at 11 a.m.

Ask Tom

"The Wurzburg Haus in Rockville was always one of my favorites," writes Allan Glass. "It was also one of the few remaining places in the area to get German food." When he tried to make a reservation there recently, however, the Bethesda reader was surprised to discover it had become a Peruvian restaurant. "Do you have any idea whether the Wurzburg Haus moved somewhere else, or why it closed?" asks Glass. Several phone calls led me to a former co-owner of the German establishment, Henning Lorenzen, who said he shuttered the Wurzburg Haus last June because "the rent was getting high, lunch business was down and my business partner left." But there is good news for its fans: The spirit of the restaurant lives on in Lorenzen's new venture, Henning's (177-A Thomas Johnson Dr.; 301-668-7777), which opened in Frederick in November. The German menu there is actually bigger than that of the Wurzburg Haus, says its owner; Henning's also offers a full bar and about 25 beers, most of them German.

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