At any rate, there was no lack of bustle at chef Michel Richard’s Central, on Pennsylvania Avenue. I’d eaten before at his acclaimed Citronelle, in Georgetown. This new restaurant—a James Beard winner—is a casual nouveau bistro designed to move the crowds in and out.
The first impression wasn’t altogether favorable: The atmosphere was closer to loud than energetic, and in scale the room is long and boxy, as if it were a holding cargo for tourists famished after a day traipsing up and down the Mall. The blandly tasteful architecture of the squat corporate buildings just outside the door seemed to have swept in with the evening and rearranged itself as decor.
But, as they say nowadays, no worries. The food came with a quickness that was potentially disconcerting, but visually the dishes were enticing creations—just the right amount of fuss—and, better yet, on the palate they were warmingly robust and tasty: Our friend Diana, who joined us, thought her cassoulet was a bit dry, yet it was undeniably a handsome dish for winter, with a plump duck leg sitting neatly on a mound of beans in which the sausage was concealed like holiday coins. And my beef cheeks with tagliatelle were absolutely delicious, rich but not cloying—and amusingly presented as two columns, one of the meltingly tender medallions of beef, the other of the pasta, folded over neatly, with shaved carrots sprinkled down the middle.
The bread, by the way, was terrific as well, and a traditional salad of frisee, lardons and poached egg was very satisfying.
Given the heartiness of the fare, our server recommended we drink the Dom. Ligneres “Aric” from Corbieres, France, which I’d never had. We found the wine to be big and dusky and, regrettably, an uninspired, one-dimensional match for the sophisticated comfort food from the kitchen.
The wine list was dominated by California and French wines with a smattering of Italian, Austrian and Spanish labels. I noticed some interesting reasonably priced gems: a Chablis from Dom. Bernard Defaix, a pinot blanc from Marcel Deiss, a reisling from Dom. Weinbach, a Givry premier cru from Michel Sarrazin, a cabernet franc from Frederic Mabileau, a gamay from Christophe Pacalet, a syrah from Dom. du Tunnel and a banyuls by the glass from Dom. de la Rectoire. Central also offered by the glass a Cremant d’Alsace brut rosé from Lucien Albrecht.
So: We came away sated and pleased, if not quite relaxed—maybe that’s Washington?
Also, if I can momentarily join those tourists traipsing up and down the Mall: We visited the new World War II Memorial, a spectacularly unimaginative site that, apart from access ramps, looks conservative enough to have been first sketched around the time of the Potsdam conference. With its funereal iron wreaths and dancing waters, it looked like a forlorn little postmodern joke on Il Vittoriano, the enormous Victor Emmanuel monument in Rome. Grrr!
