Earlier this month, I wrote in The Spectator World about what I call โconcept restaurants.โ Iโve touched on this before, but every time my wife and I go into Washington, D.C., I think about this again. Me, I prefer the suburbs, at least when it comes to restaurants. The fact is that, at least in this region, theyโre extremely diverse and interesting places. Look at this tweet from an urbanist in Montgomery County, Maryland:
Yes.
In my article, I compared the restaurant scene in the D.C.-area suburbs with the trendy dining scene in D.C. itself, which Iโve never been much excited by:
DC is widely seen as a โfoodie city,โ and its restaurants generally get more coverage and hype than their suburban counterparts. The popular press has taken a long time to update its impressions of suburban dining options, and suburban demographics more broadly, with the increasingly eclectic and diverse reality.
Why donโt my wife and I prefer the DC dining scene? Well, many of the cityโs hyped restaurants fall into a category that you might dub โconcept restaurants.โ Rather than pick up a template, tweak it a little, and try to execute it well (like our favorite Thai restaurant near Fairfax), or simply offer a relatively unfiltered menu representing a more unusual cuisine (like an Uzbek restaurant in Gaithersburg, Maryland), they instead have a unique โconceptโ โ a schtick.
For whatever reason, I have trouble liking this, personally. Part of it is the feeling that youโre paying for the branding and the theme, and the food itself, while probably very good, ends up overpriced for what youโre actually getting.
In a piece at this newsletter last year, I wrote:
I think I generally prize value over pure excellence. That doesnโt mean I prize low prices. Value is that sweet spot where you get just the right combination of price and quality. So I tend to like relatively cheap and very expensive restaurants, for the same reason, in a way.
Let me be clear that the โconcept restaurantsโ I mention in the piece are actually good ones, although there are a lot of imitators that deliver less value. Unless youโre really good, it can come off a bit snobbish, I guess. Itโs reminiscent of architects who only build โoriginalโ buildingsโwhich is often to say different for the sake of being different.
Here, from the piece, are the kind of places Iโm talking about, though again Iโm not criticizing them:
For example, thereโs Lucky Danger, a reimagination of Chinese takeout with the tagline, โAmerican Chinese by a Chinese American.โ โAt various points over the past six years, chef Tim Ma has rolled out holiday pop-ups that show off an earnest appreciation of American Chinese takeout,โ writes Eater DC. โMa says the dishes at Lucky Danger are โunapologetically American Chinese.โโ The cute, pricey menu is a mix of classic Americanized takeout fare, dishes you might actually find in China, and a few creative twists, like duck confit fried rice.
Or you can pay a visit to Call Your Mother, a take on the classic Jewish deli with the tagline โA Jew-Ish Deli.โ You can get Latin pastrami, Passover tacos, and quirky bagel sandwiches at the local DC chain founded by a Jewish American and his Argentine (and non-Jewish) wife. Call Your Mother has โwon accolades from food publications and chefs around the country.โ
Thereโs also Carusoโs Grocery, declared by the Washington Post to be โthe old-school Italian restaurant of your dreams.โ The schtick embraced by Carusoโs Grocery is that it has no schtick. Eater DC writes, โMatt Adler has no desire to reinvent the Parmesan wheel. Maybe itโs a sign of maturity, or simply the confidence that accompanies experienceโฆheโs a preservationist. His cause? The classic โred sauce joint.โโ The Postโs Tom Sietsema elaborates, โThe creators of Carusoโs Grocery โ Michael Babin, founder of the Neighborhood Restaurant Group, and chef Matt Adler, a veteran of the upscale Osteria Morini โ aimed for something that was neither cheesy nor cheffy.โ They got it right, judging from the establishmentโs online reviews.
One of the things youโre seeing here, which is actually really interesting, is that chefs with a certain ethnic or culinary background are taking the โstandardโ version of that cuisine in America, and iterating on it or paying homage to it, in some conscious way. You can see cuisines and menus evolve, as immigrant groups in America go from newcomers to established communities, and as a wide swath of Americans become familiar with the โstandardโ versions of those cuisines.
Contra my argument, a little bit, itโs worth pointing out that the โstandardโ menus in a lot of restaurants are themselves simply fusion that has become familiar. Americanized Chinese food has an interesting history, arising out of tweaks to please the American palate and resourcefulness or inventiveness with the produce and products that were available in the United States.
Meatballs and a lot of โred sauceโ Italian-American staples are just thatโItalian American. It isnโt not Italian, but it was influenced by a lot of distinctly American characteristics. For example, meatballs were popularized because of Americaโs cheap and plentiful meat. In Italy, โmeatballsโ might have been this.
I suppose, for an Italian American a few generations removed from that period of evolution and creativity, itโs natural that it might become either the product of nostalgia, or a launching pad for some new creative forays. A cuisine, in some ways, is a living thing. Just like nobody today can ever experience Star Wars in the theater in 1977, nobody can sit down and experience spaghetti and meatballs quite the same way someone in the 19th century might have.
Itโs interesting how experiences that once existed can become impossible to experience, as things change. A bit of a tangent here: I think a lot of nostalgia, and a lot of what we call NIMBYism, is some sort of awareness of this.
Hereโs an interesting piece at Washington City Paper from last year, โFour D.C. Restaurants Put Nostalgia on the Menu When They Opened This Spring.โ One of them, mentioned above, is Carusoโs Grocery. While that restaurant has a sort of concept (โThe schtick embraced by Carusoโs Grocery is that it has no schtick,โ I wrote), it also aims to execute classic dishes really, really well. From that WCP article:
Chefs feel a different kind of pressure when they try to serve a dish most people have tried, according to Adler [Carusoโs owner]. โOn face value, this should be super easy,โ he says. โYouโre making chicken parm and spaghetti and meatballs. But this is harder than if I went out and opened an Italian restaurant and a creative menu of dishes I came up with or pulled from my travels. Thatโs about me as a chef, but this isnโt. This is about the dishes and the memories people have.โย
As I wrote in the original Spectator piece, a classic menu can be a formula to channel and enhance creativity, in a way. And as a customer, I enjoy trying the same basic dish at a lot of different places, seeing who does it well, if one establishment adds some nuance, etc.
I understand that preferences and feelings about food and restaurants are very personal and particular. Iโm not saying Iโm right, Iโm just thinking out loud about mine.
What do you think?
Related Reading:
Iconic Hometown Restaurant, Obsolete Dining Concept?
Thoughts on Restaurants and โServiceโ
Plant-Based Patties, Italian Peasant Style
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My objection to concepts like Caruso's - "let's bring back the New Jersey red sauce Italian restaurant, but cater to hipsters" - is that the unstated premise is that the original model is lost to days gone by and now can only be experienced as kitsch. But the originals never went anywhere and if you're in the mood for one of those red sauce Italian joints you can find plenty that have been in continuous operation for decades. (Permit me to recommend the baked ziti at Brothers Pizza on Rt. 18, East Brunswick.)
It is hard to imagine how much the suburban food scene has changed in 30 years (which I guess is a long time so maybe not so hard) - when I was a kid out here, there was one Korean restaurant, one good Japanese place, a Vietnamese restaurant or two in Clarendon, and then the usual American 1980s fare. Today, I have upwards of ten pho restaurants that I rotate through, each with a slight variation; Korean restaurants are here by the dozens. In fact, the unique nature of a cuisine (be it Burmese, Yemeni, or Lao) is always a draw out here, but now I have learn to calibrate my interests by trying to figure out which version of each nuanced cuisine is best.