Tallula

J. and I went to Tallula for her birthday on Wednesday. It was lovely. We had eaten there once before, and have been eager to go back. Granting that there is no such thing as a perfect restaurant (or a perfect anything, save for a really well-made martini), Tallula comes as close as anything. The space, located a bit off the beaten path on Washington Blvd. between Clarendon and Columbia Pike, is not large but feel spacious, with a wall of wine racks along one side and an open kitchen along the other. It's fairly dark, but not so much that you can't read the menu. The décor is elegant and minimalist, but the place is inviting – far from the swankier-than-thou look of some places. The most shocking thing, though, is that Tallula is quiet. Some jazz was being piped into the dining room at a barely-audible volume, but it was not overwhelming, and the somewhat sparse Wednesday night crowd combined with a judicious use of soft surfaces allowed us to hold a conversation (about existentialism and specifically Albert Camus, with whom J. shares her birthday) without raising our voices – something that, sadly, cannot be said about many otherwise excellent restaurants these days.

Tallula's menu is, by today's standards, conventional – New American cuisine broken down into salads, appetizers, and entrees – with one twist. They have a section they call “Amuse Yourself” that features tiny, one or two-bite appetizers for a couple of dollars apiece. We had fond memories of them from our last visit, so we started our meal with a couple – a cevice and a barbeque pork tamale. The cevice was delicious – about two tablespoonfuls of tender fish packing a wallop of fresh lime and a strong punch of cilantro, served in a tiny tortilla cup. The tamale was less memorable – about three-inches in diameter, it was flavorful but kind of dry. Eager to try their entrees, we skipped full-size appetizers and salads, which turned out to be a good thing since the main dishes are quite generous. My choice, in particular – bison short ribs – were overwhelmingly hearty. This surprised me in a restaurant of this caliber, but I need not have worried – it was quantity and quality. Succulent, tender and literally falling off the bones (yes, there was more than one), they packed a flavor that was beefy, but not quite beef – both a little more gamy and a little more subtle at the same time. They were coated with a thick, rich sauce that was quite spicy – I was digging it (thank you, Arizona!), but I suspect it could be a little much for gringos raised in the swamps of the mid-Atlantic. The whole assembly was served over creamy polenta which, in deference to the local vernacular, they called grits. Delicious and incredibly decadent.

J. opted for venison – a far more reasonable dish, it also had a more interesting flavor – calling it “gamy” would be disingenuous, but that's what it was – musty and earthy, it was a perfect match to the sauteed lobster mushrooms it was served with. The texture was excellent as well – firm and very smooth – far less stringy than even the best steak. Beside the mushrooms, it came with little spinach dough balls that J. didn't care for but I found delicious.

The highlight of the meal, though, was the wine. Tallula is truly a local treasure in that department. Since they are also a wine store, their list is long and all dining room prices are $10 above retail – an unbelievable value. This can, should you wish, translate to a lower overall bill, but, celebrating as we were, we decided to splurge a bit and get a spectacular bottle for the price of a merely good one. What ended up on our table was a 2005 Neyers Zinfandel from the heart of Napa Valley. There is nothing like a top-notch zin to help you learn the meaning of cheap wine. Most zins that end up on our table, even perennial favorites like Cline and Rancho Zabaco, have fruit in spades, and usually a bit of zinfandel's characteristic spice. The Neyers, initially, seemed almost reticent by comparison, but after five minutes in the glass – long enough to lose the lingering taste of cevice and formulate exactly how the deconstructionists of the sixties used Sartre's existentialism to arrive at a lack of objective morality – it had all the qualities the more common zins, plus rock-solid structure all the way through, impeccable balance and a certain inexplicable elegance. Every sip really did make me stop thinking or talking and forced me to focus on nothing but the flavor of the wine for a few seconds. Amazing. A quick web search informed me that only 500 cases were produced in '05 – I'm headed back to Tallula this weekend to buy a bottle for Christmas.

For dessert, J. chose the pumpkin cheesecake, which came as an attractive single-serving disk topped with a scoop of cranberry sorbet. I didn't try it, but J. gave it top marks. I opted for cheese – an aged English cheddar was was delicious – sweet, firm and very dry, almost Parmiggiano Reggiano-like, and St. Pete's blue, which was a bit of a plane jane compared to the cheddar – buttery and salty, but not particularly distinctive. Lovely meal all the way around, I just wish the plate of short ribs had been a bit less gargantuan.