Despite my lack of posting over the last couple of months, somehow I was graced with an invite to tonight's preview of the H St. Country Club. I guess it makes sense because I do talk about eating a lot, but it caught me off guard. I try not to take myself, or this occasionally asinine blog, too seriously; so the idea that I might be credentialed to something as a media member is kind of flattering.
Anyway, I bounced down to the Country Club about 8pm to soak up my share of the free food and drink being provided. When I walked in I was given a press packet filled with boilerplate about the Country Club and its chefs, owners, and management and a drink ticket. Oh yeah, that's what I'm talking about.
My first drink was an excellent frozen guava margarita that was suggested to me by Joe the bartender. I can just imagine the brain freeze I'll get this Summer when I suck one of those down after walking the half a dozen sweaty blocks between my crib and the Country Club. Then with drink in hand, I took a stroll around the place.
I had been to the Phish Tea Cafe, the restaurant that previously inhabited 1335 H St. NE, and they had only used a fraction of the space and not nearly as well. Big Joe knows what he's doing, is well capitalized, and it shows in the final product he's put together here. The H St. Country Club (HSCC) has a unique concept that has been executed very, very well.
I'll spare you a lot of blather about sumptuous wood tones and all the decorative flourishes that you'll see throughout the bar. The mini golf course upstairs is what much of the buzz about HSCC has centered on and it lives up to the hype. Even with the shitty camera in my iPhone, I managed to get a couple of half-decent pix of the mini golf course.
I know a lot of foodies are hyped up for Ann Cashion's new joint, but it looked like they were only serving selections from the bar menu tonight. Everything I tasted was good, but there's only so much you can do to nachos and quesadillas to dress them up. I missed out on the empenadas (which looked great) but consoled myself with the hot lima bean dip which is much, much better than it sounds.
The only disappointment of the night was my second drink, the Hot Tamale; a Ketel One Martini with jalapeno stuffed olives. The olives were a little mushy and not nearly salty enough and the jalapenos should have been hotter and lacked the vinegary tang that I was looking for.
Hanging by a Thread
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