93. Bistro L’Hermitage
Attention young D.C. transplants, have I got a deal for you! Don’t you just hate it when your parents come to town and want to do something “special” and “cultural” but the last thing you want to do is get body slammed by sweaty tourists waiting for the First Ladies’ Dresses exhibit? And don’t you just hate it when your parents show up at like 9am on Sunday morning for brunch, but all you want to do is nurse your hangover and help your roommate, Captain One Night Stand, kick out the Smith Pointer du jour? Well today I figured it all out. Take them way on down to Woodbridge to Bistro L’Hermitage. It’s a total mom joint, and perfect for dad’s who want to reminisce about their semester abroad in Paris. And to get your culture in stop by Woodlawn Plantation, the Frank Lloyd Wright house, on the way. Most people don’t even know it’s there, so your dad will think his kid is so awesome and plugged in. And to cap off the day, you can casually mention that you are a mere two exits away from Ikea, and go pick up a Poang chair or four and some Scandinavian abstract art on Dad’s AMEX. It’s a whole day of parent-friendly fun!
I know what you’re saying…Ashley, should I eat before venturing to this far off land? Well, I say no. Because even if Bistro L’Hermitage doesn’t do it for you, I can tell you that the meatballs at Ikea are delish. But if you’re not feeling like eating six pounds of meat and cream, here’s my thoughts on le Bistro: much much better than I thought it would be. Is it worth driving all the way down there from D.C.? Maybe not, but definitely worth driving down from like…Springfield.
The restaurant’s in a weird suburban location, and I think as a result, was pretty empty at prime Sunday brunch time. The tables were almost exclusively full of families with grandmas and kids sitting up very straight. Needless to say, I stuck out a smidge. The decor is oh so very French, and the music blasting from the speakers was obviously lifted from the France section of Busch Gardens—it had every cliche piece of French background music. Including the song from the DeBeers add where the people kissed in sillouette. Remember that one? I loved that commercial.
Bistro L’, you had me at croissants. I find that bread at French restaurants can be weirdly disappointing sometimes, but any place that serves me warm croissants with butter and raspberry jam is okay in my book. These weren’t even great croissants (I prefer the Costo, 90% butter variety) but I couldn’t stop eating them. The menu was not exactly Earth shattering—french toast, eggs benedict, omelet, etc. I hate to order things at restaurants that I could make myself pretty easily (especially in my capacity as super blogger), so I ordered the only complicated dish on the menu—hanger steak and eggs. Now, this is something I would usually never order, which makes it even more amazing when I say how good it was. The dish was about a 3 ounce portion of steak, two sunny side up eggs, potatoes sauteed with green onions and a little salad and some toast points. It was a large amount of food, but not obscene and really well balanced. The steak was cooked perfectly, and the sauce was salty and sweet. The eggs were really fresh and huge, and cooked until slightly gooey. The toast points were a real disappointment after the croissants since the bread just tasted bad. It’s hard to make me call bread bad, but there you go. And special props to the chef for cooking the potatoes with the green onions—I never have thought to do this before, but it added a great bright flavor to the otherwise dull spuds.
The devil is in the details, and unfortunately he was everywhere today. My whole experience there was just okay, probably because the little things were really not considered. My water glass was filled too high to pick up without spilling, the salt and pepper shakers had no actual salt or pepper in them, I got a dinner menu when I sat down instead of brunch, and all my food was generally underseasoned. They’re all little things, but every time I thought about how good my steak tasted, I would wish someone would come by and please fill my iced tea glass. Hopefully Mom will be too distracted by the pretty roses and actual French maitre d’ to notice though.
