34. Mendocino Grille and Wine Bar
It was a nasty rainy night last night, but as soon as we walked in to Mendocino Grille, I felt all warm and fuzzy inside. And it wasn’t (only) because I had my first glass of wine before I actually got my butt in a chair. That was a theme the whole night, before I could put a glass of wine down, another one was coming my way that my server felt would compliment the course I was about to inhale. Usually that would drive me crazy, to have a waiter plop down $5-$9 glasses of wine that I didn’t order, but it worked with the lively learning experience Mendocino instills in their customers. I am a white wine drinker, but having sampled a few reds with my meal, it really opened me up to new things. Unfortunately after three or four glasses of wine, I no longer remembered what my friendly waiter/enabler was telling me. He really hit the jackpot with us too—we were a table of seven that was more than willing to try whatever he put in front of us. Hopefully that waiter will contact me soon with my 5% finders fee off the bill. I could by a pair of Jimmy Choos with that. Sir? Hello? Contact me any time. I’ll sit by the inbox.
The food at Mendocino was not the standard wine bar fare—there were full size appetizers and full size entrees that we took full advantage of. There was one wine bar-y item that I will have to go back and try, the beer and cheese flight. It was just so darned cute with those beers in shot glasses paired with a hunk each of cheese and bread. I’ll save that for another day I do some cougar training at the bar. I started with the rabbit pate, which according to Washingtonian (and now me), is one of the best in the city. It was served with a violet mustard, and though I’m not exactly sure what it is, went with the pate and the nice crusty bread like a dream. The waiter kept trying to steer me away from the main course that I was eying, but I stood strong and ordered the duck bolognese. Delicious. House made pasta and in my opinion, very large hunks of meat for a bolognese. I also sampled some of the wagyu beef steak someone ordered down the table, which was cooked well enough for me to love it (no small feat). We finished off the meal with a giant cheese course and a couple of desserts, with which magically appeared glasses of champagne and port. We got to the point where we just had to stop the pain and get the check before the restaurant just plain ran out of food and drink. We were the last table to leave, but as long as the credit card cleared, they seemed happy to have us.
Mendocino’s diners are an odd cross section—older groups and couples, a few tourists and the young and beautiful at the bar. As one of my dining partners pointed out, it’s Georgetown. And like all of Georgetown, you have to be willing to put up serious cash to get a really enjoyable meal here. But, in the hands of an attentive waiter, it really is a fun and fulfilling meal. It’s no Komi though…
