FOOD YOUNG & HUNGRY
Wish I Was There
it’s clear, in most cases, that each item represents a memory for those who have inhabited your space. You’re a bar filled with a diverse group of people who likely walked in that first time because you’re close to their house. But we come back because you’ve become an extension of home—with more beer and lots of whiskey. You’re where I went when my wife was traveling overseas, where I go after yardwork, before a fancy dinner, after an annoying day at work, after a good day at work, and even that time I had just finished shoveling out from the Snowpocalypse. I’ve brought almost every houseguest to see you, including my 70+ year-old mother and my 22-year-old niece. All are welcome. You’re where we celebrated the Nationals’ World Series win with pizza, shots, and beer showers. Seven years, a few Eurovisions, and countless Bud Lights later, you and your patrons have become our extended family. Not that you’d enjoy this sentimentality, but tough s---. Looking forward to seeing you again soon.
The Pug
Washingtonians pen love letters to the bars and restaurants they miss most. By City Paper readers
Dear Taqueria Habanero, 3710 14th St. NW Hi, it’s me—three carnitas tacos and a side of rice and beans with extra green salsa. How’ve you been? I see you’re doing take-out now— that’s great, because I’ve missed you like a second grader misses recess. When I first moved to D.C. for college, away from my Mexican American mother, my first order of business was finding a place to get Mexican food. That first year in D.C., I tried restaurant after restaurant. The food was OK, but none of it was Mexican food, not by a long shot. I gave up and spent my college career declaring that there was no authentic Mexican food to be found in the District of Columbia. It wasn’t until I moved back to D.C. in 2015 that we became acquainted. Three bites in and I was a goner. I had finally found something to numb the homesickness. Since then, your food and margaritas have been with me through breakups, hard days at work, hangovers, and too many celebrations to count. You love me for me, whether I’m in leggings or coming straight from work. The feeling is mutual. I don’t care that you’re almost always crowded and loud. I love your small outside tables; I love how the smell of the food hits you in the face the second you pull the door open; and, most of all, I love the mural that proudly announces “this food is 99 percent Mexican.” Even though I sometimes cheat on you with your sibling down the street, you will always be my favorite. So, Habanero, mi amor, sigue luchando. I need you. Please don’t leave me with Taco Bell Cantina. —Maya Burchette
Columbia Heights
—Morgan Davidson
Trinidad
Darrow Montgomery/File
Restaurants and bars are hurting. They’ve already lost months of sales, and are wondering when they’ll be able to reopen and what that will even look like. Whenever Washingtonians are coping with a bad breakup, agonizing over election results, or celebrating a job promotion, those restaurants and bars are there for them. During this tough stretch, it’s time to return the favor. City Paper asked District residents to pen letters of love and sup—Laura Hayes port to their favorite spots. Letters were edited for length and clarity.
Dear Bad Saint, 3226 11th St. NW Whether waiting in line for hours or trying to snag an online reservation for months, a meal at Bad Saint is always worth the wait. The reward is always great food with gracious service. For me, a resident since 1998, you made the District finally feel like home. Before you opened your doors in 2015, I loved living in D.C., but felt something was missing. It was a true sense of belonging to a community, and that’s what Bad Saint has do ne fo r me a nd many others. From the sabong a r t work ador n i n g the walls to the tender tinola simmering on the stove, there’s a reason why eating at your restaurant brings many Filipino Americans to tears. When we step inside and bite into your food, we not only feel the love our families have showered upon us, but also gratitude for the work you’ve done elevating Filipino food and hospitality. You put the best of Filipino culture on display, and have taught others about the complexity of who we are as a people. Your commitment to sharing the colonial past of the Philippines and showcasing the varied regional cuisines present
in our thousands of islands provides a gateway for others to learn about the place Filipinos have in American history. Let me also be honest: I am tired of cooking. I’m in desperate need of your delicious food set to Paula Abdul’s “Forever Your Girl” playing in the background. I know that Chef Tom [Cunanan’s] laptop is bursting with new recipes, including a savory, steamed murcon from Pampanga and a shredded and stewed bacalao from Cavite. You have been a good neighbor to me and to the District, a nd we need you back. I will be waiting for you.
“Seven years, a few Eurovisions, and countless Bud Lights later, you and your patrons have become our extended family. Not that you’d enjoy this sentimentality, but tough s---. Looking forward to seeing you again soon.”
—Charita Castro
Brookland
Dear The Pug, 1234 H St. NE It was May 2013 when my wife and I first visited, having just moved to the neighborhood. You were dark and comforting, even if your surly bartender side-eyed us when we erroneously inquired about food. You’re the kind of place that reminds me of my dad. He grew up in a blue-collar neighborhood in Pittsburgh—a rough one, but the kind with a lot of heart. That’s what you are: no-nonsense, sometimes gruff, but always there. You display holiday decorations year-round and random paraphernalia on the walls, but
Dear Momiji, 505 H St. NW When I first moved to Washington five years ago, there was one thing I needed to find: a local bar. I used to be a heavy drinker, so I needed to find a place where I’d be just as comfortable alone with the bartender as I would with a group. Many Hill staffers from Hawaii, where I came from, told me about Momiji. I went just a few nights after moving in, and I fell in love with your katsu curry. I remember putting on the ‘gram "Best katsu curry I’ve ever had." That sentiment stayed with me. The dish became my go-to comfort for any day too long or challenging. Once I got to know the bartender and the rest of the family-run restaurant, you became the closest thing I had to a second home outside of work. I quit drinking a year ago, but it wasn’t the good pours that kept me coming back. It was the hearty meals, sushi, and welcoming faces and voices of everyone there. I used to have anxiety over being the kind of customer to have an eating spot where the staff know my usual order. Not this time. It was like visiting family. I went back a few times when this whole thing started, determined to show my eager face. I wanted to let you know that I’ll keep coming back as long as I can. Now you’re shuttered. "Temporarily closed," your Instagram says. I truly hope this is all temporary, as all things are. But the warm welcome (and curry) I love won’t be forgotten, not as long as I’m around. —Gene Park
Downtown
Dear Georgina’s (AKA The Players Lounge), 2737 Martin Luther King Jr. Ave. SE Thank you for the great soul food, fun, and music that you have brought to Ward 8’s Congress Heights neighborhood for decades.
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