The Atlas Room

The Atlas Room

Your humble correspondent has been under a lot of pressure recently: holiday bustle, a
house that resembles an infirmary, the Old Republic more and more closely resembling
a Banana Republic spiraling into civil unrest and political chaos…

it all tends to tramp
on the old sensory neurons. On top of that, a steady stream of urgent wires from the
editor of this fine blog to the effect of “Where the heck is that review you promised??”

Ah yes, that review. The one I promised. A while back. When all my troubles seemed so
far away. So, without further adieu, let me cast my mind back to that wondrous
evening (a month ago? more?) when Crispin of Capitol Hill and his lovely bride were
treated to an evening of fine dining at the Atlas Room on H Street, the new epicenter of
cultural renewal in the nation’s capital.

“Wait a minute,” I hear regular readers of this column aver, “fine dining on H Street?? I
was under the impression from your recent scribblings that H Street was where young
hipsters go to edgy, dark, eccentric establishments to take in jazz, fire-eating, sword
swallowing, Octoberfest recreations, miniature golf and a host of other eccentric
delights. But fine dining? Surely, you must be referring to H Street in Northwest, near
the White House, downtown, where one is apt to stumble upon a variety of swanky,
trendy, pricey places catering to the Washington elite? But H Street NE? Surely you
aren’t serious.”

I would ask these readers to take off the blinkers, rid themselves of their ancient
prejudices, and join the brave new world we are on the cusp of entering. The world of
shiny new streetcars ferrying their contented passengers to their desired destinations
in the bustling capital of our Banana Republic. The world of young families retaking
once-blighted downtown neighborhoods for civilization. The world of fine dining in
Northeast Washington, DC. It has arrived, and it has appeared in the shimmering form
of the aforementioned Atlas Room.

First, let us start with the cocktails. Think pre-Prohibition, an era of artful and care-
free American drinking, until the axe came down (wielded by the psychotic Mrs. Nation,
a prototypical Crazed Feminist). Healthy pours, fresh squeezed juices, handmade
syrups, proper ice. Or, if you’re like your humble servant and you prefer your drinks
not just pre-Prohibition but pre-Reformation, there is an exceptional selection of fine
vintages from small producers not easy to find in the DC area.

Now to the menu. I like menus that keep things simple. Not blue plate special-simple,
but also not a self-conscious attempt to overwhelm the poor diner with choices and
verbiage. With some exceptions, that’s usually a sign of insecurity and/or not doing
anything particularly well. The Atlas Room, on the other hand, presents modern
American cooking elegantly and simply, focusing on a central ingredient presented in
three different ways and portion sizes. In other words, six categories (seafood, beef,
pork, lamb, poultry, and vegetarian) offered in small, medium, and entrée sizes and

presented in tantalizingly different ways. For example, in the lamb category, we might
find:

• Nosh: Lamb Fritter w/ celery root slaw & mustard sauce. (small)

• Saddle of Lamb: Carrot puree & chickpea-olive ragout. (medium )

 •Lamb Duo: saddle and top round, crackling, sautéed mushrooms, fingerling
potato & broccoli rabe. (large) 

This allows one to sample various offerings a la tapas, while savoring a modest-but-
delicious entrée without leaving feeling like a stuffed pig headed to the
slaughterhouse. The menu, which focuses on local ingredients, changes seasonally,
adding enough variety to keep you coming back.

The small dining room has a modern feel with unobtrusive lighting and colors, giving
an uncluttered, streamlined feel conducive to culinary enjoyment. Though the seating
is limited (reservations are essential, even on weekdays) one has the feeling of
something considerably more expansive. The decor of the Atlas Room is,
appropriately, ancient maps of the world. With the brisk business they seem to be
doing, it seems fortuitous that they seemingly have room for expansion upstairs.

So grab the spouse, put on the tux and evening gown (respectively), and head to the
Atlas Room for some fine dining before taking in some local theater. And no, you won’t
need your Kevlar vest. That’s so 2011.