Goodbye Harry's

I'm back. Maybe not in my best form, but I'm back. The man's keeping me down at work, I stayed there too late to keep the reservation for the fancy DC Restaurant Week choice I pored over, and my trash can smells like the unwanted food items that got evicted from my fridge (because that is what happened when I cleaned a few days ago). The fabulous life of a single urban dweller I do not lead.

I am, however, lucky enough to enjoy the friendship of Andy and Kerry, intrepid posers for amateur food bloggers' photographic endeavors and adventurous menu orderers. Andy this evening was our benevolent gastronomical benefactor (he footed the bill) and Kerry, a kind and avid reader of the blog, knows more about food and restaurants than I do and indulges me in reading and commenting on my blog. And they were there for my Ray's the Steaks dinner. We go back.

So it was nice: no weird patrons to mock out of the corner of my eyes, no major faux pas by the waiter (and I was only mildly disgusted when he admitted a fork probably wouldn't be too helpful for my sorbet), and we felt welcome to stay way past the busing of our last plate. I didn't have to discuss excise taxes with any of them (as may have happened on a recent dinner outing) and there was more than enough gushing on my end at least about the quality of my food (and more as a reaction to my fellow diner's delicious food choices than my own).

Harry's Tap Room is in Clarendon, on the corner away from the bustle of recently graduated frat boys and barely sober girls in tube dresses wearing too-long fake gold necklaces and stumbling along like dazed toddlers. It's a dignified place. And it's a place that doesn't fear the provision of bread: we had mini cornbread muffins, birdseedy wheat or rye, and half a loaf of white. For my appetizer, I had the Jumbo Lump Chesapeake Blue Crab Cake, with a delightful little salad of roasted corn (officially: sweet corn-poblano pepper relish and red pepper sauce). I have to admit I was just eating. Prefunctorily, quickly, and while talking.

I did the same thing during dinner. And dinner was savorable, but essentially I ate Valenciano street food: paella. Of course, it was unlike any paella I've had.. typically they are drier--still moist, but a bit clumpier--with more bright saffron color. I fear this paella's jaundice was colored by butter; still delicious, just slightful less...saffrony. But it was full of delicious shrimp, mussels, fish, chorizo sausage, and sweet peas. And it filled a tupperware container to the brim for lunch tomorrow. It was called Paella de Harry's so gets a pass on authenticity.

My fabulous friends, who were the ones who chivalrously waited 1.5 hours after our reservation time, made stellar dinner choices. Kerry, twice orderer of shellfish tonight and fearless sipper of high-end cocktails, got the Halibut, which was pan seared and served on a mascarpone-soft polenta with sweet corn sauce and red pepper puree (again, their description, not mine). It was great (and if hers had sticks of butter in it, they were better camoflaged than in my dinner).

Andy got the chicken. And a good candid shot of himself while at it. He ordered the tarragon roasted chicken breast, with summer vegetables and tarragon natural jus. These summer vegetables were the most intriguing part. Kerry knew what they were.. some type of mini zucchini, while I imagined they were gourds. Gourds? Really. I did see pumpkin beer at the liquor store yesterday though, so it's almost in time for gourd season; I don't feel quite as foolish.

And dessert was good, but I was already off the clock by then. Kerry brilliantly got the peach cobbler, Andy the Carnegie Deli cheesecake, and I got the lemon-ginger sorbet with an anomalous pirouette cookie. It was like asking for Parkay when you can have truffle butter. Or bologna when steak if offered. I had 25% melted lemon juice with a chocolate cookie that didn't match in flavor and am still complaining that this still-edible mess took about four bites to consume. But it was a new flavor, so I won't complain. But it was lovely.. sorbet a meal does not define and Harry's and the company of my friends was a fitting beginning of my farewells.