Grace's Mandarin

Today, I was a lady who lunches. This is a crowd I'm not sure I belong to. After a rather laboriously long flight from Oklahoma to Baltimore (via Houston, Texas and Jackson, Mississippi), I was hungry. I drove home in the rain and spent that time (and had spent the hours before that when I wasn't sleeping on the flights) deciding where to go for lunch. This is an important decision for an amateur food critic who is now obligated to expand her circle of dining beyond her neighborhood (I've "tapped out Alexandria," to quote myself).

Because I already missed Oklahoma, I went to the restaurant I asked my mom to find the name of with the google search terms "bull ride national harbor." She gave me all the relevant restaurant information for Cadillac Ranch, a cowboy/country/bull-riding joint. As suspected, while I surveyed the place waiting for the summer-hire hostess to seat another group and come back, I realized this is not the type of place you want to be when the sun's out and you're sober. Or not watching other people riding bulls. It's the type of place you go when you haven't been to Oklahoma in months and don't know the difference, not the type of place you go when you had a toothpick in your mouth leaving a restaurant the night before.

So, I went to Grace's Mandarin, a place I'd scoped out before at the National Harbor, the brainchild of the least competent newspaper family in the country (The Gaylords, who produce The Oklahoman, hardly fit to line the interior of an incontinent bird's cage...so a begrudged Oklahoma link). So, anyway, it's a fascinating place, but has a menu with about 60% of the items over $25. Even coming back from a family vacation, that's exorbitant.

Really imposing soldier statue outside, with really imposing Gaylord hotel beyond.

The interior of this place was remarkably beautiful. Except for the two pairs of lovers eating fried food, glugging wine, and conversing about inanities at the two booths nearby, it was a very sophisticated atmosphere.

And then the bar...

And then the really impressive family-style table at the front of the restaurant:

And in case there was any doubt who took the three photos above, this is the first one I snapped:

Well, second. This was the first. Same room.

Since my brother doesn't read this, I can make fun of him a little. He used to be intrigued by bathroom restaurants. A lot of detail goes into them: sinks, sink handles, towels, lighting, flush power, etc. I thought it was charming there were both porcelain dolls and a bamboo-themed spout. Oh yeah, and dance music. Playing rather loudly in the bathroom.

There was food, too, of course. I ordered the chilled rice paper summer rolls (a little too innovative for my tastes): avocado, smelt roe, crabmeat, kani, shrimp, cumin dressing (seemed like red mayonnaise). The presentation was charming and I could taste little bits of mint, which was refreshing, but summer rolls with vermicelli, mint, a bit of chicken, shrimp, and lettuce, accompanied with peanut sauce is kind of a classic.

Then I had a spicy scallop roll; nothing too incredibly innovative there, with raw scallops, Sriracha (for spice), crushed tempura flakes, all wrapped in rice with tan and black sesame seeds. It was really very good.

It was fun. I got my bill, which was half of what I expected as I got happy hour prices. The interior was sumptuous (granted, overused interior word) and I was neither breathlessly enraptured nor insensibly outraged at my experience. Then I thought I'd pop into the wash room for one last visit. And I saw this, which hadn't been on for my first trip.

Yep, that's a runway fashion show. I got the hell out, and fast.