The Source

Tonight I realized it may not be a coincidence that I'm working my way through the top 100 and turning 30 this year. Because, as a frequently single diner (although you wouldn't think it these days), there is something to be said for being in your 20s and sitting at a bar for dinner. Especially when your bartender was born in circa 1987.

Tonight I went to The Source, only because it seemed to be the closest restaurant to me when I finished my afternoon tea at Teaism in Penn Quarter (incidentally a lovely place to read, drink chai, and try and sort out one's future).

"Wolfgang Puck," "Asian food," and "suckling pig" were the only things I associated with the restaurant before walking down Pennsylvania, bewilderedly looking for The Source or any other open restaurant and finding it on the northwest corner of the Newseum.

I came in from the bitter cold and had the warmest service: my coat was taken, I was offered the full range of dining options in the bar (communal table, a legit table when one opened up, or the bar where the "fabulous" bartender would take care of me), and the hostess even asked me to forgive her that she couldn't offer a spot in the dining room (when I had legitimately just walked in off the street). I sat at the bar, sighed contentedly, and had a glass of wine.

The layout is minimalist and exposed to the street on two walls, and a translucent staircase linking the bar area to the dining rooms upstairs. Another wall is the kitchen and the wall that spans both floors is a well-lit wine cellar. The decor seems like it would be cold and overly modern but with the exceptional service and constant movement of people, staff, and vibrant plates of food, the atmosphere was surprisingly warm.

Staircase leading up to the dining room.

As may have been readily apparent, I was treated well by the bartender, in addition to the hostess. He helped me adjust my order to what plates complemented each other and which were his preferences. And refilled my wine while I was mid-meal without asking. I started with the crispy suckling pig, accompanied by a black plum puree, cipollini onions on top and a sweet bean sauce. The pork was recomposed into three cubes, with a layer of crispy skin atop each. And I ate them with chopsticks, which made them taste better.

I cheat a bit: this is how they appear on the website:

The plates progressively became better, with a high bar set with the suckling pig. At the bartender's suggestion, I ordered pork belly bao, two small rolls sliced and stuffed with pork belly, a hot sauce sweetened and reminicent of barbecue sauce, cilantro, sprouts, and cucumber. I made four small bites last about 10 so I could savor them.

The final dish, my favorite of the three, was the stir fried Colorado lamb in lettuce cups with pine nuts and a small salad atop each. The sauce was deeply flavored and sweet, the salads cut the richness and the pine nuts added a luxurious nuttiness. I slowly created my own proportional bites of meat and vegetables with the chopsticks, then started eating them like tacos.

By this time, there was no need for dessert but the great experiment necessitated at least a glance at the dessert menu if not an actual choice. Again, the bartender suggested the carrot cake, one of my favorite desserts anyway. I went to the ladies' room and returned to my glasses being covered by napkins and a new glass: a German dessert wine. Just as a bartender-offered complement. I kept from giggling. The carrot cake, nearly true to its 15-layer claim was actually ten very thin layers, each overlayed by cream cheese and served with ginger ice cream and toasted and candied walnuts.

Everything was exquisite: the service was attentive, the food was well-portioned and clever and I got two free glasses of wine. I picked up my coat at the coat check, gushed to the hostess how lovely my evening was due largely to the service, and avoided walking straight into a glass door by realizing the hostess's squeaked-out "oh" of concern was due to my own inattentiveness. Ironic.