Welcome to Talk to Tom, the dining-advice column that aims to point you toward good meals, steer you from the dross and solve your pressing restaurant queries. Look for a fresh Q&A every Thursday in this space.
Questions and comments can be submitted to TalkToTom@washingtonsun.com. Submissions may be edited for length and clarity.
I’m trying to keep my phone off when I’m in restaurants and it annoys me when I see people working on their laptops. People, stop!
I hear you. Timing and situation are everything. I think I’m less bothered when I see laptops in, say, a casual setting during the day (and during nonpeak hours) versus an upscale restaurant at prime time at night. Personally, I don’t mind when the scenario involves a solo diner occupying a discrete part of the bar or dining room, either, since laptops have more or less become books for single diners — a companion of sorts.
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The problem arises when laptop users don’t take fellow customers into consideration by not using ear phones or playing something that’s visually distracting. A lot of us go to restaurants to conduct business or simply relax; modern technology can interfere with those pursuits.
My message to possible offenders, then: Read the room before logging on. As a courtesy to your server, close your laptop when the food arrives. And think twice about using a laptop when others are at the table. Doing so says you’re not fully engaged.
Where do you go for Chinese that’s better than the average neighborhood joint?
My only regret about Mama Chang in Fairfax, Virginia, is that I don’t live closer to what I consider to be the best, most consistent idea from serial restaurateur Peter Chang. The restaurant is named for the women in Chang’s orbit, including his wife and fellow chef, Lisa Chang, and his mother, a former farmer in central China.
I appreciate the setting: 200 seats arranged in and around an airy dining room that considers groups, with multiple tables that seat as many as (hey, event planners!) 13 people. Acres of light wood and straw-colored banquettes beneath strands of rope make for a comfortable roost while you graze away.
I admire the servers, who are brisk and helpful in narrowing down the many choices on the several lists you’re handed.
Most of all, I applaud the cooking here. My last meal at Mama Chang was just last weekend, when I splurged on a jumble of strips of dried tofu and squiggles of pork, bright green stir-fried water spinach perfumed with slivers of garlic, and cumin fish that you smelled before you spotted. The golden slices of fried flounder weren’t the least bit greasy, and sparked with red chiles as well as the thrum of cumin.
I also learned about a great babysitter, in the form of the Changs’ signature balloon-like scallion pancake. Some parents at the neighboring table ordered one to the delight of their young charges. Pierce the blimp and it collapses into a flat, delicious, crowd-pleasing snack.
I’m responsible for finding a restaurant that will accommodate a diner with gluten sensitivity. What do you recommend?
Gluten is found in a lot of popular products, including wheat-based bread, pasta, baked items and sauces including soy and hoisin. Some calling around and web sleuthing turn up plenty of menus around the DMV that can handle gluten-free requests, however.
They include multiple local chains: Busboys and Poets, which offers something for everyone; Medium Rare, the prix fixe steak experience; vegetarian-friendly Chaia Tacos; branches of the Virginia-based Great American Restaurants group, which includes Artie’s, Randy’s and Patsy’s; Thompson Italian; plus Five Guys, which a discerning tipster says has “the best lettuce-wrapped burgers and gluten-free fries.”
On the upscale front, my same source reports eating well, sans gluten, at restaurants as diverse as Dōgon, Maru San, Moon Rabbit, Rooster & Owl and Rye Bunny, all in the District.
Thanks for your recent roundup of inexpensive dinner spots. It made me wonder if there are any hidden gems in your pocket.
Here’s the thing about critics: They’re not paid to keep secrets. Also, “hidden” gems don’t stay undisclosed for long, not in today’s online-obsessed world, where a good word about an under-the-radar eatery by anyone with a serious following can create lines within hours.
One relative sleeper I’ve enjoyed a couple times now is the family-run, bakery-inclusive DC Al Toque, which opened earlier this year in Columbia Heights and offers an uncommon taste of Venezuela. My usual order is pabellón criollo, considered Venezuela’s national dish (pabellón means flag) and gently priced at $19. The plate brings together shredded beef, inky black beans, sticky sweet plantains, some grated white cheese, a fan of creamy avocado, and a scoop of steamed rice that’s all but hidden by a fried egg on top. The strapping combination is as much a cultural lesson as fuel for the day, given that the different elements represent the African, Indigenous American and Spanish forces that have shaped Venezuela.
Looking for a great snack? The hefty, fried-to-order empanada formed from sweet corn dough and packed with juicy beef costs just $7 and gets cooled down with a creamy cilantro-garlic dip. And I love that happy hour at DC Al Toque stretches from 3 p.m. to 7 p.m. on weekdays.
My preference is to sit at a stool at the bar, chat up whoever makes my drink (love me a mezcal margarita) and soak up the convivial scene. On a dinner stop last month, the restaurant’s sound track was live, courtesy of some young musicians performing for a fundraiser in the cozy dining room, which formerly housed Sabor Latino.
The storefront’s name translates from Spanish to “right now,” which is my directive to bargain hunters: Check it out, pronto.
Servers should know it’s impolite to clear plates until everyone at the table is finished eating. How can we remind them of that?
Plate snatchers might be side-stepping etiquette rules at the prompt of their managers, since restaurants need to turn tables to turn a profit. Even so, clearing plates while others are eating can make slow eaters feel rushed. (A good host can control that by matching their pace.)
Diners can signal a pause in their meal by crossing their knife and fork on the plate. When they’re done eating for good, they can lay the utensils side by side, set in the 4 o’clock position.
Not every server knows the code, though, so it’s fine to announce your situation and remove any guesswork: “I’m set, thank you,” works just fine.
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