Let me begin by saying this – I love french cuisine. Not botched croissants, bacon quiche or poutine goop (unless they’re over fries… or a hot dog). I mean aspic, boudin noir and belons. In fact, if macarons were boys, I’d date only the French ones and snub their sticky American cousins. At the same time, I trip swoon over anything topped with shaved perigord truffles and could put away a handful of escargot without hesitation… even if you remind me they’re really just snails tossed in hot herbed butter. Although.. who doesn’t like anything tossed in hot butter?
So when I stopped by Bistro Cacao for the very first time with an old high school friend, we were both very excited. Frances had brushed up on her high school French earlier that day, determined to order her dinner with perfect trills and impeccable articulation. I, on the other hand, having only eaten a handful of almonds for lunch was more determined to finish every course and to leave nothing behind.
Needless to say, we were both wearing our rose-colored glasses, ready to love Bistro Cacao with open arms.
“This place is so charming!” Frances whispered as our host led us through two dark corridors and three dining rooms to a quiet red room that featured a glowing bay window.
“Frances…Why are you whispering?”
“Because it’s so nice!” she whispered again, wiggling out of her pea coat.
Edith Piaf hummed softly in the background as I sat back in the pillows of my sofa chair and observed the room. At first glance, the atmosphere was warm, comfortable and charming with individual lamps at every table and curtains that hung low, shading single tables that hugged the walls. It wasn’t until our server arrived when the lovely rosiness began to dissipate.
{ Bistro Cacao in the evening | Cantaloupe & Calamari Salad | Escargot }
After ordering myself a glass of shiraz and a chardonnay for Frances, we sat back and took sips from our wine as we contemplated what to have for dinner. Well, I contemplated. Frances recited French conjugations underneath her breath.
“She’s going to start off with the cantaloupe salad, and I’ll have the escargot” I told our server, “and for entrees, I’ll have the buffalo tenderloin. Frances?”
Frances looked up, and in perfect, melodic French words said “Espadon equatorien, s’il vous plait.”
I smiled. Our server on the other hand, seemingly annoyed, paused and waited for her to explain. Did he even know what she was talking about?
“Oh… the swordfish, please” Frances explained, pointing to the seafood section on the menu. He leaned towards the menu and jotted our orders down, leaving without a word.
“Well that was awkward… sorry about that Frances” I apologized, taking a long sip of shiraz before glancing over my shoulder to an outlet that sat inches from my head. What an odd place to have an outlet, I thought. The lamps at each table were plugged into outlets that stared at you head-level. Upon noticing this, I examined Frances’s side of the wall and noticed something odd about the the wall paper. It was curling and coming undone.
“What a shame…” she said, flicking the loose triangle of paper that stuck out from the wall.
Our starters arrived and Frances loved her salad. We didn’t leave a single bit of it behind, but I wished our server had at least come back to ask how everything was so I could bother him for another baguette to soak up the herbed butter left behind on my finished plate of escargot. No luck though, and a little part of me died when that hot plate of herbed butter was taken away to be disposed of. With no one to enjoy all its garlicky goodness. I was so hungry, I nearly ate half of Frances’s salad before she could even get to the best part – the fresh cantaloupe that sat at the base of the salad, which paired perfectly with each smoky bite of charred calamari.
{ Buffalo Beef Tenderloin | Grilled Swordfish }
I winced a little when I saw the zebra stripes of avocado toothpaste coolie they squeezed on top of the swordfish. Why would they do that? I wondered, but Frances seemed to enjoy smearing her fingerling potatoes and roasted artichoke in the extra sauce, so I kept my mouth shut. Still though, I couldn’t help but recall that one time I couldn’t afford (and didn’t know where to buy) a pastry bag in high school and used a ziploc bag with a snipped edge instead to scribble (very messily) ’happy birthday’ on my boyfriend’s birthday cake, only for it to turn out like, well… smeared zebra stripes. I stuck to rainbow sugar letters every year after that.
The beef tenderloin, on the other hand, was elegantly plated. What I was most excited for was the cube of layered potato gratin. The buffalo tenderloin was well-seasoned, but had a curious, gamey aftertaste that, as hungry as I was, didn’t sit right with my tastebuds. I ended up smearing every piece in the pool of sauce around the plate and sprinkled each bite with a touch of salt to cut the troubling aroma.
{ Profiteroles | Creme Brulee Trio }
The dessert at Bistro Cacao is very much worth waiting for. The profiteroles, drizzled in warm chocolate is paired with a creamy scoop of vanilla ice cream, and the creme brulee trio comes in flavors like raspberry, cacao and vanilla. All sweet endings to an otherwise awkward meal.
To sum it up – the food was not bad (though not what I’d expect from a renowned French restaurant), the atmosphere may be coming apart at the seams, but that’s fixable. As for the service – unforgivably awkward and rude, especially since our server verbally asked me how much I intended on tipping at the end of our meal. Yes, you read that right. Though completely offended, I left him a generous tip anyway.
Overall, we did complete our missions. Frances ordered her dinner in perfect French (but had to translate shortly after), and I didn’t leave a single bite behind – but the service was awkward, the atmosphere was out dated and the food said little to make up for it. Bistro Cacao receives a grade of C.
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Tagged as:
bistro cacao,
buffalo,
capitol hill,
creme brulee,
dc,
dining guides,
escargot,
profiteroles,
swordfish
