Urbana

Our evening at Urbana was certainly memorable. While the hidden underground dining room (part of the Hotel Palomar off Dupont Circle), the good food, and the 30% off from Savored were very nice, what will stand out in our memory when we think of Urbana is the very interesting woman who was dining at the table next to us.

I don't know how else to say this. The lady had ginormous fake breasts covered by a very tiny red dress. This woman looked so completely out of place in DC that every single staff member and every single guest walked by her table (next to our table) at least once during our meal to gawk. This woman makes Ice-T's wife Coco look demure. So, while the comedy of watching people trip over themselves to get a look at our dining neighbor sticks in our head, I don't want to let the boobs overshadow the food....

I really enjoyed the arancini (risotto balls) served in a bath of cheesy fondue. B said he liked them more than Taylor Gourmet's risotto balls! That's blasphemy to me, but they were pretty yummy.

The carrot soup was surprisingly complex and delicious. Carrot soup isn't something B would normally order, but our waitress (taking a break from giggling at the giant boobs) highly recommended it. We do too.

To take advantage of Urbana's wood oven, we ordered salsiccia pizza with sopressata, onions, artichokes, and italian sausage (hold the olives, thank you). We liked the pizza but it doesn't stand out in DC's crowded pizza scene.

What stood out (even further than the giant boobs) was the house-made egg pasta with an "intensely spicy" blue crab ragout, chili threads, and marjoram. While we might debate the intensely spicy label, there is no debating that this dish packed a flavor punch. This pasta was a winner.

Very much enjoying our evening of people watching, we wanted to linger over dessert. The waitress promised that they make their own fantastic gelato. She was right again. The coconut, pistachio, and chocolate gelato plate rocketed us straight back to Italy.

While the boobs are why we'll remember Urbana, the food was good enough to merit a return trip. I can't wait to find out what interesting people we'll see next!

Second Thoughts from B

The 13 year old boy in me is itching to come out. J just set me up to talk about boobs and balls (risotto, of course). Let's see if I can hold it together and act my age.

Dungeon-like hotel restaurants tend not to be culinary hotspots. But when a place boasts about its homemade pasta and gelato, that's a good start. After all, there are few things I love more than boobs fresh, handmade pasta, and there is nothing that J likes more than balls ice cream. Yikes, that was close. Moving right along...

Let's focus on those risotto balls. What is more blasphemous: that I like Urbana's better than Taylor's or that J likes Taylor's better than anything she tried in Italy (see the evidence here)? In my opinion, the key to a great risotto ball is balance. The whole thing is about contrasting textures, so balance is key. Do I sound like Mr. Miyagi? Speaking of balance, how could that woman balance herself on those crazy high heels while being so top heavy drunk?

Clearly I'm not cut out for the high road here so let me sum up before I get in trouble. The fact that we remember anything about our meal at Urbana is a testament to a kitchen that can be accurately labeled as a hidden gem.