Ian M.
Yelp
I was glad to enter Barrel & Crow. I had walked from the Metro, Bethesda Station, and that was about a half mile, in heat that likely will only worsen and humidity already at the maximum. My wife was meeting me. The server offered outdoor seating, and I said no thanks. (I understand A/C is contributing to climate change, and I am judicious at my apartment. But however parsimonious and aspirational about one's carbon footprint, it is a relief to be out of the DC area summer weather.)
We are in the area often. My elderly father lives on his own. We have to check on him. The place we stay is one subway stop away. So we have been checking out the restaurants in the vicinity. The dining scene has improved since we resided in NW DC (we left in 2010). Tom Sietsema, the longtime reviewer for the Post (now retired, and the Post not what it once was, of Woodward & Bernstein doggedness and ethics), was especially enthusiastic about this establishment.
I am confident we will return. I'd like to try the crab beignets, the fried green tomatoes, and the gnocchi, none of would have been ideal under the circumstances (too hot, too heavy).
Sietsma explained the name: it "borrows from an Old English expression, cock-a-hoop, which, according to his online research, could mean 'stand on the barrel and crow with exaltation.'" He added, "For sure, Bethesda's latest dining destination is something to crow about." I had asked our server about the name. She knew it was literary. Before my wife showed up, I chatted with the solo diner seated two tables down (it was empty between us). We shared a hometown, which I inferred from his t-shirt. It's good to interact with strangers positively. That is all the more so in this fractious environment we inhabit, a self-conscious period of human history, fraught, fearful.
To be able to relax is important. This place allowed us to do so. Their beverage list is extensive. We had a Gruner Veltliner, a white wine that is crisp and minerally, perfect to cut the temperature and stave off perspiration. We did not order too much. We were leaving town the next day.
My wife had the chicken sandwich. It was grilled, with a side salad. She said the sandwich was the best of that type she has ever had. She has been eating quite a few, too, because her doctor advised her to stop being vegetarian due to the need for more protein than she was consuming, and the only animal protein she is willing to eat is chicken. We saved half the sandwich for my father. She gave me half the salad. I was impressed, positively (someone I work with was surprised it is proper to say impressed, referring to negatively so). It was simple, lightly dressed But what is deserving of praise is how fresh the lettuces were, among the most firm leaves I have had. I had the special, a seafood pasta. It was fine, good enough that I would not complain and would like to return to sample other dishes. It had mussels, calamari, and shrimp.
The aforementioned server was attentive. She was good. We tipped well. She made a minor mistake, but it was comic: she put too much ice in the bucket (the chiller was too slender to be called a bucket, for that matter), and the bottle of wine protruded; there was a moment when she inserted it, and we all looked, and I'd bet everyone thought to themselves, well, that's too much ice -- it is not a criticism; I note it simply to bring to mind the funny image.