Jack Van Paepeghem works at Meridian Pint and is a Certified Cicerone® You can read his previous post about Downright Pilsner here.

Want to drink local? Drink homebrew. Have a novel idea for the next “crazy-beer?” Make your
own homebrew. Want to support local businesses, brewers, and creative minds? Support the DC
homebrew community. This blog is about our community and I think that the homebrew scene
uniquely contributes to and represents a niche yet well-established community within DC. If you
survived DC Beer Week and have been inspired to jump head first into the world of brewing,
read on, for almost all great brewers started out as homebrewers.

What is homebrewing? And who are homebrewers? Homebrewing is the production of beer or other fermented alcoholic beverages within the confines of one’s residence. The annual production limit is 100 gallons of beer per person, the sale of which is prohibited by law. However, this law wasn’t enacted until 1979 when Jimmy Carter repealed the prohibition-era law which completely outlawed homebrewing. Go back further and you’ll find that George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Ben Franklin all had a hand in homebrewing; several mid- Atlantic breweries have worked to recreate some of their historical recipes. Even President Obama now has a White House homebrewed beer. Homebrewing had its renaissance around the late 1970’s especially on the West coast. Author and avid homebrewer Charlie Papazian began circulating his texts on the “Joy of Homebrewing” and breweries like Sierra Nevada made the transition from basement to brick and mortar. Today, homebrewers are lawyers, doctors, teachers, cooks, musicians—our neighbors. The American Homebrew Association estimated that in 2010, there were over 750,000 people domestically brewing beer in the United States. More than likely you know a homebrewer who has pawned off their latest creation on you.

The idea of making beer is simple, but the effort it takes to actually produce a clean, “right” tasting beer depends on an enormous range of factors and variables, and when executed well is humbling and delicious. And when it all goes to hell, it is, well, a learning experience. If you are to take anything out of this, it is this: brewing beer is the best way to learn about beer— process, ingredients, styles, techniques, flavors, off-flavors, and just about everything that has to do with beer. And the homebrew community is an invaluable resource. Ever want to know what off flavors taste like? Just go to a DC Homebrewers meeting and try some beers from beginner brewers. My favorite was an American Wheat ale that tasted like burnt rubber and buttered popcorn which launched a discussion of washing procedures and yeast health. Don’t be alarmed by technical brewing jargon, homebrewers offer only constructive criticism and are more than happy to help you understand, and they won’t bite.

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Eric Nuzum is a PoPville contributor and Petworth resident. You can catch Eric on Wednesday, August 15th for the launch party, reading, and Q&A at Wonderland Ballroom, 1101 Kenyon St NW. You can read the first excerpt here, the second excerpt here, third excerpt here and fourth excerpt here.

Eric writes:

Tonight is my big reading/book party at Wonderland Ballroom for my new book, Giving Up The Ghost . I hope you’ve enjoyed all these excerpts we’ve posted.

For today’s final installment, I wanted to share my favorite story from the book. It was my first ghost-hunting adventure–a trip to Clinton Road in rural New Jersey. It’s ground zero for ghosts and a lot of other bizarre and kooky nonsense.

Clinton Road

“Where are the ghosts, Eric?”

“We aren’t looking for ghosts right now, Curry. We’re looking for mutant wild animals.”

Pause.

“Where are the mutant wild animals, Eric?”

Neither my friends Curry and Joe nor I honestly expect to find any mutant wild animals. But you never know. It only takes one tale to be true for us to end up shredded, eaten, or running for our lives.

In 1972 Warner Brothers decided to break in to the theme-park business by opening Jungle Habitat, a combo zoo, drive-through safari, and entertainment complex located in rural Passaic County, just outside of West Milford, New Jersey. It was once home to more than fifteen hundred animals, including lions, giraffes, rhinoceroses, tigers, camels, monkeys, and even a few dolphins. Almost from the beginning, things started going terribly wrong. Within its first month of operation, an Israeli tourist was mauled to death by two lions. A woman was grabbed and bitten by a baby elephant. Rhinoceroses slammed into automobiles. Animals began preying on other animals in front of carloads of children. Tons of animal waste started to leak into the town’s water supply. Several creatures escaped into the surrounding communities.

After operating Jungle Habitat for four years, Warner Brothers had had enough. Ticket sales were down and the problems inherent with combining humans and wild animals in a contained area weren’t getting any better. So they came up with what they thought was a perfect solution: Make it even bigger. They wanted to add roller-coasters, a log flume, a merry-go-round, and other rides to make it more like a traditional amusement park. The township residents were tired of dealing with Jungle Habitat and voted down the expansion. Warner Brothers took that as its cue and finally shut things down for good.

That’s when the rumors started.

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Eric Nuzum is a PoPville contributor and Petworth resident. You can catch Eric on Wednesday, August 15th for the launch party, reading, and Q&A at Wonderland Ballroom, 1101 Kenyon St NW. You can read the first excerpt here, the second excerpt here and the third excerpt here.

Eric writes:

Giving Up The Ghost contains both memoir elements and some reporting as well. Specifically, my attempts to find and document ghosts.

As a result, it’s kind of a funky, weird, and awesome place. Everyone, and I mean everyone, believes they can see and hear ghosts…all day, every day. They have several services a day for residents and those visiting. Here are some examples of what happens at them.

“Okay, our first person to serve spirit tonight is Brenda Hawkins, a registered medium here in Lily Dale. Brenda?”

Brenda thanks George for letting her serve spirit that evening, says a brief silent prayer, and surveys the assembled crowd.

Then she points right at me. It feels like winning the lottery the first time I buy a ticket.

“Sir, may I approach you, please?”

“Sure,” I say.

“A little louder, please?”

“Sure, yes,” I call out. “Absolutely.”

“I’m sensing a spirit . . . a maternal spirit, please . . . perhaps a mother or grandmother. Is your grandmother on your mother’s side in spirit, please?”

Assuming that “in spirit” is a euphemism for “dead,” I guess she is referring to Bobalu. I reply, “Yes.”

“Okay, that’s it,” Brenda says. “Tell me, please, was she a little round in the bottom?”

Now, how am I supposed to answer that? Bobalu wasn’t really overweight, but she wasn’t rail thin, either. Imagine how pissed off Bobalu would be if she traveled back from Grandma Heaven to deliver a message to her oldest grandchild, just to arrive as he says, “Oh yeah, she had a huge ass!”

I just shrug and say nothing.

“That’s okay,” Brenda says. “I feel the spirit that is reaching out to you is definitely Grandma.”

Brenda pauses.

“She wants to surround you with light and love right now and let you know that she watches over you and is proud of you,” she resumes. “She knows that you have a job that is difficult and demanding, and she is proud that you do this work. That . . . that is mostly it . . . she just wants you to know that she misses you and knows how much you loved her. She wants to leave you with blessings . . . oh. There is one more thing, please.”

I nod, then catch George’s glance and remember to say “Yes” out loud.

“Grandma wasn’t much of a car person, was she, please?” Brenda asks.

“No,” I reply. Outside of smoking in them and driving them to the grocery store, my grandmother had no particular connection with cars.

“Well,” Brenda says with a slight chuckle. “Your grandmother wants you to check your tire pressure over the coming weeks, please.”

“My tire pressure?”

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Eric Nuzum is a PoPville contributor and Petworth resident. You can catch Eric on Wednesday, August 15th for the launch party, reading, and Q&A at Wonderland Ballroom, 1101 Kenyon St NW. You can read the first excerpt here and the second excerpt here.

Eric writes:

So my new book, Giving Up The Ghost, is about being an outcast dorkified teen who just happened to be haunted by a ghost. Then the ghost went away, then my best friend became a ghost herself. When viewing the excerpt below, it wouldn’t surprise me if you asked: “What the hell does KISS have to do with ghosts?”

Pul-ease.

KISS Junior

Kiss was the soundtrack to my life. Even though they sold millions of records, I kinda felt like they belonged to me exclusively. It may have been that not many other kids at my school had discovered Kiss, or perhaps it was because they seemed so excitingly foreign to the rest of the world I’d experienced so far, but it almost felt as if they had existed in obscurity until I became a fan—an obsessed fan. By that time, I already listened to a lot of pop music, but Kiss was different. Kiss was weird. I was weird. In my mind, we were a perfect match.

While I longed to play electric guitar or bass, my parents had decided that piano lessons were a better option. After practicing “Für Elise” for the nine thousandth time, I would peck out the melody lines of Kiss songs. Eventually, I came to see my keyboard skills as a potential asset. If, someday, Kiss decided to add a piano player, I would be ready to step in. I even had a character/persona picked out. I could be “the Viper” and stand behind my piano with a costume and makeup to morph me into something vaguely snakelike, in a Kiss kind of way. I had notebook pages filled with potential costume and makeup designs, complete with plans for how we could outfit our family’s baby grand piano with rhinestones, reptile-like leather demon heads, and claws (even though vipers don’t have claws). I also had a character/instrument-related gimmick ready to go. At the appropriate point in the song, I could press a button with my seven-inch leather heels and the top would explode off my piano in a mushroom cloud of smoke and fire, revealing a large mechanical snake. The viper would continue to rise up and up out of the piano, revealing itself, to the crowd’s amazement and cheers. Then, when it came time for my Big Piano Solo, I would drop a little “Für Elise” into the middle of “Hotter Than Hell” and blow people’s minds.

Kiss was something that adults hated, which was fantastic. But the real attraction to me was freedom. People expected Kiss to be outlandish, so they could pretty much get away with anything they wanted to do, say, and wear—as long as it was over-the-top. It would never be odd if Kiss wore black tights and codpieces—it would be odd if they didn’t. To a young boy just about to enter his teens, who was already beginning to feel like an outcast because of what he did, wore, and said, the idea that people would accept this kind of behavior, let alone encourage it, was an absolute magnet.

Along with a few other kids who drew Kiss-related art in notebooks and on our blue jeans, I decided to create the ultimate tribute to my heroes: a band.

After a significant amount of debate, we eventually decided on a name: Kiss Junior.

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Eric Nuzum is a PoPville contributor and Petworth resident. You can catch Eric on Wednesday, August 15th for the launch party, reading, and Q&A at Wonderland Ballroom, 1101 Kenyon St NW. You can read the first excerpt here.

Eric writes:

Giving Up The Ghost likes to pretend it is a book about ghosts (and there are tons of ghosts in it), but it’s actually about friendships. One in particular. A young woman who went from acquaintance to best friend to crush to source of endless frustration to…eventually, becoming a ghost herself.

“Why Don’t We Go Someplace You Want To Go?”

“Hey,” announced a girl’s voice.
I had no idea who it was.
“It’s me.”
Still clueless.
“I just got back last week, and we were wondering what you were doing.”
“Oh . . . I’m just . . . umm,” I answered.
“You don’t know who I am, do you?”
“Sure I do,” I lied.
“It’s Laura,” she said.
“Laura,” I replied, as if saying the word out loud would pluck the connection out of the haze for me.
“Laura Patterson,” she said, getting a little testy. “Did you even know I was gone?”
“Sure I did,” I said, telling the truth this time. I knew she had been on some exchange program to some foreign country and had been gone the whole school year.

I had met Laura in junior high, where she was a year behind me. At the time, she was “going with” my friend Timmy. Outside of note passing and the occasional tight-lipped kiss after school events, “going together” in seventh grade was pretty meaningless. You couldn’t drive, had nowhere to go, and either weren’t allowed or couldn’t afford to do anything. It was kinda like being an old married couple, except you could control your bowels and stay awake past 8 p.m.

Even with these limited expectations, Timmy wasn’t really up to the task. He even had me break up with Laura on his behalf.

We ended up at the same high school and exchanged occasional hallway greetings, which sometimes had a tendency to linger for a bit. We’d catch each other’s glance at pep rallies or assemblies. Laura and I had study hall at the same time. By this time Laura had grown into the perfect little fresh-faced A student. She wore cute sweaters, Docksiders, and peg-legged jeans.

After we started talking at study hall, I was surprised at how witty she was. Previously, she’d come across as quiet, almost painfully shy. But the more time I spent around her, the more brightness emerged. She was funnier than me (not a high mark, but I was still impressed), she was way smarter (again, not a tough standard), she knew more about music and books than I did (which really got to me), and she had a comeback for every smart remark I volleyed in her direction. Eventually we were sitting together every day and talking about everything: politics, religion, the twisted imbecile logic of people, whatever.

I never seriously thought of her as anyone I would date or see outside of school; she was just someone fun to pass time with. The summer after her sophomore year she left to spend her junior year abroad, and since I knew I’d graduate before she got back, I figured that was the end of it. There are times when injecting even the smallest amount of separation into a friendship makes reconnecting uncomfortable.

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Eric Nuzum is a PoPville contributor and Petworth resident. You can catch Eric at Politics and Prose tonight at 7pm (5015 Connecticut Ave, NW.) More about Giving Up The Ghost here.

Eric says:

When writing Giving Up The Ghost I had just moved to Petworth, signed a contract to write a book about my fear of ghosts, and had absolutely no clue where to start. I mean, how do you approach telling the story of your life? Where do you start? After spending some time being terrified by what I was taking on, I sat down at my computer one night and wrote the following in one take. I wrote it first, even though it appears to have nothing to do with ghosts. But it does.

For many drafts, it sat about in the middle of the book, where it happens chronologically. But my editor convinced me that the book should open with this story, so it does.

Beer Golf

There are many ghost stories. Here’s one.

One night in June 1984, I took a girl from my high school named Laura Patterson to meet my friend Jimmy at a local miniature-golf course, the Putt-O-Links.

Putt-O-Links was located at the end of a long strip of abandoned industrial buildings outside of Canton, Ohio. Canton was once a blue-collar Mecca devoted to making vacuum cleaners, ball bearings, and steel. During the 1980s, Canton, like the entire Midwest Rust Belt, was in absolute denial that its way of life was dying right before its eyes. I don’t think globalization was even a word then, but places like Canton were already experiencing it firsthand.

Each spring the world around Putt-O-Links got smaller and smaller. One by one the nearby factories closed. Next, the car dealerships down the street moved. After that, the diner closed. Eventually, the Putt-O-Links and the ice cream stand next door were the only signs of life for half a mile in any direction. Then, that spring, the Putt-O-Links didn’t open either. Neither did the ice cream stand. There were no going out of business or thanks for thirty great years signs, just tall weeds and a fallen rusty chain that had once closed off the parking lot. It looked almost as if the owners had just forgotten that summer was coming and it was time to open again.

My friend Jimmy didn’t let Putt-O-Links’s change of fortune slow him down; he still went golfing there at least three times a week just like he had every summer. Every time I was with him, highlights of his mini-golf exploits were always part of the conversation. Jimmy and I had gone to school together for six years but were never really tight until our senior year, when it became increasingly apparent that we were both going to be “Left Behinds.” Left Behinds were those kids who weren’t visiting many college campuses or filling out a lot of admission applications. It just seemed like a waste of time. It was obvious that we weren’t going anywhere. Jimmy and I bonded because we both knew that when all our other friends left for school that fall, we’d be pretty much all we had left.

It was almost dark by the time we got to Putt-O-Links.

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Claire writes the delicious food blog Sel et Sucre and is gonna share a bit of her magic with PoPville.

base: pineapple, secondary: ginger, citrus: lime, sweetener: simple syrup

I already post recipes on Sel et Sucre so here I’m going to focus on giving you formulas instead of recipes.  What’s the difference?  Recipes lay out exactly what to do for one particular version of one particular dish.  Formulas, on the other hand, explain the general underlying principles and patterns so that you can easily come up with your own recipes.  I like formulas; they’re what turn cooking from a chore into an enjoyable experience.

In honor of the recent heatwaves, I’m going to write a little about agua frescas.  The perfect refreshment on these blazingly hot days.  Often strangely neon in color, these “fresh waters” are essentially diluted juices, with enough sweet and tart flavor to keep you wanting more.  As someone with a compulsive need to provide guests with sustenance as soon as they step in the door (an inherited trait – thanks, Dad!), I love having a pitcher of agua fresca around.  Handing a guest a glass (or jar, as it often goes in my house) filled with this magical elixir on a hot summer afternoon is sure to elicit praise and thanks.

base: Thai basil, secondary + citrus: lime, sweetener: simple syrup

So, let’s get on with it – what’s the formula?

First, start with a base flavor, usually fruit, such as pineapple, melon, or cucumber (yes, cucumbers are a fruit).  Less commonly used but still okay fruits include strawberries and peaches.  I wouldn’t recommend using bananas (instead, slice and freeze those, and create another favorite of mine – which I call a “banana milkshake” – by blending with milk, honey, and cinnamon) or tomatoes (although, like cucumbers, they are technically a fruit).

Next, pick a secondary flavor, usually herbs or spices.  I like to use whichever herb is reaching critical capacity in my garden.  Basil, mint, and rosemary are great options.  Ginger is also really good, or you can even toss in a chili pepper.

Then, add a little citrus.  Preferably fresh-squeezed (and tossing in a little zest won’t hurt).  I typically go with lime, but lemon is also a good option.  Orange juice often works, but be careful – sweeter base flavors really need the tartness of lemon or lime to balance them.

Last, choose a sweetener.  I most frequently use simple syrup (stir together equal parts sugar and water over low heat in a saucepan until dissolved), but plain sugar, honey, or agave syrup should all also work.

Now that you have all your ingredients, use a blender or immersion blender (one of my favorite kitchen tools) to puree until smooth.  You may need an extra couple splashes of water in order to blend.  Don’t forget one of the most important steps – taste it!  Then, adjust your ingredients and re-blend as needed, keeping in mind that you want a strong flavor here as you will be diluting it down the line.

Take the resulting mash, and strain through a cheesecloth-lined strainer.  This is what makes the resulting drink a refreshing, hydrating agua fresca instead of a smoothie.

You can store this concentrated syrup in the refrigerator for a week or two until ready to use.  When you’re ready for a nice drink, mix with still or sparkling water (usually you’ll want about twice as much water as syrup, but it’s easy to adjust to taste), and serve!

You don’t have to follow this formula to a tee.  Feel free to use a herb as your base flavor, omit the sweetener for a healthier version (works especially well with sweeter fruits like strawberries), or otherwise adapt this formula as you see fit.  I have a Thai basil lime agua fresca recipe posted on my site, for example, that uses Thai basil as the base flavor and a hefty amount of lime as both the secondary flavor and citrus.  Don’t be afraid to get creative!  Soon you’ll be ready for the next heatwave.

Streets of Washington, written by John DeFerrari, covers some of DC’s most interesting buildings and history. John is also the author of Lost Washington DC.

Of Washington’s great hotels, the Willard is one of the most celebrated and easily recognized. Many people know that President Lincoln stayed at Willard’s before he was inaugurated in 1861. Others believe (incorrectly) that the word “lobbyist” was coined to refer to promoters of various causes who hung around the Willard’s lobby, hoping to buttonhole President Ulysses S. Grant for favors. But fewer realize how many incarnations the old hotel has had, that it began life as a rather mediocre hostelry, or that many of the famous events in its history occurred in a very different, earlier building.

Early view of Pennsylvania Avenue with the City Hotel on the right (Source: Library of Congress).

There has been a hotel on the northwest corner of 14th Street and Pennsylvania Avenue, NW, since 1818, almost three decades before the Willard brothers showed up to take over its operations. The prominent early Washington landowner, John Tayloe (1770-1828), whose elegant Octagon House is one of Washington’s great mansions, acquired this property and built a row of six townhouses here as an investment in 1816, renting out the corner building to be used as a hotel two years later.

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Then and Now by the House History Man is a series by Paul K. Williams. Paul has been researching house histories in DC since 1995, having completed more than 1,500 to date. Read Paul’s previous post here.

Many people can’t imagine Cleveland Park without its leafy canopy of trees, but the reality is that it was developed in the early 1900s just a suburban tract is today; trees clear cut for the most part, and the new homes surrounded by young saplings and little else. This 1904 view of Newark Street, NW from the Moore & Hill Real Estate brochure shows what the original residents would have seen when they moved in. The Tudor house on the right at 2941 Newark was built at a cost of $8,000 by the Cleveland Park Company in 1898 and was designed by Robert Head. Behind it is 2945 Newark, which was built by John Sherman in 1902-1903 at a cost of $5,500.

Today one can barely see some houses from the street, and mature trees provide privacy between each house. This photograph from 2002 from the same front yard illustrates the change during the last 100 years, from open yards to a lush treed setting.

(Photographs from Washington Then & Now by Paul K. Williams and T. Luke Young (Arcadia, 2002). Contemporary photograph by T. Luke Young)

Elena Chiriboga is journalism master’s student at Georgetown University

“Homebrewing was made legal in United States under the presidency of Jimmy Carter during the late 1970s. Since then, homebrewing has become a popular hobby in urban communities, giving way to small breweries, craft beer and a DIY movement. This video offers a glimpse of the growing Washington D.C. beer and homebrew scene. Featuring interviews from Mike Tonsmeire, Nathan Zeender and Thor Cheston.”

Ed. Note: The recently opened 3 Stars Brewing has a homebrew store at 6400 Chillum Place, NW open Thurs. 4-8; Fri. 3-8; and Sat. 10am-6pm.

Streets of Washington, written by John DeFerrari, covers some of DC’s most interesting buildings and history. John is also the author of Lost Washington DC.

When traveling to Washington in the early 1900s—by train, of course—you would have arrived either at the Baltimore & Ohio Station on Capitol Hill or at the Baltimore & Potomac Station on the western end of the Mall, where the National Gallery of Art now stands. Stumbling out of that station, in desperate need of lodgings, you would have to travel a block north to Pennsylvania Avenue to get to the famous National Hotel across the wide street on the right or the nearly-as-famous Metropolitan Hotel down the block to the left. But if you didn’t want to lug your bags that far, you could choose the St. James, immediately to your right, on the southeast corner of Sixth Street and Pennsylvania.

The St. James was never quite as prominent as its rival neighbors, although it strove for its own brand of distinction and capitalized on its strategic location. It was opened as Bunker’s Avenue Hotel by George W. Bunker (1834-1889) shortly after the Civil War. Bunker, a native of New Hampshire, had been a manager at the National Hotel for six years and had also worked at the Seaton House hotel, a block to the west. John Wilkes Booth stayed at the National in April 1865, and during the court inquiry into the assassination of President Lincoln, Bunker testified about Booth’s comings and goings, which he had observed.

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Streets of Washington covers some of DC’s most interesting buildings and history and is written by John DeFerrari. John is also the author of Lost Washington DC.

The reputation of DC’s charmingly-named Swampoodle neighborhood was for its tough Irish street brawlers. Both the Irish toughs and their swampy ground are now gone, but one immense institution has remained there through it all, the Government Printing Office at H and North Capitol Streets, NW. The printing office—nicknamed “The Swamp” in its early days—has been one of Washington’s most contradictory institutions. Once a grimy factory of hard-working laborers culled largely from the surrounding rough-and-tumble neighborhood, for 150 years it’s also been an elite producer of elegant government documents, including extraordinary hand-bound volumes of the nation’s most precious records.

GPO’s 1903 building (postcard from the author’s collection).

The 1903 GPO building today (photo by the author).

There has always been a recognized need for printing official government documents; the British designated “publick printers” for this purpose in the early colonies. Benjamin Franklin was one, producing official documents for Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, and New Jersey. After independence, the U.S. Congress continued the practice of chartering private companies to do public printing, usually at fixed rates, but as the 19th century progressed and the need for printed documents mushroomed, private companies fortunate enough to be designated as official printers were increasingly accused of fraud and corruption. Congress put an end to all that by passing a law establishing the Government Printing Office in 1861. It would be a completely government-operated facility, and its chief would carry the title of Public Printer.

To outfit the new GPO, the government purchased the printing office that Cornelius Wendell (1811-1870) had built in 1857 at the corner of H and North Capitol. Wendell had been an official printer, and most of the government’s printing work was already taking place at this site, one of the largest and most complete printing plants in the country.

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Read Kevin’s previous post here.

Now that the hard work is done, it is time to focus on the finishing touches. Ever since I decided to finish the basement this spring, I would spend time in the basement trying to imagine what the finished product would look and feel like. What were the little touches that would separate it from every other quick and dirty finish job, instead making it a space that could be a sanctuary, somewhere I could be proud to host a poker night or Super Bowl party. All of that comes down to those little touches that make a space become a room.

The easy decisions were with the base boards. I want to do my best to match the rest of the house in elegance, but the trim in the rest of the house is more than six and a half inches tall, and in the basement where ceilings are seven feet or less, that would be too visually distracting. So for the carpeted area I went with 1×4 boards with a half inch OG molding on top, and for where the hardwood area the same 1×4 and OG with shoe molding. For all the baseboards I went with clear pine, which is pine without knots. And I choose to match the built in cabinet in color and used a natural cherry stain, and a matte finish clear coat.

To try and make the basement feel like a part of the rest of the house, when I was doing the staining I tried to not be perfect. No big mess ups, but just enough imperfections to give the wood a weathered and slightly aged look. I did this by brushing the stain on a little thicker, letting it start to dry for about 10 minutes, and then brushing it down a little more to smooth it out, but not so much that it looked crisp.

Another neat finishing touch was the window treatments. Because they are basement windows they have very deep sills, and since the brick work wasn’t the best, we decided to make 12 inch deep shadow boxes, this time using birch. Birch has a similar grain to pine, so it will match the rest of the room, but it is more durable and better suited to be near the temperature fluctuations of windows. There were originally two windows on the front wall of the house, but one was under the front porch, so we bricked that up, but kept the window space to turn it into another shadow box for balance. Near the middle of the room at the support beam, we had to build the wall thicker because the beam was thick and crooked, but it gave us the opportunity to build another shadow box that is only five inches deep, but helps balance the room. All of these were stained cherry like the trim.

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Read Kevin’s previous post here.

We officially started finishing the basement! After thinking and planning for more than three years, it is exciting to see things start to come together. Framing and electrical started on Friday, and my father and our contractor friend Ron got all of the exterior walls framed, all the rough wiring run and hooked up all 15 recessed lights. Because the ceilings are only seven feet in the basement, and the AC duct lines run through the middle of the room, there was some interesting soffit work done, but we were able to maximize every space possible. I left the common wall on the side with the stairs as exposed brick, which saves on materials, and I love exposed brick.

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Then and Now by the House History Man is a new series by Paul K. Williams. Paul has been researching house histories in DC since 1995, having completed more than 1,500 to date. Read Paul’s previous post here.

The Yenching Palace was once located at 3524 Connecticut Avenue, NW and had been a fixture in the neighborhood since the 1950s. Its backward “Y” on the popular neon sign confused many a passerby.

It was the covert meeting place between ABC newsman John Scali and Aleksander Fomin of the Soviet Union during the 1962 Cuban missile crises, emissaries representing President John F. Kennedy and Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev.

The restaurant was built as two separate buildings in 1925 and 1928, which merged in 1945 to form the Seafare Restaurant, seen here on a 1950s era postcard (author).

Yenching Palace was opened in 1955 by Van Lung, the son of Chinese warlord Lung Yun. Lung died in 1991, and the restaurant was purchased by his nephew, Larry Lung. Over the years, celebrities, musicians, and politicians dined at the popular eatery. Just a few names included Mick Jagger, Henry Kissinger, Ann Landers, Jason Robards, Art Garfunkel, Alexander Haig, Lesley Stahl, Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein.

The restaurant was also the site of a press conference in the 1970s, when the arrival of the two giant pandas marked a new relationship with China. Lung closed the restaurant – to the dismay of many regulars – in 2007 when he leased the building to a Walgreens –the first Walgreens to locate in Washington, in fact. The company recreated the façade to its 1945 appearance.

Yenching Palace pictures by the author.