It’s lunch time…so that got me thinking about food! Even your Lord of Petworth gets hungry from time to time.
Being home for the holidays reminded me of something that always annoys me about DC–the lack of a good, basic, delicious “red sauce” Italian joint in the District.
By “red sauce” I mean the kind of Italian restaurant we used to have in Ohio–big heaping mounds of overcooked pasta, a menu that contained no non-English words except “lasagna” and “cannoli,” and everything (even the cannoli) was drowned in thick, sweet, red sauce. Or, as some are known to call it, “red gravy.”
I want no fancy names, no regional specialties, just an honest to goodness basic awesome deliciousness.
I’ve tried at least two dozen places in DC and they are either too fancy, too gourmet, too lame, or just not right. Why is this so elusive?!?
Just got this note from a PoP reader asking for help:
I was commenting and reading the comments in your “most random thing on the sidewalk” post yesterday, and I about SHIT my pants when I read someone’s comment about finding a camera in the snow last year! I lost my camera in the exact spot that this person is talking about! The commenter – “other” – said he/she left the camera at the museum near there, and I want to know what museum it is! Just in case the camera is still there. It had some awesome snow pictures on it that I would love to have back.
Is there any way you can just send my request to the commenter from that post? I would LOVE to find this camera…
Please help if you can!! Thanks!
~Melanie
Well, as you commenters know–the Prince does not require registration nor email addresses (let alone valid email addresses) to comment. (This is why it often appears that “George Bush” “Jesus Christ” and “Superman” frequently comment on posts here.) The aforementioned “Other” is one of those commenters who chose to keep their e-identity to themselves.
So, if you are “Other” write me and I’ll connect you with Melanie.
Yesterday, a reader named Jonathan wrote to let me know about this article concerning some amateur vigilante “superheroes” that were sprouting up in Seattle. Basically, these well-intentioned-but-seriously-unwise folks are lucky to be alive, but their misplaced earnestness got me thinking…
Shouldn’t DC have a superhero?
Sure, you all now have a Lord of Petworth, but I’m talking about a superhero.
I’m not talking about this amateur stuff–I mean the real deal. New York seems to bogart all the well-known characters, but DC has tall building to bound. We have daily newspapers that can offer day jobs to help disguise their identities. We have skyscrapers to sling from (okay we don’t, but still…).
And we definitely have evildoers in need to a hard dose of justice.
So, let’s invent our own.
So tell me. If you could imagine a superhero for DC, what would he/she be called? What superpowers would they possess?
Like most of you, I awoke on Wednesday to a sad revelation: I did not win the Mega Millions jackpot. Being the Lord of Petworth does not pay as well as you might imagine. Even I could use a few hundred million.
But let’s just imagine, for a few moments, that you had won.
What would your first thought be? Taking care of relatives? Feeding the huddled masses? Hell no. You’d be thinking about tax shelters.
Let’s say you were at a meeting with your financial team (being filthy rich, you’d now have a financial team) and they’d come up with a brilliant tax shelter that would let you make a substantial investment in a Washington, DC, neighborhood, as well as protect a good portion of your undeserved new wealth.
The shelter would require you to invest $15-20 million in a neighborhood development project. You would select currently vacant buildings, renovate them, and start businesses in them.
There are some rules:
(1) You must create something where there is currently nothing. You cannot displace a current business or residence. It must be an empty space and new business (or businesses).
(2) It must be a commercially viable for-profit business. No renovating buildings for a youth center, homeless shelter, or senior center.
(3) The business must realistically be self-sufficient and begin turning a profit within five years.
(4) You must make the case that the use of this space will improve the quality of life for the current residents in the neighborhood you invest in (no opening yoga studios hoping that gentrifiers will eventually move to the block).
So, okay moneybags. Your check-writing hand is getting itchy and your financial team needs your decision right now.
Where do the millions go and what do you put there?
Yesterday morning, with great embarrassment, I took down the lights from my front porch.
Why was this such a problem for me? Well, I was raised that one of the New Years Day activities was taking down and packing all the Christmas decorations inside and outside the house. Lights, tree, stockings, inflatable/plastic stuff…all of it.
Of course, this firm family rule was practiced while living next door to the Capawanos, who had a 15-foot wrought iron “NOEL” screwed to the front of their house year-round. (It was their only holiday decoration–odd considering its size and girth, you’d assume it was part of a larger ensemble–and stayed there for the entire 13 years we lived in that neighborhood).
Driving around our fair city at night, I notice that today, January 6th, there are still quite a few decked halls out there.
So what is the appropriate time to dismantle your holiday house flair?
Some might say December 26th. Some might say January 1st. Some may reasonably say tomorrow (the Orthodox observation of Christmas). Others would opt for the first non-miserable weekend day after Christmas. A few outliers might even say MLK Jr Day is the drop dead end date.
Okay, now I’ve had a few hours to get used to the sudden rush of authority and power that comes with being Lord of Petworth–I should take a breath and ask for your ideas.
If you have any suggestions for me for the next few days–things you want to see written about, things you think I should know, or your questions concerning career, family, or matters of the heart–I’m all ears.
You can post a comment or email me at [myfirstname]-dot-[mylastname]-at-gmail-dot-com. If you can’t figure that out, you probably shouldn’t be bothering me anyhow.
When I first saw this post on New Columbia Heights about someone finding a headless rooster on the sidewalk, my first thoughts were:
(a) Ewww.
(b) How noteworthy is finding a dead fowl on the sidewalk?
(c) Gross.
But to sidebar for a moment…
The writers assumption was that the rooster lost its nut as part of a Santeria ritual (which is different than a Sangria ritual, where you would just get drunk with the rooster, then maybe run with a bull together, but definitely no beheading).
This makes sense. I mean, outside of fearing that your neighborhood was suddenly infested by vampire chickens, why else would you cut the head off of a rooster and leave it laying on the sidewalk? (Hey, if they can make a movie about vampire dogs–why not vampire poultry?)
Anyhow…
I’m curious what is the most unusual thing you’ve ever found/come across on a sidewalk? I’m sure you have some great stories on this.
My “most unusual thing on a sidewalk” is actually kinda lame. I am constantly perplexed when I find single shoes on the street–and this happens all the time. How can someone lose a single shoe? Wouldn’t you notice that, like, right away?
I realized how lame this observation was when I once shared it with a friend, who immediately reminded me:
(a) that one time a man defecated on the sidewalk next to me, so I guess what he left behind was a little odd to see on a sidewalk, and
(b) that he himself had once found a prosthetic human leg laying in the middle of a sidewalk.
So tell me–what’s your best story about finding some strange thing on the sidewalk?
Okay, so here is a hypothetical quandary for you to ponder upon.
Let’s say that you are the head of a large science foundation. You have two proposals on your desk for funding. One would develop a technology that would rid the Washington, DC region of all rats and mice. The other proposal would develop a technology to rid the Washington, DC region of all cockroaches and bed bugs.
Times have been tough at your large science foundation–and both these proposals are wildly expensive. Therefore, you can only fund one of them.
Which do you chose? Rodents or insects?
As always, there are some complicating factors…
First, do to a number of complex side effects of both technologies, getting rid of one group might (but is not guaranteed to) increase the strength and number of the other group (in other words, get rid of the rats/mice might increase the number of cockroaches and bed bugs, and vice versa).
Secondly, doing nothing is not an option. Both populations are on the verge of an explosion and inaction won’t cut it. I know you all are accustomed to working in Washington, DC, but we ACTUALLY HAVE TO MAKE A DECISION AND DO SOMETHING (hypothetically, of course).
No hair-splitting, nuanced answers, or clever alternative solutions–one choice: rodents VS bugs. You have to chose one or the other.
I work right near Chinatown and pass through it every day. yet it was years before I really started to notice some of the restaurant names there.
Let me share a few of my favorites.
Eat First Restaurant
Seeing this restaurant name when walking down the street poses a fairly obvious question: “As opposed to what?” What is the restaurant owner suggesting happens “first” at other lesser dining establishments? And how is the “eat first” moniker a competitive advantage? All I can think of is “Eat first and ask questions later,” which isn’t terribly appetizing.
New Big Wong
So when naming this restaurant, the owner didn’t think calling it simply “Big Wong” would be good enough. They probably didn’t feel that packed enough punch. Hard to imagine, but that could be possible. So instead, they decide to call the place the New Big Wong. That’s kind of genius.
Okay, I will admit, when I first moved to DC, this was the first Chinese restaurant I ate at. Why? Because I couldn’t wait to go back to work and have someone ask me where I went for lunch.
Wok-N-Roll
Step back, pun-loving DC Thai restaurants! The proprietors of Wok-N-Roll know a thing about wordplay, too! But what makes this restaurant noteworthy isn’t the name, but the building itself. If you read the tiny marker attached the the remains of the facade, you’ll learn that Wok-N-Roll used to be–about 145 years ago–the home of Mary Surratt. Back then, Mary was one of the conspirators convicted and hung hanged for the assassination of President Lincoln. Today, Mary Surratt is one of the hardest working spooks in DC. I’m not talking the CIA variety, either. Her ghost is rumored to haunt no less than four locations in downtown DC, including this building. So if you see a rather pale woman roaming the tables at Wok-N-Roll, it might be Mary! Scary! If you told spectral Mary that her home was now a restaurant that serves Chinese food, she’d probably reply, “What is Chinese food?”
Mee Wah Lung
Perhaps I’m being too much of a stickler here. But I’m pretty sure having the word “lung” in a restaurant title is a pretty tough marketing challenge. That may explain why it is now out of business.
Asian Spice
Asian Spice is not an unusual name in itself, its actually fairly clear and straight forward. The name would only be a problem if they served, say, Icelandic hot dogs or Hungarian baked goods. There are several dishes on the Asian Spice menu with unusual names. Case in point, the rack of Lamb, aka “Silence of the Lamb.” Plus, $29! They must have to pay some royalties or something.
I can only imagine that there is some Chinese language blog out there somewhere who loves to nail Chinatown’s other business for the translation of the characters they more-than-likely misuse. So I guess we are all even in the end.
Any other restaurant names–from Chinatown or elsewhere–that stick out in your mind as classics?
To some of you, I’m sure this is a lot like waking up one morning to discover that your NPR station has just begun a fund drive. For others, I’m sure that this will be a lot like showing up at school to discover that your favorite teacher has some kind of pox and has been temporarily replaced by a sub.
Here is the cold harsh truth, Popvillians: The Prince of Petworth is not here. I am here instead.
Our mutual friend, the Prince of Petworth, has decided to take his first vacation in years. This is a wise choice. Our Prince deserves a break from all of us every once in awhile. Do not read anything into this; I’m sure he still loves us. But like even the most caring parents, every once in awhile it’s good to send the kids to Grandma’s for the weekend.
During his vacation, the Prince asked me to mind the store for a few days. This is probably an unwise choice. The reason why should become apparent at any moment now. For whatever I do that offends or upsets you, I will just apologize now and be done with it.
When thinking about doing this fill-in stint, my first thought was quite obvious: what do I call myself?
Being a “Prince” of Petworth is a rhetorical home run. It is an optimistic declaration of authority. Being a “Prince” implies more than that someday you will lose your hair and marry some hot chick way better than you deserve. It implies that you are the future. It implies that better days are ahead. Just like many of us see our neighborhoods in DC.
So what is the right term for me? Something that conveys my temporary status and yet also recognizes my sudden intoxicating power?
My first thought: Ambassador of Petworth.
After coming up with this idea, I called the DMV, hoping that my diplomatic status might get me one of those license plates that lets you run red lights and park in the middle of Connecticut Avenue. I was told that Petworth is not, in fact, a sovereign state, so no magic plates.
My second thought: I could be the Lord of Petworth.
Lord is a good title–just ask Jesus. Being a Lord implies lots of power, yet seems to carry no actual responsibility whatsoever. I mean, what does a “lord” do? This has great appeal to me.
So it is done. I am the Lord of Petworth. At least for the next few days, anyhow.
If you have read this far, I assume
(a) you think I am entertaining and can’t stop reading,
(b) you think I am a complete idiot and can’t stop reading,
(c) you haven’t fully woken up yet and don’t yet realize that you can stop reading.
Regardless, let’s end this first post on a positive note.
As my first official act as Lord of Petworth, I will now post a 47-second video of bacon frying. This should please you–unless you are a vegetarian, or an observant Jew, or have an aversion to frying pans.
In that case, the answer to the above question is now firmly “B.”
