where to eat in dc | al dente

Italians value food as pleasure and meals as luxurious affairs. During a recent meal at Al Dente, an Italian restaurant from renowned chef Roberto Donna in the Friendship Heights neighborhood of DC, I transcended mortal satiation and entered a kind of food nirvana, blissful and gratified off fresh mozzarella, the rolling names of pasta varieties, dry wine, and coffee-drenched ladyfingers. 

Zander and I started the meal with complimentary fresh bread and olive oil. The bread basket includes white and wheat bread and the star, Al Dente's Italy-certified pizza crust, for dipping. Already impressed, my burgeoning fandom grew in leaps and bounds when handed the wine menu. Attached to the robust wine list was a selection of local Virginia wines from vineyards small and large, ones I've visited and some of which I hadn't yet heard. Even more astounding, nearly every bottle was in the $30-$40 range, an incredibly reasonable price tag with minimal markup. We chose a dry Viognier from Delaplane Cellars. After one glass, I added Delaplane to my list of must-visit wineries.

We opted to start light with a sharable heirloom tomato salad dressed with onions, fresh basil, gorgonzola dressing and balsamic reduction. Unfortunately, our salad never arrived, and once handed our entrees, we opted to skip it. I have no doubt it would have been fresh and delicious, but I'll have to wait for another chance to taste it.

Zander quickly chose the parsley spaghettini entree with soft shell crab, cherry tomatoes, fresh basil, and garlic. The house made pasta came out piping hot, cooked perfectly al dente, and bursting with flavor from the parsley and herbs. I took one bite to try it... and then a second, third, and fourth because I couldn't stop. It was delicious and portioned just large enough to justify the whopping $25.95 cost.

After tasting the charred outside, soft on the inside pizza crust in our bread basket, I needed to taste the whole pizza. I ordered the Salsiccia e Rapini with tomato, smoked mozzarella, pork sausage, broccoli rabe, and garlic. Because I can never resist prosciutto, I added that on ($3). I was stuffed after the first slice, but the fresh cheese and garlic, oh the garlic! kept drawing me back in for more. At $12.95, the pizza is the best deal on the menu and some of the best (if not the best) pizza cooked in the authentic Italian tradition that I've had in DC... or anywhere.

We passively accepted dessert menus, assuming we'd skip it, until our eyes landed on the homemade tiramisu. I can never say no to it. It's a decadent dessert that doesn't rely solely on sugar. It's a balance of bittersweet cocoa and espresso aromas, ladyfingers and a tantalizingly smooth texture. And Al Dente's inimitable, uniquely shaped version, served with a warm chocolate sauce, had me rolling my eyes back with true Italian pleasure.

if you go...

al dente menus

i hear the brunch is particularly good

beware the over-attentive service (a better problem than inattentive service)

there's a free parking garage at night 

where to eat in lincoln, ne | yia yia's pizza and beer

Whenever I get asked the question, "Why'd you go to school in Nebraska?" with that incredulous voice, like he/she is really asking, Did you know that there is factually nothing there but air and corn? I answer, "Yia Yia's pizza, of course."

Okay, I don't do that. But I should start. It's a far better response than the typical one I give - which is something along the lines of, "Well, in late 1985 I was born in Miami, Florida..." and continues on for a millennium. Exaggeration suits me. But I'm not being hyperbolic when I say that Yia Yia's Pizza and Beer is an incredible restaurant and bar in Lincoln, Nebraska.

It's so much of a gem that it'd be a gem even if it were in Washington, DC. I'm envisioning that scene now - the place would be beyond-fire-code packed every day of the week. It's hipster with 375 bottled beers, rotating drafts, and unpretentious billiards in the back. It's hip with vegan and whole wheat pizza crust options. Its space is community building with a narrow, deep bar and limited seating, encouraging you to chat and sip at the bar. And it's so very summer in DC with its outdoor patio seating. It would be an immediate hit in Washington. But let me back up and tell you what it's like where it is - in my college town.

Yia Yia's lives at 14th and O on the main "O Street" strip. When I was at UNL, it sat next to Bricktop, my favorite bar and nightclub. Bricktop hosted an '80s night every Friday; it was the best night of the week. On several occasions, my girlfriends and I grabbed a slice at Yia Yia's before moving next door to Bricktop to dance our feelings and shake off the pizza calories. (Obviously, my hair was in a high side ponytail, my shirt was off the shoulder, and my tights were mad neon pink.)

Yia Yia's does pizza a little differently. You can purchase it by the slice or pie. A slice is $4.50, and you can choose up to 5 toppings, including a wide array of cheeses, vegetables, and meats from around the world. Their whole pies come in set prices, including $15 for a medium, and it's the same deal - you can choose up to 5 toppings. I love that kind of freedom. When I order from most pizza spots, I'm always stuck, taking forever to narrow down the options - wanting both onions and tomatoes but also what about this kind of cheese? Yia Yia's way makes it easy, or maybe I'm just nostalgic?

I remember one time in college ("this one time, at band camp...") -- I went to grab a slice, okay two slices, with my writing mentor. We picked up our slices at the counter and took them to the back. The front half of of the bar has a few tables with parmasan cheese and crushed red pepper shakers on them; it's incognito as a regular old pizza place. Walk into the back, and the place gets darker, and a few pool tables dot the room. There were other nights like that: pool and pizza, beer and pizza, wine and pizza, vodka and cranberry and pizza - but always, good company and pizza.

Yia Yia's uses the best ingredients and makes their dough from scratch. I love their chunky marinara, and the slightly charred crusts. But the real reason Yia Yia's is a gem in Lincoln and would be anywhere in the country, including snobby DC, is because of the stories and memories created every day inside its walls. Going back there with my college girlfriend Pam this weekend reversed time, erased a few gray hairs, and made me feel like the world was huge and a little piece of it is mine and that anything is possible and friendships are forever.

And that's the real reason why I went to college in Nebraska.

giordano's | where to eat in chicago

You know how you shouldn't go grocery shopping when you're hungry? Well, you probably also shouldn't blog about pizza that stole your heart and hid it in a restaurant in Chicago when you're hungry, either. But, alas, life is short... and hopefully plane tickets to Chicago are cheapcheapcheap by the time I finish writing this.

I don't want to say that I'm a pizza snob, or a foodie - pizza version. But those things may be accurate descriptors. Pizza is absolutely, without a doubt, my favorite food on the planet. I used to say that sort of embarrassed and admit immediately after uttering it that I know it's a kindergartener's favorite food, too. I used to think it meant I had a weak, undeveloped palate. But that's just not true. There isn't much that could be more wrong with that sentiment. Pizza, nay, good pizza, has a depth of flavor - basil and garlic and oregano and lightly seasoned tomato sauce that pop, that dance on your tastebuds. The crust can be light and fluffy, or crisped, wood-oven seared, thick, or, in the case of my work trip to Chicago a few months ago, deep dish.

I'm a pizza traditionalist, although, with the world's most adapted food (we're talking corn as a topping in Japan!), is there such a thing? I mean it in the sense that I prefer Neapolitan-style pizza - thin, crispy, with fresh tomatoes, mozzarella and basil in each bite. That said, I'm also a meat-lover so you'll almost always fine pepperoni and sausage on any slice of mine. (I guess I'm not so much of a traditionalist then, am I? But leave off the corn, please.)

I had my mind expanded for the better when I tried Giordano's Famous Chicago Pizza. Sure, I've had deep dish pizza - the gooey, massive servings at District of Pi in DC were a good introduction. But the real Chicago deal made my mouth water just looking at it. As I picked up a piece, mozzarella oozed off, fresh garlic hit my nose, and - the true test of deep dish success - I couldn't eat more than a single piece. I tried for a second. I put my mind to it, and I only got a bite in before admitting defeat.

I read an article recently about how the love of pizza brought a couple together. It was beautifully written. It got me reminiscing about my travels and just how often I've turned to pizza for a taste of comfort and home - and to experience how a local culture interprets the dish. I mentioned the Japanese style with corn - there's also mayonnaise as a topping. In China, going to a Pizza Hut is a reservations-needed event. In South Africa, I washed my cheese-heavy slices down with a Savannah Dry. And in Chicago, I fell in love with deep dish pizza. If you're ever in the area, order a pie from Gioradano's for me, okay?

Hi, my name is Cyndi, and I'm a pizza addict. What's your favorite slice and style? 

travel tuesday | chicago by nightfall

I was in bed last night in my sparkling clean, new apartment (to me) for the first time, and without internet or cable set up, I spent my last sleepy 40 minutes awake editing the handful of photos I took in Chicago last week. I kept stopping myself, wondering why I was doing it. I only spent 48 hours in The Windy City, and 90% of it was indoors, attending a conference for work. Why would I post the few measly shots I managed to get out in the city on the blog? But I kept editing, knowing I was going to write about it anyway. 

I hear from a lot of people that a trip isn't really "travel" unless they have ample time to take in every sight, sound, exhibit, restaurant, etc. It's not a trip worthy of committing to memory unless we have the time to take it all in. I don't think that's true at all. 

I couldn't tell you much about the city of Chicago. I couldn't tell you the must sees and the must dos, or how to get around to different areas of town. I couldn't tell you the best scenic running route, or what it's like to stand inside Wrigley Field. I don't know what exhibits are on display, and I've never seen a play in the theater district. I've never cheered on "da Bears" or eaten one of those famously messy hot dogs they have there. 

But I've seen Chicago from above the clouds. I know what the horizon looks like, with clouds pillowing and folding and bunching and letting loose right before dipping down into the mesmerizing grid of city lights blurred by rushing wind, high rises, and a snow fall that blankets everything white. 

I know the locals are fast moving in a crowd, their heads lowered, knowing like the back of their hands their routes so they never need to look up and feel the full force of winter on their faces. I can spot other tourists, other first timers to the city: we're the only ones looking up, up, up, at the towering buildings - taking in the sharp angles of the city, the perpendicular lines, the neat placement of it all, like Chicago's city planners were an organized bunch. I know so intimately that 15 degrees in Chicago means -3 with wind chill.

Chicago felt draped in an aura of mystery and pulsing energy that I wanted to keep breathing in, keep being a part of. Chicago felt like Gotham City to me -- probably because, as I just learned, some of The Dark Knight was filmed there. Movies make the unfamiliar familiar sometimes.

We don't need a week or 10 days or any number of days we've arbitrarily decided is the "right" amount of time to feel like we've traveled to a new place. Forty-eight hours is a trip. It's travel. 

Where's your next micro-trip?