My Two Cents About Two Bites

For my first RW experience of January 2007 I accepted an invitation for a girl's night out. The restaurant chosen would not have normally been one which appealed to me; it's not exactly Metro accessible and I had a feeling it would be a very frou frou experience. Frou frou is, of course, a fairly flexible term, so let me define it here in this context: any restaurant wherein the menu is so elaborate as to almost defy comprehension is frou frou; any restaurant wherein the food is served in spectacular ways which make it look more like art than a meal is frou frou; a restaurant that serves half a shrimp on an 8 x 10 plate with a single carrot and calls it your entree is frou frou. So you would not normally have found me at Farrah Olivia in Alexandria. However, I knew that no matter the turnout of the meal, the company would be excellent. Besides- it's RW, right?

The interior of Farrah Olivia is small but tastefully decorated. It is in a corner space, which provides two walls of windows looking over the outskirts of Old Town. Our server proved to be a young man who oscillated throughout the night between pretentious and friendly, but who overall looked out for us; we had one diner who was allergic to shellfish and another allergic to nuts and he diligently made sure that both women had allergen-free meals. He carefully explained what each course was and even stopped by to show us the fun new pen he had just picked up. I suppose in light of all this I can forgive him for responding to my inquiry about the ingredients of "orchard caviar" by telling me quietly that an orchard was where fruit grows. Okay, well, I can almost forgive him.

The menu was, as I expected, outrageously fussy. Numerous items where "foamed" prompting many jokes at the table about feeling as though we were on "Top Chef". Some items where "gelled" or made into liquids (beet liquid anyone?). I found myself puzzling most over the entry "Duck Confit/Monkfish Foie Gras/Warm Teapot Jus". I'm not certain I even want to know.

Then there were the powders and "caviars". At almost every course at least one of the four of us would find that there was a small mound of powder on our sparse plate. The first mound of white powder which accompanied the scallops turned out to be "bacon powder", the red mound with the tuna was "red wine powder". Each powder did, in fact, taste like it's namesake, but after the initial novelty of this wore off, I couldn't help but wonder "what's the point?". The man-made "caviars" turned out to be pureed ingredients encased in little gel capsules that greatly resembled actual caviar except for the color. There was a little pyramid of clear mint "caviar" and the pink orchard "caviar", which was of course, made of fruit. I found the flavors of these items to be fun and intense, but I honestly could have dealt without the strange gummy gel texture of the casings. Once again, I'm not entirely sure what the point was.

As I had predicted, the courses turned out to be very small portions. I began with a bowl of roasted squash soup which was adequate if not exceptional. For my entree I had a piece of pork tenderloin which was as small as my cell-phone, served on a plate with a very yummy chocolate-Merlot sauce and an itty-bitty helping of raisin-apple crumble. The dessert, a narrow strip of french toast served with fresh berries, orchard "caviar" and a decadent vanilla ice-cream, was delicious, and I won't say it was too small lest I be perceived as a glutton. Okay I can't help myself- it was too small!

What little food was presented was exceptional, but I simply do not understand the point of this style of dining. Is it to prove how suave we are that we don't need to eat food? Is it to prove how decadent we are by spending large sums of money for very little food in return? I have the feeling someone is going to say something about the point of this being appreciation for the food, as in "a wonderful meal should be served in small portions so that you may appreciate the craft by savoring it". Yeah, I hear you, really I do, but let me say this: I don't want to spend money on a meal which leaves me craving the drive through at Wendy's after. I would estimate that if it were not RW we could easily have spent $60 per person at Farrah Olivia, and if I had spent $60 and left feeling hungry I would imagine I would have resented the experience.

As it was, we had a lovely night. We laughed too loudly, made inappropriate jokes which earned scandalous glances from other tables, and spent a few minutes trying to figure out if a fellow diner was a transvestite (the consensus said no). In the future, though- I'd rather spend that time having a few glasses of wine in someone's living room than dishing out the dough on such an unsatisfying meal.