Rose's Luxury
Revisiting a favorite D.C. restaurant.
In the Capitol Hill neighborhood of our nation’s capital, there are two restaurants, side by side, with neon signs in their windows. One says Rose’s and the other says Nothing Fancy. You’d be forgiven if you missed the Rose’s sign and walked into the latter thinking it was Rose’s Luxury, or if you thought the name of the restaurant was “Nothing Fancy”; in fact, it’s Pineapple and Pearls, the special-occasion restaurant of my dreams. Chef Aaron Silverman is at the helm of three decorated D.C. restaurants — the two-starred Pineapple and Pearls as well as Rose’s Luxury and Little Pearl, each with one star — and he can pretty much do no wrong as far as I’m concerned. (This is not because he is a Jewish boy from Rockville, MD, like my beloved father, but it does not hurt.) Rose’s, named for his grandmother, was his first restaurant. Having been to two of his three restaurants, I could have used my brief weekend trip to D.C. as an opportunity to try the third, Little Pearl, for the first time. But I harbor a soft spot for Rose’s, and I wanted my fiancé to have the opportunity to experience it.
We walked into Rose’s on a bitterly cold evening, twenty minutes early for our reservation and desperately hoping they could seat us early (we’d already hidden from the wind in two different cocktail bars, and neither our wallets nor our livers wanted to have to find another). We were in luck, and soon we were seated and peering at Rose’s own cocktail menu. Though I neglected to have another drink, my fiancé was pleasantly surprised by a nonalcoholic version of a dirty martini — my favorite drink. Given that a martini is mostly alcohol, he never expected to be able to try one; this one, complete with fennel juice and feta-stuffed olives (second only to blue cheese), was very enjoyable despite the lack of gin or vodka. Kudos to Rose’s for crafting one of the best — and most ambitious — mocktails I’ve ever tried.
Indeed, ambitious is the name of the game at Rose’s. Like its big sister, Pineapple and Pearls, it takes a fundamentally playful attitude to dining. Silverman evidently wants diners to have a unique and special experience, not just a delicious meal, and he is willing to push the envelope in pursuit of that goal. The “five course” menu (one is bread) is tellingly referred to as a “choose your own adventure” experience, so although it’s prix fixe, there are a few options for each course.
The meal started strong with a bread service of freshly baked black truffle madeleines. The sponge was the perfect texture, and the blend of umami and sweet flavors was certainly unlike anything I’ve had before. They could have served it as a bonus dessert — and based on the caviar/ice cream mashups that Silverman has offered as desserts, they might well do so — and no one would bat an eye.
Following this, an amuse bouche appeared: stuffed fried squash blossoms. I have never met one of these I didn’t like, and this simple version — stuffed with cream cheese — might have been my favorite one of all. Similar to a jalapeño popper, the crispy exterior and creamy interior make you completely forget you’re eating a vegetable. Totally indulgent, totally delicious. (The server tipped us off that in the summer, they’re stuffed with Maryland crab as well, for what sounds like a fun twist on a crab Rangoon. I’ll have to return.)
The pork and lychee salad is the only dish that has been on the Rose’s menu for the entire decade they’ve been open, and when you taste it, you’ll know why. My fiancé enjoyed its symphony of textures and flavors that “hit every taste bud at once,” as our server accurately described it. It’s sweet and savory and fresh and cold and hot all at once, and you would never know that seasoned ground pork and juicy lychee belonged in a bowl together until you tried this; to me, that’s the mark of a great dish. Not for nothing, my vegetarian sister enjoyed the version with Impossible sausage just as much. I had the pork and lychee salad on my first visit and loved it, but wanted to give Rose’s the opportunity to impress me with something new. I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to have tuna tartare, especially “tuna tartare stuffed inside an avocado.” And I was glad I did: when it arrived on the table, it was so visually delightful that I would have been envious if I’d seen a picture but not ordered it. Seriously. It was an avocado… but not an avocado. Half an avocado had been hollowed out and then restuffed with finely chopped tuna tartare mixed with passionfruit and crumbled tortilla chips, with all of that topped with guacamole and a crisp that looked like an avocado pit. Even if I hadn’t liked it for the flavor, I would have liked it for its appeal as a trompe l’oeil masterpiece. Luckily, it was good. Was it my favorite tuna tartare? No, but that’s an impossibly tall order. I love passionfruit, and while I appreciated the tropical element it provided (I felt like I was eating chips and guac with a fruity drink somewhere warm), I didn’t love the pairing of the sweetness and the tuna. Still, the presentation of the dish made up for it — and I’m not sure I’ve ever thought that.
Now for my favorite part: the pasta course. At any given time, Rose’s offers multiple creative pastas that you’re unlikely to find at any Italian restaurant. (Show me a delicious pasta dish you can’t get anywhere else and I’ll show you my favorite restaurant.) This time, there were three (one with meat and two vegetarian) and the three of us each ordered a different one, so, to my delight, I got to try them all. My fiancé opted for the lamb ragu manfredi, my sister chose the tteokbokki a la vodka, and I chose the sweet pea calamarati. Although I was torn between the last two, I was hesitant to sacrifice actual pasta for the chewy Korean rice cakes; much as I like them, I like pasta more. (I like pasta more than most things. And most people.) This, o reader, was a grave error; we all agreed that the one my sister chose was far and away the best of the three. (I should have learned not to underestimate tteokbokki-as-pasta from the fantastic “lasagna” at New York’s Japanese-Italian restaurant Kimika, which has sadly gone downhill since the departure of the chef who opened it.) Here, the small marble-like tteokbokki were swimming in a deliciously layered and complex spicy tomato vodka sauce that makes Carbone’s famous dish (which I enjoy!) seem like child’s play. I wished I had a bowl of my own. Though peas are a favorite food dating back to my childhood, I was disappointed in my choice, and not just by comparison; the calamari-shaped pasta was toothsome but the thick, creamy green sauce was too sweet and too minty. The best bites were those topped with feta, and there was not enough of it; the entire dish would have benefited from more of the savory, briny richness that the cheese provided. The lamb manfredi was, similarly, not quite as savory as I like my pastas; the ragu was seasoned with warm spices that made for an interesting flavor profile but didn’t quite hit the mark for either of us.
Like their sister restaurant, where funfetti pancakes appear for celebratory meals and extra courses materialize on what seems like a whim, Rose’s offers a level of service that goes above and beyond and feels personalized even when it’s not. When our server arrived with a surprise pasta course, it felt like a special gift from the kitchen. She explained, probably needlessly, that the strawberry spaghetti was a polarizing dish. Strawberries and spaghetti? Given my adoration of both ingredients, I was immediately excited by this unlikely pairing. “Now you really have something to write about,” my fiancé said. Although this should have been my catnip, I unfortunately fell into the camp that was not a big fan of the dish. I was thrilled I had the experience of trying it, but I found myself wishing that the 50/50 tomato/strawberry sauce was… well, just tomato sauce. The dish represents everything I love about Silverman’s cooking: it’s fun, it’s creative, it pushes the envelope while still remaining in the realm of the familiar. But I didn’t want to eat a bowl of it.
For the final savory course, guests are invited to choose one dish per every two guests; my fiancé and I shared the kalbi style beef ribs, and my sister ordered the only option available to her, which was a billi bi vegetable dish based on the creamy mussel soup. I enjoyed the ribs — they fell off the bone and reminded me of a marinated flank steak, and I wished I could dress all my future salads with the kimchi dressing that topped the greens on the side. But I loved the flavors and preparation of my sister’s dish so much I wish I had ordered the mussels it was based on. Served in what appeared to be a sous vide bag, vegetables, potatoes, and onions swam in a rich, creamy saffron sauce that made you wish more foods had saffron, and was accompanied by a crusty baguette. The mussel version would have been excellent; I’m sure of it.
Finally — and it was nearing eleven at this point — it was time for dessert. We were invited to choose two of the “slightly ridiculously-sized desserts” from the menu, and after some debate we opted for a coconut tres leches cake and a sticky toffee pudding. For our first selection, we would have likely been better off with the one we did not choose, a seemingly kakigori-inspired fruity shaved ice dish; while the cake was strong in the flavor department, we felt that the texture of the sponge was off. It was not moist enough, which is a critique that should never have to be leveled at a milk-soaked dish. The mole negro sticky toffee pudding, on the other hand, was excellent. Despite the Mexican twist, the dense cake didn’t deviate much from the classic British preparation, but that is not a criticism; we devoured it. It was served with a generous helping of horchata ice cream topped with crumbled salted peanuts, and when we finished the cake, we were able to eat the ice cream with spoonfuls of remaining caramel. The result was a sort of Cracker Jack sundae that we all enjoyed. (And if they had called it “sticky toffee pudding with a horchata Cracker Jack sundae,” my fiancé would have never even entertained discussion of ordering something else.)
I may have ordered the wrong savory courses (my sister lucked out in this department, despite having fewer options); I didn’t love the individual dishes as much as I did on my first visit (when the menu was completely different save for the pork and lychee salad). Yet little can diminish my appreciation for Silverman and what he’s trying to achieve. We could see into the open kitchen, where all the cooks wore Hawaiian shirts; this speaks to the playful ethos of the restaurant, which is a strong throughline in the menu. Silverman uses high quality ingredients and fine dining techniques in new ways that surprise and delight. Not every dish bats 100, but more importantly, the Rose’s team is genuinely interested in creating a hospitality experience that is truly special, and in pushing culinary boundaries while still making dishes that appeal to most. Mixing pasta with fruit is simply an example of when that is less successful; preparing Korean rice cakes in the style of an Italian red sauce joint, when it is more so.
TL;DR WHAT WE ATE
Loved: madeleines, fried squash blossoms, pork and lychee salad, avocado tuna tartare, tteokbokki a la vodka, billi bi vegetables, sticky toffee pudding
Liked: beef ribs, lamb manfredi
Could have skipped: strawberry spaghetti, calamarati pasta, tres leches cake
Pricing: $95 pp for a five course prix fixe
You were legally required to order the avocado tuna tartare