Komi - Happy Birthday Alex

My birthday started out easy, became extremely frustrating and turned out beautifully.

I woke up on January 10, 2007, showered, went to work, got a banana and an apple and sat down at my desk, all the while unaware it was my birthday. Jon, who arrived moments after I did, wished me a happy birthday and that's when I remembered. I am getting old.

The day was pleasant until around 4 PM, when both of my clients had their systems stop working at once. One had a bug existing for two weeks that was reported but misdiagnosed, so we lost two weeks of data and the other client had server problems and some irregularities in data. Both started screaming bloody murder at me. I scrambled to stick some electronic fingers in the dyke and got out by 6:45. I walked in to Komi at 7:05, and slid into my seat in the window (parents were late per usual) and ordered a glass of pinot noir.

The wine was delicious. Belle & Sebastien's "Dear Catastrophe Waitress" (the LP, not just the track) was playing softly in the background. The tables closest to me held a single business traveler reading the NY Times and a deaf couple signing back and forth. I was happily undisturbed and sat sipping wine and watching the traffic on 17th St, until my parents arrived. The atmosphere at Komi is as informal and easy-going as I can imagine for a restaurant of that quality, and it seperates a meal there from a meal at any of the other top restaurants in the city.

The last two times I've been they've started me off with the same two appetizers. The first is a dish of house-cured olives. They're bright green with the barest layer of olive oil, just enough to hold the sprinkled sea salt. The second course is a mascarpone-stuffed date, baked, and also drizzled with olive oil and a few grains of salt. The olives are plump and meaty, but drier than most with a hint of tang, and the glazed dates are warm and sticky-sweet, with heavy, creamy rich mascarpone.

The appetizer parade continued, one after another, with ten or fifteen minutes between them. The pacing was, if anything, too slow, as the meal stretched close to four hours. The highlights included a creamy sunchoke panna cotta paired with a remarkably delicious octopus. The 'pus was roasted at such high heat that it lost any hint of chewiness -- it was fleshy, not rubbery in the slightest, tasty and surprising.

Other appetizers included a house-cured salami with mixed greens, a relatively traditional salted cod spread over crostini, some sort of croquette and three or four more that I've forgotten. The array of flavors and ingredients was dizzying, but there was a thematic consistency to the selections that proved satisfying. I sensed a little more focus and a little more restraint from the chef in this most recent iteration -- if not obviously Greek, these were firmly Mediterranean dishes.

The pasta course and the entrees ranged a little farther afield. My mother opted for the vegetarian option, it might have been a mushroom ravioli, but at that point, more than two hours and goodness knows how many glasses of wine in, my memory is a little less crisp. Of the pasta course, hers was the weakest link. My father’s baby lamb in ragu was beautifully prepared, but my wild boar was the star.

The boar was roasted with cocoa and mint, and came served over tagliatelle. It was a combination of flavors that I had never had before in a savory dish – but they blended together beautifully and the very flavorful boar meat stood up to the powerful seasoning. Also, like the other pasta, my tagliatelle was appropriately sized. At this point in the meal, I wouldn’t have wanted more than a tennis ball-sized lump of pasta, especially pasta so delicious that I would have been compelled to suck down every stray piece.

For the mains, my parents split the salt-crusted bronzini for two. Our waitress presented the fish whole, then took it back to the kitchen to fillet it before serving it. I had to stifle a laugh when I saw the whole bronzini, only because the technique was one I’d seen several times on reruns of the Japanese “Iron Chef” and I didn’t expect to encounter it here. If nothing else, my interest was piqued.

The fish came back from the kitchen on two plates, in two small piles, with microgreens or watercress or some such, the garnishes are lost to me. My mother had opted to not have the fish served head-on; this was a mistake, as she missed out on the cheek meat and what would have surely been a more interesting presentation. The fish was sweet, mild and juicy – as advertised, the salt crust grill had helped the fish retain moisture in a hot oven.

I ordered the venison. I can’t help it. Wild boar. Venison. I’m a sucker for big-ticket proteins. I was not disappointed. More so than with other wild game and other cuts of venison, I have some history with venison tenderloin. Eamon, my redneck country hunting friend, seems to swing through once every month or six weeks, venison tenderloin in hand, marinated and ready to grill or roast. It’s gamy, succulent meat, and I rarely see its equal on a restaurant plate. This time, however, Eamon was overmatched.

The venison rounds were served medium-rare, with a touch of crust on the outside, next to some sort of flakey napoleon made with ground venison and a green vegetable. The meat was as tender as a filet mignon but far more flavorful, and my father and I both agreed that he should have ordered it. It was a dish that would have seemed at home in a mountaintop lodge or one of the conservative, ultra high-end DC establishments. When a restaurant is able to skate so effortlessly between the novel and the traditional, it makes a long meal much more enjoyable.

After our main courses, we were presented with a small cheese plate and dessert. The portions on the cheese plate were appropriately tiny, and the desserts were enjoyed by my parents – I’m just not that into desserts. After a coffee, I left fat and happy.

The cost of a meal at Komi has crept steadily higher over the past two years. A la carte dining is no longer offered, and the tasting menu runs $71, with an optional wine pairing for another $51. For me, this is the upper limit of what I would pay for dinner, an ultra-special occasion restaurant, but such a reliably spectacular meal is worth the money.