One sunny weekend during the fall of 2013. The restaurant scene in G-Town was abuzz with tourist activity. I passed Georgetown Piano Bar then Jinx Tattoo parlor, soothing sounds of reggae music emanated from the brown brick establishment. Bandolero was next and this is where I hoped I would cut my first big deal.
I was taken aback by the “Day of the Dead” atmosphere complete with metal cemetery gates and faux animal skulls hanging eerily on the walls. The interior was dark, the music deafening, the entire ambience spooky and western-chic.
I sat at the bar and ordered suckling pig tacos and grilled corn on the cob. The bartender poured me “El Bandolero”, their house Margarita on tap. He garnished it with lime and it was delectably rimmed with citrus salt.
After my meal, I waited anxiously, wondering whether I should order another cocktail.
Luckily, when I turned around, I came face to face with the Top Chef, himself, Mike Isabella. He wore his usual gray short sleeve chef coat, his right arm adorning a brass-knuckled pizza cuter tattoo, and on his left a brand new Mexican Cowboy. He was clean shaven and wore a big smile. But his voice was gruff and he seemed dismissive.
“Thank you for showing me your website, but we’re not interested in your service. We have our own publicist and graphic designer. Our business is doing just fine.”
“How ’bout hosting an event here, say 20-30 people, select appetizers, social media coverage, you name it?”
One sunny weekend during the fall of 2013. The restaurant scene in G-Town was abuzz with tourist activity. I passed Georgetown Piano Bar and then Jinx Tattoo parlor, soothing sounds of reggae music emanated from the brown brick establishment. Bandolero was next and this is where I hoped I would cut my first big deal.
I was taken aback by the “Day of the Dead” atmosphere complete with metal cemetery gates and faux animal skulls hanging eerily on the walls. The interior was dark, the music deafening, the entire ambience spooky and western-chic.
I sat at the bar and ordered suckling pig tacos and grilled corn on the cob. The bartender poured me “El Bandolero”, their house Margarita on tap. He garnished it with lime and it was delectably rimmed with citrus salt.
After my meal, I waited anxiously, wondering whether I should order another cocktail.
Luckily, when I turned around, I came face to face with the Top Chef, himself, Mike Isabella. He wore his usual gray short sleeve chef coat, his right arm adorning a brass-knuckled pizza cuter tattoo, and on his left a brand new Mexican Cowboy. He was clean-shaven and wore a big smile. But his voice was gruff and he seemed dismissive.
“Thank you for showing me your website, but we’re not interested in your service. We have our own publicist and graphic designer. Our business is doing just fine.”
“How ’bout hosting an event here, say 20-30 people, select appetizers, social media coverage, you name it?”
“You’re welcome to speak to our manager to arrange an event. But we’re quite busy as it is, and we won’t be comping any meals.”
Shortly, after Isabella went back to the open kitchen, I returned to my pedicab and quietly rode to my next stop. As I steered down L St towards the GWU campus, I passed Bar McFadden’s to my left and 51st State Bar to my right, both great establishments to catch a game after work. But for now, I had seen my share of D.C. eateries. Tomorrow, I would venture into the Commonwealth to engage with other Top Chefs.
Crystal City, VA. has for many years been the home of military contractors and govies. During lunch and happy hour, they frequently congregate on restaurant row or at José Andrés’ Jaleo enjoying traditional as well as cutting-edge flavors.
Adjacent to Jaleo on Crystal Drive was Chef Morou’s Kora, a trattoria-style Italian restaurant that opened a couple of years ago.
As I approached the street-side glass doors, fondant blue jays chirped from olive trees that billowed over the sidewalk.
When I entered, I was greeted with dangling tree branches. Glowing tree canopies created a sense of intimacy. On the wall behind the kiln-fired pizza oven, decal tree branch silhouettes conferred a feeling of calm and relaxation.
I sat at the bar and ordered a Dark & Stormy. Then devoured a slice of the chicken pesto pizza.
Minutes later, Chef Morou entered with his crisp, white chef coat.
I immediately recognized him. Slim and handsome with a pencil-thin mustache and goatee. The winner of an Iron Chef America competition in D.C., Chef Morou challenged Bobby Flay in Season 3.
“Love the ambience. It’s so sophisticated and chic.”
“Thank you, I got your email and looked over your site.”
Chef Morou who grew up on the Ivory Coast, cooks like he talks “American with an accent.”
“So would love to build a new website for you to go with your contemporary design.”
“Well, I know a thing or two about tech, I studied computer science in college. But lately I’ve been quite busy scouting a location for another restaurant in D.C. and launching my African spice lines.”
“I understand that you’re very busy. That’s why you should hire us to promote your restaurant and feature your dishes.”
“Yes, I have a big event tonight in Farrah Olivia that I have to plan.”
“Super, Bien, et toi.”
Although Morou was still contemplating, his response was more favorable and warm. I returned to my batmobile and rode through restaurant row
The following week, I got a text message from Morou.
“Thanks for visiting. My wife, Heather, says your service is nice but unnecessary. It’s like adding oil to pasta water.”
“I know that marketing and social media is considered the low hanging fruit, but it’s extremely valuable to increase sales.”
“We have a lot of overhead. Our restaurant is gigantic and our ceilings are 24 feet high – you can fit a church in here. Our utility bill alone is sky high.”
“I totally understand Chef, but what if we hosted an event. We would invite 20-30 people, you comp the meals and we in return will feature your cuisine all over social media.”
The next day, I contacted Michael Galang, founder of Thursday Connect to see if he would help promote the event. Each person would pay $20 and we would split the proceeds.
Morou was born and raised on the Ivory Coast in West Africa and learned how to cook by watching his mother prepare feasts for their large family of 33 children. When he immigrated to America in 1988, he was hired as a dishwasher at Ristorante I Ricchi and was eventually promoted when a co-worker quit an hour before opening. Eventually, Morou was hired as the executive chef for Signature. Lobbyist Abramoff, who owned the restaurant, frequently provided free meals to sway lawmakers. Tom DeLay, Bob Ney and John Doolittle were his favorite guests
But after the scandal hit the news, politicos no longer wanted to be seen at the restaurant, and the restaurant was doomed to join D.C. Eater’s list of Closures.
On the morning of the event, there were only 10 RSVPs and a few more that indicated interest. But we had room in our table for 20, and we needed butts in every seat.
It was then, that I gave my good friend Jackie a call.
“Hey Hon, we need a big favor. How quickly can you contact your friends to come to an Italian dinner at 7?”
“I’ll go through our listserv with BookaLokal (marketplace for group dining experiences) and see what I can arrange.”
“You helped me tremendously with the Chinese feast at Ming’s, if you could pull a monkey out of the hat, I would be indebted to you for life.”
Two hours prior to the event, Michael and I waited anxiously hoping for a decent turnout. We nibbled on calamari and sipped on Heavy Sea Lager. Little by little people started to trickle in. By dinner time, over 25 guests had shown up. We had met and exceeded all expectations.
Jackie was enjoying the squid ink tagliatelle with clams and calamari. “Compliments to the Iron Chef. So why did you name your restaurant Kora?”
“Our first restaurant was Farrah Olivia, named after our first two daughters. You can see a portrait of our three-year-old daughter Farrah on the wall.”
We turned our heads and admired the Andy Warhol-like portrait of Farrah.
“Our third daughter’s name is Kora, and the only thing she eats is pasta.”
Samantha Elizabeth took a sip of her Arnold Palmer “The salmon penne pasta and chicken marsala were out of this world. Cooked perfectly with large portions and reasonably priced. The sauteed mushrooms in marsala sauce over a pan-roasted chicken breast was incredible.”
“So glad you came Sam, and thanks for bringing your friends.”
“Absolutely, I told them about the citrus burst dessert and they all had to try it.” (a slice of lemon cake topped with white chocolate buttercream and shavings served with a scoop of lime sorbet and Grand Mariner infused mandarin oranges.)
We were able to photograph all the dishes and we were able to garner all the content necessary to feature them on RUNINOut.
Unfortunately, Suzannah couldn’t make it. She birthed the idea of visiting celebrity Chefs but she was now working on her own startup idea. I didn’t expect to keep someone that talented for very long.
And Jackie, who came through in the clutch, did not have to pay a dime. All her food and beverages were comped by me. She had become my go-to miracle worker, and someone I would rely on whenever I got in a jam. There would be many more jams and like a 9th inning relief pitcher, we hoped to escape them all.
“What a smashing event. What’s next on your plate?” Michael asked.
“Haven’t given it much thought. It’s football season, so perhaps a Florida Gators watch party?”
“Yeah, sports is nice, but you can’t always rely on me to help out,” Jackie commented.
“I could use ten of you, frankly.”
“Then you should interact with the D.C. food bloggers. Chef Morou and other restauranteurs like him needs lots of coverage and publicity.”
Michael took a sip of his Blue Moon. “Have you thought about hosting a comedy night or feature live entertainment?”
That was an interesting suggestion, one that I would have to ponder.
