Buck's Fishing and Camping

So I'm waiting for the bus to head up Connecticut to Buck's. In the rain. Leaving behind my condo with its leaky ceiling, my workday with its conflict and confusion, my poor cat who really would've liked an escape from the rainforest conditions of our living space. And for a second, I wonder if it really makes sense to shlep all the way up to Buck's on a night like tonight. "Wouldn't it be easier to stay home and watch a DVD," I think to myself. "M would understand if I canceled... what with the leaky ceiling and all... wouldn't he?"

And then the bus comes, and I clamber aboard, deciding I deserve a night out after the sleepless nights of flood watch I've been on of late. (Presumably, the roofers did something about the leak problem today. Presumably.)

I arrive at Buck's and take a seat at the bar. (M has already called with a delay of his own. Apparently cabs are hard to flag down during the Deluge of '06...) The friendly bartender and I strike up a conversation, and I select a glass of Kir Yianni rose. It's summer, goddamit, and I want a summer wine. Even if it is a nightmare outside. We continue chatting as M texts his whereabouts. "Hitting traffic around Dupont." "Fifteen minutes away, I promise." My bartender friend offers suggestions about the menu ("it's all good") as the friendly gentleman next to me lectures me on fascism in America today. M arrives.

And if the generous glass plus of rose didn't already melt away the stress of the week (it did), our meal certainly gave me the jump-start I needed in the middle of a week that started out on the wrong foot. We shared a starter of mozzarella and tomatoes, with greens, local beans, and a pistachio pesto that was fresh and light and delicious and summery (and yes, I'm a sucker for anything with pistachios), as well as the fried green tomatoes, which were not quite as tender or flavorful as I would have hoped. And then our mains. The softshell crab -- two perfectly juicy and crispy crabs, resting on mounds of potato salad and coleslaw. I don't think I ceded a bite, which is okay, because I barely got a taste of the perfectly cooked to medium rare steak. And although we didn't really need it, a slice of the chocolate icebox cake was a decadent and perfect ending to the night.

No. The perfect ending to the night was returning home to find no leaky ceiling. Maybe... just maybe... the roofers did their job. Or maybe I'll wake up in the morning to find it was just a dream, a mozzarella and softshell and chocolate cake-inspired dream. Either way, it was a good night.

Buck's Fishing and Camping
5031 Connecticut Avenue, NW
202-364-0777