Blowing My Cover for a Half Smoke

Ben’s Chili Bowl
1213 U St., NW
Washington DC




No one knows who Suit757 is.

I think my mom has some suspicions, but even she doesn’t know for sure.

Why all the cloak-and-dagger mystery?

Dude, have you been watching the news lately?

NSA spying. FBI drones. CIA waterboarding. Gestapo IRS agents targeting conservatives.

You’ve heard about the Homeland Security “No Fly List”? How do you think that would work with Suit757’s travel schedule?

Yeah. I’m not taking any chances.

So I was a little nervous about eating at Ben’s Chili Bowl.

No, not because Suit757 is a white guy looking for chili dogs along Washington DC’s “black Broadway.”

Heck, thanks to the combination of urban gentrification, the gluttonous bloat of the federal government, Ben Bernanke’s money printing and skyrocketing real estate costs, there are as many white yuppie bureaucrats and Hill staffers populating U Street these days as native black folks.

Nope. I was nervous about blowing my cover.

What if I bumped into Barack Obama and he found out about my subversive clandestine activities while cruising the country for spicy junk food?

Could an IRS audit or TSA enhanced body cavity search be far behind for Suit757?

Nahhhh.

Our President would never use the federal bureaucracy to attack his political opponents like some Third World banana republic dictator.

Right?

Ummm. Yeah, right.

See? Just because Suit757 is paranoid doesn’t mean Obama isn’t really out to get me.

So while I was really excited to check out Ben’s Chili Bowl’s famous hot dogs and half smokes, I was on the lookout for Ben’s most famous patron, President Obama.

Obama famously stopped by Ben’s in 2009 just before his first inauguration.

Ever since, this black culinary institution in our nation’s capital has been inextricably linked to America’s first black president.

A sign by the cash register states in no uncertain terms: “Bill Cosby and President Obama and family eat free. Everyone else pays.”

Hilariously, a bumpkin tourist on a visit to the White House used his once-in-a-lifetime 5 seconds of conversation with Michelle Obama to ask this profoundly important question:

“Um. Hi.  Where can I find Ben’s Chili Bowl?”

Obviously not a follower of Suits in Strange Places.

While Michelle seemed a little thrown off by the directions request, I could have pointed him to Ben’s by telling him to follow the savory smell of simmering chili and spicy sausages browning on the grill by the front door.

Famous for its “half smoke” sausage, Ben’s ladles a delicious thick chili packed with peppery seasoning over the browned meat tube.

As its name implies, the sausage has a faint smoky flavor perfectly complimented by the punch of the chili.

The hot dog is top notch too with a slight spicy kick.

Chili dogs are among life’s greatest pleasures. But when you upgrade the components the way Ben’s does, you can see why it attracts the attention of the world’s most powerful man.

So by all means, if you are in our Capital city, I encourage you to stop by Ben’s Chili Bowl and enjoy one of the greatest sausage/chili combos of your lifetime.

But if you find yourself at the lunch counter rubbing shoulders with Barack, please do me a favor.

Don’t tell him Suit757 sent you.

Rating: Bought the Shirt!

 

When I Became a Man

Tiffany Tavern

1116 King Street

Alexandria, VA 22314

In I Corinthians Saint Paul said, "When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child…"

I remember the first time I visited Old Town Alexandria, Virginia; the veritable 19th century theme park resting on the Potomac River outside Washington, DC. 

It's that in that sad part of occupied Northern Virginia haunted by the memories and populated by the graves of revolutionaries and rebels. It's very streets were once walked by George Washington and Robert E. Lee; American history incarnate.

I was in college then and we were attending a conference in the area in late frigid February.

We took a long cold bus ride down brick sidewalks, among the old row houses and store fronts on the psuedo gas lamp lit King Street till we finally reached our stop.

Like most college coeds. We picked the bar that was most conducive to our place in life - plenty of hard drinking and skirt chasing.

While waiting for an underage friend to get in with his not exactly authentic ID we sang "Sweet Caroline" and downed the cheapest American puke beer on the menu.

But nearly ten years have passed and times for me have changed.

In my latest visit to Old Town I found myself drawn to different attractions. Namely visiting the numerous antique stores that dot the neighborhood while spending moments reflecting on the history of the locale.

Strolling down King Street I noticed the Tiffany Tavern. A small place stuffed in-between French restaurants and chain coffee shops.

The sign on the outside proudly advertised, "The best Bluegrass, Burgers and Open Mike in town!" 

This bold claim sounded like a place fit for a suit.

Upon entering, I was struck by how different it was from the bar I visited a decade earlier during my college salad days.

The cliental is older on average with grey hair abound.

It's a place you could picture your grandfather in. The music is even the kind your grandparents would have played on the clock radio in their kitchen during a Sunday dinner.

Like the scent of old spice or a neighborhood barber shop, there's something classic and comforting about the atmosphere at the Tiffany Tavern.

Pictures of what appears to be dames from the early 20th century grace the wood paneled walls. The only TV in the place, a now outdated CRT, sits on a shelf turned off.

The only entertainment is conversation and the abundance of live upbeat but sad bluegrass songs.

As a result, there's no drunk overzealous guys yelling at their team while a clearly bored girlfriend sits next to them. Or a groups of rowdy twenty-somethings doing the weekend drunken mating dance.

Just the shouts of "YEE HAWW" fill the air after a particularly good banjo solo.

The music prompted a lovely German girl sitting next to me at the bar to lean over and say, "This music is so American."

Upon hearing it, my chest momentarily filled with pride even though I'm not a particularly nationalistic guy.

Yes, it is very American! And sure, this could be the best bluegrass in town!

But what about the burgers?

After perusing the menu I settled on the Greek Burger; a "Tiffany Tavern special."

This burger featured 8 oz of ground Angus beef that was charcoal broiled and topped with with a large brick of feta cheese and finished off with sautéed mushrooms. Naturally, it had lettuce, tomato, and pickles on the side.

Now I'm no Greek, but upon first glance, I thought that other than the huge piece of feta cheese the burger didn't seem particularly Hellene.

A couple other initial downsides was the cold, untoasted bun and the meager portion of onion rings.

However, when I bit into the burger and friend onions I was struck by the familiar taste of down home greasy spoon diner fare. The kind of goodies your parents eat with their friends at the corner restaurant after Sunday church service.

In other words, I wouldn't come to the Tiffany Tavern expecting a gourmet burger made from a fine cut, aged, steak that they dropped into the grinder when you placed your order. 

You're not going to read news stories about Obama and Biden stopping by the Tiffany Tavern for lunch on their way to the Oval Office - there's no pretension here.

It's pretty simple, straightforward, good ol' boy type stuff. Food for when food isn't the only reason you visit a place.

I'm not sure at what point in a man's life he stops being that young pup who's eager to chase every stray cat he sees up a tree and becomes that content older dog laying on porch just watching the wind blow.

But when you've graduated to being that wiser, more deliberate dog or you're just in the mood for a slow refuge from the mayhem and moral corruption that is the US capitol, the Tiffany Tavern's good music, great atmosphere, nice people, and decent food is the place to go.

Like Saint Paul wrote, "…when I became a man, I put away childish things."

Rating:  Seriously Thought About Buying the Shirt