Frenching it up: Bistro Français.
How the other side lives note: Katy and I went to Bistro Français in DC’s Georgetown neighborhood last Friday (unsurprisingly, everything inside practically bellows“Allo, nous sommes Français!” ). The tables were close, which means that we could easily eavesdrop on the adjacent table. As it turns out, one gentleman puts “at least thirty thousand” on his AmEx every month. When the check came, his card was duly rejected–not because it was maxed out, but because he’d worn off the magnetic strip.
The rest of the restaurant was pretty lively, although a little gray early–apparently 7:30 is still early-bird o’clock in DC. And the food was pretty good. Their mussels were flavorful, although a few were sandy. I had roast squab, which was meaty, rich, and served with (homemade?) waffley potato chips. Very tasty.