Service Compris

Marcel's
2401 Pennsylvania Ave NW
Washington, DC 20037
202-296-1166

I did not grow up with very much exposure to what one would consider “haute cuisine”, or fine dining. In fact, the concept of a restaurant in my young mind was very loosely defined and confined to what the Chinese would consider a restaurant. These were typically the large banquet halls with round table sets of 8 or 10 – always bustling, always loud; the service efficient to the point of being brusque. Innovation in cooking was a scarce commodity, to the extent of being frowned upon – chefs were judged by how well they prepared the classical dishes. The driving force behind these restaurants was to feed people.

As I grew up and explored Western cuisine, I became fascinated with the French classics and especially with the concept of eating as experience. I am a fool for Old World formal dining, with restraint and respectability, with white tablecloths and starched napkins and more importantly, impeccable service. The driving force, I discovered, encompassed more than just feeding people, it was ensuring people had a good time. Eating was, far more than in the settings I had grown up in, a release from the day’s anxieties and frustrations. This meant that the diner’s every whim should be anticipated and acceded to within reason, and he should not want for anything.

Marcel’s in DC is just one of those restaurants, with Old World classics in haute cuisine married with a formal setting and excellent service. Nestled in that no-man’s land between the aristocratic elegance of the West End, and the bourgeois chic of Georgetown, it was opened in 1999 and feels like it has been around forever. In the cut-throat world of slim margins that is the restaurant business, you know the ones who hang around the longest are the best – and that is also the reason that if given the choice, I like to go to the restaurants with tradition rather than the latest offering by the latest celebrity chef.

As my time in DC slowly winds to a close, I finally made it to Marcel’s the other night for a completely and utterly decadent evening. Marcel’s has a stonewall interior and even though it is large the space is divided into cozy rooms, each seating no more than 30 or 40. This gives you the feeling of privacy even amongst a crowd, and the noise never rises to above a murmur. The Beaux-Arts iron fixtures are a beautiful touch, and the restaurant is bathed in a dim glow that would make even me look attractive. There was live piano jazz at the bar, accompanied by a beautiful singer in a shimmering black dress who crooned the Tin Pan Alley tunes that I am such a fan of. At one point in the night I thought to myself, “Play Misty for me”, and she did. It was the most uncanny thing.

I have to admit that because we ordered such fine (and expensive) wines, we were accorded special treatment – the maitre d’ himself attended to us, and a phalanx of servers saw to our every need. But judging from the way the staff did their job, excellence was a quality intrinsic to their offering. Danny Meyer writes, “Service describes how you technically deliver a product, Hospitality describes how you make the recipient of that product FEEL.” The staff that waited on us were not merely bringing us food and pouring us water, but they were fashioning a night to remember for us. They did their jobs with efficiency but also pride and dignity, and not once did the thought occur to me that anything could make the night better.

And the food. The food was mind-blowingly good. Typically in a multi-course meal you wind up trying many things – especially if you are dining with others and get to try a bite of their food too. And sometimes even if a restaurant is excellent and makes many impressive dishes there are invariably one or two which aren’t as memorable as the rest. This is unavoidable. At Marcel’s, though, this was not the case. Everything that was brought out was technically perfect. The challenge sometimes laid upon formal haute cuisine is that while it stimulates the intellect and the palate, it does not comfort the soul so much – and the tiny portions at some restaurants don’t help either. Again, this was not the case at Marcel’s. The food had a soothing, warming quality, and came in just the right portions and at just the right timings that left us unequivocally satisfied.

This was Brody’s first course – a steak tartare that was equal parts citrusy from the lemon and savoury from the beef. Ty and I had the sweet corn soup with Gulf shrimp (not pictured), which had a country hearth heft to it but also the delicacy of classical cuisine, which is just a fancy way of saying it had a lot of butter in it.


My second course of foie gras with glazed apricots. I love apricots. People should cook with them more. The tartness of the apricots complemented the savoury creaminess of the foie gras; and it was like a party in my mouth. Ty had the snails in garlic butter (not pictured), which did not have an overwhelming taste of snails, but instead burst into waves of flavour – of earth and of garlic and of butter – in my mouth just before I gulped it down.


My third course – roulade of rabbit in a carrot ginger sauce. I love rabbit. The texture is very gentle, yet grainy, and the taste gamy yet subdued. It complements sauces very well, but has a taste of its own.


Ty and Brody each had the lamb wrapped in phyllo dough; I had a bite and I have to say, all I remember was that the phyllo dough was delicious. I thought to myself that it was wonderful how the kitchen applied itself to technical excellence in every aspect of every dish.


I trooped away from Marcel’s castigating myself for not trying this under-appreciated DC gem sooner. To be fair, it is expensive, and definitely not everyday dining. But it was classical food in exquisite preparations, comforting and colourful, in a setting of elegance and attentive service. What more could you want from a restaurant?