The Inn at Little Washington

It’s because of food-plan’s definition that I rate the Inn at 11; you really should eat there before you die.

To be fair, I was only there once, for Valentine’s Day, I think, and back when I was still employed. It was probably between 1990 and 1992. But I’ll write a review anyway, and those who know me will be astonished at how well I remember the experience, given my notoriously poor memory for details.

First, the place is (was) lavishly decorated in a country chintz style that was very popular at the time. I didn’t like the decor. Nor did I like that the Dalmatian in the front wore a pearl choker. That’s a bit over the top, isn’t it?

But those were my only complaints. As soon as we walked in, the host was helping me out of my coat and greeting us by name. How did they know that we were the Millers?

I remember that there were several dining rooms, each with only a few tables, but not entirely cut off from the other spaces. This allowed a private experience without feeling isolated.

I believe we were served seven courses, starting with an amuse bouche, then a demitasse of cream of fennel soup, then the first course, then a palate cleanser of lemon-rosemary sorbet, then the main course, then a salad, and then dessert.

My first course was house-made rabbit sausage, grilled on a skewer with what must have been some rabbit organ meats, served on apple coulis. I don’t normally care for organ meats (not even fois gras), but I ate every bite... except the one I gave to Steve. Steve is a very fussy eater, who’ll never touch game, but he ate that piece of rabbit sausage and declared “I’ll eat anything this man puts in front of me”. Now that’s a strong testimony.

I had vension medallions in a red wine sauce, served in a shoestring potato basket, for my main course, and it was outstanding.

Dessert was “seven deadly sins”, a sample of seven different desserts, and somewhat of a signature, if memory serves.

The meal lasted about two and a half hours. Service was flawless, and the standard by which I will forever judge other restaurants. The staff were quiet, efficient, seamless, punctual, and able to answer any question. I merely had to look at my empty wine glass then lift my eyes for the waiter to appear from his station of invisibility with a refill. There’s a lot to be said for taking pride in a job well done — no negative connotations for the word ’service’ here. They are true professionals.

At that time in our lives, Steve and I had little money to spare, and it probably showed — we wore our best clothes, but they were nothing special. At no point were we ever treated as if we were from a lower socio-economic class (which we were). You’d have thought we were king and queen of the planet. I’m sure everyone who walks in there leaves feeling like a million bucks, even if you’re a million bucks poorer afterward.

I had only one real complaint: for about six months after, whenever we went to one of DC’s finest restaurants, we were disappointed. That’s how powerful the experience of dining at Inn at Little Washington was.

Save your pennies, dress up, pick a special occasion (or create one) and if for one time only in your life treat yourself like you deserve the best. Your only regret will be that you don’t do it more often.