The difference between my leafy, close-to-urban-suburban home (plain old “suburban” sounds too Desperate Housewives, we like to think we’re way more hip and artsy), and bustling, busy D.C. gooses me every time I ride into the city. It is the contrast between ambling dog-walkers and purposefully clicking high heels on pavement; between the idyll laughter of children playing in a garden and the rumble of a city bus squeezing by the crosswalk.
I love to straddle these two worlds, ramping up to the city’s pace in the morning, settling into a steady office groove during the day, then easing back home in the evening, feeling the pressure of relentless activity fall away under the canopy of oaks and maples. It is not exactly a schizophrenic enterprise, but the two facets of my life do seem distinct.
At lunchtime, though, I tend to mix it up and bring Takoma Park to my city office building – in a brown paper bag.
This week it was leftover grilled veggies sandwiched in fresh Farmer’s Market bread smeared with goat cheese—a taste of my backyard grill and Takoma Park’s Sunday market on a plate. Another day it was pasta with roasted eggplant, which reminded me of the little dinner Clara and I had with her friend the night before, when I first served the dish. I especially like bringing salads harvested from the garden, and always hope someone in the office kitchen asks me what’s for lunch so I can boast that I grew the greens myself.
Once in a while, though, I join the throngs of going-out-to-lunch folks and buy. My favorite place to go is Chop’t. This custom-order salad spot is a study in contrasts, too: the food is healthy, clean, and delicious, much like what I aspire to make in my own kitchen. But the city-influenced pace is so fast I can barely keep up.
Chop’t reminds me of the New York deli's where I have to rehearse what I want to order before someone barks at me to speak up and I lose my turn, or, worse, someone rolls their eyes at me and pegs me as a slow country bumpkin. Chop’t isn’t quite so intimidating, but the pace is still breathless. Last time I was there, the more experienced customer next to me helped me out, interpreting what my “chopper” was asking me, since I could barely hear him over the din of other customers, and prompting me to move along to the registers when it was time to pay up. This made me feel way more middle-aged than usual, but also grateful for quick young brains that can pull me along into the swiftly-moving traffic of a fast-food restaurant line like this.
About Chop’t: fabulous salads, as good as the ones we make at home and sometimes better. Some locally sourced ingredients. Some organic. “Naturally raised” meats (could use more of the organic, locally-raised items, please!) Nothing is pre-chopped, and you never get that weird chemically taste that comes with some bagged or restaurant salads (what is that? Do they spray it with some preservative or something? You go for a bite of what you think will be super good and fresh and it tastes like it’s been sprayed with chlorine, blech)
Anyway, the Chop't deal is much like Chipotle: you go to the line and tell the folks working furiously fast behind the counter what you want, chosen from the array of brilliantly colored fresh veggies and other ingredients set neatly in bins before you. I especially like the selection of greens: romaine, mesclun, arugula, spinach or iceberg.
If you’re making your own salad, you can choose four add-ons. At home we call these “sinkers,” as they sink to the bottom of the salad bowl (thanks Joe Fairbank). They include things like carrots, beets, bell peppers, tomatoes, green peas, snow peas – it’s a long list, and then there are “premium” add-ons like Applegate Farm salami, smoked tofu, wild planet tuna (sustainably caught), and six kinds of cheeses. And there are 32 dressings. If it’s all overwhelming (and it was for me) you can go with an established combo like the Grilled Asian, with spinach, oranges, carrots, almonds and snow peas, or the Cobb, with grilled chicken, avocado and bacon.
Once you’ve chosen, they throw all the ingredients into a recycled bowl and pass it to the choppers, who dump it all out again onto a cutting board and go at it with a bow-shaped knife, chop-chop-chop. Then the salad goes back into a big stainless steel bowl, gets dressed, tossed, returned to your takeaway bowl and they whisk you to the register to pay.
I love the results. So much, in fact, that I’m sure I’ll visit enough to get accustomed to the mad pace – and eventually I’ll be the one helping a newbie through the line. Unless I’m in the office having a mid-day visit with the much more laid back Takoma Park, imported via brown paper bag.
I love to straddle these two worlds, ramping up to the city’s pace in the morning, settling into a steady office groove during the day, then easing back home in the evening, feeling the pressure of relentless activity fall away under the canopy of oaks and maples. It is not exactly a schizophrenic enterprise, but the two facets of my life do seem distinct.
At lunchtime, though, I tend to mix it up and bring Takoma Park to my city office building – in a brown paper bag.
This week it was leftover grilled veggies sandwiched in fresh Farmer’s Market bread smeared with goat cheese—a taste of my backyard grill and Takoma Park’s Sunday market on a plate. Another day it was pasta with roasted eggplant, which reminded me of the little dinner Clara and I had with her friend the night before, when I first served the dish. I especially like bringing salads harvested from the garden, and always hope someone in the office kitchen asks me what’s for lunch so I can boast that I grew the greens myself.
Once in a while, though, I join the throngs of going-out-to-lunch folks and buy. My favorite place to go is Chop’t. This custom-order salad spot is a study in contrasts, too: the food is healthy, clean, and delicious, much like what I aspire to make in my own kitchen. But the city-influenced pace is so fast I can barely keep up.
Chop’t reminds me of the New York deli's where I have to rehearse what I want to order before someone barks at me to speak up and I lose my turn, or, worse, someone rolls their eyes at me and pegs me as a slow country bumpkin. Chop’t isn’t quite so intimidating, but the pace is still breathless. Last time I was there, the more experienced customer next to me helped me out, interpreting what my “chopper” was asking me, since I could barely hear him over the din of other customers, and prompting me to move along to the registers when it was time to pay up. This made me feel way more middle-aged than usual, but also grateful for quick young brains that can pull me along into the swiftly-moving traffic of a fast-food restaurant line like this.
About Chop’t: fabulous salads, as good as the ones we make at home and sometimes better. Some locally sourced ingredients. Some organic. “Naturally raised” meats (could use more of the organic, locally-raised items, please!) Nothing is pre-chopped, and you never get that weird chemically taste that comes with some bagged or restaurant salads (what is that? Do they spray it with some preservative or something? You go for a bite of what you think will be super good and fresh and it tastes like it’s been sprayed with chlorine, blech)
Anyway, the Chop't deal is much like Chipotle: you go to the line and tell the folks working furiously fast behind the counter what you want, chosen from the array of brilliantly colored fresh veggies and other ingredients set neatly in bins before you. I especially like the selection of greens: romaine, mesclun, arugula, spinach or iceberg.
If you’re making your own salad, you can choose four add-ons. At home we call these “sinkers,” as they sink to the bottom of the salad bowl (thanks Joe Fairbank). They include things like carrots, beets, bell peppers, tomatoes, green peas, snow peas – it’s a long list, and then there are “premium” add-ons like Applegate Farm salami, smoked tofu, wild planet tuna (sustainably caught), and six kinds of cheeses. And there are 32 dressings. If it’s all overwhelming (and it was for me) you can go with an established combo like the Grilled Asian, with spinach, oranges, carrots, almonds and snow peas, or the Cobb, with grilled chicken, avocado and bacon.
Once you’ve chosen, they throw all the ingredients into a recycled bowl and pass it to the choppers, who dump it all out again onto a cutting board and go at it with a bow-shaped knife, chop-chop-chop. Then the salad goes back into a big stainless steel bowl, gets dressed, tossed, returned to your takeaway bowl and they whisk you to the register to pay.
I love the results. So much, in fact, that I’m sure I’ll visit enough to get accustomed to the mad pace – and eventually I’ll be the one helping a newbie through the line. Unless I’m in the office having a mid-day visit with the much more laid back Takoma Park, imported via brown paper bag.
Awesome description. Made me drool!
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