Blame it on the dining room, barely 30 seats including a bar, or on the reputation of the chefs, who met while working in New York at the popular Empellón and later moved to Washington to open Lutèce in Georgetown . Conroy’s credits include the light-hearted but serious Oxomoco in Brooklyn. Coss, a Mexico City native who cooked at world-class Pujol there when she was just 17, became pastry chef at Cosme in Manhattan.
You could say that many food lovers were champing at the bit to get a taste of their menu.
My strategy for finding myself in impossible situations is to simply show up – early, hopeful, and with a smile on my face. Most restaurateurs do not want to say “no” to future customers who have taken the initiative to wait in front of their door until opening time. Or really, anyone capable and present.
Needless to say, I was relieved to see only two people outside Pascual on my first trip in mid-March, albeit 30 minutes before show time. “One and two?” I ask them and they nod. Like my partner and I, the couple does not have reservations. “There are three and four of us,” I tell them, as a third couple arrives. “And there are five and six of us!” announces one of the two strangers to the early risers, who turn into a herd in a few minutes.
I don’t know about the others, but my sense of accomplishment makes me feel like I’ve found Wonka’s golden ticket. At least until opening, when Pascual’s shades go up and a hostess calls out those who have reservations. The lucky ones form a separate, exclusive line that resembles the boarding process at an airport: first-class travelers first. Meanwhile, the gathered masses eager to drink mezcal margaritas (awesome) and eat lamb neck (equally wonderful) begin to make silent calculations about their prospects.
A long moment passes. Then we enter a free and bright dining room. Omar Popal, whose family also owns Lapis at Adams Morgan and Lutèce, where Conroy and Coss continue to cook, created the minimalist look, punctuated with a few plants. Otherwise, the white brick walls and blond wood chairs and tables draw your attention to the food and drinks.
If you’ve done your homework on this place, named for the patron saint of cooks and cuisine, you know to order guacamole, “the perfect start to a meal,” says Coss. The dip starts with the basics – avocados, lime, salt – but also pickled jalapeños followed by finishing touches of olive oil and crushed toasted avocado powder. Good. But chefs raise the bar for each guac by serving it on a Lazy Susan with a half-dozen salsas and other condiments, which Coss playfully calls banchan, a reference to Korean side dishes that often kick off a meal. They include pickled vegetables, spicy pineapple and papaya, and bright salsas with varying degrees of heat, including the oil-based dark brown salsa macha, “the new crunch of chili,” says the chef dip with the twin allure of sesame and smoke. There’s no rush to clean up the condiments when a new dish arrives; the waiters encourage you to taste them throughout the dinner.
Pascual employs a full-time “tortilla lady” to make the tempting rounds made from a variety of colors of heirloom corn. What seems simple is important to leaders. When Coss lands in a new place, she says, she looks for a good tortilla that “makes me miss Mexico less.”
From the first bite of anything here you realize how special Pascual is. Yet it’s a level of talent I’ve tasted before, on visits to Mexico and Los Angeles, as well as right here at home. If you haven’t noticed, distinctive Mexican cuisine is easier than ever to find in and around Washington, and at all price points.
I have never encountered shad or rhubarb before. For me, spring arrived at Pascual with a tlayuda – a giant soft tortilla turned crispy on the wood-fired grill – decorated with asparagus, mint salsa and streaks of smoked yogurt fueled by dried scallions and herbs. The green of the assembly draws you into the season; the toppings keep you there.
Many people talk about the parsnip tamal, whose creamy mole – white with almonds, sesame seeds and golden raisins – and non-staining slivered endives and finely grated cheese are why brides want it serve on their wedding day. I like, but don’t like, the combination, which seems soft to me. “Sent by an angel,” a waitress says as she places the dish on the table and announces it as one of the staff’s favorites. For me, the most heavenly vegetarian combination brings together chickpeas, potatoes and custard spiced as if it were green chorizo. The suggestion of eucalyptus in the flan comes from hoja santa, the heart-shaped Mexican pepper leaf which gives its flavor to many Oaxacan dishes in particular. The crunch is made from dried chickpeas.
The chefs offer dishes from all over Mexico. Seafood is a strong point. The shrimp are brushed with a spicy marinated chipotle paste and grilled in their open shells to keep the seafood tender. Like the chefs, I eat the (thin) crispy shell with the shrimp. Any mess is wiped away by incoming hot cloths. The skate may seem more at home in French-themed Lutèce, but Conroy likes the fish for its bones, which keep the skate moist during cooking and separate easily from the flesh at the table for making tacos. Before the fish is swaddled in a banana leaf and placed on coals, it’s brushed with a sauce made from tomatoes, fruity guajillo peppers, cilantro and oregano that flatters the starter without masking it.
The larger dishes include a lamb neck which demonstrates the time and attention devoted to food at Pascual. The centerpiece is brined for a day; marinated in an adobo sauce made with chili peppers, avocado leaves, onions and garlic; seized on fire; wrapped in agave leaves; and braising, during which the juices from the meat are captured, drained and used to cook the sublime ayocote beans that crushed the imposing lamb neck in its bowl. A brief moment on the grill before serving the crispy meat, which goes into some of the most extraordinary tacos you’re likely to make with the accompanying salsa crudo and tortillas. (Only one complaint: These margaritas are excellent, but Mexico also produces good wines. It would be nice to see some on Pascual’s tiny list.)
Dessert is another excuse to take photos. Other Mexican restaurants offer churros. Pascual uses a large iron rosette to prepare plate-sized buñuelos, fried confections sprinkled with sugar and Mexican cinnamon and served with two sauces: cajeta chocolate, goat’s milk caramel sauce. The rice pudding with poached quince hidden at the bottom is also very good, but it comes second only to the pretty ornament, supported by what looks like a little inflatable cushion in its bowl.
Coss, whose parents were both carpenters, says the setting of the former Kenny’s BBQ Smokehouse “feels like home.” The smell of wood is familiar. The blank canvas of the main floor gives way to a spa-like ambiance in the basement, where the restrooms are soothing pink and scented with palo santo.
Pascual opens its doors from Thursday to Monday. The schedule allows the team to explore other restaurants with more traditional hours and makes it easier for industry types to visit Pascual. Cooking for peers on Monday nights is a “fun service” that ends on a good note for everyone involved, Coss says.
Entering requires patience. But Pascual is worth the wait or the queue. The latest in a succession of Mexican models, chief among them Amparo Fondita in Dupont Circle, this mom-and-pop model proves to be the best to date.
732 Maryland Avenue NE. 202-450-1954. pascualdc.com. Open for dinner from 5 p.m. to 9 p.m. Thursday to Monday. Prices: starters $8 to $24, main courses $34 to $50. Sound check: 73 decibels/Must speak out loud. Accessibility: A small ramp can be used to get through the door, but the dining area is compact and the toilets are all at the end of a narrow staircase.
