Night of the Zombie
t was the darkest and hottest of nights. The air was thick with humidity and the streets were nearly empty. It was a Tuesday night and I was on the patio of Bar Pilar, delicately eating my pan-fried calf brains ($8) with the graceful zeal of a Katana sword-wielding, Regency era woman in England, à la Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.
The knife glides easily through the crisp, breaded patty that hides within it white matter, which is whisper-soft like silken tofu. Yet like all flesh, there is a lusciousness of fat, an earthiness in flavor enhanced by the saltiness of the caper brown sauce.
“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains.”
Naturally, if I were a genteel woman in 19th-century England trained to fight off hordes of the undead, I would not be in possession of brains of any sort. But if they were as lush and buttery as they are at Bar Pilar, perhaps I would reconsider.
1833 14th Street NW
Washington, DC 20009
Monday to Friday 5-10 pm
Saturday and Sunday brunch starting at 11am and ending at 4pm for dinner service.
Metro: Green Line to U Street/Cardozo