CHAIN REACTION: NANDO'S PERI PERI

By now, Washingtonians should already be quite familiar with the South African outpost, Nando's Peri Peri. Billed as a restaurant with a Mozambique-Portuguese theme, the chain entered the DC market in 2008, introducing Our Nation's Capital to the wonderful world of "peri-peri." Peri-peri, or piri-piri (Galinha á Africana in Portuguese), refers to a hot sauce made from dried and soaked piri-piri chillies, which are a staple condiment used in most stews and soups from East Africa. Its origins stem from Portugal, but has become quite a popular accompaniment in East African cuisine. In Portugal, "Piri-piri" often refers to most hot sauces.

Nando's Peri Peri is named after the son of a Portugese national, Fernando Duarte, living in South Africa. The first restaurant opened in Johannesburg in 1987. It incorporated influences from Portuguese colonists from Mozambique who had migrated to South Africa.

It's entrance into the DC market in 2008 added to the color and flavor of the city's already evolving food culture. It joins the ranks of other international chains that have penetrated the U.S. food market: El Pollo Campero (Guatemala), Tim Horton's (Canada), and Vapiano (Germany). But, like these other chains that came before, the only thing that seems to set Nando's apart is its origins. After all is said and done, Nando's is still a chain like the rest of them.

The chicken is touted as being healthy and always grilled. The specialty comes in the different sauces, which come in varying degrees of "fire" -- Extra Hot, Hot, Mild, and Lemon & Herb. Your chicken can be ordered by the half, the quarter, or in full. There are also different dinner platters, sandwiches, wraps, and salads that can be ordered, all featuring their famous chicken.

The food itself is flavorful. But it's not mind-blowing flavor that you would expect from a place whose facade emits a sense of exoticism. The heat from their sauces might not actually live up to the hype, but that is totally up to the individual. As a lover of things spicy, I didn't find the sauces to be outrageously different from anything I've had before.

The decor is quite impressive, on the other hand. You can tell that they tried their best to fuse the sense of style and decor of Portuguese-inspired East Africa into their restaurants. Dark, stone-ish walls, with modern wall art meld together to offer you a little more ambiance. This easily offsets the fact that you move to the counter to place your order, which is later brought out to your table. Your self-serve beverage bar screams more "Chipotle" than it does anything else, and that easily reminds you that you're in a chain.

At best, the food at Nando's Peri Peri can be classified as "OK." In the end, however, it's quite obvious that no matter where it comes from a chain is still a chain.
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Nando's Peri Peri, 1210 18th Street NW, Washington, DC 20001, 202.621.8603

WHY, SNOW? WHY?!

Growing up as a kid, I remember when I used to love the forecasting of snow. When snow would actually happen, I'd wake-up early to turn on the TV and check the listing of school closings to make sure that Prince Georges County Public Schools would make the list. In those days, that kind of small-time victory always made life better. That continued through college as well when classes would be cancelled, and I'd spend my days couped up in my dorm watching soaps, eating instant ramen, and contemplating on whether or not I should crack open the books...all while snow fell outside my window.

These days, the real world reality of snow makes me cringe. While it's beautiful to look at, it definitely can come with a price -- especially if you're in an area where the handling of snow has yet to be perfected. Handling snow is a science that the Metro DC area has not come to embrace as well as other areas in the northeast or midwest have. In DC, a foot of snow will shut things down, and essentially keep you locked up indoors. I, for one, fear cabin fever. While I do encounter days when I wouldn't mind kicking back and staying in, I find that it's always when I have no choice than to be couped-up indoors that I want to roam free.

Last night, the snow just started to fall as I parked my car outside my parents' house. I had just worked a 10-hour day, and spent another hour or so doing cardio at the gym. I figured that since it's the last weekend before Christmas, I'd drop my stuff off at home, hop back into the car, and head out to the mall. When the snow began to fall, I wasn't deterred. In fact, it only fueled my fire to get out even more. So I put my stuff away, changed clothes, and grabbed a quick bite... and despite my parents' questions on my crazy decision to step out in the snow, I grabbed my coat and keys, and headed back into VA. The drive was cake... Just like driving on a rainy day.

I got to the mall & made my rounds: hit up the sales, and left with two pairs of pants, a sweater, and a wine stopper. Score! I was absolutely happy that my ambition came with much reward.

It wasn't until I left the mall that the worry started to set-in. Just as I drove outside the parking garage, I had noticed that the snow had already blanketed most of the local roads, and there were cars already pulled off to the side of the road with blinking hazards on. I stopped in front of the ice rink at Pentagon Row for a second to take in the scenery: snow falling upon a holiday themed square full of lights, Christmas trees, fake snow flakes, and everything else that you come to associate with the holiays. It was the perfect scene, and I was quickly reminded that I am home. For a quick few minutes, the road treachery escaped me and I found myself in a state of bliss.

Then the worry came back just as quickly as it had left. I could hear the violins, which were playing in my mind, come to a screeching halt. So I slipped on the slush as I made my way back to my car (Umm, aren't Uggs supposed to be good in the snow?! Not so much.), and made a conscious effort to take the freeway home in fear of the snow-laden streets.

Thankfully, the freeway was free of debris for the most part. But at many points, the traffic went along at 1 MPH, which I was fine with. I was super worried that someone would try to be a superstar and slide past me at 5 MPH, and possibly hit me - or someone else - along the way. So what ended up being a 20 minute drive to the mall turned into an almost hour-long drive back home via 395 and 295.

Once I was home safe, I settled back in to warm-up. I opened a bottle of red, had a couple of glasses, then I fell asleep with the knowledge that come morning there would be more snow for me to enjoy. Yay.

And so now I am here at home, annoying myself with cabin fever. My mom is cooking something obviously Filipino. The smell of garlic is wafting through the house, and is seriously enveloping me despite the fact that I took a shower this morning.

I feel like I'm 13 again, and I don't know whether to laugh about it, or prepare myself for the noose.

I'll laugh. For now.

PS: Snow, why couldn't you have waited to fall on Sunday night instead?

j.LoUBOUTINS... RIGHT.

It's been a minute since j.Lo jumped back into the scene with her performance at November's American Music Awards. The show served as her "launch-pad," if you will, for her new single, 'Louboutins.' The thing is, I'm still trying to understand why Jenny-from-the-block is singing about Louboutins (from designer Christian Louboutin). She claims that the song is about love, and "all the questions we have about it." Yet the highlight of the song is obviously the red-soled shoes. Right, j.Lo.

If this is the direction that pop music is headed, then this has got to be the end. (Although arguably, the end had already come when Vitamin C burst onto the scene for a hot second.)

I feel like j.Lo has seriously opened the door for other ridiculous songs to infiltrate the airwaves. I have a feeling that Taylor Swift will come up with a teen-angst song about "love" and Manolo Blahniks, or Leighton Meester will channel her inner "xoxo, Gossip Girl" with a song about Jimmy Choos. And I'm sure the craze will only continue with blips about other luxe shoe brands: Bottega Veneta, Stuart Weitzman, Tod's... Maddening much?

The sad truth is that j.Lo is one of those artists who isn't a particularly good singer, but she somehow always comes out with a stupid song with a hot beat. So you can't help but fall into the trap of her catchy tunes much in the same way that you do with Beyonce or Lady Gaga (difference is, however, Bey and Lada Gaga can actually sing ---as much as I hate to even admit to that...).

While j.Lo's performance at last month's AMAs were nothing short of a hot mess, I'm happy to say that she redeemed herself with a performance of the forsaken song at last night's finale show of So You Think You Can Dance. Take a look:



Looks like Jenny-from-the-block has moved on up to the Upper East Side.

GET YOUR MIRACLE ICONS... AT BARNEYS (?!)

With the holidays here, I get a ton of emails from retailers enticing me to buy the next big thing ---whether it has to do with electronics, entertainment, food, or fashion. In my inbox today, I got a blast from Barneys New York. This e-blast featured some of the season’s “hot” items. Among them I noted a pair of argyle socks, skull caps, jackets, and miracle icon jewelry.

What is “miracle icon jewelry” you ask? Well, from what I saw it looked like a metal-struck pendant of Our Lady of Charity… complete with fake burnishing and “natural”-looking wear-and-tear. If you’re Catholic, then you totally know what I’m talking about. It’s those “miraculous” medals with images of saints, or angels, or Jesus, Mary, or whomever else you can think of. You know – the kind of little metals that you find being sold outside a pilgrimage cathedral in Europe or South America, or even at the gift shop at the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in downtown DC. These usually-75-cents-a-piece trinkets are now being sold for $75 at Barneys.

Two thoughts go through my head:

#1 – I don’t like when people wear rosaries or metals with saintly images on them for fashion. I don’t even wear a chain with a cross hanging from it. It’s just not my style. But I guess some people find it chic enough to sport. But how weird is that? For me, I feel like wearing a bracelet with a pendant of St. Bernadette dangling from it would make me feel awkward if I were running around town getting sloshed on the weekends. Maybe it’s my Catholic guilt that makes me think that way (or the time my mom almost beat the crap out of me as a kid because I wore a rosary around my neck as if it were just some random accessory). I shrug.

#2 – Why the hell didn’t I think of selling my old icon-charms to Barneys? And I know I have these lying around my old room somewhere – on door knobs, in drawers, or in boxes. I could’ve made a killing with Barneys selling these under-a-buck pendants for just shy of a Benjamin each.

Well, whatever. If anyone’s interested in sporting the next hot thing in fashion, then I’ve got your miracle icon pendants. Holler for your dollars.

(Ha.)

AN 'EMPIRE STATE OF MIND' THANKSGIVING DINNER

I am a “Christmas” person. When I think of a quintessential holiday, Christmas has always been the one for me. It’s the “it” holiday; it takes me to a place that no other holiday can. First off, it doesn’t necessarily make me realize that I’m another year older. Secondly, I don’t become daunted with the gift-buying and gift-giving; it’s in my ‘giving’ nature to do just that, so the holiday serves as an extra-special time for that. Third, it is a reminder of something that is greater than any of us (from a belief standpoint, at least). Fourth, the cold weather and festiveness of Christmastime compares to no other holiday. And fifth, I don’t consider it a time when I find myself gorging on food.

Not to out-do the pomp and circumstance of a traditional Christmas dinner, but the winner of the “food” holiday of the year would have to go to Thanksgiving. Call it what you want: “Turkey Day,” “Gobble-gobble day,” and – to a much lamer extent – “The Day-before-black-Friday” holiday. Thanksgiving rivals Christmas as the most popular holiday of the year. Like its December counterpart, Thanksgiving is a special time for family and friends, and often serves as the pre-cursor to the height of the year-end holidays. There’s no stress about gift-shopping, and it’s a great time to sit-around with family and friends, share an amazingly-prepared meal, take in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and a football game (or two) on TV, and exchange stories with loved-ones in-between visits to the Thanksgiving table.

For the past four years, I spent my Thanksgivings away from home. So this year was supposed to serve as my “homecoming” Thanksgiving. That didn’t exactly happen, however, as I decided to make plans with friends to spend a couple of days in New York City instead. Admittedly, I was secretly relieved that I wouldn’t have to play games with anyone’s Thanksgiving spread; anything to keep me from going back for seconds, thirds, and even possibly fourths. And let’s not even think about the desserts. Instead, I was content with the fact that my friends and I would have to make dinner reservations somewhere, and that after the servings were handed out that would be the end of it all. Apparently, we weren’t the only ones with the same bright idea… but then again, we were in New York City.

While our hotel was packed with visitors from across the globe, many of whom had no real idea of what the American ideals of Thanksgiving are, pockets of neighborhoods were pretty empty. Unless you found yourself in the middle of Times Square, which never seems to quiet down, you were most likely in a sparsely-populated part of town where businesses were closed, and folks were away for the holiday. Apparently, everyone in the East Village seemed to be at The Smith for Thanksgiving dinner. Lucky for us, so were we.

The American brasserie, which is a creation of native New Yorkers, Glann Harris and Jeffrey Lefcourt, sits in the heart of the East Village. From the street, you could see the restaurant filled with other patrons seeking to have their holiday fill. The overall feeling was that a lot of the guests that night were locals: students from NYU who stayed in town for the holiday, and neighborhood families who opted not to venture out of Manhattan. Then you had your sprinkle of out-of-towners simply looking for a prix fix “Thanksgiving” dinner. As you entered the restaurant, you were greeted with the sounds of bustling conversations amidst the clanging of silverware and stemware. Then you were hit with the smells of all things delicious as dishes were brought to tables from the super-busy kitchen.

Our waitress gave us a run-down of the menu, and let us know of the specials for the day –including a “turkey” special in honor of the holiday. My friends and I opted against the traditional Thanksgiving dinner since we were being anything BUT conventional, and we kicked-off our meal with an order of crispy calamari (Brooklyn style –ie, marinara sauce over top) and crawfish hush puppies (served with an Old Bay aioli). The comfort food continued with our main dishes, which ranged the breadth of a roasted pork chop to steamed mussels & frites to a hearty bowl of spaghetti & meatballs. The pork chop was cooked to perfection, and was served on a bed of sweet potato hash; perfectly marrying the sweet and saltiness of the dish. The pot of mussels simmered in a broth of chardonnay, tarragon and Dijon was served alongside shoe-string frites giving any Belgian brasserie a run for its money. And finally, a big bowl of spaghetti - complete with large and in-charge meatballs - easily made you feel like you were 10 years old again.

It certainly felt like we were eating at someone’s home, and our fatigue from the day began to mix in with our full bellies. If beds were on the menu, we would’ve ordered three easily. When it came time for dessert we couldn’t do it, and we were off to the street to walk-off the glaze of tiredness that was coming over us.

It wasn’t your traditional Thanksgiving dinner, but it was our Thanksgiving dinner. And when you find yourself in an empire state of mind, even on Thanksgiving day, there really isn’t anything else that would matter.

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The Smith, 55 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10003, 212.420.9800