I’m going to tease you with six wonderful words: gourmet, housemade hot dogs, to go. Foodies, the fun is back!

Despite what’s been a fast-evolving – and increasingly gratifying – food scene here in D.C., we’re seeing a lot of the same thing: modern, California-and-French inspired American; a resurgence of fusion cuisine (mostly Asian-Latin combos; local and organic; and comfort, comfort, comfort food. There’s been more duck fat on the menus in D.C. in the past year than any I can remember. And it’s all to the good.

What is lacking, however, is something beyond flair, high-quality ingredients, and meticulous execution. What’s been lacking is the fun.

Luckily, that’s all changed now. Hidden just a block off the Disneyfied drag of Penn Quarter’s 7th street, lies PS 7’s, the new signature restaurant from former Vidalia chef Peter Smith.

The moody, James Bond entranceway gives way to a restaurant bathed in undulating chocolate brown, aquatic blues, and sculptural white. It’s a Jonathan Adler dream come true. The design scheme has added depth as well: straw-embedded tables, twisting gold-flecked curls of wood, and a yellow faux-rock bar give the space a modern, yet natural feel.

PS 7’s happy hour offers a hearty list of appetizers, “classic” cocktails, and quirkier “creations” at $7 a pop.  (Prices shoot higher at other times; be aware of the 7:00 p.m. deadline of “doom.”) The lounge menu is playful and inventive. Tuna Sliders feature cool red tartare on sublime, and rightly named “Soon-to-be-Famous” warmly buttered rolls. The sliders come with a not-too-hot wasabi aioli, a bright soy glaze, and tangy, homemade slaw.

There are two other stars on the Lounge menu: Smith’s silken Petite House Made Hot Dogs and Half Smokes, served with a colorful trio of condiments (again, house made, as is most everything in this chef’s playground) and a tangy tangle of fries. Again, the toasted, buttered, slightly sweet buns are a masterwork. But so is the meat. Oh, and did I mention that the hot dogs are available to go? Just call PS 7’s about fifteen minutes in advance, and they’ll have a set waiting for you to pick up, with fresh pickles, no less. A Nats game never sounded so good!

And speaking of Smith’s culinary sense, be sure to take in his signature Arancini Risotto balls. I’ll admit, I’ve been watching this type of appetizer make the rounds of local restaurants, and am generally not impressed; so often, the risotto goes gluey. Smith’s arancini, however, are spot on – hot, crispy, and lusty with the smokey flavor of Gouda cheese.

And while an otherwise smart-tasting gimlet and ice-frothed Cosmo run just a bit too tart, the joy most diners express when offered classics like a Tom Collins on the same menu as a Pear Martini – a mix of vodka and pear syrup with a delightful, spiced “pear ball” for adornment – makes up for it. That too-tart homemade sour mix didn’t undermine the tequila-based Gomme de Guerre either: I asked the bartender and he admitted to adding a little simple syrup to sweeten it, and the clean, crisp drink tasted like a hot night in Miami Beach.

Smith has been cooking since he was 14 and opened PS 7’s just months ago, in tandem with welcoming his first child. He’s everywhere in the restaurant, backed by focused managers and a crack kitchen team. The servers, too, are clearly excited about the chef’s vision – they rattle off the intricacies of the menu with pride and enthusiasm.

Move into the dining room (either the main room or a series of booths opposite a waving blue wall that reminded me of the whale at the Museum of Natural History) and a different vibe sets in. Our server welcomed us, offered us a drink, and quickly proffered a warm amuse buche of savory celery soup with a reduced blood orange glaze, quickly followed by a devilish trio of breads.

The menu itself is laid out somewhat unusually: Items are grouped by price. As the server explains, the prices should be seen as guides; the lower the dollar amount, the smaller the portion. While it’s nice to see the prices up front, it did change the tone of ordering—rather than seeing an item and, as a second step checking in on the price, everything was defined by it. I’m torn: it’s an up-front and honest ploy, but maybe not best for the diner who wants to be swept away by culinary style.

Starters were solid. Sarah’s Salad, a light bird’s nest of Bosc pears, dried cherries, spiced walnuts, and blue cheese, featured a pear nectar dressing that gave the mix of savory and sweet elements an effervescent lift. The Lobster Bisque ran to the other end of the spectrum—deliciously hearty and rich with sweet lobster flavor, although it could have used a few more lumps of meat.

Smith’s DPJ, which he lovingly calls “my own little peanut butter and jelly,” was the hit of the smaller plates. The DPJ is a convention-defying, delightfully surprising combination of crisp duck confit (salted and cooked in its own fat for a deep, rich flavor), toasted peanuts with a hit of spice, pickled concord grapes, thin potato shaves, and a jet stream of concord jelly along the side. It’s crazy, and crazy good: Just for good measure, Smith scatters crumbles of fried duck around the plate. Like so much here, it brought smiles of adoration to every face at the table. On the menu’s second page, we shared Pan Seared Scallops that exhibited (a) no grit, and (b) firm, giving, slightly sweet flesh and a refined yet ripe sherry vinegar sauce.

The big news, however, is Smith’s truly magical interpretation of Red Wine Braised Beef Shortribs. This small, but deathly rich meal features rib meat that has been cooked and cooked and cooked until it melts, then studded with foie gras, and cradled in a divine, buttery pastry wrap. Roasted Hedgehog mushrooms and glazed root vegetables—all dolloped with an earthy, dark-forest sauce – completed the plate. When I let my friend have a taste, he sampled, sat back, and announced “like clouds.”

Yes, it’s that good. And thankfully, not an overwhelming portion. In retrospect, eating Smith’s shortrib was like reading “The Corrections” by Jonathon Franzen. With each bite I was terrified that the genius overkill of saturations – whether in the case of language and metaphor or slow-cooking and sauce, would veer into the surreal. In both cases, the expert touch of the artist just barely reels it in. A masterwork.

The Shortribs are also offered as half of a Duo of Beef, but I’d actually recommend skipping the extra steak – it’s all a bit too much food, and the Pan Roasted Rib Eye Noisette, while good, wasn’t spectacular. The steak was well-cooked, but the accompanying brie’s flavor was too gentle to add any drama, and a glistening coin of marrow felt unnecessary, a slightly over-dramatic touch, without the promised return.

Back up there with the Shortribs, however, was Smith’s Popcorn Crusted Halibut. This tender, juicy square of fish soared on its plate, and served as a velvet balance to the exuberant, air-light collection of spiced popcorn (did I taste chili and cinnamon?) and the unearthly bed of onions and corn that adorned it. The Halibut feels decadent and healthy, city and country, at the same time. A swipe of Tonka bean (a cousin of the vanilla bean) and popcorn emulsion added a sweet kiss.
Desserts are appropriately grouped into Little and Bigger Sins – and are as full of effervescent creativity as the main menu. Unfortunately, we were stuffed, so could only managed the “little sin” of fresh “Mini” donuts, served hot with chocolate and raspberry dipping sauces. The pastry chef, Naomi Gallego, was nominated for a Rammy award for her pastries, and she earns the plaudits here. She’s also got a Kahlua Chocolate Milkshake featuring a cityscape of individual chocolate sculptures and cookies, and a smooth cool, chocolaty taste.

And how much does all this goodness cost? Well, it ain’t cheap. Dinner with two rounds of drinks cost our group of four about $300. It can be done more economically – quite easily in fact – but the fun here is in the experimentation, so it’s a smart choice for a splurge. Even better, go with a large group and sample a hundred little bites. I have utter faith in the vision and execution of Peter Smith and his team.

The man loves food, and has worked hard to create a vibrant, exciting, and wholly unique destination restaurant for D.C. It’s sleek and stylish, sure. But don’t let that fool you. Peter Smith is a gutsy and exciting chef. He’s proud of what he’s accomplishing, and he should be. PS 7’s is the very definition of culinary joy.

Alex MacLennan is a local writer and editor. His first novel, The Zookeeper, was published May 2006.

INFO:
Name: PS 7’s
Address: 777 I (Eye) Street, NW
Phone: 202/742-8550
Web: www.ps7restaurant.com
Hours: Lunch: 11:30a.m. through 2:30p.m. | Lounge: 11:30a.m. through 10:00p.m. | Dinner: 5:30p.m. through 10:00p.m.
Reservations: Accepted but not Required