French Legation for a Night

My old bus route used to run me up towards Adam's Morgan past a little Dupont eatery called Bistro du Coin. It was French, as you might have guessed. But French in that unmistakably Disneyworld sort of way (at least, the Disneyworld I've heard about; my childhood never afforded me the pleasure and God willing my adulthood never will either)... just in your face with the whole facade. But brash enough to accommodate large crowds, with a disco ball dripping from the ceiling and year-round Christmas decorations. It was superficial and deliciously tacky, which in the end might just be what kept me going back for more.

Fact is I had a lot of good meals there with some good fuzzy memories to boot. The barflys who'd gather mid-afternoon to burn smokes and drink cheap beaujolais were legit, just as legit as the surly and accented waitstaff, equal opportunity haters all. Every night a full house, but no night quite as full as to-night... July 14th, Bastille Day, when they spin that dormant mirrored stalactite into action and kick the French electronica into full gear. From the bus window was about as close as I'd get, leaving the party to those who knew the what for.

BISTRO DU COIN
1738 Connecticut Ave, NW
Washington, D.C.  20009
202/234-6969
http://www.bistrotducoin.com/

A personal memory, nothing more, with no bearing on the below - seaside propaganda from the South of France; Nice, isn't it? That's Nice, like fleece - save for the common celebration...  

Happy Bastille Day, cheese eaters.