Many say it serves among the best food in Washington, DC. And many say it is certain to guarantee an unforgettable night out. I say Pineapple and Pearls is an exhibition in exquisite and unique fine American cuisine, coupled with a bespoke hospitality and entertainment. The perfect harmony between the kitchen and the wait staff reverberates through every dish, glass of wine, and interaction. There's clear intent to make one's evening at Pineapple and Pearls special.

Chef and owner, Aaron Silverman, is one of our very own, being a Montgomery County, Maryland native. Silverman has earned impressive awards, such as the Mid-Atlantic Best Chef award from the James Beard Foundation and currently owns two restaurants on Barracks Row in D.C. that are recognized by the Michelin Guide: Rose's Luxury and Pineapple and Pearls. Pineapple and Pearls was awarded two stars by the Guide.

My story with Pineapple and Pearls began with a generous gift card from my perceptive boss.  Reservations are encouraged several weeks out if one chooses a dining room reservation during a popular time. However, the chef's counter is also an option, and bar seating will deliver the full experience on Fridays and Saturdays. I gave myself a full month of anticipation for our reservation to celebrate my wedding anniversary. 

Pineapple and Pearls has an intimate reception area, adorned with warm lighting and emblazoned with a pink neon sign that reads "fancy" with the preceding word, "nothing," intentionally unilluminated. Immediately after entering, we were greeted by a lively host in a velvet tuxedo jacket. These jackets clad all the wait staff, making for a classic yet fashionably edgy uniform. Don't be discouraged; we didn't wear anything too flashy, nor did most diners. 

In the brief moments while we waited to be seated, we were handed welcome cocktails, an amuse-bouche of sorts, inspired by Ernest Hemingway's novel, "Death in the Afternoon."  The tasty absinthe and champagne cocktail may have been a greater nod to Hemingway's fame as a drinker than his novel about Spanish bullfighting. We were ushered to our table, one of just eight, in the dining room. The host asked to take two Polaroid pictures of us once we settled in. (More on that later.) The dining room overlooked the open kitchen and was decorated with fun trinkets in every corner, balloons and dowels hanging from the ceiling, and big comfortable, lounge-worthy booths.

Our exuberant waiter made us feel as though they were genuinely pleased to meet us and to share this evening in our company. Little did we know, there was an entire cast of wonderful people with whom we were going to share this evening. The menu was a small booklet with lore of the restaurant, that night's tasting menu, cocktail list, and wine pairing options. Each of the four courses had two or three choices. We were expertly guided through the menu and proceeded to make our choices for dinner and drinks. I opted for the more modest of the wine pairing options, which turned out to be among the best choices that evening. When I say the sommelier looked after me, I mean that in the most exaggerated way. The outlandish wine to which I was introduced spoiled me. Some of the 20-year-old vintages from France and Italy were rich and complex with flavors I've not tasted in other wines. I've been fortunate to have some experience with wine pairings; however, this was the first time the sommelier's stories also paired with the dishes to enrich the entire course.

Before we knew it, four glass hexagonal prisms were placed on our table. Then small beggar's purses a la Quilted Giraffe were placed atop. This starter was a homage to the Quilted Giraffe restaurant in Manhattan and was reminiscent in shape to a steamed wonton. They were tied-off crepe-like encasements filled with crème fraîche and topped with caviar and gold flakes. These delicious morsels could have been the only thing I ate, and I would have still been happy.

Our next challenge was to decide the color of knife we were going to use that evening. This small decision brightened our table and further individualized this event. It came just in time because some of the most delicious lamb loin was being placed in front of me just seconds later. Lamb loin with lamb jus, and lamb bacon atop a cooked cherry was my first course. Both my lamb dish and Jen's savory egg custard, or chawanmushi, had their final assembly at the table to allow us to witness the final touches being put on these appetizers. These starters set the tone for how elevated and expressive the food was going to be that evening.

The second course consisted of a ravioli or gnocchi option. We ordered one of each and loved both. My gnocchi were the smoothest I've ever had, and black truffle was microplaned over the top at the table to advance the richness of this dish to an unimaginable level. The three-cheese ravioli was the most impressive rendition of a Cheez-It, in a fine-dining sense. At this point, our appetites are building and I'm beginning to wonder how far up the scale of imaginative cooking we're going to go.

The third and main course was the toughest decision we had to make, but we both opted for the Wagyu. I was expecting a medallion of steak, but nothing could have prepared me for the tender brisket presented. The oak-smoke flavor infused into this cut is what dreams are made of.  The guanciale sauce added a silky richness to round out the brisket nicely. I've made briskets that I've been proud of, but I need to go back to the drawing board after this. Don't let Texas find out that Washington, DC, has this up their sleeve. The brisket was accompanied by a beautiful heart of palm, cut lengthwise, that resembled bone marrow.

Last, but not least, our fourth course - dessert - arrived.  My LA-style mezcal pineapple was yet another table show. The bowl of Dippin' Dots-esque pearls were to be topped with a slice of mezcal-infused pineapple which was shaved like shawarma at the table. It was rich and delicious, as were Jen's assortment of sorbets. 

We were whisked away after we finished our drinks to an enclave near the front of the restaurant. I didn't know where we were being taken, but we emerged in front of a soft serve machine and were given the controls to dispense a cup of hazelnut ice cream. Ushered back to our table once again, yet this time waiting for us were two glasses of truffle-infused amaretto being kept warm as it was suspended above candles. We were encouraged to enjoy it with our ice cream, and believe me when I say that we did. This was perhaps the best way to round out everything we ate that night. As we were beginning to say our goodbyes to our new friends, they presented the last gift of the night. We each were given a fancy black box tied with a ribbon. We were told it was perishable, but it could be enjoyed the following day if we chose to refrigerate it, or as a midnight snack. Once home, we opened our mysterious gifts to discover our personalized menus from the evening with our Polaroids attached.  Beneath this was the midnight snack, a cheeseburger. I chuckled when I found it, along with instructions to microwave it for one minute the following day if refrigerated. I did in fact eat it the next day and it was superb. A rich and tangy aioli and caramelized onions were stacked atop a ground Wagyu beef patty on fresh brioche. I suppose I could be considered crazy for thinking that our wonderful experience had ended when we left Pineapple and Pearls. It was destined to continue the next day and into perpetuity since it was memorialized in these Polaroids.

Pineapple and Pearls delivered such a refined and experiential manner that I cannot find a comparison. Without a published menu, the food will be a surprise, and I can assure a pleasant one at that. The ambiance, creativity, and service were unmatched. Every possible detail was considered with meticulous attention and consideration for the guests. Pineapple and Pearls writes the book on how to deliver exquisite food in a never-to-forget setting.  Save it for a special occasion, lest you spoil yourself.

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