When you ponder Capitol Hill—and you often do—romance doesn't exactly spring to mind.
Well, at least not the kind of romance we care to discuss. (You know who you are, Congressman.)
So when you swoop up to the Hill to rescue your favorite staffer from yet another health care debate, intent on canoodling over a bottle of Bordeaux, your neighborhood options have typically been…meager. Until now.
Allow us to introduce Bistro Cacao, just opened to up the romance quotient on the Senate side.
This converted row house will remind you of somewhere Ernest Hemingway would have hung out during one of his many jaunts in Paris to find himself. We can't promise existential freedom, but you'll find three cozy dining rooms, hardwood floors from New Zealand, handmade wine racks and, in the far room, booths wrapped in red curtains. Which you'll inevitably ask your server to close. You know, to discuss the latest floor amendment. (Bonus tip: ask for table 26, which affords you curtains and a bay window.)
Peering out from your curtained cubby, call for a few French favorites like Onion Soup, Seared Duck Breast and Escargots to fuel the rest of your night, before retiring to cozier chambers.
And if you make it back in the new year, the owners have big plans—Sunday brunch, an adjacent wine bar and a 50-seat patio when it warms up again.
In case you're still thirsty for romance in the morning.
Well, at least not the kind of romance we care to discuss. (You know who you are, Congressman.)
So when you swoop up to the Hill to rescue your favorite staffer from yet another health care debate, intent on canoodling over a bottle of Bordeaux, your neighborhood options have typically been…meager. Until now.
Allow us to introduce Bistro Cacao, just opened to up the romance quotient on the Senate side.
This converted row house will remind you of somewhere Ernest Hemingway would have hung out during one of his many jaunts in Paris to find himself. We can't promise existential freedom, but you'll find three cozy dining rooms, hardwood floors from New Zealand, handmade wine racks and, in the far room, booths wrapped in red curtains. Which you'll inevitably ask your server to close. You know, to discuss the latest floor amendment. (Bonus tip: ask for table 26, which affords you curtains and a bay window.)
Peering out from your curtained cubby, call for a few French favorites like Onion Soup, Seared Duck Breast and Escargots to fuel the rest of your night, before retiring to cozier chambers.
And if you make it back in the new year, the owners have big plans—Sunday brunch, an adjacent wine bar and a 50-seat patio when it warms up again.
In case you're still thirsty for romance in the morning.
