My brain was more divided than Congress: Part of me knew I should stick to the plan and order the plates that define the restaurant, named for James, the longtime Wagshal’s executive chef who is perhaps better known among friends and colleagues as Chef Trini. But another part of me couldn’t stop obsessing about the beef, which is my own apple from the tree of knowledge of good and evil, whose mortal taste is sure to lead to all our woe.
For years, I have relied on Wagshal’s sister market as a main source of meat, especially back in the day when Pam Ginsberg (who, by the way, had her own nickname: Pam the Butcher) used to run the shop like her own candy store, offering small samples to all the good little boys and girls who entered. The loin cuts, ground beef and brisket that I greedily slipped into the passenger seat of my car, like a thief in the night, would be transformed into reverse-seared steaks, burgers and Central Texas-style barbecue, smoked low and slow over smoldering hardwoods. Once you bite into a burnt end from a prime Black Angus brisket, with a little dry-age funk to it, you understand the inexplicable pleasure of decay.
These memories, some conscious and some just buried deep in my lizard brain, were impossible to shake. So, yes, I ordered a Wagshal’s burger on my first visit back on that afternoon in mid-October. But I started with an appetizer of doubles, the traditional Trini street food of curried chickpeas ladled atop fried bara, a flatbread at once soft and delicately crisp.
I ordered the burger medium rare, which seemed to surprise my server, who repeated back my desired temperature as if I had asked him to send over a platter of raw beef, sliced fresh from a primal cut, Ethiopian-style. Our conversation had no effect on the final burger, which was cooked well-done, not a hint of pink within that thick patty. This is one reason the source of Wagshal’s beef is so important: The prime meat, butchered from steers with rich veins of inter-muscular fat, can transform even the most overcooked burger into a mouthwatering experience. The gooey layer of melted American cheese and the strips of bacon didn’t hurt, either.
The doubles, served with slivers of fresh-cut cucumber and a pair of condiments, including a spicy fruit chutney, were the vegetarian counterpunch, every bit the equal of the burger in the categories that matter most: flavor and sheer face-stuffing satisfaction. Trini doubles, I’ve come to realize, are basically deflated chole bhature, the vast distance between the Caribbean and India collapsed into one handheld dish, so easy to eat, so easy to love.
My first meal at Chef Trini’s, as you might have surmised already, is the perfect encapsulation of what the restaurant does best: It marries the Caribbean cooking of James with the quality meats from Wagshal’s market, the superb sandwiches from its deli, and the quality-control techniques that owner Bill Fuchs and his team have spent years perfecting. All together, it makes for a Caribbean restaurant unlike any other in a town well known for them.
Unlike some of the well-established Caribbean carryouts and restaurants along Georgia Avenue NW, Chef Trini’s doesn’t rely on the steam-table model for serving up its fare. Fuchs and James have developed a process in which many of the starring ingredients — maybe the bone-in goat for the homestyle curry or the white and dark meat for the jerk chicken — are cooked ahead of time, vacuum-sealed and finished when an order is placed. It may not conform with Caribbean traditions, but Fuchs says it solves one problem found at countless restaurants, Trini or otherwise: The food is consistent from one meal to another, from one week to the next. I can’t argue with this.
Like Cane on H Street NE, Chef Trini’s has constructed a beautiful stage on which to showcase its Caribbean cooking — more on the plate than in the glassed-in patio behind the deli, which has a dignified-but-DIY quality to it. The gelatinous oxtail stew, more rich and savory than spicy, is ladled around a puck of rice and garnished with green onions cut on the bias. The hot pepper shrimp, salt cod fritters, jerk chicken and West Indian curried vegetables are all presented with a similar air of refinement, without sacrificing the Caribbean soul of the dishes.
There’s a temptation, I suspect, to think of Chef Trini’s as Caribbean cooking for the Spring Valley and American University Park sets, especially if you’re a purist who insists all jerk chicken should be grilled over pimento wood. But let me tell you about the bird at Chef Trini’s: The jerk seasoning doesn’t pull its punches. You will feel the burn among the blistered aromatics and spices. Other dishes, such as the goat curry, will sneak up on you, lulling you with its sweeter elements before the chile peppers take over — and take few prisoners. Pick any one of James’s curries — along with the elastic housemade roti to mop it up — and you will understand that comfort food comes in many forms.
You can even fall back on the standard Wagshal’s comforts, if you want. The smoked brisket sandwich, with its softened ribbons of rendered fat, remains one of the best handheld bites in the District. That it didn’t make a certain critic’s list of the 25 best sandwiches in the Washington area is a form of negligence bordering on criminality.
The saddest part about Chef Trini’s is its palpable sense of loneliness. One evening, I was the only patron; other times, I have picked up orders and encountered a similar emptiness. The restaurant feels like a reward, an acknowledgment, to James for her 25-plus years of service at Wagshal’s — and to the larger community. It seems to me you all should be lining up to pay your respects to a chef, and her place, which more than deserve your patronage.
Chef Trini’s Caribbean Cuisine
4855 Massachusetts Ave. NW, 202-852-1100. cheftrinis.com.
Hours: Monday to Friday: Breakfast 8 to 11 a.m., lunch 11 a.m. to 3 p.m., dinner 5 to 8:30 p.m. Saturday: Breakfast 9 to 11 a.m., lunch 11 a.m. to 3:30 p.m., dinner: 5 to 9 p.m. Sunday: Breakfast 9 to 11 a.m., lunch 11 a.m. to 3:30 p.m., dinner 5 to 7:30 p.m.
Nearest Metro: Tenleytown-AU, with about a mile walk to the restaurant.
Prices: $5.50 to $32 for all items on the menu.
