Anyone looking for restaurant space should chat up Kevin Tien. After his Vietnamese-inspired Moon Rabbit at the Wharf went dark amid a unionization fight in May, the chef says he looked at 30 or so spots around Washington, including the vacated Cashion’s Eat Place in Adams Morgan and Seven Reasons on 14th Street NW. It wasn’t until he toured the onetime location of Co Co Sala in Penn Quarter that he found the right fit: an interior that included a bar near the entrance and an open kitchen.
“This is it,” he and his team agreed. “I saw what could be our forever home,” says Tien, “or at least for the run of the lease,” he cracks.
Let’s hope he stays put for a spell. His previous full-service restaurants — the Japanese-bent Himitsu in Petworth, the cart- and fermented-food-focused Emilie’s on Capitol Hill, the original Moon Rabbit in the InterContinental Hotel — didn’t last beyond a few years. His new roost, 100 or so seats spread across a lounge, central dining room and private area, offers lots of dishes I hope to be eating for a long time.
Crab rangoon, for instance. Initially, the appetizer, the provenance of so many American Chinese restaurants, sounds out of place. Tien says it’s a nostalgic nod to the block of Philadelphia cream cheese and topping of Tabasco-brand pepper jelly, slathered on Wheat Thins, that his wife’s parents serve him back in his native Louisiana. At Moon Rabbit, the idea is gussied up with a blend of housemade ricotta and robiola cheese topped with local jumbo crab and eaten with wavy sails of housemade scallion crackers. “Chips and dip,” a server says as she drops off the plate.
“The cheese is homage to Laughing Cow,” popular in Vietnam, says chef de cuisine Minsu Son, who cooked with his boss when both were at the late, great Momofuku in Washington. Similarly, the spread is also flavored with imitation crab for a memorable “highbrow, lowbrow” experience.
The sight and smell you can’t escape on streets throughout Vietnam is grilled meat, sometimes beef swaddled in betel leaves. Tien elevates the idea by wrapping ground Wagyu beef, perfumed with lemongrass and funky with fish sauce, in easier-to-find perilla leaves that give the meat a minty freshness. Pickled shallots make a zingy garnish and labne dappled with housemade sate sauce becomes a dip for a thoroughly modern bò lá lốt.
At the first Moon Rabbit, the chef had to be mindful of travelers and tourists. At Moon Rabbit 2.0, Tien and team, including co-owner and chef Judy Beltrano, are free to be more adventurous. Working in a hotel, the kitchen had to deal with room service, a bar and additional amenities. Now, “we don’t have other distractions,” says Tien.
Check out the grilled squid, stuffed with boudin (Cajun sausage) made bodacious with pork, chicken livers, Chinese sausage, jasmine rice, and pops from lemon and five-spice. The server who brought out the combination did a nice job of describing it, down to the charred, squid-inked eggplant puree, which he referred to as “best supporting actress.” Ha-ha and down the hatch. Vegetarians won’t be the only diners to swoon over the beautiful and delicious roasted Lodi squash, the scraps of which are fermented and pureed with coconut milk, garlic and lemongrass to create a vibrant yellow curry. Seeds in the center, a nod to Vietnamese sesame seed candy, include candied pumpkin and sunflower seeds. Flash-fried curry leaves complete the dish, which gives Tien, a co-founder of Chefs Stopping AAPI Hate and the creator of the casual Hot Lola’s, a chance to explain his thought process.
With his new restaurant, he hopes to broaden the notion of what Vietnamese food is and break through what he calls “the bamboo ceiling.” Floppy rice cakes come with a crumble of dried tofu that mimics the texture of the more traditional dried shrimp, and purple yams lend their color to the city’s most intriguing risotto, ringed in pureed culantro and beefed up with roasted mushrooms. Bánh canh cua, Vietnamese crab soup, is reimagined with chewy dumplings made from sweet potato and tapioca flours — the kitchen refers to them as “f---ed-up gnocchi” — in a tantalizing, tomato-red broth enriched with crab fat. Vietnam’s long associations with foreign entities allow for such fancies as pâté chaud, flaky puff pastry filled with a meaty interior of ground pork, foie gras, chicken pâté and diced jicama for some crunch. Step aside, beef Wellington. Tien says, “I’m embracing the influences.” Diners are as well. Dinner is not an easy reservation, but the restaurant offers first-come, first-serve seating in the lounge, primarily at the bar.
The chef’s crew is mostly composed of staff who have worked with him before, but no investors. So a lot of the look of the place was done on a budget. “Stuff from our basement” make up some of the details, says Tien. Note the great cookbooks lining the shelves here and there. The titles explain the chef’s story and his priorities. If a fire broke out, he says he’d grab “Uchi: The Cookbook,” “Prejean’s Cookbook” and “My Vietnam: Stories and Recipes” by Luke Nguyen, reflecting places he’s worked or fellow cooks he admires. Lights that look like parachutes or jellyfish were hung by the staff, and the blue accents are inspired by the Vietnamese coastline. The previous restaurant, the British-themed Scotts, was dark; Moon Rabbit is lighter in every way, signifying “a fresh start for us,” says Tien.
All but a few dishes — cumin lamb and quail claypot — are small plates. A couple of combinations could use some finessing. The spring roll is presented as upright bundles packed with hearts of palm, daikon and other vegetables. The trouble is, when you bite into the constructions, their filling spills out. But I love the accompanying sauce, an emulsion coaxed from housemade misos (peanut and sweet potato) and stinging with dried chiles. As good as it sounds, and as fetching as it looks, barbecue monkfish with collard greens and coconut broth tastes flat in comparison to the company it keeps among the small plates (which are just that, big eaters).
The bookends are noteworthy. Bar director Thi Nguyen whips up such liquid pleasures as Sài Gòn by Night — coconut-rinsed whiskey, sweet vermouth and lemongrass-coffee liqueur — while pastry chef Susan Bae makes endings as exciting as anything served before them. (Both talents deploy fish sauce in clever ways, too.) Consider Bae’s simply billed and delightfully refreshing “Seaweed”: coconut mousse, a suggestion of seaweed confit, panna cotta — green with the almond-suggestive pandan — rising from a base of chocolate crumbles. The frosty halo on top is frozen coconut milk and lime juice.
Tien spends the first part of his day in the kitchen, which is why you see him touching tables throughout the restaurant at night. It’s good to see him back in the game, and fun to think about where he might go next with his food — far, I imagine.
Moon Rabbit
927 F St. NW. 202-525-1446. dokidokihospitality.com. Open for inside dining 5 p.m. to 9:30 p.m. Tuesday through Thursday and 5 p.m. to 10 p.m. Friday and Saturday. Prices: Small plates $12 to $28. Sound check: 79 decibels/Must speak with raised voice. Accessibility: No barriers to entry; ADA-compliant restroom.
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