One of the few things, that make me miss being in Nigeria is food. Moving to Washington, DC made me a conservative spender and a healthy eater. Initially, my body had problems consuming meals from restaurants (it must have been something in the water) but those days are far behind me; I want to believe so.
“home is where food is”
However, while I was in Nigeria, eating out was something I took pride in and would sparingly highlight my favorite places on the blog. See example; ABUJA CHRONICLES: BEST PLACES TO EAT & MOST NATIVE BUKKA IN ABUJA & MY DISSAPPOINTMENT
I am a firm believer “home is where food is” and once a city has good food, I am home. I recently stumbled on this restaurant, yes stumbled, because I just needed to grab my Chopt Salad
and found The Bottom Line, DC (TBL).
Let me explain how the scenario, ensued; I leave work for launch break and I’m heading to get salad, I get to a stop and see two men chatting, one of them is munching a humongous burger, it looks tasty. I walk past them, take two steps back and act like I’m uninterested but this burger keeps calling me, Grace come. So I give into my whims and I make my way down a mason like mosaic stairs, intrepid!
I make my order, over the counter and the bearded guy across tells me if I’ll be eating at the open patio, I’ld need to wait outside and someone will be there to attend to me. I opt to stay outside, because the room space is darkly lit, and the faces made me uncomfortable.
A few minutes later, someone is attending to me kindly as I sit to access and read labels, attached to the walls. The restaurant has been around since 1979, also voted best place to have happy hour in DC (interesting). My order arrived on time I chose a regular chicken burger with salad.
Guys, I didn’t regret it. There are few places where salad is made to prime taste in the DC area, and TBL is one of those places. The burger was well made and the waiter was accommodating; I had such a good time, I began to worry about the price. When the bill came, it was pleasant surprise, $10; say what, my broke a** could afford to be treated like a princess?
Anyways enough of my trite remarks, but the 30 minutes work break seemed to pay off on that day.