Oya mixes Asian and French fare temptingly

• Article
• Comments ()
• Click-2-Listen
• Videos

By

Fire and ice. To enter Oya in Washington's Penn Quarter is to step into a stunning ice palace with open fires.

As you enter the front door, a wall of heavy, silvery interlocking chains confronts you; a long narrow fire flickers through the chains from behind the bar. Another larger fireplace is recessed in the middle of the dining area wall, warming tables placed nearby.

White walls with tilted mirrors reflect chairs, tables and couches (in the lounge area next to the bar), all covered in sleek white leather. White marble abounds. In the middle of the room, an otherwise stark supporting pillar, all graceless plaster, is beautifully disguised with tiny white lights behind curtains of silvery round shells, tinkling to the touch.

Thin metallic ropes separate the dining and bar areas. Water flows down a window in the back of the dining room, allowing diners only glimpses of the kitchen; it flows as well over a black marble wall at the entrance to the dining room.

Oya is not warm, despite the fire, but it's gorgeous and utterly romantic. The cuisine is equally beautiful and stylish -- sometimes, but not always, with success. Oya started life as a Caribbean restaurant last year to mixed reviews. Now, however, new chefs James Stouffer and Jonathan Seningen have created a menu which often merits the praise their French-Asian cooking receives.

The menu is not a long one, and almost every dish shines with a combination of the traditional European mixed with the exotic Asian. For example, three small crepes -- just a touch thicker than the Breton original -- are filled with duck confit, folded and served with a splash of hoisin-based sauce. The flavors are perfect together. A simple green salad is decorated with a few tiny rounds of fresh quince and paper-thin slices of Asian pear.

In lieu of bread, a small bowl of bite-sized gougeres comes to the table. The mini choux pastry puffs flavored with cheese are addictively delicious and disappear in a flash.

Even the most traditional dishes, such as a risotto, are accented with an Asian touch. A yellow tomato soup, with the smoky flavor of oven-grilled or roasted tomatoes, is adorned with hamachi (yellowtail) at dinner and shrimp at lunch; blue marlin tartare is mixed with ginger and cilantro and enhanced with kaffir lime sorbet.

Parsley dashi soup, on the other hand, is a combination of elements that doesn't work. Despite its pretty deep-green color, the soup is virtually flavorless. The small squares of soft tofu, mushy glass noodles and pieces of shiitake mushroom add nothing of flavor or texture.

The dozen main dinner courses present an equally complex picture. Unfortunately, quail served with walnut-studded spaetzle is no longer available, though no one has bothered to take it off the menu. Instead, an excellent rolled chicken breast on a rich, dark sauce accompanied by sauteed parsley has been substituted. (Pork dumplings are also no longer available, although they, too, continue on the menu.)