WASHINGTON, D.C. (Amazing America) — Washington, D.C. feeds you like the United Nations on a lunch break.
We’re back with Let’s Eat — a food-fueled sprint through American cities that don’t always get credit for their culinary depth. I’ve eaten my way through Puerto Rican lechón in Charleston, a green curry and Texas BBQ mash-up in San Antonio, and dank Detroit-style slices in a Reno strip mall. But this show was never about the food alone. It’s about what a city shows you when you ask to be fed. And D.C.? It didn’t just show me what it had — it introduced me to who it is. I came to Washington expecting jumbo slices and politics. Instead, I got a crash course on world cuisine.
D.C. surprised me. Not with how good the food was — that I expected. But with how much of the world showed up on my plate. Ethiopian, Tex-Mex, Taiwanese-Cambodian fusion, Afro-Caribbean. Every stop on this tour reminded me that food is how we root ourselves in unfamiliar soil. It’s how we pass on memory. It’s how we say, “I was here. And I made something good.”
We started strong at La Tejana, a Tex-Mex breakfast taco spot that dropped me right back into my years living in Texas. Their 956 taco is named after the area code of the Lower and Middle Rio Grande Valley: molten queso, fried potatoes, and refried beans wrapped in a homemade flour tortilla with just the right amount of chew. The first bite gave me goosebumps.
At Donut Run, I picked up a Boston Cream donut so fluffy and rich I had to double-check it was vegan. Spoiler: it was. But there was nothing “lite” about it. It was heavy for its size, overstuffed with vegan cream, chocolatey and perfectly indulgent. It was a reminder that plant-based can still punch you in the sweet tooth.
Then we hit Smokey’s, and I’m still thinking about those wings. Fried to a golden crackle and drenched in mumbo sauce — a tangy, sweet, uniquely D.C. creation — they were simple, perfect, and deeply comforting. The woman behind the counter has been cooking there for five decades, and you could taste every year of experience. We had to order seconds because I ate them all without giving my camera guy/ partner-in-crime, Brandon, a chance to take a shot of them.
Ben’s Chili Bowl was next, and if you’re in D.C. and don’t try a half-smoke there, you’re doing it wrong. It’s been holding court on U Street since 1958 — a beacon through the civil rights movement, the riots, the rebuild, and the waves of gentrification. The walls are covered in photos of presidents and performers, but the real star is the chili dog. Complex. Bold. A little rough around the edges. Like the city itself.
Duccini’s gave us the jumbo slice of our dreams — wide, greasy with a glorious foot long cheese pull. The kind of pizza you eat standing up on the sidewalk at 2 a.m. while making a mental list of your regrets. It was perfect.
And then came Chercher. My first time eating Ethiopian food, and I was not prepared. The doro wat was spicy and rich, with bone-in chicken that fell apart at the mere touch of injera — that spongy, earthy, slightly sour flatbread that became both utensil and revelation. It surprised me. I love it when food does that.
At Makketto, the fried chicken sandwich landed hard. Deeply seasoned, crusted in golden ridges that held every drop of sauce, tucked into a house-made brioche bun with pickled daikon and jalapeño — it was a street fight between texture and flavor.
At Dogon, I had the joy of eating my friend Chef Kwame Onwuachi’s food in a space that feels like part restaurant, part cultural archive. Located inside the Salamander Hotel in SW DC, a female and Black-owned property, Dogon has only been open for less than a year and it’s already considered one of the top restaurants in America. The hoe crab dish — rich crab meat served with plantain flour hoecakes — hit home for me as a Caribbean woman. There is power in seeing your ingredients honored.
We closed at Providencia, with a Baked Alaska Frio Frio that was all flair and tropical grace, created by another incredibly gifted friend of mine: Chef Paola Velez. This Dominican-inspired dessert combines the theatrical burn of a classic Baked Alaska with the icy sweetness of a Frio Frio — a street treat from the Caribbean. Leche dulce. Plum guava syrup. Dominican meringue torched to a crisp. A perfect finish to a wildly unexpected day of eating.
Washington, D.C. isn’t a city that stays still. Its heartbeat is constant motion — people arriving, passing through, doubling back. Maybe that’s why the food here doesn’t cling to a single story. It adapts. It blends. It holds tight to its origin story while feeding something bigger. It’s not just layered — it’s lived-in and deeply human.
Let’s Eat isn’t about chasing the hottest new restaurant flexing food cred. It’s about listening. Asking questions. Following the scent of charred onions down an unfamiliar block. And eating like the answers matter.
Twelve hours. Ten spots. One city that reminded me how food isn’t just nourishment — it’s proof of life. It’s the thread that ties us all together.
New episodes of Let’s Eat drop monthly as we crisscross the country, telling the real stories of the people who feed America. Subscribe to @AmazingAmericaTV on YouTube and follow us on Instagram, TikTok, and Facebook to join the table.
Come hungry. Come curious. Let’s Eat.
发表回复