The British Are Coming!It’s been an up-and-down year for the British—an American buys
Manchester United, London wins the bid for the 2012 Olympics and now the disappointment of
Union Jack, their “first authentic pub” this side of the Atlantic which opened last month in Bethesda.
Named after the flag of the United Kingdom, the new restaurant is meant to mimic an old, stuffy bar in its décor, hospitality and hearty pub fare, but the word “
mimic” is key. Artificial ivy vines scallop the exposed brick walls, overlapping plastic nouveau signs pointing to
Piccadilly Square. There are glossy crests, but with their fake veneer they reflect mirror images of ale drinkers behind the bar counter, not the generations of a noble family history.
The
menu is expansive and can be overwhelming. Detailed dishes span six pages, and most are named after British celebs, political figures and downtown landmarks, described with quirky wit and spunk, characteristic of British humor. (At least they scored on authenticity here.)
Take the
Pink Floyd oven fresh pizza ($8.95) - covered in mushrooms since naturally, “these boys prefer the shrooms.” Or the Boy George Sandwich ($7.50), made with grilled portabellas because “George is definitely a salad guy.”
Harry Potter’s Menu is “for the kiddies” and each of the Jack burgers are named after a Beatle, with John, Paul, George and Ringo all in attendance.
The waiter admitted it was his first day and his frequent, nervous check-ups on the table proved his inexperience. But faults aside, the man was the spitting image of Britain’s greatest hip hopper
Ali G. Another, perhaps unexpected, point for authenticity.
The Ali look-alike immediately recommended the Shepherds Pie and went over the extensive “Serems and Potions” list, which included everything from Bass Ale to Guinness on tap to British imported
Woodpecker Apple Cider.
Everything about the bar wants so badly to be traditionally British. The wood panels want to be old; the leather booths wish they could be upholstered and dark crimson, stained with the scent of pipes. But they aren’t, and the pub cuisine is just as uncomfortable.
Congealed cheddar cheese covered mashed potatoes that blanketed bits of ground beef and mixed veggie mush. Easily passing for a microwaveable Lean Cuisine, the Shepherds Pie tasted straight from a can or out of a box. In the Pie’s defense, a Princess Di house salad came on the side. (She’s the small, the Fergy is the next size up)
The Fish n’ Chips tasted like
Gorton’s—think yellow box in the frozen food aisle. Even more unfortunate, the plate was served sans vinegar. Ouch. A British tradition completely ignored.
The
Welsh Rarebit ($5.95), a Wales-inspired blend of cheeses seasoned with beer, mustard and spices atop rye toast and garnished with tomatoes, was basically a grilled cheese sandwich with a very fancy name (and a grilled cheese sandwich that would have embarrassed even the
Queen Mum.)
Union Jack did score a few points for the creative menu, which bragged a range of British imported brews and the Brit tradition of Chicken Curry, imported from the colonies. Free pool on Sunday nights is another major plus. Local minors can leave fakes at home; anyone can be a pool shark at
Union Jack.
Needless to say, the Brits are known for their scandalous royalty, Buckingham Palace and the Spice Girls, not their food. Regardless, British pub fare should be comforting—thick, hearty and always hitting the spot with a mug of on-tap brew. The pub ambiance is one of dark wood, familiarity and camaraderie;
Union Jack is still plastic.
Bar food should not be gourmet – greasy and fried are two crucial components, but with the size of Union Jack’s menu and dining room, it would sure make sense to have food that’s at least
bloody decent.
Read the
DCist's take on
Union Jack for a second opinion.
