Hall & Oates blasted over the speakers as I took a seat upstairs at the capital city’s latest darling. The bouncy yacht-rock may seem out of place on Capitol Hill, but that’s part of the genius of Rose’s Luxury. Forget D.C.’s expense account tendencies. Chef/owner Aaron Silverman just wants you to be happy. To him, luxury isn’t about fine china and Champagne poured in unison. “It’s how you feel, how people treat you,” he says. As a result, there’s a homey—never folksy—sophistication that resonates throughout the restaurant.
The plates and glassware, a mixed bag of vintage finds, come from yard sales. The eclectic crowd consists of young professionals, food-obsessed out-of-towners, and dudes with calf tattoos in long shorts. Everything about Rose’s Luxury seems easy, accessible, achievable.
But that doesn’t mean the food and drink aren’t serious. They just don’t take themselves too seriously. The Sugar Snap Pea lightens botanical gin with muddled mint, sugar snaps, and lemon. A custardy bowl of scrambled eggs makes a decadent leap with briny, rich layers of uni (sea urchin): pureed, sliced, and whisked into hollandaise.
As with anything, it all boils down to the execution. And so far, Rose’s is doing luxury right.
RESERVATIONS: Not accepted. COST: Apps, $3-$14; Mains, $28-$29. ADDRESS: 717 Eighth Street SE.; rosesluxury.com