NVM Review

By Warren Rojas

He might not be a salt-ravaged fisherman, but veteran Ice House Café employee Dan Root has probably had enough raw oysters pass through his hands to last him a lifetime.

“We have a ton of regulars who come particularly for the oysters. And the hardcore eat a lot of them,” Root says of the cavalcade of diehard oyster fans he’s welcomed with open arms during his 25-year (and counting) run—he signed on at the then-8-year-old establishment in October 1986.

And other than bucking his way up the ladder to bar manager, Root insists not much else has changed at the old Ice House during his tenure there.

Granted, there was a changing of the guard when siblings and current co-owners Alice (general manager) and David (chef) Dai took the place off the hands of founder Daniel Chamblin in 1991. But by all accounts, that was a fairly seamless transition.

Hell, I’d wager every last bit of the original décor survived the management shuffle. The folksy shack—Root maintains it was originally envisioned as more of saloon—remains decorated with nostalgic touches like stuffed wildlife trophies (walrus, moose), faded snapshots of the evolution of downtown Herndon and other random memorabilia (Gold Cup poster from 1987, inlaid plaque plucked from Citizens’ National Bank of Herndon, rustic farming tools). A baby grand piano remains parked at the front of the main dining room. Though they’re perhaps best known for the longstanding weekend jazz shows, Root suggests he’s made inroads in diversifying their entertainment options over the past few years—now welcoming the likes of Dixieland, rhythm and blues, and adult contemporary acts to their humble stage set-up as well.

Live music certainly makes a difference. Based on our experiences, Ice House’s attendance sweet spot appears to begin building Friday just before happy hour and typically subsides well before the witching hour (Root claims the restaurant is in his rearview mirror by 11 p.m. on most nights).

His early-bird assessment jibes perfectly with our own observations. Though we also noticed something curious—guests tend to arrive almost exclusively in pairs. Older couples—most behaved as if they were married, but we didn’t make a point of specifically checking for rings—tend to dominate the nightlife here, easily overshadowing many of the other constituencies (large groups, families (extended or otherwise), solo boozers, the under-40 set) typically on display at other area restaurants.

The lunch rush is an entirely different animal, catering primarily to local businessmen, book-toting retirees and the occasional day drinkers.

Regardless of the hour, chances are if you’ve ever eaten here, even once, you’ll recognize something on the menu.

Root paints Dai’s cuisine as an amalgam of David’s lifelong inflences (reared in Hong Kong; trained in classical French cooking; favors Modern American cuisine). Having such a cross-cultural pedigree evidently prompts all kinds of ingenuity in the kitchen, as evidenced by a far-reaching carte that swings from proud-to-be-an-American (topped-to-the-heavens burgers, grilled chicken salad, jambalaya) to wildly worldly (five-spice duck confit with tea-smoked duck breast, Moroccan-style lamb shank, fettuccine with ground bison meatballs in a three-cheese cream sauce) often within the course of just a few hours.

According to Root, the teaming masses tend to favor: rotating ostrich steak creations, any Asian-style duck offerings, the signature crab cakes—“People go crazy for’em,” he asserts—blackened shrimp and grits, macaroni and five cheeses, the longstanding Chesapeake Reuben (a lunch menu fixture since 1982) and the eponymous Dan burger (a marriage of blue cheese and ground beef Root used to wolf down so regularly, customers opted to name it after him).

But, and most regulars already know this, Dai is supposedly a sucker for special requests.

“He does not say no to you unless he really can’t do it,” Root says, arguing that Dai often revisits long-since retired dishes—like his Chicken Ballantine, a chicken cutlet enveloping bacon and shrimp mousse—devoted patrons still pine for so long as he has the proper inventory on hand to faithfully recreate them.

Asking for a change-up in the oyster selection, however, appears to be a non-starter.

Root says they’ve been serving oysters plucked from the waters of the Chesapeake Bay almost exclusively since the late 1990s. “They are very sweet and clean tasting oysters,” he says, positing that many regulars live and die by their delivered-fresh-daily-each-morning raw bar offerings, “and the oysters are integral to that loyalty.”

Way to stick to your guns.

The last plate of Blue Points we indulged in there were delightful. The half-dozen, above-average-sized shellfish were paraded out on a chilled metal serving plate, its bottom packed with ice, a well of cocktail sauce at its center and fresh lemon wedges hanging from each side. The oysters were big and briny, but also slick and kinda sweet. Though the cocktail sauce was plenty tangy, I preferred to suck these babies down in their natural liquor with just a squeeze of fresh lemon.

“That’s my favorite,” the waiter assures me when I give the surf and turftacular Chesapeake Reuben the nod. The flagship filling features loosely packed jumbo lump crab meat—lightly browned around the edges, but otherwise juicy—effectively bound by Thousand Island dressing, shredded carrot-cabbage slaw and melted Swiss. Combining the savory crab, bolstered by the mixed-in bell pepper and onion, with the tangy dressing and buttered rye bread (caraway seeds aplenty) was a stroke of genius. The folded over slice of sweet and salty ham delivers a whiff of smoke, but is really just along for the crab-driven ride.

Staff love to talk up their veal-, pork- and ground sirloin-packed chili, but I just don’t get it. The multiple meats are so finely ground they’re indistinguishable on the palate. Meanwhile, a supporting cast of diced tomatoes, onions, kidney beans, garlic and cilantro was merely adequate. The island of melted Swiss floating in the center of the bowl threw me for a loop (much too bland for what’s supposed to be a robust chili). But the house-toasted tortilla chips made for easy snacking.

Other disappointments followed. Scallops proved rubbery and far too dependent on their caper-based sauce. Incongruently seasoned honey-chipotle shrimp were all sweet and no fire.

Until we discovered the well composed salmon cordon bleu.

The overstuffed filet arrives split in half, exposing a belly full of smoked Andouille sausage (smoky, salty and terrifically spicy) matted with melted Swiss, all wrapped in a shell of baked-till-crispy shredded potatoes.

For Root, Ice House remains the full package: food, fun and familiarity. “It is very warm and cozy here,” he says, adding, “I have new regulars that start here all the time.”