The doors were set to open in an hour at one of the most romantic restaurants in the nation’s capital on one of the most romantic days, and much work remained.
Servers hurriedly folded napkins. Others decorated tables with red rose petals. In the kitchen, one chef piped butter into dozens of dishes while Executive Chef Ercan Sahin sliced yellowfin tuna for the carpaccio appetizer and gingerly arranged the thin pieces of fish onto plates.
“I’m excited for the night. We want to make sure everything is ready to go. It’s an important day,” Sahin said. His arms flexed against the sleeves of his white uniform as he fed the tuna into the deli slicer.
Elsewhere in the French restaurant Bistro Cacao, owner Hulya Bolukbasi hosted a preservice meeting with the servers.
“It will be a full house, so get ready for it,” she said. She added a moment later: “Happy Valentine’s Day!”
Restaurant kitchens are known for being high-pressure environments, but at Bistro Cacao, Valentine’s Day brings some of the highest intensity. The Washington Post spent the evening there to see what happens out of sight at a place people seek out for romantic moments throughout the year. Bolukbasi has lost track of how many proposals have taken place at her restaurant over the years. “I can’t even count,” she said.
Part of the pressure that day has to do with numbers — more customers to serve and dishes to cook than normal. But the real pressure comes from an intangible desire to deliver a memorable experience that’s worth it to patrons who are, at least at Bistro Cacao, shelling out $125 per person — excluding drinks — for a five-course dinner menu.
“We have to make sure, from A to Z, that we are doing everything the right way, the perfect way, because it’s a special day, and people want to feel that they’re being treated specially,” Sahin said. “People are coming with a lot of expectations. It’s a busy day. It’s a crazy day.”
For some staffers, the stakes are also high because the payoff can be high — sometimes, more tips than any other day of the year. “I honestly think that they try to impress their ladies, so they’re generous,” said Nadia Ralda, a 40-year-old server wearing a rose pin fixed to her black uniform. “It’s the day that we all look forward to.”
The food site Eater ranks Bistro Cacao as one of the most romantic restaurants in the Washington area — an accolade Bolukbasi is particularly proud of. The lighting is moody, and the second floor features a red room where tables are separated by red drapes.
The restaurant is in an old rowhouse, which Bolukbasi believes helps cultivate romance any day of the year. “This was somebody’s house years ago. I think that makes people feel cozier and romantic. It’s definitely intimate,” she said.
Sahin, 40, has worked in restaurants since he was 16 and still living in his hometown in eastern Turkey. He worked at a French restaurant in a five-star hotel in Dubai before moving to the Washington, D.C. area in 2017, first for a job at a Turkish restaurant. Later, he worked at the upscale Spanish restaurant Del Mar before becoming executive chef at Bistro Cacao two months ago.
Back in his Dubai days, Sahin confessed that, a la Gordon Ramsay, he would yell and throw things in the kitchen. He’s learned to be calmer since then, but emotions can still run high. “Sometimes, kitchens get very aggressive,” Sahin said. “Nothing personal.”
Still, being a good chef requires discipline, Sahin said. “Being a chef is like serving in the army,” he said. “You have to be tough, like a warrior.”
Sahin’s militant attention to detail was evident in the battlefield that is his kitchen, where he said he often spends between 12 and 14 hours per day. As dinner service began shortly after 5 p.m., Sahin eyed every dish before it left the kitchen. He used tweezers to place microgreens on the steak tartare and a towel to ensure the edges of each plate were clean.
The menu featured Kaluga caviar on the steak tartare, truffle on the mushroom risotto and gold leaf on the desserts, one of which was composed of chocolate mousse, passion fruit and chocolate sponge. He spent weeks preparing the menu.
In the kitchen, the chefs were quiet; the only person talking was Sahin as he told servers which dish was destined for which table. The silence was punctuated by the clattering of dishes against stainless steel tables, the searing of Chilean sea bass and beef tenderloin, the steady rumble of the dishwasher in the corner. The quiet was another attempt to enhance the experience of their guests, Sahin said. “Keep voices low in the kitchen, our guests can hear you,” reads a sign hanging on the kitchen door.
All the work in the kitchen is for guests whom the chefs mostly never see.
Kathy Swanson and her husband Brian Stiglmeier have kept coming back for more than a decade because they like the romantic vibe and food. “We’re old hippies. We’re drinking. We’re partying,” said Swanson, a 73-year-old retired librarian. She and her husband enjoyed a few glasses of champagne before moving on to a bottle of red wine.
The first round of diners began to clear out around 7 p.m., but the night was far from over. More rounds of people would dine at the restaurant before it closed at 1 a.m.
Sahin was happy with how things were going in the kitchen, but he said there’s always room for improvement: “You’re never satisfied. When you’re doing good, you try for better.”
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