For me, the adventure began in the late 80s. My first memory of going to Andy’s Supper Club is with my grandpa and grandma Ron and Betty Bitz and my grandfather’s uncle, Reinholt, and his wife, Lucille Bitz. Reinholt was a hoot, and Lucille, “his girlfriend,” was always smiling. Golly, those old Bitz boys were fun to be around!
Andy’s was so much fun. Its aquariums delighted the eyes, and as a child, my personal fishing goals became outrageous. It wasn’t unusual for a random child to slowly walk by your table, glossed over in amazement and curiosity, awkwardly staring directly above you at fish. Andy’s had these cool carrots that were crinkle cut, and for some reason, it confused me as to how they did it.
Valerie Tyler was always our server. If it was busy and she wasn’t on the floor, grandpa wouldn’t even sit down. Valerie had to be there. She knew her job very well, and she had wonderful people skills. She could play Andy’s dining room like an organ. That type of server is worth their weight in gold!
Around the age of six, holding a crinkle-cut carrot, I asked Valerie, “How?” She told me the chef has a special tool that does it. It was a good enough answer. A few minutes later, she placed a little plate of crinkle cut EVERYTHING delicately in front of me. My head exploded!
Throughout my childhood and high school, there would be many evenings like that at Andy’s. I wouldn’t trade the memories of those evenings for anything in the world. Thank you, Andy’s Supper Club.
Later in life, I was home visiting in the mid-teens and decided to go back to Andy’s for dinner one evening. It was a solo night for me. The band was gone, there was only one server on the floor, and most of the aquarium lights were off. It was within the last half hour of service, but that’s still no excuse. Right? My heart sank with the realization of what was happening.
Service was rough, the food was rough, and the fish tanks were advanced rough. It was what it was. Being a former server, I have a pretty high tolerance for restaurant BS, but if my grandfather were there, he would’ve been livid. I miss him.
That was the last time I went to Andy’s Supper Club.
Before I continue, I should probably discuss my “credentials.” I lived in Washington, DC from 2005 - 2019, and for the first five years, one of the four jobs I did every day was open a restaurant for breakfast in Hotel Monaco, downtown DC. It was a five-star French restaurant. I was trained, for nine boring weeks, how to execute French dining service properly. I quickly learned that people don’t give a crap about proper French service during breakfast. I took full of vantage of that.
Being an award-winning hotel, serving breakfast was a non-negotiable with house management. I would arrive at 5 AM and leave by 11 AM, Monday through Friday. It was a great gig. Let me paint the picture a little clearer for you: I was diner Debbie serving eggs and bacon in a five-star French restaurant. The only thing I was missing was the beehive hair and a Virginia Slim stained with red lipstick hanging from my lips. The lunatic head chef hated me. I loved it!
In cities across America, there’s a job within the restaurant industry called “secret shoppers.” More or less, the job of a secret shopper is to go around to restaurants as a diner and make sure the servers hit all their sale points. A report is filed then sent to the manager, and a one-on-one meeting is called to discuss performance. Let’s say my performance was discussed—many times. But, my sales and guest retention numbers were high and climbing, and I was willing to get up at 4 AM to open their restaurant at 5 AM. Business tip: keep your openers happy.
Cut to the present day. My dear friend Brittany and I decided to go on a classmate’s date, and Bow and Marrow, the old Andy’s Supper Club, was the selection for our dining experience. Her sister Allison, a well-seasoned butcher and meat processor of 17 years, joined us. A common byproduct of being a butcher is accidentally becoming a foodie. Accidental foodies are the best. Straightforward with little to no BS. Clearly, she’s not the one writing this article.
Now, I must confess my own incompetence for a moment. I botched the name of the restaurant countless times. Bone and Marrow? Bow and Arrow? Hair ties and zip-whats? I don’t know, but I actually had to stop and study the darn sign to remember intentionally. We were off to a rocky start, but that was all on me; Sow and Harrow had yet to disappoint.
The interior of the restaurant is decorated... all over the place. It’s handsome with a dash of steampunk and a touch of mid-century modern. It works well. The bar is beautiful. And yes, I, too, tapped the chains to see if they were real. I won’t ruin it for those who haven’t.
The volume was energetic! Personally, I enjoy when a joint is hoppin’, but my hearing is a little fussy. I had no problems hearing or conversing, and if I did, again, that was on me. I was one of those kids who listened to his music way too loud. My mom told me to turn the volume down, and I would’ve if I could’ve heard her.
The restaurant smelled of properly cooked steak and fresh parmesan cheese. It was a savory waltz of aromatic awesomeness.
We were welcomed with smiles, and zero issues were getting to our table. The booth was comfortable. I had already made up my mind I was going to be coming back.
We were approached by two servers, one on each end of the table. The one to my left took immediate charge and kicked off our evening with menu placement, and the server to my right tapped me on my shoulder as if she had been doing it her whole life. It was Shaila (Cline)Mudge. I flipped the table, hurdle over the booths, and sprinted out the door! I’m teasing, we’re both Kenilworth kids, and Kenilworth kids are ride or die! I asked for a permanent note to be added to my customer profile: Shaila’s my server from now on. It wasn’t until I got home I realized what had happened. I turned into my grandfather Ron Bitz, and Shaila Mudge had become my Valerie Tyler. The tradition continues.
The menu is respectable. It has everything I expected it to have, plus a little extra with a seasonal Irish menu to celebrate Saint Paddy’s day. I respect restaurants that run specialty menus throughout the year. Running specialty menus can do magical things for a restaurant. It keeps the guests and servers on their toes with new information and flavors and passively prevents a restaurant from slipping back into old patterns.
We ordered our own unique beverages and got one appetizer to share: Vegetable and Dip Platter. It was a simple dish consisting of fresh vegetables with a trio of unique, savory dips. We didn’t want to go big on appetizers; the steak and seafood called to the three of us.
The waitress placed our appetizer in the middle of the table, and my first reaction was OH SNAP! They have the crinkle-cut carrots!!! I flew out of my chair and began twerking; Brittany did a push-up, and Allison high-fived the server. OK, not really, but that’s how it played out in my head.
The three of us were setting the stage for our entrées by layering our stomachs’ base with fiber. The vegetable platter was simple, straightforward, and did exactly what it was made to do: be a vegetable platter.
When it came time to order entrées, we went for it. We ordered the tenderloin, ribeye steak, orange-glazed Alaskan salmon, 4 lbs of crab legs, sautéed zucchini, steamed broccoli, beets, roasted Brussel sprouts with mustard sauce, crispy parmesan potatoes, and entree beverages.
Allison asked our server to see the cuts of meat and, without hesitation, our server brought them out on a lovely bed of lettuce for display. Allison saw the marbling lines she was looking for and gave her thumbs up of approval.
I ordered my steak medium rare because that’s a normal temp! From well-done steaks to Starbucks coffee, I just don’t like burnt food. I tried it, not my thing, but to each their own.
Our food parade began, and our server sculpted one heck of a spread on our table. She put all our entrées in the middle and on each end of the table 2 big piles of crab legs and share plates. I should’ve worn my eating pants, the ones with the elastic band. Our food was cooked wonderfully. The filet mignon medallion was correctly cooked, the orange glaze didn’t overpower the salmon, and the skin was crispy delicious, and the crab was great! The sides were portion proper with no issues. The Brussel sprouts were my favorite. We ate almost every ounce of food. Right after our server cleared the table at the very end of our entrées, we discussed the little things about our meal that annoyed us. We each made a few good points, but it was a short discussion. I asked my dining mates if these were actual complaints or if we were acting like cliché spoiled Americans. All signs pointed to the latter.
Our server placed the dessert menus in front of us, and the food marathon continued. We ordered the crème brûlée, their featured cheesecake which was raspberry (its good, but nothing compares to Charlotte’s cheesecakes at Peps!), and two vanilla à la modes along with dessert beverages and unique coffee’s. Everything was wonderful.
Our dessert spoons began to slow and eventually stopped reaching for the desserts. Our evening was coming to an end at Bow and Marrow. I find the end of service to be quite enjoyable. It’s the perfect opportunity to get a little personal with your servers. Talk pros and cons (she had hit all her sale points), or even getting to know them at a basic level is healthy. After all, if the service is good (and for us it was), a handshake and a personal thank you must be on top of the standard 20% tip. If you can afford to dine out, you can afford to tip.
Bow and Marrow, you are becoming more than a fantastic restaurant; you are becoming a new tradition. We had a delightful evening. We truly did.
Ps, Did anyone snag the old neon ‘Andy’s sign, or was it trashed?
