Albi Review – A Night at Washington, D.C.’s Buzziest Restaurant

It can be hard for a restaurant to find its voice in a day and age where customers have so many food experience options. Albi—a restaurant owned by Michael Rafidi, the James Beard Foundation’s 2024 recipient for Outstanding Chef of the Year—has found a way to home in on their voice. 

Located in the beautiful, waterside Navy Yard district of Washington, D.C., Albi has spent the last five years building up an impressive resume that has culminated in a complete overhaul of their space and a redesign of their menu that they have been affectionately referring to as Albi 2.0, debuting in April 2025.

I was fortunate enough to have had the chance to stop by and get to experience Chef Rafidi’s vision for this next evolution in Albi’s life, and to say I was not disappointed would be putting it mildly. 

(A note to the reader: I never had the chance to experience Albi prior to the renovations but I did do some digging on Yelp and have found the changes as far as I can tell to be a wonderfully evocative way to more closely align the decor of the restaurant to Chef Rafidi’s love letter to his Palestinian roots)

First Looks

We arrived at the restaurant about fifteen minutes earlier than our reservation—a common occurrence for me when my stomach is put in control of the command center. The hostess graciously pointed us to take a seat in their relaxed candlelit lounge in the front room of the lobby and had some glasses of water poured for us while we waited for our table. As someone who had just spent most of the day aimlessly wandering around the city catching the sights (I will gladly take the reins on being the one to point out the hill on Capitol Hill is just honestly too much hill), I may be a little biased about how much I appreciated the water in that moment. 

I was in a party of three and when we had set up the reservations we were a little disheartened to learn that the Hearth Table was only available for parties of 2. Not really knowing anything about the construct of the space, we were slightly disappointed that we weren’t going to have a view of the kitchen at work. That concern was immediately dashed when we were taken to our table. While it is true that the Hearth Tables will have the best seats in the house for seeing the chefs in action, unless you are the unfortunate diner at your table who’s back may face the kitchen, everyone should get a near front-row experience to the madness. 

I say madness but truly I’ve never seen a more organic display of synchronicity. Everyone in the kitchen had a part to play as the dishes migrated through the bright flames of the hearth all the way through to plating and into the hands of the wait staff. If beats were missed, I certainly didn’t catch them. There was a real sense that emanating all the way from the top through to every member of the staff, we were watching professionals at their craft—a symphonic display of call and response that kept the orders flowing and the buzz of the kitchen humming. 

We were presented with two options: an a la carte menu or Albi’s five-course Sofra (sofra means table in Arabic—fitting for a family style tasting menu). We elected for the Sofra menu and if it’s your first time at Albi I’m going to strongly urge that you should too. Though there were some delicious-sounding a la carte options that I would not mind exploring in the future—a slow-cooked beef rib and Maqluba, an upside-down crab and rice dish, were a couple of sirens singing their sweet songs trying to lure me from the ship. 

After a short conversation with our waiter about dietary restrictions and food preferences that I think ultimately cost us the chance at an oyster dish that I only got to indulge in by proxy as it passed by our table on the way to a more appreciative home, the meal was set to begin! Oh, and if it is at all important, I’ve ceaselessly expressed my ire and disappointment to the guy in our party who put up the oyster blockade for the table because he “doesn’t like the texture”. 

Normally I would not feel the need to go course by course to give a review but there was so much atmosphere in this meal and was so meticulously designed that I don’t feel that it would have done Albi’s story justice to just hit the highlights. Strap in if you want or proceed to the end where I’ll hit those highlights (and lowlights) a lot more succinctly. 

The Sofra Experience

For starters we were brought a small bowl of pantry items: olives and sumac beets. The olives were smoky and delicious, and the beets had a satisfying crunch that transformed me to a world in which I actually do like beets; it’s amazing what a mastery of ingredient can do to reform one’s opinions. During this course we were instructed to pick at the food with our hands and that the first few items would be similarly handled. It was not until ninety mins into the meal, by the way, that I received a fork. 

Next up was a delightfully crunchy lamb pie served with toum—a white, creamy, garlicky spread—and a fresh squeeze of lemon. It reminded me of a boat of minced lamb, and I was more than happy to deliver it safe passage into my belly. Alongside the lamb pie was a triplet of arayes: a pita filled with sunchokes and a green shatta lebnah and topped with some briny Persian cucumbers. Both were delicious but I was partial to the lamb pie. The creaminess of the toum laid spread atop the rich fatty flavor of the lamb cut perfectly for a complete bite. 

Following this was a dish called kibbeh naya. We were presented with a plate that was divided in half—one half was a minced lamb tartare, and the other half was a smoked English pea concept—and were instructed to use the accoutrements of a bowl of greenery, fermentations, and pickled onions to construct a vessel for a delicious bite. One could think of this dish almost like a lettuce wrap construction station. The waiter that dropped the dish off at our table explicitly told us that we could do no wrong, and I believe on this dish we tested the bounds of that statement. But even through the various experimentations I ran on different combinations of this preparation, I came up short on finding any flavor profile that did not work for me. I was especially taken with the peas and how well that complimented with the mint. After the remnants of our kibbeh naya experiments were cleaned up and disposed of, we were told that the first course had finished. 

I would be remiss if I didn’t take this moment to remind you that we were told this menu was five courses. Five! Either Albi has a counting problem, or they have a very loose relationship with the word “course”. Please do not take this as a complaint. It’s not one. I just want to stress the fact that you are not going to leave this restaurant hungry. 

From here on out in this review each time the wait staff arrived with a set of plates; it would align with each of the four remaining courses. So, the funny business was officially over, and it was time for us to lock in—kind of: each course still came with multiple components. 

Next up was a duo of very rich and creamy dishes that tested my appetite for indulgent affairs. The first that caught my eye when they were placed on the table resembled mozzarella balls. In fact, I remember unconsciously exclaiming, “Mozzarella balls, Hell yeah”. They were not mozzarella balls. The waiter looked at me and then just dove straight into his script, choosing to ignore my outburst. This was labne tabat, which I’ve since learned is not mozzarella but is a strained yogurt product similar to cream cheese, so close enough. This dish was not my greatest fancy of the night. Again, it felt slightly too indulgent in the moment. 

The second dish was a maitake mushroom with a confit egg yolk, and black garlic, topped with black truffle. This dish was beautiful. Once you split open the egg yolk and mixed it up with the nutty, savory mushroom and the earthy funkiness of the truffle it made for an engaging and memorably complex bite. 

I recognize the irony in saying this after calling the labne tabat overindulgent, but I would have been over the moon if this dish is all we got for this course. The two in tandem were a bit of a punch in the face as evidenced by the fact that I haven’t even gotten to the giant airy pita football that served as the utensils for this course. Several burnt fingertips later I can report that the pita was perfect—and fresh! 

It was at about this point that the sun was setting outside, and the mood of the restaurant was starting to shift. These beautiful curtains that stretched nearly ceiling to floor were drawn to give the room a darker and much more intimate feel. The natural lighting dimmed, and the overhead music floated away to the background. Almost as if to signal that the real order of business was set to begin. Also, we finally got forks and knives!

The third course was my absolute favorite of the night. Another duo of dishes was presented to the table: batata harra and a Maryland crab malfouf. The batata harra is a long log of crispy potato cut sectionally and served with a dollop of toum. I think since the dawn of time man has searched for the reasons behind why we have fallen so deeply and madly in love with a solid crunch; I found no answers on that front tonight, but those primal instincts were reinforced in the batata harra. If only to serve as a frame of reference for someone who previously had never heard of the dish and not meant insulting at all, batata harra reminded me of the crispy baked potato chips my Italian grandmother would make us growing up. It felt like love, and more importantly, it felt home. 

More distant to my own home though was the Maryland crab malfouf—a cabbage roll stuffed with Egyptian rice and crab fat labneh. I appreciate the local seasonality that Chef Rafidi is bringing to this menu by featuring the Maryland crab in this dish but truly the star of this dish was the cabbage itself. I think when most people think of cabbage, images of steamed cabbage and corned beef enter their head. It’s hearty and it’s filling but it’s not transcendent by any measure. All of that changed for me on the first bite of that malfouf. I don’t know what kind of black magic was used to transform the cabbage into something so light and supple. I probably drove my table to the edge of mania with how many times I repeated it: that the cabbage somehow had the lightness of phyllo dough. And I certainly don’t want to entertain the idea that the other components of the dish weren’t pulling their weight. I merely want to emphasize that I fully expect to have dreams for months about this dish that wake me up in a drenching sweat. And the cabbage—a surprise to me—led the way. 

The main course of the meal had multiple components as well. The first and most audaciously presented was a lamb kebab presented on a rather large skewer that consisted of lamb belly and lamb loin marinated in a dill yogurt. Traditionally excellent—succulent, moist pieces of meat that paired nicely with the accompanying bok choy. Additionally, there was a lamb kefta wrapped around a cinnamon stick. A nifty presentation but it didn’t necessarily feel like it had a place on the plate. Finally, we also received a plate of Fattoush which was a salad consisting of pears, smoked feta, and a shatta vinaigrette, among other things. Admittedly I was starting to merely pick at this part of the meal. I was full and things were brimming.

Our sixth and final course was dessert. Our waiter asked us if we wanted to go towards a lighter dessert or a heavy dessert. Look, at this point I’m full. We’re all full. But it’s dessert and we all know there’s a second compartment in our stomachs for dessert. That’s just an anatomical fact. So, I suggested we go heavy. We’re here! Let’s go shot for shot! I was overruled. I’m a slave to cordiality in a group setting, so I acquiesced. We went for the dainty light dessert. 

As an aside: have you ever seen a street musician performing a card trick. Do you know how they always successfully reveal the card you had picked out of a random deck of cards? It’s not magic after all. They forced a card on you and your dumb, lizard brain did what it was told. I feel that that’s what happened with the desserts. Heavy had a way better description. Light was the wrong choice. I could see it in the waiter’s eyes who had to stand there while we resolved this internal struggle. He knew we messed up. I knew we messed up. My friends were just too full to know what was best for them. The heavy dessert will just have to be the one that got away. 

The light dessert was again a duo. I don’t know if they just don’t know what the number five means in our nation’s capital or what the deal was. But it was a pomegranate ice cream with a hint of olive oil and sea salt. I don’t love fruity desserts, but the combination of the salty and the sweet hit the spot. In the middle of the table to share was what is called a mahalabiya: a milk pudding with strawberries, a pomegranate granita, and a coconut milk sorbet, topped with a rose meringue. The meringue was satisfying to break apart with the back of a spoon, but the dish did not yield much of a wow factor from the table beyond that. It largely went uneaten. It looked beautiful but it missed the audience. 

Final Thoughts

Overall, the food was excellent. It’s a meal that I will be stewing on for weeks to come. Chef Rafidi has truly struck gold with his meticulously crafted menu. My only complaint lies in the storytelling (or lack thereof). I wish we had gotten more of a peel back behind the scenes on what inspired the menu to look and feel and taste the way it did. The flavors were not lacking but unfortunately the connective tissue was. I needed the so what of it all. And I just did not receive that at all throughout the night. It’s a shame because all of the other components of the experience were so well designed for the purpose of having a purpose, but the restaurant missed on the final few feet from plating to table. 

Ultimately this doesn’t ruin my experience at Albi. I had a fantastic time and had some truly unique flavors that I never had before. This has been by all accounts the buzziest restaurant in D.C. for at least the past year and now having been its clear why that’s the case. I’m always impressed by a restaurant that is constantly on the prowl for ways to innovate and iterate upon itself. Albi 2.0 delivered in spades. If it is their ambition, I profoundly wish them luck on a conquest for a second Michelin star. And I would not be disappointed in the slightest if that came to pass. It would certainly give me another excuse to come back for another round of that malfouf. 

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Special considerations to the woman whose name I did not catch but who was gracious enough to step away from the middle of a busy dinner service at the buzziest restaurant in D.C. to type up and print out a copy of the menu of all the things we ate that night (made more difficult by the fact that one of my table mates got the oyster dish blocked from our table so we probably deviated from the norm; yes! I’m still on that).