NOTE: The restaurant serves a buffet during Sunday brunch. Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Freshness By Eve Zibart Washington Post Staff Writer Friday, Sept. 7, 2007 What goes around, comes around. Clarendon was one of the area's first great ethnic dining draws -- famously Vietnamese, of course, hence the nickname Little Saigon, but also Cuban, Japanese, Chinese, Indian, Moroccan, Cajun and Persian -- so that now, into its second or even third round of renewal, it's only fair that the Arlington neighborhood's newer attractions include a look-homeward "American" restaurant. Not that Liberty Tavern's menu is so narrow; there's a light Italian accent (not surprising, considering chef Liam LaCivita, formerly of Bethesda's Centro) and a dash of French country classicism. But the spirit and most of the ingredients are home-style and homegrown, or at least market-supplied -- Amish farm chicken, American farmstead cheeses, house-made lamb sausage -- and the look is so wonderfully retro saloon that any frillier fare would seem frivolous. What makes this kitchen stand out among the comfort-food crowd are the not-so-traditional touches. Black-eyed pea and fresh corn "succotash" very nearly stole the show from a fine hanger steak, and a tangy white bean salad in vinaigrette was equally upstanding to the char. The pan-roasted chicken was cooked hot enough to seal in the juices but not so harshly that it embittered the skin. And fleur de sel added to unsalted soft butter makes it a tiny delight; it especially suits the molasses-cornmeal bread. The salads are particularly attractive, in part because the quality ingredients speak for themselves. The Clarendon Market salad pairs pole beans with goat cheese and the bite of radish; a simple and sunny pairing of sweet yellow and red seedless watermelon with Smithfield country ham and ribbons of fresh tarragon was fine; and a mix of sweet figs with peppery watercress, blue cheese and smoked bacon was rich, if a little busy. (Maybe it's time the spiced pecans thing took a rest.) And even if you still think of pizza as Italian, a sage-scented pie topped with Vermont white cheddar, prosciutto and Granny Smith apples is like a postcard from the heartland. Though simply decorated, Liberty Tavern has good bones. Built a century ago as a Masonic center -- note the carving above the entrance-- it has been opened up to reveal its high ceilings and imposing staircase. The downstairs bar has a long communal table, where patrons can enjoy the pizzas and panini (and light fare during off-hours), but the main dining room is upstairs and elegantly simple, lined with glossy wood and softly lit with tall arched windows. An elevator has been installed and the bathrooms are downstairs, so either floor is accessible for wheelchair use. The partially exposed kitchen has been equipped with not one but two wood-burning ovens, one for the pizzas and one for steaks and fish; that's the only smoking allowed here, incidentally. Aside from the salads, the restaurant offers a handful of appetizers, notably a light and tasty fritto misto with a palate-cleansing addition of zucchini and a sweet-musty-bitter bruschetta with lamb sausage, broccoli rabe and pecorino; four or five pizzas; eight to 10 entrees; and a trio of house-made pastas and gnocchi classified as "macaroni" -- which, combined with the phrase Liberty Tavern, and perhaps the soldiers' memorial across the street, managed to lodge "Yankee Doodle" in my head. (Although the name seems designed to fit the theme as well, it's actually a fine coincidence: At the rear of the lounge is an old photograph of the grandfather of one of the owners standing behind the bar of the Liberty Bar and Hotel in Pennsylvania, which he owned for 50 years. All of Liberty's owners, however, are locals, and make a point of it on the menu and the Web site.) LaCivita has a welcome propensity for fresh and unexpected herbs over salt (lavender with branzino, fennel pollen and mint with a shellfish pasta), uses chilies for flavor, not camouflage, and similarly employs restraint with garlic and olive oil. If you're tired of aiolis so overripe they lingered as long as an unwanted guest, check out the fish and chips; serving them with mignonette is a nice idea, too. The chef also has cultivated patience -- when the menu says onions are caramelized, they are all but melted to marmalade -- and apparently a really good cheesemonger. The wine list is not extensive but attractive (and half-price at happy hour). And it may sound routine, but having been served more than my share of seafood so "off" that it announced its arrival from some distance, I bless a chef who, upon inspection, declines to send out the day's specimen. A few items need tweaking. The cod was so good that the potatoes, which seemed to have won the frying race by a few minutes, suffered a bit by comparison. The lobster "tian" is actually a ramekin-size formed salad with lobster meat atop a tangle of microgreens. Nice concept, but "tangle" is more than poetic license; it was almost impossible to dislodge a bite-size portion -- fish knife maybe? -- and the lobster was dull. (This has been true almost anywhere this summer.) Overall, however, Liberty Tavern has a balance lacking in many "modern American" kitchens, which seem to suffer a sort of herbal ADHD. If it's proud to be part of Clarendon, the neighborhood can certainly reciprocate.
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