Last week was Restaurant Week, a biannual tradition in D.C., when restaurants, during traditionally slow periods, extend special prices to their customers — $20.07 for a three-course lunch, $30.07 for a three-course dinner.

Rudi and I managed to partake of the festivities twice last week:

On Wednesday night, we met for a Christmas-proposed date at Zola, which a friend from work had recommended as being worth the money. Located next to the Spy Museum, the restaurant immediately emits an air of modern sophistication — lots of dark wood, red leather, hushed tones, and pretty wait staff dressed in black.

While we perused the menu, they took our drink requests. I ordered the virgin version of the Blue Sting, a delightful drink made of white cranberry juice, blueberry honey, blueberries, crushed mint, and lime, while Rudi had something called a Shogun, which included sake, lemonade, a lychee nut, and hibiscus syrup. After we’d decided on what to eat, they brought us an amuse-bouche. This palate teaser was an Asian soup spoon filled with what I thought looked like grubs, but which the waiter assured us was, in fact, smoked trout and barley. So turned off by their appearance was I that I made Rudi try it first to see if I’d like it. He proclaimed it delicious, and begrudgingly I had to admit that he was right. They then brought out flatbread and rolls, both of which were perfect and which we quickly devoured.

The meal continued with appetizers: Rudi had a tuna tartar, while I went with “a mosaic of beets” — roasted golden and red beets, arugula and goat parmesan with a light but tasty vinaigrette that caused the colors to blend together in a lovely way. (My grandfather always liked to have beets with his macaroni and cheese for the same reason.)

We paused here to contemplate that we were only just finishing the first third of our meal and I began to regret eating the bread. How was I going to make it?

Thoughts such as these could only be fleeting, however, as the main course arrived. Rudi had ordered another fish dish (monkfish, this time), while I had opted for the vegetarian option on the menu that I’d seen weeks earlier when I’d made the reservation: “Roasted Portobello and Fontina Herb Polenta Stack.” I, of course, couldn’t help but refer to them in my head as polenta hay stacks, to such a degree that when they arrived, I was disappointed because they were not, in fact, shaped like haystacks. They were, however, quite good. The polenta was a bit bland, as polenta tends to be, but the sauce the dish sat in, remedied that. The eggplant and mushroom were both tender and leaned toward the sweet rather than the bitter end of the spectrum. By the end, however, I was hard-pressed to finish.

But there was still more to come. Dessert menus appeared in our hands. My grandfather always said that there was a separate stomach for desserts, and this knowledge (or mythology, if you insist) served me well. Rudi opted for a flight of butterscotch puddings, made from real scotch. I tried the one made with the mildest scotch, and it was very nice. I was tempted by the lemon chiffon pudding because it was served with raspberries, but ended up going in a different direction altogether. Eventually, I settled on the peanut butter trifle, if only so I could tell my grandmother I’d eaten it. It was fantastic and may be the highlight of Restaurant Week. It was layers of peanut butter cream, crumbled chocolate cookies, and sweet cream, with two two piroulines poking into them like straws. Combined with the power of a pot of tea, I savored each bite. It was heavenly.

The meal concluded, there was nothing to do but roll ourselves home, where I promptly fell comatose to the couch.

What did we do to follow up our meal the next day? Ride our bikes? Dance away the night to a video game?

Of course not! We went back out to eat again!

This time we hit the Tabard Inn, a quaint little European-style hotel/restaurant in the Farragut quarter, with our friends Susan and John. We had all agreed in early January that we wanted to dine together, but we were a little slow in making reservations, which left me hustling a bit at the last minute to find a table for four someplace in the city. I’d heard good things about the Tabard Inn’s weekend brunch and we were lucky to find that they still had a 9:30 reservation available.

Walking in, Rudi and I realized that the Tabard Inn was much more intimate than Zola had been. But with that cozy feeling came quite a bit of ambient noise. Not Planet Hollywood loud, where you couldn’t converse with the others sitting at your table, but also not a great place to eavesdrop on your neighbor. Keep that in mind should any of you decide to start trafficking in international secrets or drugs or yarn.

At first glance, the restaurant seems to strive to hearken back to an early-America type decor. But then you realize that you’re staring at artwork featuring Picasso-like paintings or featuring Ernie from Sesame Street….

The food was quite good, although our options were more limited since the Tabard Inn chose only to make certain dishes available for the Restaurant Week price. For appetizers, we all ordered different things — Rudi and Susan opted for fishy dishes, John went with a pork terrine that looked like a make-your-own PBJ sandwich when it arrived, and I deviated from my all-veggie route to pursue the coconutty goodness of a spicy Thai chicken soup. Yum. For dinner, John selected a duck breast that he said was divine; Rudi chose salmon; and Susan and I zeroed in on the only vegetarian entree — a pasta dish. It was nice fettucine in an olive oil sauce with mushrooms, cherry tomatoes, and pearl onions, but it was a surprisingly small serving for something that was so uncomplicated to make.

However, not having a huge portion did leave plenty of room for dessert. And thank goodness! Again, the whole dessert menu wasn’t intended to be available for Restaurant Week, but because we were the last customers in the dining room, they’d run out of several dishes already and compensated by offering us anything off the menu we wanted. Again we split four ways. Susan went conservative with homemade toffee ice cream. Rudi decided on a pineapple upside down cake infused in rum, which he loved. Having bypassed a lemon dessert the previous night, I opted for a lemon mascarpone cheesecake served with strawberries and red currants. Delectable! But the winner of the night was John and his chocolate cake. I’m sure that it was made with something terribly fancy, but it was as close to eating a great chocolate truffle in cake size. I only sampled a smidge, but I would definitely feel obliged to head back for my own piece some evening. Utterly to die for.

It was nearly midnight by the time we’d settled the bill and headed outdoors to walk home, with all of us agreeing that the Tabard might merit a weekend brunch outing some time in the future.

Restaurant Week has ended for the winter, but I’m so glad we actually got to partake this year. Both meals were different, but both were tasty and the company at both was enjoyable. A true success!