4 new D.C. rooftop bars to kick off summer vibes
Seize the day drink — it's peak outdoor imbibing season before summer humidity sets in, and we can't wait to check out these new rooftops.
Sly (Union Market District)
Famed Red Rooster chef Marcus Samuelsson's first foray into the District is this breezy rooftop atop the Morrow Hotel, where you can sip a rum-raspberry cocktail and snack on doro wat empanadas that nod to his Ethiopian roots.
Prices aren't sky-high compared to some rooftops, especially a weekday happy hour (Mon-Fri, 2-4pm) with $2 oysters and $11 bubbles.
Later this spring, Samuelsson and chef Anthony Jones — a Maryland native with Food Network cred — will open a seafood-centric brasserie in the hotel, followed by an 11th-floor cocktail lounge.
Good Fortune (Old Town)
This rare rooftop bar in Alexandria just reopened for its second season atop Alexandria's new Hotel Heron with some fun offerings like group-friendly punches and boozy slushees. Plus: Check out their new summer concert series lineup.
Ciel Capitol Hill
A new offshoot of scene-y Ciel in Mt. Vernon Triangle, this new rooftop at the Marriott Capitol Hill goes all-in on views — plus new offerings like DJ brunch parties, crushable cocktails and live jazz.
La'Shukran (Union Market)
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Los Angeles Times
2 days ago
- Los Angeles Times
‘Look at what our expansiveness can afford us.' Awol Erizku on a universal language for the African diaspora
Late last year, I developed a connection with one of Awol Erizku's artworks somewhat by accident. I was on the dance floor at Living Room, one of L.A.'s newest member clubs and nightlife hotspots, being bathed in the fragmented, dazzling light of a disco ball in the form of Nefertiti's bust. As the night grew more navy with time, I finally looked up, and was struck by the beauty and powerful presence of African royalty above me. Erizku, a 36-year-old Ethiopian-born, Los Angeles-based contemporary artist, has most recently installed that artwork, 'Nefertiti–Miles Davis,' at the California African American Museum as part of his first solo museum exhibition, 'Awol Erizku: X.' Composed of new and recent works, the show is a celebration and reexamination of Afrocentric aesthetics — an approach to expression the artist calls 'Afro-esotericism.' Malcolm X is at the heart of it all, his image anointing the walls and a photograph of his former home, boarded up with a sign advertising its rehabilitation, presented without comment. It's a show about preserving Black history, about the spiritual implications bubbling beneath familiar objects with double meanings in the culture, from ice to bricks. Elsewhere in Los Angeles, Erizku's exhibition 'Moon, Turn the Flames…Gently Gently Away,' his inaugural solo with Sean Kelly Gallery on view through July 3, features hypersaturated still lifes that reflect the beauty (flowers), temptations (money) and struggles (smoke) of cultural life in L.A., a city he has now lived in for 10 years. On the occasion of that opening, I met Erizku at Living Room again, but this time it was face-to-face and not through a chance encounter with his work. The multidisciplinary artist, who works across photography, sculpture, painting, installation, film and sound, was grounded, warm and most interested in eschewing the politics and oft-performative pleasantries of the art world in favor of genuine connection with the community of guests. Though we didn't know each other, there was an instant familiarity, which is perhaps the most sacred, inexplicable part of the African diasporic experience: that sense of recognition, which is more a feeling than anything that can be adequately described. In this way, the very spirit of Blackness is art — a stirring beyond language. And it is this focus on the feeling of wordless understanding that guides Erizku's approach to creation. Evan Nicole Brown: Both of your L.A. shows hinge on a symbol: the five colorful, interlocking Olympic rings. Symbolism is such a deep and dominant part of your work: How do you approach adding your aesthetic to ready-made symbols — like the Olympic rings, the Hollywood sign, the L.A. Dodgers logo — which are familiar to us as viewers, in order to make them your own? Awol Erizku: Symbols, for me, have become a way to communicate and have an immediate effect. So by simply turning the Dodgers logo and literally just swapping the colors to those of the Pan-African flag, I'm able to speak to Black folks directly. I think when you see that, you know that's for you, you know that's a unifying symbol. That's what I'm after — symbols that we can use in a universal manner. ENB: That just made me realize the true power of visual symbolism as a shorthand, as a way to say so much without saying anything at all. Even a color can be a shorthand to demonstrate something. AE: That also resonates with the 'Nipsey blue' in the background of the [gallery] show. I've said this in passing, but I thought about making [the show] a love letter for my son. And I still do think about it that way, because a lot of the topics in the exhibition, especially at the gallery, is a conversation that I think any father would have with their son. [I'm] looking back at some of the things that I've been thinking about a lot consciously, and I found a way to communicate that by distilling certain symbols to make juxtapositions that then gave a new meaning. Like the evidence markers and cowrie shells are two things that shouldn't be together, but somehow by putting them together in this way, it creates a third, or new, meaning. [With those images], I'm looking at the killings of Sean Bell and Amadou Diallo, and the third subject is kind of open-ended, which is the sad reality. But with those two men in particular, I remember being a younger man living in New York and thinking about how it happened, when it happened and how people reacted to it. On a deeper level, in my lexicon, I title the works in a way that isn't so direct. The piece for Sean Bell, 'Sean Bell - Shawny Binladen,' is actually the title of a Shawny Binladen song, which then complicates this narrative even further. And the title of [the piece for Amadou Diallo], 'American Skin (41 Shots) - Bruce Springsteen,' is in reference to a Bruce Springsteen song, which again complicates the narrative even further because now you're not just talking about police murder and rap, now I'm using someone from a different genre who's also talking about police brutality in America. There's a deeper concern and awareness of the ripple effects of police brutality in America as it relates to young Black men specifically. ENB: How does your Ethiopian heritage figure into your work, particularly as you make artistic choices that connect the broader diaspora? In your images, I see you exploring police brutality on American soil, but also recurring motifs like cowrie shells, smoke and flowers seem to be more conceptual reminders of home, ritual, currency and cultural memory. AE: The sad thing is — and this is why I feel these two subject matters have maybe been in my consciousness for so long — is that Amadou Diallo was Guinean, and Sean Bell was a foundational Black American, but to police you're still a Black man at the end of the day, you know? So whatever qualms we may have on the nuance level, to the outside world we're a monolith, even though we know we aren't. For me, that's the nucleus of the work. It's all about creating a language that we can use throughout the diaspora in a universal fashion. 'Afro-esotericism,' an ideology that I've been building for the last [several] years, relates to my 2023 monograph 'Mystic Parallax,' which shows you a version of Black aesthetics cohabitating and existing in the same universe; it's far more interesting to create a new way of looking at the world by [using] the things that we already have exposure to. ENB: How does the landscape of Los Angeles, the home of Hollywood and many other cultural exports, inform your practice, particularly your projects that engage celebrities and the concept of fame? AE: I personally am distant from that world. I mean, there's some work-related things that I do every once in a while, but as a whole, I went to school and I focused a lot on theory. So the commercial stuff really doesn't hold that much water for me. L.A. can be isolating, it can be welcoming, it can be territorial. It's a multifaceted city; that's what I love about it and that's where I find the inspiration for most of these works. I find L.A. to be inspiring as an artist because it gives you a lot of room to breathe, and a lot of room to practice different things; it's almost like an empty canvas that is just waiting to be filled with ideas. ENB: I'm constantly thinking about the tension between the produced version of L.A. and the natural world of the city, and how the quality of light here from the sun contrasts with the artificiality of neon. AE: When it comes to neon, I think it's a medium that I'll continue to work with until I can't. I find neon to be this medium that uses light in a more poetic way. A great example of that is 'NO ICE'; it's so simple, but you can really read into it. The duality and double entendres in hip-hop is so important and crucial. Why is 'OPPS' in the style of the Cops [T.V. show] logo? If you know, you know, you know what I mean? ENB: Let's circle back to 'Afro-esotericism,' which has to do with symbolism, spirituality and this legacy of mythmaking. AE: It's the intrinsic feelings, expressions, gestures, thoughts and just overall [experience] of being a Black human being on this planet, like the things that we already have in us. There are all these things that end up getting co-opted by people on the internet, but I'm more interested in the things that they can't tap into, the things that they can't steal. It's an open source [ideology]; I'm open to people adding to it, to make some sort of atlas or an encyclopedia [with] knowledge of being. ENB: The richness of Black culture is so special so I really resonate with that. But I am also curious about whether you create space in your practice for play — not to undercut the depth of all that you're exploring, but I'm almost exhausted by Blackness being such a serious subject, and being so profound. It's so fun seeing memes just about the way we laugh while running away from each other, you know? How do you leave room for that sort of register of Blackness in your work, too? AE: That is precisely what I'm trying to get out. I'm merely saying, look at what our expansiveness can afford us. Evan Nicole Brown is a Los Angeles-born writer, editor and journalist who covers the arts and culture. Her work has been featured in Architectural Digest, Dwell, The Hollywood Reporter, the New York Times, T Magazine, Time and elsewhere. She is the managing editor of Contemporary Art Review Los Angeles and the founder of Group Chat, a conversation series in L.A.
Eater
5 days ago
- Eater
Houston's ‘Top Chef' Winner Tristen Epps Is Taking His Afro-Caribbean Cuisine on the Road
Tristen Epps was already a rising force in Houston's culinary scene, and now the James Beard semifinalist has even more accolades under his belt. Judges of the reality television cooking competition Top Chef crowned Epps the winner of its 22nd season, Top Chef: Destination Canada , on Thursday, June 12, after an outstanding run that showcased his culinary prowess and deep-rooted passion for Afro-Caribbean cooking. The chef, who's previously worked under acclaimed chef Marcus Samuelsson, wowed the judges with his bold, inventive style, racking up two Quickfire wins and five elimination challenge victories. He also led his team to victory as executive chef during the show's pivotal Restaurant Wars episode, all while coping with personal hardship: His stepfather was critically ill back home. Midway through the season, Epps learned of his stepfather's passing. Rather than stepping away from the competition, he chose to stay, dedicating each dish to his stepfather's memory. Though Episode 10 brought his only real stumble — judges critiqued an imbalance in seasoning — Epps quickly bounced back. In the finale, he cemented his win with a four-course 'Meal of Your Life' menu, a fusion of Ethiopian cuisine and his Trinidadian roots that featured monkfish with baccala mbongo; pollo dorengo with injera shrimp toast; and an oxtail Milanese crepinette. The win is especially significant: In addition to $125,000 in Delta Airlines credit, invitations to some of the biggest food and dining events in the country, and $250,000 cash prize (reportedly the largest prize in Top Chef history), Epps is also the first Black chef to win Top Chef in 15 years. Until recently, the chef kept his victory under wraps while preparing for his next big move: the launch of Buboy, a fine-dining Afro-Caribbean tasting menu restaurant in Houston. Now, Epps is finally free to celebrate — and to reflect. Eater caught up with Epps to talk about his favorite and most challenging moments on Top Chef , and what's next for him professionally as he brings his vision to diners across the country. This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity. Congratulations! How are you feeling? Tristen Epps: I'm still trying to get used to it, but a lot of people are really supportive. What was it like keeping your Top Chef win a secret? I mean, it wasn't so bad. I call the same people every day, like my mom, so she makes it easy to talk about, and then my core group of friends knew I made it. Did you have a strategy going into the competition? My strategy going in was to not make friends and stay focused, try to take it really easy in the beginning, and just try to pace myself for longevity: keep to my point of view, and then, really ramp things up later. It didn't go that way. I ended up liking everybody, and I ended up winning a lot in the beginning. I don't know if it was my competitiveness, but I didn't know how to take it easy — cooking and trying your hardest went hand in hand. But in the end, it was really cool. Like being in Canada, being in Italy — it was such a beautiful experience. Do you have a favorite moment? Being able to tell my mom at the end that I won was a magical moment for me, and also my first individual win. I went in with this point of view of cooking diaspora cuisine, and you know, people are having more success with it, but you never know for yourself, right? My whole point of wanting to do this is to put it out there at a really high level, and when people decide to give you a shot at it, they have a lot of expectations. It's like, 'Impress me or I'm going back to what I know,' so it's nerve-racking. The first day I did my cooking and won, it created this validation for me: 'Okay, this cuisine is enough, and it's enough to do in this format.' That was just an amazing feeling, especially on that platform. What was the most challenging part of the competition? Staying who you are can be challenging. People will think something is all you know or all you can do, and sometimes you just naturally pander to whatever's around you, you try to adapt, and you end up making others feel comfortable so you feel comfortable. I was trying to dictate what I felt and thought onto a plate, inaudibly to the people who don't know me. The mental toll of the competition was probably the biggest challenge. If you're not someone who can be alone or if you're not able to really be comfortable in your thoughts for periods, that can be challenging. You don't have the everyday things you can wind down with, right? There's no scrolling the internet. There's no talking to someone on the phone, and the person you might connect with might be gone the very next day. I'm still really soaking in the moment. I'm still planning on opening BuBoy at some point — finding a building and space that is important and meaningful to me is impactful. But right now, I think I'm just gonna take it on the road a little bit. I'll be announcing more soon about it, and I just want to bring what I'm gonna do to the country. Top Chef was one of, if not the greatest, experiences I've had professionally. It's such a rewarding feeling, even if I don't feel the full brunt of it right now. I've been walking around Chicago and, you know, different cities since it has aired, and the reception I have gotten has been so amazing. Even walking around with some of my castmates has been so amazing, because people tuned in to see the food they're making and the people they are. I would say this is a lesson to everyone: don't be afraid of who you are, especially cooks. If you are part of a culture, scream it to the rafters. Learn about others, because they're probably connected, talk to as many people as you can from other cultures, and always, always strive to learn more about yourself and where you come from, and how it connects to different people. Food naturally brings us together, so if I can understand more about your culture and food, other than just eating it, I think the world would be much more unified. I think that's kind of the platform that Top Chef gave me. I've shown everyone that I can connect to culture, and I'll also celebrate the hell out of it. See More:
New York Post
13-06-2025
- New York Post
Nile Rodgers recalls becoming 'really close' with the late Sly Stone
It takes one music icon to know one. Nile Rodgers, the legendary producer and Chic bandleader, worshiped Sly Stone long before he became friends with the funk pioneer, who passed away at 82 on Monday, June 9. And he has the receipts to prove it. 5 Songwriters Hall of Fame chairman Nile Rodgers helped welcome the class of 2025 on Thursday night. Getty Images for Songwriters Hall Of Fame 5 Sly Stone was the genius behind Sly & the Family Stone classics such as 'Everyday People' and 'Family Affair.' Getty Images for Songwriters Hall Of Fame 'I still to this day have my ticket [from when] I saw Sly & the Family Stone at the Schaefer Music Festival in Central Park,' Rodgers, 72, exclusively told The Post on the red carpet of the Songwriters Hall of Fame induction ceremony on Thursday at NYC's Marriott Marquis. 'Check this out — the price of the ticket? One dollar. General admission was one dollar. I still have it. It was that great of a day to me,' he said. And that's not the only way that Stone took a young Rodgers higher. 'I remember when he released, I don't know if it was the second album or the first album, I remember going to my friend's house — he was the only one who could afford the album — and we all sat around smoking hash and listening to the record all day,' he recalled. 5 Jimmy Jam (left) and Nile Rodgers joined Songwriters Hall of Fame president/CEO Linda Moran on the red carpet. Redferns As fate would have it, the Songwriters Hall of Fame chairman would end up meeting and bonding with the genius behind Sly & the Family hits such as 'Dance to the Music,' Everyday People,' and 'Family Affair.' 'Later on in life, I became friends with Sly in California. It was really sad for me because he was living in a car,' he said. 'So every night we would meet at the China Club when it moved to Los Angeles, and we would talk, and for some reason, we became really close.' In fact, Stone asked Rodgers to be the music director for the Sly & the Family Stone tribute at the 2006 Grammys that included Maroon 5, John Legend, Steven Tyler and Joss Stone — as well as a brief appearance by the funk god himself. 5 With Sly & the Family Stone, Nile Rodgers said that the late Sly Stone 'changed music.' Redferns Another legendary producer, Jimmy Jam, recalled sampling Sly & the Family Stone's 1970 chart-topper 'Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)' on Janet Jackson's 1989 hit 'Rhythm Nation.' 'I don't think people really put that together,' he told The Post. 'For me, it was so obvious that it's Sly. But he was a tremendous influence, [and] still continues to be. His music is singular. 'And his influence [was] not only me but certainly on Prince in the way that he made his band up — like, it was multiracial, multi-gender,' said the former Prince protégé. 'All of that came from Sly.' 5 Sly Stone of Sly And The Family Stone performs on stage in London on July 15, 1973. Getty Images Stone's impact on Rodgers was formative, too. 'Honestly, to me, Sly is on the same level as [John] Coltrane, Miles [Davis], Charlie Parker, Nina Simone, all the people I grew up with. Sly was my R&B example of that,' he said. Indeed, with Sly & the Family Stone, Rodgers said that Stone 'changed music.' 'They changed the way that America saw black musicians,' he said. 'They changed everything.'
