The din of laughter and flowing conversation bounces around the crowded room, from the full velvet banquettes to the Schlitz globe hanging by the door. I’ve seen White dudes sporting thick mustaches, ball caps and flannel shirts; Black women in dresses and stylish eyeglasses; punks alongside young parents.
The matte black walls, the tinsel-framed mirror and the balloons hanging above the bar contribute to a feeling that you’re at a roller rink birthday party commandeered by the adults. Everyone seems to be having a blast, including Nick Schieber, Jason Crafton and Amanda Kelsey, the three co-owners of the bar dashing around to take orders, make drinks and run food. A window into the pass shows Morrow and his crew yukking it up and, late in the evening, taking post-shift shots.
“Cooking should be fun,” Morrow says.
When I add a Mexican pizza to my group’s order, Schieber warns me: This one is much bigger than Taco Bell’s.
Morrow pokes holes in two burrito wrappers so they don’t puff up in the fryer. When they’re crisp, he piles one layer with marinara sauce, cheese and a protein; everything on the menu comes with a choice of braised beef, chicken or pork; seared shrimp or salmon; or mushroom with vegan sausage. The second tortilla gets covered with more cheese, onions and tomatoes, then the pizza bakes for 15 minutes.
I dig in fueled by a dormant teenage giddiness over eating this much melted cheese, a remnant of an invincible time, before responsibilities or acid reflux.
The final touch, an application of hot sauce Morrow makes with serrano peppers, chile de árbol and apple cider vinegar, illuminates a lightbulb in my head. It’s recognizable as a distant relative of Taco Bell’s Fire Sauce, but different enough to stand as an original creation.
That’s also the appeal of an avocado mousse that takes the place of plain sour cream in Morrow’s crunch wrap, a neat hexagon with a tostada backbone and cool, shredded lettuce that looks strikingly similar to the crowning achievement of Taco Bell’s innovation kitchen — yet twice as plump.
Morrow’s favorite menu item (and mine) is a tightly wrapped burrito that layers sweet fried plantains, black beans, coconut rice and a jalapeño hot sauce. The snug construction and griddled exterior are marks of a respectable assembly. Shrimp that has been blackened in store-bought adobo powder stands out, giving every bite a wisp of garlic. (Morrow and I share an appreciation for the MSG-spiked spice: “makes s— good,” he quips.)
A chalupa features a piece of naan skillfully dragged through hot oil, giving it a U-shaped structure while maintaining a little elasticity. On the more outlandish side, there’s the fiesta potato, baked and fried before it’s seasoned with serious cayenne heat and dressed with chipotle mayo along with the regular taco toppings.
Like his KST creations, Morrow isn’t taking himself too seriously, but the preparation of each item reveals years of craft and experience. The 37-year-old from Takoma Park, Md., worked his way up through D.C.-area kitchens, starting out serving prepared food at a George Washington University deli before moving on to Clyde’s Restaurant Group (the Hamilton, Old Ebbitt Grill), Momofuku CCDC and Rappahannock Oyster Bar.
He’s “just a Black guy from the D.C. area,” he says, but has learned more about Latin cooking from a Cuban relative who married into his family. Specials like masitas de puerco and yuca con mojo show a desire to experiment with Caribbean favorites.
Morrow is keeping his day job; five days a week, he reports to the InterContinental Hotel on the Southwest Waterfront and starts cracking eggs. “I make some pretty good omelets,” he says with a gaptoothed grin. At the posh hotel, he’s worked with some of the city’s biggest star chefs, Kwame Onwuachi at Kith and Kin and later Kevin Tien at Moon Rabbit.
Tuesday nights are a reunion of sorts. Morrow first met Schieber, Crafton and Kelsey when the trio were working at another Northwest neighborhood bar, Red Derby. Morrow says they used to meet up at the Marvin rooftop off U Street and plot plans to open their own place. The trio made good on their bet, and Morrow took the next job. He started filling in at Jackie Lee’s on Saturday night, adding barbecue seasoning to the fries and developing a recipe for spice-rubbed smoked wings. The Tuesday gig means he’s there two nights a week, even though after both shifts, he’s got an early morning of omelet making ahead of him.
“I think he’s putting a lot of himself on these plates,” Schieber says. “I’ve known him long enough, I’ve tasted so much of his food. He can do it all. He can cook everything.”
After going to the bar one night, a friend told me he felt like the atmosphere reflected the real D.C. to the point that he’d want to take visitors uptown just to check it out. At this taco operation, the food is hardly fast. But that’s a good thing. You’ll want to stay until last call.
116 Kennedy St. NW; jackieleesdc.com/kennedy-street-tacos.
Hours: Tuesdays from 5 to 9 p.m.
Public transportation: About a mile from the Fort Totten Metro station and 0.2 miles from the Metrobus stop at New Hampshire Avenue NW and Ingraham Street NW.
Prices: Sides for $5; $6 taco to $20 Mexican pizza; $2 surcharge for shrimp or salmon.
