Walk in, and a metal bucket might fall on your head. Walk out, and you are engulfed by the hypnotic hum of the American shopping experience. This is Lunchbox, restaurateur Bryan Voltaggio’s endeavor to change the location of his lunch joint from Frederick to Chevy Chase. An attempt at the modern, eco-chic artisan food place, Lunchbox feels out of place in its suburban shopping-center setting.
Upon entering the restaurant, the commotion of the mall outside is immediately forgotten. Thin-legged, minimalist furniture rests on a stone floor, and rows of lights glow against the exposed pipes above. Dispersed throughout the room are big silver herb buckets suspended by an intricate system of ropes and wheels that covers the walls. The style is both modern and earthy, with the decor’s wood, metal, and greenery creating the eco-chic feel. The stark stone floor and walls emphasize the minimalism of the design, putting the creative decorations on display and allowing the neon green exit signs to glow in harmony with the plants.
Voltaggio’s update on his previous experiment seems self-consciously hip in its suburban office lunch break setting. Lunchbox rests on a razor-thin tipping point between truly alternative lunch spot and just another blind follower of the minimalist hipster trend.
The decor is, perhaps, the most inspired aspect of Lunchbox. It manages to blend an organic style with a more industrial one, seeming to combine the best of both worlds.
If Lunchbox truly cared about the environment, however, they would probably not serve every single order, whether “for here” or “to go,” in a big cardboard lunchbox. The amount of waste (even if it is recycled) is unnecessary, particularly as customers are not asked whether or not they want a box. This does not to follow any of the principles that the eco-chic decor implies, but rather caters to an upper-crust crowd with its overpriced menu and its gimmicky cardboard lunchboxes.
This is not Voltaggio’s first venture. He is already involved in three other restaurants in the D.C. area: Volt, Range, and Family Meal, all three of which are sit-down establishments.
Perhaps it is unfair to expect a lunch joint to live up to the same standards as Voltaggio’s more impressive restaurants, but then again, if we as customers must adjust our expectations, then the menu pricing should also reflect that. Handing over 11 dollars for a sandwich is no longer just paying for high-quality food. Instead it is paying for the latest gastronomic trend, especially when the sandwich is not earth-shatteringly tasty.
When I ordered the reuben sandwich, it was with the words “havarti” and “seaweed” in mind, but what I got had no trace of cheese. The sauerkraut seaweed was an interesting addition that complemented the strong flavor of the marbled rye bread, but the avocado I used to replace the ribs (side note: there are few vegetarian options) was overwhelming. Maybe it was my fault for changing the recipe, but I left wishing my sandwich had tasted of more than just two ingredients.
I remain hopeful that Lunchbox will eventually demonstrate its creativity. Voltaggio has, after all, played around quite a bit with the menu, including the occasional curveball like the sauerkraut seaweed, charred salsa, and a cilantro-mint garnish. The sandwich names reflect this playfulness—take, for instance, “the Compromise,” “B’more,” and “Yes ma’am.”
Perhaps after the opening hiccups pass, the creativity of Voltaggio’s unusual recipes will shine to his advantage. For now, however, the inconsistency of Lunchbox was my only takeaway.
Lunchbox
5335 Wisconsin Ave. NW
11 a.m. – 9 p.m.
www.voltlunchbox.com
