SEAReview
Included In
We all knew this person in high school. They were the valedictorian, the class president, the mathlete, played the bassoon and the lead in “My Fair Lady,” ran varsity track, volunteered at animal shelters, and had good teeth. They were the best at literally everything. Sounds like the kind of person you would hate the living sh*t out of and fantasize about shoving headfirst into a locker, but they were so popular that everyone had no choice but to worship the hallways they walked on.
Quinn’s is that extremely well-rounded student from your graduating class, reincarnated into a pub.
Quinn’s knows how to please everybody. We cannot think of a situation where it would be inappropriate, except for maybe “dinner that ends in disaster and sadness,” or “date night with python.” You’ll find every scenario from couples having their first awkward encounter at the bar, to parents judging their kid’s new significant other over some apps on the second floor balcony, to tables stacked together in the main dining room for a large crowd’s birthday cocktails before a debaucherous Capitol Hill night out. Quinn’s is really like the silly putty of restaurants: it’ll mold to your own situation, and is equally as fun by yourself with a newspaper (by which we mean your phone) as it is with a group.
The menu is a solid directory of basic bar food with classy upgrades. Think french fries but with fontina and veal, and an iconic sloppy joe made with wild boar and topped with crispy sage and a duck egg. Everything has frills where we want them and none where we don’t, and good quality pub snacks that you want to eat with your beer or old fashioned or glass of wine (or three).
Our only real complaint about Quinn's (other than the fact that they change the dip that comes with their pretzel, and it kind of gets worse every time it switches) is that they didn't take reservations. But, now they do—classic overachievement, just like the high school Valedictorian.