Photo by Howie Southworth
Outside of Kisso and Casa Luna in Old Town Alexandria
“A Table Down The Street” follows Howie Southworth, author of "A Taste of Alexandria," one local barstool at a time. No reviews. Only encounters. The bartender chasing perfection, the chef with a story, the regular who swears this place was better before you found it. Food and drink may be the excuse. People are the point. A corner seat can tell you everything.
The stairs drop from Kisso’s foyer like a quiet detour, and before I reach the bottom, I feel that familiar pause. The space between one destination and the next. Casa Luna lives in that pause. Down here, time slows just enough to reset your bearings.
The mad scientist manager Bryan, stands behind the bar surrounded by bottles that look more like pigments than spirits. He is happiest when experimenting. Color, flavor, texture, whatever he can coax into a glass. If you told me he painted cocktails in his free time, I’d believe you. He nods with the recognition of someone who’s spent many afternoons rearranging ingredients until they catch the room’s attention.
Photo by Howie Southworth
The Layover Cocktail
I order one called the “layover.” Gin, lavender, frost on the glass. Seems appropriate. A drink named for the exact state I seem to occupy between the sushi upstairs and whatever mood unfolds down here. I sip, astounded and the room settles into focus.
Casa Luna shares a landlord, a front door and a payment system with Kisso. And that’s the secret. You walk in for one thing, then stay for another. In Alexandria, some restaurants simply coexist. These two collaborate by appetite. I can order sushi as easily as a cocktail. The pairing feels illicit somehow, like bringing your own sandwich to a wedding, only better catered.
I’ve become a regular upstairs. For sushi. Their fish sourcing is no joke, Bryan confirms they buy from the same vendor trusted by certain fancier restaurants. “Pan-Asian places are usually just OK at everything,” he says. “But Kisso goes beyond,” I say and he agrees. Even some off-menu choices are specially flown in from Japan. This flight analogy won’t quit.
I order the “sweetheart roll,” heart-shaped, ruby-tinted, wrapped in high-grade akami tuna and filled with lobster salad. Outstanding. It arrives downstairs as if the bar itself requested something romantic. Between the lavender-hued gin and this beauty, I am, for all intents and purposes, on a date with myself. Not a bad one.
Photo by Howie Southworth
The Sweetheart Sushi Roll from Kisso
Julian, another bartender, talks at the pace of someone who enjoys people more than quiet. “We’re going for a classy vibe,” he says, which seems both earnest and amusing. The room is still finding its voice, part speakeasy, part lounge. They want to draw locals, not just the weekend crowd of bachelorettes, first daters and Instagram detectives who wander in for neon lighting and good glassware. Casa Luna feels like the kind of place where someone might fall in love with a gorgeous drink before they fall in love with a person.
The décor helps. Sconced walls, warm bar lights, a giant video screen showing movies that don’t need volume. Tonight it's Mean Girls, drifting across the room silently. Everyone knows the lines. Someone raises a glass the moment Regina George appears.
On weekend late-nights, the room is louder, groups descending the stairs in outfits that glitter with anticipation. Now, it’s early on a Friday. A handful of curious locals, a few evening explorers, one writer pretending to be a traveler. The music is vibey, EDM with its edges softened, and carries just enough bass to keep the glasses sympathetic.
Julian talks about the aim to make this place a true neighborhood spot. “Maybe too clubby for the City Hall crowd?” I ask. He smiles. “We’re working on it.” One strategy, a rotating series of comedy nights, small live sets, anything to weave themselves into the rhythm of the week instead of just the weekend. I admire the ambition. Bars become institutions by imagining the regulars before the regulars imagine them.
I take another sip of my liquid layover. It's floral and herbal, quietly confident, the kind of drink that would wear linen if it were a person. Across from me, Bryan is already in another experiment, deep green pandan-infused rum topped with a foamy cap of ube. Purple on green. He’s still working out the formula.
I finish my sweetheart roll, the pairing too perfect to rush, and watch Bryan pour this newest creation for the staff (and me) to taste. There’s something joyful about watching a bar discover itself, one drink at a time. Behind him, the bar shelves glow softly, blue, gold, violet, depending on where your eye lands. It's theatrical but not performative. Casa Luna doesn’t need a rope line. It’s still shaping itself.
A sparkly trio at the start of a dancing night descends the stairs. A small table secludes a dating app meet-up. Two women at the opposite end of the bar toast to something academic, something earned. Casa Luna skews younger than typical Old Town, but that feels right. Every city needs a bar that fine-tunes chic instead of assuming it.
Casa Luna may live beneath the street, but it has the spirit of a rooftop, open, whimsical, a little dangerous in the best way. Not a speakeasy anymore, not a nightclub yet, something in between, a place for people in transit even if they haven’t gone anywhere. I take one last sip. The stairs return me to Old Town. My layover ends. No boarding announcement. No panic about whether my carry-on will fit. Only a walk.
Photo courtesy of Howie Southworth
Author Howie Southworth
Howie Southworth is a seasoned denizen of Old Town Alexandria and the best-selling author behind "A Taste of Alexandria: Modern Restaurant Recipes That Echo Our City's Past."
His forthcoming book, "Hemingway's Spanish Table" will be released on March 17. Past works include "Chinese Street Food," "One Pan to Rule Them All," "Kiss My Casserole!" and "How to Cook Anything in Your Dutch Oven." Howie is also a regular essayist for Salon.com.
