The experience at Sweet Lobby on 8th did not foil my commitment to a weekly food exploration. And having witnessed an event while dining in a certain Thai restaurant at Gallery Place that will forever go nameless in my little world of learned phobias, based on experience to my defense, in which the bar tender [oops - excuse my verbal faux pas] I mean mixologist pulled a stream of nasal mucus from his nose that mimicked mozzarella cheese from a hot pizza [OMG! It won't stop, it won't stop! It burns!] and proceeded to serve a drink to a customer afterwards, warranted abandonment of this self-improvement project. Dialog omitted, the gorgeous recipient of the drink witnessed this act of treason which was deemed unforgivable. The manager, who witnessed the scene in its entirety, and who literally closed her eyes and tapped her heals in a great rendition of the Wizard of OZ when Dorothy just wanted to go HOME, was summoned to handle the situation. My guest and I left. We did not want to witness the end of this theatrical. Even this was not quite enough to deter me from the quest to overcome my self-diagnosed mysophobia or interfere with my passionate love affair with food. Nom nom nom! Besides, I am fulfilling my socio-economic obligation by supporting up and coming businesses in the District. This being said, I decided to bike to H street [By biking I am reducing my carbon foot print and creating a caloric deficit for any yummy I might encounter.], a.k.a the somewhat newly named Atlas District of the city, to check the progress of the trolley system [really] but discovered a place called Sticky Rice. Borrowing from Oprah's vault of enthusiasm upon learning of an exciting new find. STICKY RIIIICE!!!!! I perused the portable menu that begged, in bold BLACK AND WHITE letters to be considered for my palatable delight. So I did. Wow! How delightful?! Sticky balls, Garden balls, Sticky rice for dessert; you know where I am going with this. LOL!!! It was getting pretty late, and I did not want to miss the grill which closes at 11 pm on a Friday. [Go figure! Do not staff cook for as long as the bar is open anymore? Minus 1 point! ] I composed myself and ordered from the takeout menu. The sticky balls were - well - sticky. Plus 1 point. The Garden balls tasted like vegan goulash. Minus 1 point. And the sticky rice? [sigh] Lawd, lawd, lawd. [sigh] The sticky rice tasted like porridge topped with mango chips and a dollop of Je ne sais pas. The rice was wet. The mango was flavorless and crunchy. And, I suspect, the dessert was covered with sweet glaze? Minus 7 points because of the namesake factor. Small business is the most admirable of occupations mainly due to the risk involved. Perhaps the greatest risk to this regard would be to visit the unnamed Thai restaurant at the Gallery Place for a lesson on how to make the best sticky rice ever! Or rename the restaurant Puss in Boots. The plight for you, Sticky Rice, is to restore your honour! BTW - The Tofu bites are grand! I will bike a thousand miles for those! Slight embellishment, though I will bike 9 miles for them. Cheers. read more