Oh, the Louis XIVTH cut of prime rib of beef, virtually indistinguishable from the regular cut, other than price.  Oh, the oven-roasted potatoes or french fries or rice pilaf.  Oh, the riverboat salad bar featuring the, oh my, glow-in-the-dark light green salad dressing.

Oh, the memories.

A rare night out — actually, a medium rare night out — for Extreme Mortman yesterday to join our New Media Strategies colleagues for the last meals and drinks served at Tom Sarris’ Orleans House in Rosslyn.  How could we miss the January 15 closing?  After all, the equal parts earnest and festive steak house was located right across the street from our glass-enclosed nerve center.  And it was home to so many personal moments.  You may not know this unless you’re a true collector of all Mortman biographical facts, but growing up in DC, many Mortman family special occasions were marked at the Orleans House, from the fun salad-infused glorious beginning right down to the annoying and painful conclusion of wondering where our check was.

But oh, the salad bar.  The saddest part of the salad bar shutting down with the restaurant?  All those poor cans of three-bean salad will now go homeless.  Ba-dum!  No, seriously, I swear those cherry tomatoes were first brought out during the Johnson administration — Andrew Johnson.  Ba-dum!  No, seriously, there’s good news — wondering what will happen to all the unused vats of green salad dressing?  Apparently they can fuel the new generation of hybrid SUVs.  Ba-dum!  No, seriously: if you ordered the salad with the green dressing on top, you just had to look at the waitress and say, “I’ll have the Chernobyl!”

For now, though, nothing but memories.  Sweet memories.  I’ll never be able to look at a bowl of stale croutons again without getting a wee bit misty-eyed for the glory days.

But one final happy thought: At least we were joined by Yasser Arafat and his bodyguards.