Our entry into Buck’s was greeted with the warm smell of cedar, either from the thick beams that stretch toward the ceiling, the wood in the back over which steak and fish is grilled, or Yankee Candles, on which the owner may have cornered the market. I thought it charming, my companion thought it overwhelming.The restaurant itself is awfully swank for a camping theme – while it fits in with trendy Washingtonion restaurant minimalism, the use of wood, tents, lamps and vegetables (Holy Gourds Almighty!) keep it grounded. Tables are either wood-topped or covered with red print tablecloths, and the long strip down the middle of the restaurant is a communal table, either uncomfortably forcing strangers into elbow range or providing a great setting for a large party. While the wooden bar is topped with an unusual granite and backed by a brick wall, the quasi-abstract, blown-up photos hanging behind it are incongruous with the rest of the space.

The other problem behind the bar is the bartender. As there was a 30 minute wait for tables, the bar was pretty busy. My attempts to get Stoli Raspberry and Captain Morgan’s both failed – the bartender supplied me with a horrid Myers’s and Ginger. Moving onto the next customer, he asked the poor patron how to make a Rob Roy and a Cosmo. He was friendly, though, as were the rest of the other leather workbelt-wearing waitstaff.

The menu is crafted to remind you of your Boy and Girl Scout camping days, provided you ate sirloin and mussels when camping and lugged your deep-fryer with you. It’s a short menu and doesn’t offer much beside salad (ask to hold the bacon, please) and the occasional appetizer for vegetarians. Meal prices range from $12-$30, but most were $14-$17. While my mussels were meaty and delicious from their red wine sauce (whoever thought to use red instead of white is a prophet), they were more like an appetizer than a meal, served in a big bowl with no side dish or veggie. The wood-grilled sirloin was cooked perfectly and tasted exquisitely smoked, but for $30, the amount of fat on it was ridiculous. While I was disappointed that our pumpkin dip appetizer never made it to the table (nor did the server ever return to check if the dip had appeared), the sweet, buttery corn bread muffins more than made up for it.

Strangely, this all-American setting doesn’t boast one American wine. Our cheapish bottle of Pinot Noir was an excellent wine for the price, and the waiter got points for recommending it out of our narrowed selections.

Buck’s isn’t perfect, but I sure hope it fares better than the short-lived Greenwood. It’s an unusual addition to the Washington dining scene in setting, menu and décor – and is a still somewhat undiscovered gem. While it closes at 11 on weekends, it won’t be the neighborhood watering-hole, but it’s a good place to start.