A garden getaway in hipper-than-thou industrial Georgetown, the Corson Building is an oasis between railroad tracks and an interstate ramp. It’s quirky, decrepit, and elegantly DIY. Thursdays and Fridays feature à la carte menus, while Saturday is a fixed price dinner; there are also two prix-fixe Sunday suppers a month.

Dinner here is a multi-course, set-menu lesson in why locavores get away with being so insufferably smug. Corson is as self-sustaining as possible: there are herb and vegetable gardens, chicken and pigeon coops. The ritual includes a half-hour before dinner to wander around the compound, drink in hand.

The Corson Building mostly lives up to its hype. The chef knows how to cook using simple, quality ingredients: dishes like (backyard) chicken braised with apricots and anise hyssop, or confit of duck leg with shinseiki pear, whole turnips, and walnuts, are expertly prepared. Although the more risk-taking dishes are generally successful and exciting, occasionally it all feels a little too cool and trendy. When they bring out the reindeer aspic, you might wonder if you’re at dinner or a photo shoot. Wine pairings are carefully chosen and it’s rare to get a dud.

Communal family-style dining is less attractive, of course, when you have to drop a car payment on dinner. But look past the prices, and you’ve got one of the city’s most engaging dining experiences.