Washington City Paper
May 15, 2005
Caroline Schweiter


One of many well-thought-out, reasonably priced options in Gaithersburg’s Kentlands complex, Doughboys is small, immaculate, and austere, almost to the point of soulless. (Candles and real flowers on the tables just manage to save it.) Well-scrubbed teens approach your table to recite every ingredient of the day’s specials, which supplement a basic menu of pizza, salads, and sandwiches. The last are served on panini that resemble giant crackers—uniformly thick and white, though also warm and soft. A sandwich with braised lamb, tahini, roasted red pepper, garlic, potato, tomato, red onion, and mozzarella somehow manages to fuse all these ingredients into a filling that’s coherent in both taste and texture (the potato helps); it’s even possible to eat it with your hands. The rich, only slightly meaty spread is reminiscent of homemade hash—salty, almost creamy, and not too greasy. Pizzas, in a standard range of gourmet options or topped to order, are available only in a 10-inch “personal” size. Baked in a wood-fired oven, they suffer more from their uniformity of texture than the panini: The center is not noticeably different from the outer rim, resulting in admirably sturdy, oddly crunchy slices.