We consider ourselves connoisseurs of crab cakes. These appetizers are ubiquitous, and we've ordered them all over town. So we were nervous one Friday night, after we'd decided to live it up at Pierpont's in Union Station, when our charmingly gregarious waiter, Shawn O'Neal, said he felt obligated to warn us about them. "They're more quality than quantity," he said diplomatically. What the hell, we decided, we were going all out that night anyway. His admonition turned out to have been alarmist (we'd seen smaller crab cakes at less-expensive places), but he wasn't exaggerating about their quality. At once meaty and airy, and notably unencumbered by bready filler, they rested atop a sauce unlike anything we'd tasted -- O'Neal told us it was a tomato-mustard sauce that he put on everything
. We wouldn't go that far, but that's only because we'll just keep ordering more crab cakes.