Off the 18th St. strip in Adams Morgan is a bar that we’re a little hesitant to tell you about. You see, this is Adams Morgan — a neighborhood full of people with big beads or popped collars, descending on weekends like a plague of locusts, ending their nights by scarfing down jumbo slices at 3 A.M. Five years ago? Maybe. Nowadays, we’re curmudgeons. One of the exceptions to our general dislike of Adams…