Virginia, part two

(continued)

I like serializing. After our delicious dinner at C&O Restaurant in Charlottesville over Labor Day weekend--part of the Julie-and-Christine-traipse-around-Virginia-weekend--we ventured down Main Street for drinks.

Liam and Josh
In search of local color, we first found and wandered into a sushi bar playing live music and serving four dollar beers. Josh, the drunken college kid to our right, flattered us with his lascivious glances and slurred compliments and impressed us by downing three sugary shots in roughly 10 minutes. The intersection between food (well, drink) and love would have been quite palatable if we saw those shots again. As he was determined to get drunker while he could hardly stand (but somehow managing to dance quite well), we encouraged him to pound plastic cups of water, which we convinced him were huge shots of vodka. We placated his hard-drinking ego, talked to his beautiful but terrible friend who soon abandoned him for his resident co-ed, and enjoyed our too-cheap beers.

All manner of men found this amusing, including Liam the 60-year-old Irishman and didn't-catch-his name who asked us if were were students (the penultimate UVA law student, more adept at getting his collar to stand than securing our attentions). After more bars and more drinks, we started posing.

Thomas J.
After a hearty breakfast, Mr. Jefferson made it quite easy to see the link between food and love at his estate, Monticello. Would is be disrespectful to say IHOP breakfasts are almost as impressive as Jefferson's wall calendar jiggered with cannonballs or his below-ground ice pit?



















At Monticello, Jefferson's love of food, wine, and agriculture manifest itself in his gardens, expansive kitchen, beer and wine cellars, and multitude of squash blossoms. He crafted ice cream in the summer with his reserve ice from the winter, imported French wines, and even tried make his own.





































Bob
After all that Virginia history, I returned to DC and learned about present-day Pennsylvania and its vibrant sweets scene. Dear friend Tammy's husband, Bob, has a sister who runs a heartily successful cupcake shop, Warm Sugar. Tammy and Bob, love me (and I, them) and their own health, so decided to send me home with nearly a dozen cupcakes. Oh, and homemade, Tammy-made squid ink pasta.













I had the P.B. Incognutto, peanut butter-filled Valrhona chocolate cake, swathed in swirls of peanut butter frosting and chocolate ganache.


Then the Tikicup (don't kid yourself, the same night), a coconut cupcake with coconut frosting, strewn with toasted coconut shavings.


And the Sugar Boy (the next day): lime–infused graham cake stuffed with real key lime filling and topped with toasted meringue.

Then I stopped taking pictures. But, I also tried the Limoncello cupake (lemon cake covered in fluffy lemon frosting). And the Strawberry Blonde cupcake.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that a state named after a clever but single queen (and imported cupcakes brought into that state) would disappoint a couple of clever and single girls.