O’s v. Nats: It’s in the Ballpark
This summer I had the pleasure of pretending to be a baseball fan at both of our local stadiums, the relatively new Nationals Park and Camden Yards in Baltimore.
We took Metro to the Nationals game, watching the train fill with more red caps and shirts at every stop. I enjoyed the lively scene coming down the promenade on the short walk from the Navy Yard Metro stop to the front gates as people bought peanuts, met friends, and socialized before going in to root for their team. There's a great sense of arrival approaching this stadium. It feels like a party at the gates.
The new phenom, Strasburg was pitching (latest surgery news here), and people seemed giddy to be there. Luckily, in spite of the buzz, we were able to buy tickets on the spot for pretty good seats.
As someone who is only mildly and politely interested in what’s happening on the diamond, ambiance plays a big role in my baseball outing. In spite of the joyful, red-colored gaiety in and around Nationals Park, I prefer the old-timey, intimate feel imposed by the long brick warehouse wall and the sweeping city views at Camden Yards. Even the gleeful roar that sounded as Strasburg took the mound is not enough to entice me to this more concrete-feeling baseball park.
Nationals Park, designed by the same firm that created the plans for Camden Yards (and about 15 other parks since then), purposefully lacks the retro touches of the Baltimore design. But whatever makes it more modern, also gives it a generic feeling. Nor does it feel attached to its city in the same way the Orioles’ park does.
Josh Levin writes, when he compares Nationals Park to the temporary former home of the team, “If RFK Stadium was an old acquaintance who'd seen better days, then Nationals Park is the pal who's always asking you for money."
I found both excursions rather expensive and both venues filled, in a theme-park kind of way, with pricey food stalls, high-cost souvenirs, and even kiddie rides. Certainly, if you’re taking your family to a game, you’ll spend hundreds of dollars on the event. (The Team Marketing Report, a sports marketing publishing company, shares its shocking averages here.) My friend Adam looked at the children-sized Orioles jersey for his daughter and politely walked away: $79.99 seemed high, even for this ardent O’s fan and devoted dad. At least you are immersed in the historical feel and beauty of Camden Yards when you surrender your dollars there.
This photo is by Amanda Lippert, www.baseballstadiumreviews.com
For me it comes down to this: Nationals Park has Teddy's BBQ, the racing presidents and also, “Shout” by Otis Day and the Knights during the 7th inning stretch. The Orioles’ park sits amidst great pubs and restaurants, has awesome crabcakes for sale inside the gates (only $12 which is barely a mark-up compared to the $7.25 you spend for a beer!), and, curiously, “Thank God, I’m a Country Boy” as its mid-game, crowd-rousing ditty (“Life ain’t nothin' but a funny, funny riddle!")
Sadly, if you’re sitting in a seat at Camden Yards, you’ll be (one of the few fans) in one of the most beautiful parks in the country, watching the worst team in the league. Still, I’ll take the Orioles and the longer ride home.
Skeletons in the Closet at Walter Reed
For over a decade we’ve lived a few short miles from the National Museum of Health and Medicine, located on the sprawling grounds of the Walter Reed Medical Center in Northwest D.C. Friends visited the museum and left me with a vague impression of anatomical curiosities, some dating back to the 19th century, all displayed in dusty cases for public viewing. Dani and I decided our younger kids were finally old enough to handle whatever this museum could throw at us, so off we went. (Truth be told, it was probably our own squeamish stomachs that had kept us from visiting until now).
One of the guilty pleasures of touring this particular site is the thrill of being waved through gates, after showing proper I.D., and driving through acres of OFFICIAL GOVERNMENT PROPERTY. Parking couldn’t be simpler – there’s a semicircular drive just in front of the entrance, and if you hand over your driver’s license at the front desk, you’re given a permit to place on the dashboard of your car for free on-site parking.
The museum itself is divided into sections that are partly chronological, partly thematic. Probably the most mesmerizing area is the one showcasing real human body parts that have been malformed as a result of diseases or genetic abnormalities.
Every smoker should be required to gaze upon the diseased lungs, although the “city dweller” lung did not look appreciably healthier than, say, the coal miner’s lung.
There is a leg amputated from a victim of elephantiasis, a cirrhosis-filled liver that was gigantic and spongy, a 40-pound scrotum, photos of gangrenous toes, and row upon row of fetuses, some perfectly formed, others shockingly twisted or overgrown in all the wrong places. Certainly for me, and perhaps for any mother, the bottles of fetuses were the most horrifying, yet fascinating. One jar has a set of twins, mirror images of each other, conjoined through the torso.
In addition to this chamber of horrors, there are major exhibits devoted to describing MASH units in Korea and the development of techniques for surgical procedures on battlefields.
The Civil War is explored extensively, and the selection of arms, legs and skulls punctured by shrapnel or, in one stunning case, a cannon ball, is gripping. One room contains a gallery of artworks made by doctors, patients and others involved with victims of warfare who in many cases lost limbs. The depictions of the myriad ways people enduring such horrific injuries cope and move on (or not) are especially moving. Another area describes in great detail the science of pathology and the difficult work of identifying remains.
Finally, and perhaps most famously, the bullet that killed Abraham Lincoln is on prominent display, together with bone fragments from the President’s skull and a piece of sleeve dotted with his blood from the attending surgeon’s shirt, which the surgeon’s wife carefully preserved and labeled.
It’s hard to say exactly who the target audience for this type of museum would be. Dani and I agreed that it was challenging to imagine a group of female 40-somethings agreeing to meet there and head for lunch afterward. I think my teenage son would be utterly disgusted, yet secretly intrigued. My 13 year-old daughter found it kind of gross, kind of boring. Dani’s 13 year-old son found it pretty interesting.
Certainly there is no other museum in the area where you will hear a woman ask the gift shop cashier, “May I buy a stuffed louse?” She went on to ask, “Is the giant hairball in storage? I didn’t see it on this visit.” (The fact that this museum even had a gift shop was a surprise, and yes, there are Beanie-Baby-sized microbes for sale, along with dust mites and other creepy plush toys. I’d like to visit that factory in China.) And she’d simply overlooked the hairball, extracted from a 12 year-old girl and perfectly preserved in the shape of her stomach.
But enough – just go, and bring your curious adolescents and budding med-school students with you. It’s a great test of fortitude.
When You’re The Tour Guide
Living near Washington DC, you will probably, at least once, be called upon to host friends or family who want to see the sights in the Nation’s Capitol.
With so much to choose from, where do you start?
I currently have visitors from Canada with whom we became acquainted during our family’s year of travel. They are another traveling family also named the Jameses and, since they had headed out for their world adventures ahead of us, we called on them with many queries. We encouraged them to visit us here and, being traveling kind of folks, they actually took us up on it. Now, we have the pleasure of answering their queries about our town and showing them around a bit.
We warned them about the awful heat wave (they are from the Arctic Circle---imagine the weather shock!) and let them sleep in. No use hauling exhausted guests through the thick Washington air.
Take your time and see a few things a day or you’ll be overwhelmed and weary. Choose a single goal and embellish with asides and cleverly planned walking routes that add in some treats. Our guests’ son was keen to see the Museum of Natural History due to his fondness for “Night at the Museum 2,” so we’d made that our mission.
Here’s a suggested itinerary to get your guests oriented and in the DC tourist spirit:
• An orientation on the Metro and multi-day “short-trip” passes for each family member purchased from the automated machines at each station.
• A trip to Gallery Place: no train change if you’re on the Red Line and a lovely exit at the Portrait Gallery & American Art Museum.
• A quick walk through the art galleries (which are joined by the Kogod Courtyard). Since entrance to the Smithsonian Museums is free, you can do a sampler stroll through several, pointing out highlights, including some modern pieces that seem especially appealing to kids.
Then you can allow your guests to decide whether they’d like to linger or return another time.
• Grab a quick lunch at one of the many surrounding eateries or in the Kogod Courtyard (an architectural marvel).
For a restaurant experience in this neighborhood, I love Ping Pong Dim Sum at 7th and “I” Streets which gives you the added opportunity to enjoy the Chinatown gate at 7th and H as you stroll.
Or try Ella's Pizza for even more mass appeal. Zaytinya, across from the Gallery is another favorite, but slightly more upscale. They offer "small plates" with a Middle Eastern flair.
• After some food, walk back down 7th making sure the lettered streets you cross are going from bigger to smaller (as in, crossing G, walk toward F).
• (There’s a charming cupcake shop on the way in exactly the spot where you might like a tiny treat.)
• Once you cross Pennsylvania Avenue, there you are at all of the Mall’s wonders. You can point out the Capitol to the left and the Washington Monument to the right. The Capitol is the city’s geographical center and has no address. But everything else is numbered and sectioned into quadrants from that point.
• We strolled through the whimsical sculpture garden across from the Archives and the kids dipped their feet in the huge fountain there. (Doubling, in more Canadian-esque months, as an ice rink.) You can sit on the edge, but do not stand in the fountain: you’ll get a shrill whistle-blow and an admonishment, “SIT DOWN!” (Seems like it could have all been handled in a friendlier way.)
• As we approached the NMNH, we noticed a butterfly garden which, though devoid of butterflies for the season, offered some lovely color: Black-Eyed Susans and dark pink Crape Myrtle.
• A walk through the Museum revealed some of the movie’s “characters” and also piqued interest in other curiosities there. Don’t miss the Mammal Hall and the Great Oceans exhibit.
And, in the Gems and Minerals room, people get excited to see the Hope Diamond (though it’s always smaller than they expect.) My 15-year-old, Caroline said, “I’m pretty sure the Hope Diamond is one of the most over-rated tourist attractions ever."
• Take the Smithsonian Metro back to the suburbs and plan for the next day’s adventure over dinner (and a glass of wine!) at home.
Warrenton, Virginia
I grew up in Manassas and still feel a lingering drowsiness at the thought of the Civil War and the Virginia towns that are saturated in its history. We never moved much beyond it in class at Stonewall Jackson High School and these battlefield grey images colored my thinking when a friend suggested Warrenton, a small Virginia town a little bit south and west of Manassas, as a good spot to meet. I quieted my Civil War resistance to consider that we could time our driveway departures: mine from Silver Spring and hers from Charlottesville, and meet for tea within an hour or so.
Besides, I could clearly see when I checked out the Warrenton tourism sites, that there was more going on than just a town living in the past and romanticizing the “Grey Ghost” or those glory years under the Confederate flag.
The Red Truck Bakery, for example.
Beautifully fitted into the renovated space of a 1921 Esso station, gleaming, glass-fronted cases showcase muffins and breads.
A long wooden table in the dining room between the store front and kitchen offers an inviting spot to eat while you look out of the former garage doors and enjoy the sight of a 1954 Ford truck, shiny and red-hot red---the inspiration, of course, for the bakery’s name. (But here, the war-between-the-states insinuates itself again: the table was made “from beams from a Clarke County barn that was torched by General Philip Sheridan as he marched through the Shenandoah Valley.”)
I am recommending the sweet potato soup with coconut milk and curry, but the offering changes daily. I feel sure that every day’s option, made from local ingredients, will be as scrumptious and fragrant. I left with a buttery piece of cinnamon-laced coffee cake which I ate, at first gingerly, and then voraciously, in the car while I drove home. On a subsequent visit, homemade sandwiches were gone by 1:30, but the cute girl working there told me that if I had my "heart set on one," next time I should call ahead and they'll save it for me.
The bakery’s owner, Brian Noyes, left his big-city life as art director for Smithsonian and, later, Preservation and House and Garden magazines and moved to the country, using his classical training as a chef and baker to make us delicious soups and breads. So go!
A few steps up Main Street toward the handsome courthouse I found a perfect spot to pause and consider the contributions of Justice John Marshall.
Because there he is, sitting on a giant, imposing chair in his judge’s robe thinking about Marbury v. Madison.
He practiced law in Warrenton as a warm-up to his years on the Supreme Court.
Just past the Chief Justice, step into Jimmie’s Market. Susan Feeley has owned the building for 35 years and told me she updates the interior every 35 years “whether it needs it or not.” So, I found it just recently updated with an eye toward its evolution from market to coffee shop.
The walls are covered with shelves holding antique curiosities and gourmet teas and jams. The eating area (officially called The Madison Tea House) is a former barbershop, the first business owned by an African American after the civil war.
Mirrors that once reflected caped shoulders and newly-shorn heads still line the walls. The mug-shaped shaving brush holders unearthed during a basement renovation line a shelf with other barbershop mementos.
Jimmie’s has a full coffee bar and separate menus for lunch and tea. It’s absolutely filled with charm, character and delicate antique cups. Have Mrs. Feeley tell you the story about the freezer.
Further on: art galleries, boutiques, a martini bar, a jazz club(!), some well-regarded restaurants (check out The Iron Bridges Wine Company and Claire's at the Depot), antique dealers, and places to get things for your horse.
Everyone I spoke with was as kind as the bakery girl at Red Truck. Drive down one day and be charmed by Warrenton.
Old Town Alexandria
In honor of our trip to Old Town Alexandria, I snipped the tags from the wide-legged summer weight pants I’d snagged on my last visit there. This past winter a quick dip into to the Gap Factory Outlet on King Street netted me some staples – shorts and shirts for my kids – plus these comfy pants at a mere $9 – and, best of all, I’d forgotten about them until they fell out of my closet a few weeks ago. There’s nothing better than buying something for a song because it’s past season, then tucking it away for the winter and rediscovering it just as you’re wringing your hands in front of the closet because you have nothing new to wear.
Dani and I got an early start the day we explored Old Town. We timed our departure to occur just after the morning rush, when Rock Creek Parkway is relatively quiet, and the cool water rushing by makes you feel like you’re already on a vacation of sorts, because how could this much natural splendor be found in the midst of so much urban sprawl?
We parked by the Torpedo Factory Art Center and the weather was so glorious that we took a quick stroll along the waterfront before heading inside. Constructed in 1918 to manufacture torpedoes, the building served that purpose until just after World War II. For several years it served as government storage space for items varying from munitions to dinosaur bones.
In 1974, after the city of Alexandria purchased the property from the U.S. government, it opened as a space for artists and has remained an important creative venue with various tweaks, additions, and renovations ever since.
This massive waterfront structure now houses 82 studios showcasing artists working in every possible medium. In our all-too-brief survey of the studios, we came upon sculpture in stone, glass, wire, and various combinations of materials, as well as paintings, photographs, jewelry, clothing, works in enamel and exquisitely crafted ceramics. If you’re lucky, the creative types behind all the artwork will be working in their studios. We chatted first with Pat Monk, who makes enormous sculptures of stainless steel that he welds in the back of his studio space. My favorite was his whimsical “Dragon’s Tail,” the result of a collaboration with a friend who creates stained glass.
A short walk away we found Cindy Packard Richmond, painting boats in her airy, light-filled space overlooking the water.
I was particularly taken with her still life paintings – pears, and asparagus painted in luscious but true–to-life colors – while Dani pined for a painting of goldfish shimmering like jewels.
We would have poked around longer on the upper floors, but we had an 11:30 reservation to experience the Lickety Split Lounge Lunch at Restaurant Eve. I was sold the minute I’d heard the name, and I tried my best to inject it into every sentence that day, as in, “Dani, I think I’ll just pop into the restroom here before we go to the Lickey Split Lounge lunch, okay?”
Essentially an express dining option offered only in the restaurant’s bar area, it provides an easy-on-the-wallet approach to sample the culinary wonders of this venerable Old Town eatery. For $13.50, diners can choose two items from a fairly broad selection that includes soups, salads, sandwiches and desserts. We loved it. And yes, beets were involved.
After lunch I started to feel, as I nearly always do on these excursions, that we’d barely scratched the surface of Old Town. Luckily, our next stop was nearly next door to the restaurant. Diva, an upscale resale boutique on South Pitt St., houses two floors of secondhand clothing in good condition, plus a great selection of costume jewelry.
I walked out with a flouncy, feminine skirt, while Dani scored a great pink sweater. Next I whisked Dani through the stylish lobby of the Hotel Monaco in King Street as we hustled back to the car.
We drove a few blocks up King Street and parked in front of Misha, on S. Patrick Street.
Misha is a no-frills coffee lover’s café, sporting at least two ancient refrigerators, a plethora of community notices, and a wide communal table in one room, where a man sat playing solitaire with the smallest deck of playing cards imaginable.
We ordered iced coffees and sweetened them with simple syrup, a nice touch that puts you on notice that you’re in serious coffee drinker territory.
Just a half block from Misha’s, back on King Street, is The Hour, one of the funkiest, most appealingly laid-out specialty shops around. If you’re a “Mad Men” devotee, The Hour cries out for a visit. Open for about a year, this shop is a place whose windows I’d peered into longingly on earlier Old Town trips, but I’d never before walked inside.
Two floors of cocktail glasses, martini shakers, colorful serving trays (including unusual Couroc trays of black lacquer – a personal favorite of mine) and serving dishes offer all you need to throw a rocking retro party.
All items are helpfully labeled as either vintage or new, so you don’t have to scrutinize a piece and screw up the courage to ask if it’s “authentic.”
I didn’t buy anything, only because by the time I’d climbed the stairs to the second floor I was in sensory overload mode, feeling a desperate urge to buy almost everything. Or at the very least, to get myself a stiff drink. I vowed to return without a caffeine buzz to peruse the wares in a calmer state. Perhaps Don Draper could join me and offer up suggestions…
We ended our Old Town excursion with a reminder of why we don’t make the trip more often: a traffic snarl just past National Airport that had us crawling along the GW Parkway for several miles.
This development didn’t ruin our day by any means, but it did spark a conversation about the many ways that traffic woes in the DC area lead people to think twice, perhaps, before striking out to explore. While we were in Alexandria, we had to dash back to the car every hour or so to feed the meter. (There is free parking for 2 hours directly across from the Torpedo Factory, but I stupidly forgot that option). We could have easily taken the Metro to Old Town and availed ourselves of the free trolley that runs frequently between the Metro station and the base of King Street at the waterfront.
In fact, my husband and I enjoyed an overnight escape in Old Town last winter, sans car. We packed an overnight bag, walked to the Metro, and were riding the Trolley to the Hotel Monaco less than an hour later. It was easy, and liberating. When I return for the martini glasses and olive forks at The Hour, I just may take the Metro.
Frederick, No Fuddy-Duddy
Gail kept saying, “We’ve got to go to Frederick,” and every single time, I pictured a sleepy place with a block or two of dusty shop fronts, some worn out rocking chairs, and a stray one-eared cat. Unable to shake an image of mothballs and old-time charm, I wondered why Gail, who was usually so stylish, kept tossing the idea of Frederick out as a great afternoon destination.
“Frederick” sat on our list of places to visit for months---an excursion we didn’t take, over and over. There was that blizzard and then another one and the resulting long homebound winter. Other places enticed us and Frederick (yawn) waited for another day, maybe in the spring….
On a pretty day in May, we finally set aside a morning to make the drive. Only 33 miles northwest of Silver Spring, Frederick is an easy drive up 270 with a piece of Route 15 for the last leg. At least, at 10:00 in the morning it seemed easy. Plus, Gail was driving. All I had to do was sing along to the songs on the radio and in under an hour, we were there.
As we entered the historic downtown section of the city, I realized that Frederick was not asleep at all. Block after block of the funky, the quirky, the vintage, the zany. I couldn’t wait to get out of the car and check it all out.
But we had two must-do items on our list. We could not leave Frederick without visiting “Great Stuff by Paul” and having lunch at Volt.
A friend of Gail’s had recommended Paul’s and we dutifully found the building and popped in to have a quick look. Here’s the thing: a quick look is just not possible. You’ll want hours to peruse Paul’s great stuff that is collected in impressive quantities by the man himself. Paul travels all over the world looking for interesting pieces to ship back to his shop. Doors from India in great turquoise rows along the back wall are so appealing that you begin to realize that you really cannot live happily without one.
Brown and green glazed bowls from Indonesia, wooden sugar molds from Mexico, refinished trunks, Asian vases, wicker chairs, stained glass, large wooden scoops, barrelfuls of narrow, well-used baguette trays. Borrow your friend’s truck and go.
We had the pleasure of meeting Paul who described his recent acquisition of rows of art deco theatre seats in Rajasthan as they were being cast aside by someone emptying a building. Those seats, hand-fitted with new leather cushions are crossing the ocean right now destined for the coolest new restaurant or maybe a spot in your kitchen.
It was painful to leave, but we had a reservation for 12:30 lunch at the sleek restaurant of Bryan Voltaggio, perhaps best known for his competitive stint on Top Chef. Housed in an architecturally stunning 8,000 square foot mansion, Volt is booked for dinner months in advance, enjoying well-deserved fame due to its talented chef and warm, professional staff.
The interior is contemporary in contrast to the Victorian façade. The food is exquisite and, indeed, I felt that I was one of the guest diners on Top Chef as we were presented with the courses of our meal.
It’s an extraordinary dining experience. Try the prix fixe lunch menu with the wine pairings if you don’t need to get that friend’s truck home right away.
We realized that we’d need another trip to do justice to the 75 block historic district, as well as the surrounding places to explore for more adventurous outdoor pursuits.
Do not wait for months (years!) like I did, letting the name “Frederick” conjure up some grizzly old uncle nodding off to sleep. Go to this hip, snazzy town to shop, eat and stroll before the next blizzards come along.
Baltimore is Best
I knew I should have checked President Obama’s schedule before heading to Baltimore with Dani on a recent Friday. We’d planned to explore the whimsical American Visionary Art Museum and grab lunch afterward. As we neared the Inner Harbor exit off of 95, however, it was clear that something was going on – traffic was backed up all the way along the exit ramp. Being a native Baltimorean (or something akin to a native, having grown up 20 miles north of downtown), I bailed out early on Russell Street and avoided the traffic jam – for the time being.
Since we were further west than I’d expected to be, I talked Dani into a quick stop at Lexington Market, home of Faidley’s Seafood, and arguably the world’s best crabcake.
This is a delicacy I made the mistake of introducing to my father-in-law many years ago, and now I dutifully arrange for a four-pack to be shipped to him every holiday season. The one year I forgot, he called and we exchanged pleasantries for nearly 15 minutes before he arrived at the true purpose of his call: “um, I was wondering what happened to the crabcakes?” I haven’t let him down since.
We scored a parking spot right by a market entrance. Ducking inside, I managed to whisper to Dani that Lexington Market is not for the faint of heart, just seconds before a homeless man stopped us to chat. We’d arrived about an hour before the lunchtime rush, and by the looks of things the vast, inviting space that always smells like something you’d want to be eating was being used by several denizens of the streets to keep their toes warm.
Prowling 14th Street
On a sparkling weekday, a sign hanging in Ms. Pixie’s bright pink collectibles shop confirms what we’d already determined: “Thursdays are the best day – always new inventory.” That, plus easy parking, no reservations needed for lunch, and hospitable salespeople combined to make us very happy that we’d chosen a Thursday to prowl 14th Street between Q and U Streets.
This visit started with an actual task: months earlier I’d made my first real foray into the 14th Street corridor, on a busy Saturday afternoon that coincided with the neighborhood’s annual Sidewalk Sale. I bought some great picture frames from Framesmith DC (1352 Q Street, NW), and was promised rock-bottom prices on matting and glass at a later date. So I set off on a Thursday morning with some black and white photos in hand and my pal Dani in tow. Dani hadn’t been to the area in ages, so she was eager to see what all the fuss is about.
We attended to business at Framesmith, (reviews here) where the helpful owner told me my framed photos would be ready in about 10 days. We left the framing shop and peered in the windows of ACKC chocolate shop (1529 C 14th St NW), agreeing to stop back for further exploration and possible purchases before the day was done.
Heading south on 14th, we ducked into Timothy Paul Bedding and Home (1529A 14th St NW) and immediately decided that we wanted to redecorate our homes, top to bottom, with fabrics furnished by this unique supplier.
Specializing in bed linens, Timothy Paul also stocks comforters in soft cotton and cashmere, with prices to fit nearly any budget.
Some items are vintage pieces picked up by the owners on Southeast Asia shopping trips to purchase carpets for their other store down the street, and some of the bedding is made in the U.S.A. All of it is special, and easy to covet.
We tore ourselves away from the lovely wares at Timothy Paul and sought refuge in Reincarnations, at the corner of 14th and Rhode Island Avenue. This eclectic store boasts two floors of furnishings, some of them outlandish and some absolutely stunning.
Curvaceous chairs with chocolaty fabric just scream to be sat upon, and the martini-glass light fixture above the register made me want to install a wet bar in my basement, just to find a home for that little chandelier.
Reincarnations had brought out the wild thing in us, inspiring a new found urge to get modern and crazy.
What better fix for this type of mood than Miss Pixie’s? But our stomachs were rumbling, so it was time to head north on 14th to Café St. Ex (1847 14th St NW).
We sat outside in the shade and shared a flavorful chicken salad and a beet salad promoted with “grapefruit two ways” as part of the package – who could resist? The beet salad turned out to consist of watercress, lots of soft, plump beets, slices of grapefruit and, yes, the second way – tiny sugared slivers of grapefruit zest, just to perk things up a bit.
Gratefully nourished, we resumed our admittedly haphazard tour of the blocks of 14th between Q and U streets. Miss Pixie’s was filled with Formica-topped tables, metal cabinets, retro side tables and chairs, and Mexican metal art in the form of farm animals – roosters, pigs and a sizable white goat – placed strategically throughout. By my third metal pig I was really beginning to think my yard needed nothing more than a small menagerie of hardy, weather-resistant metal creatures to foster a back-to-nature look.
Our final destination took us back to where we began, around the corner from the framing shop. Artfully Chocolate and Kingsbury Confection (aka ACKC) chocolate shop has been in existence since late 2007, and it draws a serious neighborhood following for its cocoa bar offering specialty drinks, as well as its ample chocolate display.
Prices are not cheap, but it seems somehow correct for an indulgence like lavender pistachio dark chocolate to cost nearly $2.00 for a bite-size piece. We made our selections carefully, choosing one decadent bit of chocolate for each family member. As soon as we got back to the car we agreed there was a risk of our own chocolate melting, so we sampled ours then and there, with no fanfare. Yum. What a relief that we were now four blocks away and more or less unable to return for further indulgences.
I started the car and we marveled at how much we’d seen in just a few short blocks, but lamented that we never got to walk along U Street. I brightened at the prospect of returning to pick up my completed framing project, knowing more shops and cafes beckoned just around the corner.
Update: We went back to 14th Street a few weeks later to pick up my framed photos (which turned out great, by the way). On this visit we stumbled upon the Mid-City Café, an ultra-cool coffee shop above Miss Pixie’s that hums with the quiet buzz of an office with two dozen cubicles, only everyone there is in their own little chair or stool, pecking away at laptops.
Serious coffee lovers should not miss this spot – watching them make our coffee was like observing performance art at its finest.
And we finally made it to U Street, where we tucked into the world-famous half-smokes at Ben’s Chili Bowl, (1213 U St NW) and felt that all was right with the world.
“Congenial Spirits” at the Phillips Collection
As we wandered through the Phillips last week, my friend Gail found a painting that inspired her to linger, sat on a nearby bench and said with a sigh, “I wish I had been friends with Duncan Phillips.” I understood completely. I think we both almost felt we did know him after spending an afternoon roaming through the opulent rooms of his old mansion at 21st and Q Streets in Washington D.C. looking at his collection of art.
Duncan Phillips founded the museum in 1921 as a way to pay tribute to his father and brother who died in 1917 and 1918 respectively. His brother had shared an avid interest in modern art and, together, with an allowance from their parents for the purpose, they had accumulated a stunning collection of works. After Duncan married, he and his wife Marjorie continued acquiring pieces that inspired them. In 1923, Phillips purchased Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party, only one of the many masterpieces gracing the walls today in the permanent exhibit.
Around every corner is a treasure: Matisse, de Kooning, Rothko, O’Keeffe, van Gogh, or the small room filled with The Migration Series by Jacob Lawrence.
The spaces are enchanting: lovely fireplaces, gorgeous banisters, and the grand and sumptuously paneled mahogany drawing room---the piece de resistance of the original house.
We strolled further, enjoying the equally pleasant, yet sleeker and modern, Goh Annex, which, together with another building added in 2006, doubled the size of the original exhibit area.
This excerpt from their website explains the appeal of this engaging museum:
At the Phillips, works of art are hung in diverse groupings, which are meant to suggest visual "conversations" among the works in the viewer's eye and mind. "My arrangements are for the purpose of contrast and analogy," Duncan Phillips once explained. "I bring together congenial spirits among the artists from different parts of the world and from different periods of time."
As in any gathering, the conversational groups shift over time, with regular changes in the choice of works on display and their placement within the museum. Since galleries at the Phillips are not organized by categories or time periods, there is no specified order in which to see them. Instead, visitors wander freely, savoring the contrasts and correspondences among the "congenial spirits" in each room.
The spirit of the place, the feeling of getting (or wanting) to know Duncan Phillips, and the dialogue between the paintings all play a part in the intimacy of this exquisite gallery---America's first museum of modern art.
A Room of One’s Own
A family friend invited me to lunch yesterday. We met at the National Museum of Women in the Arts on New York Avenue in Washington, DC. I had been planning on visiting interesting spots in my area since returning from our world travels, but had spent most (ok, all) of the summer venturing no further than Downtown Silver Spring. An outing requiring the use of Metro and a map seemed just the thing to inaugurate my new resolution.
The NMWA is a grand building just two blocks north of the 13th Street exit from Metro Center. A helpful red-vest-wearing DC guide was waiting near the top of the Metro escalator to help lost or lost-looking visitors. I always look a bit lost, so he stopped me to offer directions.
After a pleasant 5 minute walk under my fuschia umbrella, I found the entrance and my waiting friend. The interior is lavishly appointed with chandeliers, symmetrical sweeping staircases, an ornate ceiling, and rose-colored marble floors conjuring up images of Cinderella’s ball.
