Exploring the Atlas District
My husband and I and our friends Gail and Dave were recently among the throng that poured in for an evening on newly revitalized H Street, NE. Several lively blocks long (edged by streets that still feel a little sketchy), the corridor offers night-life choices that are varied and eclectic, with lots of stylish eateries and cozy gastro-pubs. You walk along, past the art deco Atlas Theatre sign and glowing windows, taking in the streetscape as the night moves in, feeling like you’re in a place that’s really coming to life.
Sticky Rice, a sushi restaurant that has got to be the only one of its kind to feature not only sashimi and tempura, but tater tots, was a fun first stop. The sushi rolls have sassy names (“shiitake happens,” “happy hippy”) and the ambiance tilts toward funky rather than one with an Asian sensibility. Of course, we had tots, too. How can you not tot?
Gail had gotten us tickets to a musical performance (there are plenty of places to hear live music on H Street), and we had time to kill before the doors opened. We stepped briefly inside Granville Moore’s where I instantly agreed to Gail’s request that we come back another night soon for Belgian beers and mussels in that softly-lit historical barroom. Many appealing bars and restaurants line the walk, beguiling passersby with hip, warm interiors and unique menus.
The lure of a half-hour at a beer-barrel table under strands of colored lights led us to the Bavarian-themed Biergarten Haus. We hoisted giant steins of coppery dopplebocks before joining the crowded floor for Bill Callahan's haunting prairie-themed songs at the Rock and Roll Hotel.
In spite of its name, the Hotel is not a place to stay for the night, though there are themed party rooms for rent upstairs to spend hours reveling with friends. The main floor is a concert space and the one we attended was a tightly-packed standing room kind of scene best enjoyed by taller folks than I.
The nearby all-night pie shop was the perfect spot for post-concert recovery.
(I propose a new rule: every neighborhood must have its own all-night pie shop.)
Don’t Forget the Hirshhorn
The Smithsonian Institution is comprised of 19 different museums and, although its overall impression is best described as venerable, there is a splashy appeal attached to certain galleries which dazzle visitors with diamonds or ruby slippers or Julia Child’s kitchen; with dinosaurs or rocket ships or pandas. In the surge to see I.M. Pei’s East Building or the stunning Kogod Courtyard, the Hirshhorn Museum can get overshadowed.
I have, at times, “forgotten” about the Hirshhorn, only including it on a personal tour at the last minute when a child in my party asks about the doughnut-shaped structure. Strangely for me, in spite of its spacecraft appearance, instead of pulling my attention away from the traditional Smithsonian buildings that surround it, I find that the cement-colored museum fades into the background. But, when someone like a curious child points it out, you are amazed that you could miss it: the architecture really makes a statement.
A 1989 review in the Washington Post had this to say: "[The Hirshhorn is] the biggest piece of abstract art in town---a huge, hollowed cylinder raised on four massive piers, in absolute command of its walled compound on the Mall.... The circular fountain...is a grand concoction...that for good reason has become the museum's visual trademark." (Benjamin Forgey, The Washington Post, November 4, 1989.) I do love the contrast between its tiered outdoor Sculpture Garden emphasizing the pleasure of rectangular spaces and its curved gallery walls, designed explicitly to hold the modern and contemporary works collected by Joseph Hirshhorn throughout his life.
Every time I go, I am reminded of the pleasure of wandering through this drum-shaped building. Walking the circular hallways becomes part of the artistic experience and it is never as crowded on a summer afternoon as the museum where the Hope Diamond sits. You can watch an edgy film in the Black Box theatre or scratch your head over some of the more untraditional works. (I was doing just that when a friendly docent stopped over with thoughts and explanations of a work which allowed me to unfurrow my brow and savor something that challenged my idea of what constitutes art.)
The museum does a great job with programming. There are Friday Gallery Talks, Meet the Artist lectures, After Hours events with music, and inventive workshops for teens. The collection offers Picasso, Matisse, Rodin, Calder, Moore, Hopper and many others, but focuses on art created in the last 50 years. A destination this bold and forward-thinking should not be overlooked. Move it to the top of your Mall destinations!
Gothic Glory on Wisconsin Avenue
I used to live and work north of Georgetown and spent a lot of time making my way up and down Wisconsin Avenue, back and forth past the National Cathedral. Funny how driving or walking past something routinely can begin to make it almost disappear, even if it’s the 6th largest cathedral in the world and a Gothic wonder. I drove over earlier this week to take a look like a proper tourist.
George Washington’s vision of the capital city included, "A church intended for national purposes, ..., assigned to the special use of no particular sect or denomination, but equally open to all." But it wasn't until 1907 that its construction began and then eighty-three more years to complete---from Teddy Roosevelt to the first George Bush. One of the informational plaques on the 7th level observation level describes that “strolling by in the years just after World War I, one could have seen horses still in use to haul dirt away.”
Whether following the flower-lined path in the medieval walled Bishop’s garden, craning your neck to count gargoyles and flying buttresses, or basking in the jewel-colored light streaming through 200 stained glass windows, you’ll be suitably inspired.
Be sure to notice the piece of moon brought back by the Apollo 11 crew in the center of the deep purples and swirled stars of the “space window.”
Helen Keller is buried here as well as the ashes of her teacher, Annie Sullivan. Woodrow Wilson's final resting place is also here. Martin Luther King spoke from this pulpit---his last Sunday sermon before he died.
You can hear the massive organ pipes brought to life every Monday and Wednesday afternoon in free mini-recitals. The Cathedral offers behind-the-scenes tours and a tour that includes tea on the uppermost level. Ideas for engaging your kids in a visit are linked here.
There’s a parking garage under the 57 acre site, but I had no trouble finding a spot on the street. With several restaurants nearby offering outdoor seating, now is the perfect time to get a nice spot of glory and lunch on Wisconsin Avenue.
The Value of the News
I listen to NPR and read the Post and the New York Times---I like to know what’s going on. And I like museums. But the Newseum never really appealed. It seemed less like a delightful afternoon and more like an idea born because, well, a museum of news had to be created just to use the name “newseum.” And I was rankled by the price.
When you live near Washington, D.C., you get used to going to the world’s most fascinating exhibits for FREE. You can stroll through the sculpture garden at the Hirshhorn, gaze at impressionist masterpieces at I.M. Pei’s famous East Building, and ogle Dorothy’s ruby slippers at the Museum of American History, all at no cost.
Spoiled by this bounty, I couldn’t imagine paying $21.95 to enter the Newseum. “Are you kidding?” (asks my stingy side). “So much money to visit a museum of news?”
So it wasn’t until Groupon offered $10 tickets that I could even summon the spirit to go. I talked my friend Laura into joining me. And in we went, feeling dutiful.
Inside the 7-level, 250,000 square-foot space we found pairings of news and history. Artifacts from major historical events, like panels from the Berlin Wall or the mangled antenna from the top of the World Trade Center, are presented next to relevant news reports.
Around the WTC wreckage: a wall of framed front pages illustrated with appropriately garish color photographs and 72-point type both echoing and shaping the world’s reaction to the terrorist attacks on 9/11.
Near the Berlin Wall panels, we stood in the shadow of a Checkpoint Charlie watchtower, captivated by grainy black and white images of NBC News’s footage of East Germans crawling through tunnels to freedom in the West.
You can also follow the news about Hurricane Katrina as it unfolded---from the initial weather warnings to the still unbelievable images of acres of strewn splinters that were once houses in Mississippi and of people desperate for rescue from their rooftops in the Ninth Ward.
In the three hours Laura and I had carved out for the Newseum, we visited perhaps one half of the exhibits. Entry tickets allow re-entry the following day---sadly, not an option for either of us. I left reluctantly, realizing that I’d happily spend the money to come again and feeling much more thoughtful about the meaning of "free."
Waxing Philosophical about Madame Tussaud’s
When I heard that Mme. Tussaud’s, the famous wax museum, was opening a branch in DC some years back, I rolled my eyes. Why go see wax figures of people when I lived in a place where I could visit actual sites of historical importance? Why see a fake Abe Lincoln when I could go to Ford’s Theatre or the Lincoln Memorial?
Touring a museum filled with famous people made of wax was cheating: cheap thrills and no intellectual heft.
I'd been taught to think this way in the eighties when I was part of a student group in London. Our cool professor pooh-poohed the idea of visiting the original Mme. Tussaud’s there in favor of more nourishing pursuits. For me, it was the first lesson in being a discerning traveler: some places had value, others didn't.
It stuck. Twenty-five years later, when I agreed to let my teenage children and niece choose a downtown destination on a recent outing, I cringed when they picked Mme. Tussaud's.
I decided I'd try to sneak "teaching moments" in wherever I could (and hope that no one I knew saw me going in the doors).
A bit of research revealed that there are not only celebrity and sports figures at the DC Tussaud's, but political figures as well. Surely some wax version of a president would spark a mini history lesson.
And a collaboration I found advertised online between the museum and local libraries ("Wax Figure Hunt at your Local DC Library!) let me know that the wax museum was trying to brush up its airhead reputation. They'd even dedicated a room to facts and figures relating to the making of wax figures---an average of 200 measurements for each face! Every single hair inserted individually!
But ultimately, even though I made them learn that the wax man with the impressive mutton-chop sideburns was President Chester A. Arthur, visiting Mme. Tussaud's was just one big photo op. (Ropes that used to keep tourists from nearing the figures have been removed and interaction is encouraged.)
After giving our children enriching opportunities and exposing them to challenging ideas, coaxing (or maybe dragging) them through their share of impressionist art exhibits and making them sit quietly at the ballet, appreciate Shakespeare, and stay awake at a symphony, they are, culturally speaking, quite well-fed. A little dessert from time to time should be okay.
It can be fine, once in a while, to pose like you’re friends with Malcolm X or Katie Couric; to pretend that Julia Roberts is leaning on your living room chair; to get in J. Edgar Hoover’s face; or to get a picture with Jackie O. Right?
What do you think? Can you explain the strange pleasure of staring at a wax Tom Cruise?
The Peacock Room
Thomas Jeckyll, interior designer and architect, was close to finishing his big 1876 commission: to design a dining room for shipping magnate Frederick Leyland which would fittingly show off Leyland’s collection of blue & white porcelain. A friend of Leyland’s, the famous painter James McNeill Whistler, happened to be working in the front hallway of the same house adding embellishments and decoration. He suggested to Jeckyll that a little yellow in the walls would be just the thing to tie in the centerpiece artwork: his own La princesse du pays de la porcelaine that hung above the fireplace. This portrait of a sinuous and elegant princess dressed in Asian clothing defined the room (and was most decidedly NOT “Whistler’s Mother”).
Leyland authorized the little dabs of color here and there that Whistler thought would finish off the room and left for a business trip. Jeckyll, another brilliant design complete, left for other pursuits.
After that, what happened foreshadows “Extreme Makeover, Home Edition.” Alone at the house, Whistler fancied up the room with gold paint and peacock feather designs on the ceiling; he painted on top of the leather wainscoting with a Prussian blue, and created ornate peacocks in gilded paint on the shutters. Proud as…well…a peacock of his work and eager to show it off, he invited friends (including the press) over for lavish parties in the room.
The story goes that Whistler excitedly informed his out-of-town patron that he’d transformed the room into a state of glorious perfection. Then he presented a very large bill. The wrangle that followed over payment and permission is famously illustrated on the wall across from La princesse: two showy peacocks---one, sporting ruffled silver chest feathers that conjured up Leyland’s typical attire stands, plumage in full array, amidst a mass of spilled coins; and another, more composed, with a curled forelock similar to Whistler’s hairstyle, poses across from it. Here is a spat, immortalized, and available to see by anyone who visits Washington D.C.'s Freer Gallery.
Whistler titled the mural, “Art and Money; Or The Story of a Room.” Leyland must have been at least as amused as he was insulted---he allowed the painting to stay. (But I like to think he wore fewer ruffles after that.)
I wasn't too worried about the original room designer, Jeckyll---all in a day's work, I assumed. But then I read this from his biography, "His disastrous experience with James Whistler over the decoration of Leyland's dining room (the notorious 'Peacock' room) precipitated a mental collapse, and he spent the last years of his life in a Norwich asylum."
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.
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.
