Saturday
Recovering from our malt-shop hangover, although the stiffest drink we'd encountered was vanilla extract, we didn't leave home till the next afternoon. A breakfast of indulgent leftovers tided us over for a non-food venture, a visit to the Pope-Leighy House, designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. Conveniently, the Usonian construction fit our weekend's theme of efficiency, compression and release. Frank had applied the principles to architecture, but they also held true for dessert consumption. Walking away under the sun-dappled branches leading to the 1,200-foot work of art, I thought of the wintry mix coating New York and smiled.
Deviating from a strict diet of cake and ice cream, we were on the road again in search of a decidedly different delicacy at the Dairy Godmother, in Alexandria. Containing more fat and less air than the formerly prized, ice cream, frozen custard won my vote for new favorite. Unfortunately, we picked the wrong time to institute our Split Rule. Even before we'd scraped the bowl for lingering traces of, yes, plain-old-chocolate custard, we knew we'd be back. My roommate assured a fellow patron of our guaranteed return just before we walked out the door in quest of real-food fortitude.
We found it at the Afghan Restaurant. Truth in advertising, we got just what we expected: kabobs, naan, yogurt sauce, and a side of cozy family feel. Leaving the table was like getting up from a holiday meal. We were stuffed but confident we could squeeze in another round of sundaes.
The Dairy Godmother's sour cherries are the redemption of fruit topping. Maraschino cherries must have at least started out as real fruit, before finding their destiny as the candied peak on whipped cream. A single cherry substitution spawned an additional trip to the counter and a side dish of the natural wonder, which I worked into my hot fudge topping and then pried back out when I realized I'd have to abandon the final stages of dessert bliss. I simply didn't have it in me, or rather, I already had far too much in me.
Deviating from a strict diet of cake and ice cream, we were on the road again in search of a decidedly different delicacy at the Dairy Godmother, in Alexandria. Containing more fat and less air than the formerly prized, ice cream, frozen custard won my vote for new favorite. Unfortunately, we picked the wrong time to institute our Split Rule. Even before we'd scraped the bowl for lingering traces of, yes, plain-old-chocolate custard, we knew we'd be back. My roommate assured a fellow patron of our guaranteed return just before we walked out the door in quest of real-food fortitude.
We found it at the Afghan Restaurant. Truth in advertising, we got just what we expected: kabobs, naan, yogurt sauce, and a side of cozy family feel. Leaving the table was like getting up from a holiday meal. We were stuffed but confident we could squeeze in another round of sundaes.
The Dairy Godmother's sour cherries are the redemption of fruit topping. Maraschino cherries must have at least started out as real fruit, before finding their destiny as the candied peak on whipped cream. A single cherry substitution spawned an additional trip to the counter and a side dish of the natural wonder, which I worked into my hot fudge topping and then pried back out when I realized I'd have to abandon the final stages of dessert bliss. I simply didn't have it in me, or rather, I already had far too much in me.
posted by Catherine's Blog at 9:36 PM
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