Whether or not I knew it then, the reason that I arrived in Charlottesville a few short weeks ago began about four years earlier.
In the beginning, there was Andrew Oliver. Well, at least in the beginning of DC.
Andrew is one of my closest friends, whom I affectionally refer to (and will do so from this moment on) as Bubba. Why? Ask him.
Feeling stifled creatively and trapped personally, I decided that it was time for me to pull up my roots in DC and move on. Andrew was one of the first people to invite not only into his home, but into is life. We had been friends on H Street in DC and could not think of a better person to spend my time. Understand, Andrew is one of those salt-of-the-earth types who would jump in front of traffic for you even if you hadn't spoken in months. He is top notch as a friend, colleague and father; I cannot speak of this man highly enough, and surely will not in writing give his dedication to his work, friends, and family justice. It is a privilege to know such a man.
My friend Andrew and his beautiful daughter
I had visited him in Charlottesville a few years back and remember how much I loved it. There was something different in this place, which I am beginning to discover. Andrew opened up his home to me, and my vision of understanding these different places began to take shape. I realized that I wanted to travel the country, work as little as possible, write, and most importantly, heal.
Now, there are people in DC (Bear, Billy, Toby, Buddha, Tony, etc.) that I love and admire, don't get me wrong. There are restaurants that I think are fantastic and Chefs that I think are extremely talented. It occurred to me that I hadn't really written about DC as a food destination because in my opinion, it isn't one. DC lacks a soul, which is deliciously ironic considering it is the seat for our modern political structure. It is the middle step-child, tucked between Baltimore, which has a strong connection to the Chesapeake bay and crab, and Virginia with it's love for it's soil. DC doesn't have a designated food culture, per se. I find this troubling
"Well, it sort of does," Andrew says to me. I can tell he is a bit defensive because he grew up in DC and loves is. I can look around our living room right now and find two items of redskins clothing, not including the jacket that he is wearing.
I am not sure if it has been mentioned before, but Andrew is a cook, and a damned talented one at that. "I would say that the U Street corridor is the closes thing to DC food. There is some soul food and a pocket of Ethiopian. There used to be some asian food around there..." he trails off. "Bubba," I say, "there is barely any soul food or BBQ in DC and you know it." He kind of nods in agreement.
This is not entirely why I found DC stuffy, and it wasn't until I really started interacting with people in Charlottesville that I figured out my biggest complaint was something I was guilty of as well.
"It's really different from DC here, but most of the country isn't that kind of crazy," Andrew explained. "What is the first question anyone asks someone they meet in DC?"
I don't even have to think about it. "'What do you do?'" I recite with my best valley girl impression. I'm not wrong. The way that LA is obsessed with the idea of 'who do you know?' DC is not far off.
It takes me a moment to catalog and replay the conversations I've had in the past week or so. Then it hits me. "Mother of god," I say out loud. "I'm one of them. NOOOOOOO!" I put my head down on our kitchen table realizing that all I've talked about with people around here is about work.
"Yea, its funny. When I talk to people around C-ville (what all the cool kids call it...), the conversations go more about what I've grown in my garden, or how is my daughter, or if I've done anything fun outside recently. Sometimes if theres anything worth eating I've had recently"
We chat for a few more minutes and this question of identity really starts to become very interesting to me. See, in DC you identify as your work; Charlottesville does not feel the same. It feels more of a question of not what do you do for work but what do you do outside of work that defines you. To put it simply, a prime secret fishing spot in Charlottesville makes you a big shot around here, not a Mercedes. These are more my people, even though the last years in DC have poisoned my mind in that distinctive way.
Theres something about how people interact with each other and their community here. There are true Mom and Pop hardware stores, markets, grocers, and many businesses that the giant corporations have slowly strangled out in other parts of the country. I am routinely asked how my day is going by strangers. I am already on a first name basis with the woman who makes late night sandwiches. There are crosswalks and drivers obey them. There is something both magically charming but seriously strange to the point of unbelievability about this. People interact with their food and each other differently; this is something that I am excited to explore.
It occurs to me in the end that the same question is being asked two different ways: "Who are you?" In DC it's framed on your acquisition of power, (political connections, money, status, etc.) whereas here it's...something different. Less tangible but makes more sense, like a smell you remember from childhood; you can't quite figure out what it is, but you know what it means.
Strange, I ask myself now who I am, and I can't help but scoff in contempt for the kind of people that I've had to deal with in DC: Sex in the City wanna-be psuedo business women with prescription drug problems relying on their wealthy daddy's money. Plastic surgery. Gala's. Purses that cost more than my rent. Or the posture and politico obsessed men trying to edge their way closer to the next pro athlete or reality TV star at the newest club, looking for the next young trophy girl to carve a notch in their bedpost. I have nothing but contempt for these people.
So "who am I?" I ask myself.
Well this week I learned how to pickle watermelon rinds with Andrew, worked on a whole fish recipe, interviewed an incredible Chef (next entry!), practiced my banjo, went on a couple hikes and four different dog parks, visited a winery, read an entire book, made sun tea and failed, worked on a new cocktail using fresh Charlottesville produce, did some bartending, made some new friends, ate some delicious local food, drank some delicious local beer, and wrote more than I have in the last 9 months.
That's who.
Now, there are people in DC (Bear, Billy, Toby, Buddha, Tony, etc.) that I love and admire, don't get me wrong. There are restaurants that I think are fantastic and Chefs that I think are extremely talented. It occurred to me that I hadn't really written about DC as a food destination because in my opinion, it isn't one. DC lacks a soul, which is deliciously ironic considering it is the seat for our modern political structure. It is the middle step-child, tucked between Baltimore, which has a strong connection to the Chesapeake bay and crab, and Virginia with it's love for it's soil. DC doesn't have a designated food culture, per se. I find this troubling
"Well, it sort of does," Andrew says to me. I can tell he is a bit defensive because he grew up in DC and loves is. I can look around our living room right now and find two items of redskins clothing, not including the jacket that he is wearing.
I am not sure if it has been mentioned before, but Andrew is a cook, and a damned talented one at that. "I would say that the U Street corridor is the closes thing to DC food. There is some soul food and a pocket of Ethiopian. There used to be some asian food around there..." he trails off. "Bubba," I say, "there is barely any soul food or BBQ in DC and you know it." He kind of nods in agreement.
This is not entirely why I found DC stuffy, and it wasn't until I really started interacting with people in Charlottesville that I figured out my biggest complaint was something I was guilty of as well.
"It's really different from DC here, but most of the country isn't that kind of crazy," Andrew explained. "What is the first question anyone asks someone they meet in DC?"
I don't even have to think about it. "'What do you do?'" I recite with my best valley girl impression. I'm not wrong. The way that LA is obsessed with the idea of 'who do you know?' DC is not far off.
It takes me a moment to catalog and replay the conversations I've had in the past week or so. Then it hits me. "Mother of god," I say out loud. "I'm one of them. NOOOOOOO!" I put my head down on our kitchen table realizing that all I've talked about with people around here is about work.
"Yea, its funny. When I talk to people around C-ville (what all the cool kids call it...), the conversations go more about what I've grown in my garden, or how is my daughter, or if I've done anything fun outside recently. Sometimes if theres anything worth eating I've had recently"
We chat for a few more minutes and this question of identity really starts to become very interesting to me. See, in DC you identify as your work; Charlottesville does not feel the same. It feels more of a question of not what do you do for work but what do you do outside of work that defines you. To put it simply, a prime secret fishing spot in Charlottesville makes you a big shot around here, not a Mercedes. These are more my people, even though the last years in DC have poisoned my mind in that distinctive way.
Theres something about how people interact with each other and their community here. There are true Mom and Pop hardware stores, markets, grocers, and many businesses that the giant corporations have slowly strangled out in other parts of the country. I am routinely asked how my day is going by strangers. I am already on a first name basis with the woman who makes late night sandwiches. There are crosswalks and drivers obey them. There is something both magically charming but seriously strange to the point of unbelievability about this. People interact with their food and each other differently; this is something that I am excited to explore.
It occurs to me in the end that the same question is being asked two different ways: "Who are you?" In DC it's framed on your acquisition of power, (political connections, money, status, etc.) whereas here it's...something different. Less tangible but makes more sense, like a smell you remember from childhood; you can't quite figure out what it is, but you know what it means.
Strange, I ask myself now who I am, and I can't help but scoff in contempt for the kind of people that I've had to deal with in DC: Sex in the City wanna-be psuedo business women with prescription drug problems relying on their wealthy daddy's money. Plastic surgery. Gala's. Purses that cost more than my rent. Or the posture and politico obsessed men trying to edge their way closer to the next pro athlete or reality TV star at the newest club, looking for the next young trophy girl to carve a notch in their bedpost. I have nothing but contempt for these people.
So "who am I?" I ask myself.
Well this week I learned how to pickle watermelon rinds with Andrew, worked on a whole fish recipe, interviewed an incredible Chef (next entry!), practiced my banjo, went on a couple hikes and four different dog parks, visited a winery, read an entire book, made sun tea and failed, worked on a new cocktail using fresh Charlottesville produce, did some bartending, made some new friends, ate some delicious local food, drank some delicious local beer, and wrote more than I have in the last 9 months.
That's who.
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