Two weeks ago Tobyjoe and I visited the Inn at Little Washington in Washington, Virginia. Our vacation was to last through the week (we were going to stay in Washington, DC for the rest of the week and visit friends) but we had to cut it short and take care of our very sick cat.

Here are some pictures from our trip (with blurbs above each shot).

We drove up, they opened our car doors, carried in our luggage, and held an umbrella above my head. The umbrella thing was a little weird because I am so not a gal used to that sort of thing. I kept telling them, “You really don’t have to hold it above my head. I could use a little rain.” But they persisted. Who am I to stop a man from doing his job?

This is the front porch.

Below is a picture of our room. We stopped in and prepared for a walk, which pretty much meant grabbing our cameras.

The window seat.

Tobyjoe goofs off. I goof off with him.

Main Street. Super quaint. The rain was perfect. The lighting was perfect. Washington, Virginia reminded me of a tiny, Irish town. So plush and green and eerily quiet for this city gal.

I thought this house only existed in my dreams. And so close to DC! If only. Seriously, someday I want to live in a place like this with my several kids (don’t tell Toby) and my uncountable number of rescued cats.

A barn. The storm came over this mountain. Keep in mind, we were there the night the Nor’easter came through.

A resident had about 8 Volvos (that I could see. I am certain there were more down the hill). It was like a Volvo graveyard. I, of course, had to take a picture of this baby. Maybe my house filled with kids and rescued cats will also include rescued Volvos.

A picture of the Inn from across the street. The window closest the tree was our window. That tree swooned us to sleep when the wind set in and then something not so great happened, which I talk about later on in this post.

Tobyjoe, the dapper fella, waits to be escorted to our table. (I love this man.)

The menu featured both our names. We kept it. A nice touch, I might add.

The pre-appetizer. (Not ordered by us.) The only one we didn’t consume was the foie gras (second in from the right.) I just can’t eat something knowing it was force fed. I avoid that stuff. Our leaving it on the plate was a silent protest of sorts. ;]

The first glass of wine. I did not partake, but I watched Tobyjoe get pampered. He told the sommelier, “Just pick whatever you think pairs well with my food.” He made a great decision in doing so; the sommelier’s choices were spot on. The one thing that I like the best about the Inn at Little Washington is that the service is impeccable. They have truly wonderful people working for them. At no point does a person feel out of place or (for lack of a better word) stupid. They are not at all snobby, just a big group of down-to-earth people. The sommelier we had was specifically kind and helpful.

My first appetizer. Mussels with bread crumbs. I loved it. But I’m easy being pregnant and all. :] Tobyjoe said there were a little too many crumbs for his liking. But I’ll leave his review to him.

Second pairing of wine. I know nothing about wines, so I shot the bottles. (You will noticed that I stopped shooting wines eventually because I found out that our sommelier was writing them down for us and was planning to leave the list with our menus at the front desk. Awesome.)

Below is a shot of my second course and my most favorite. This one was outstanding. I had the squab. You were to take the filling and place it in the leaves on the left. Oh dear, was it ever awesome. It came in a dark sauce with peanuts and other awesome stuff. It was awesome. Did I mention that? Awesome. I am so going to get a job at Food and Wine after this post.

This was Toby’s second course. He had the Inn’s signature dish, the morel crusted scallop. It sat on a bed of pureed cauliflower. So good.

My main course: Maine lobster. Yeah, this was killer, too. I could have eaten several of these.

Toby’s main course. He had the beef. (First time in 15 years he ate beef.) I’ll let him write about this if/when he gets time. I tried the piece on the far left (the middle bit was too raw for my pregnant self) and the scalloped potatoes. Both were incredible. In fact, his dish was better than mine and mine was amazing.

The dessert course. Tobyjoe had the cheese. I, of course, ordered the most caloric and largest dish they offered. This is Faira the cow. She is the Inn’s cheese tray.

And this is my dish of dessert. I figured it this way: no booze for me? Then I’d stuff myself silly on dessert. And that I did.

The both of us ready to dig in.

The carnage.

A picture of the dining room.

Tobyjoe took this of me. This was before the incredibly painful bout of heartburn set in. Hey, I asked for it.

The two of us.

Faira again in the parlor. We are waiting to take a tour of the kitchen.

The amazing kitchen. Who knows, maybe next time we visit them we’ll ask for the kitchen table. I have always wanted to do that. (There are two tables in the kitchen.)

The Viking stove, custom made for the Inn. A wonderful piece of art. We’re planning on buying one when we own a house. Yep. With our extra 100 thousand some odd dollars.

When we got back to our room the owner’s dog left us a treat and a note. (Like we could eat another bite.) It was a bottle of port and two edible dog biscuits.

Our turned down bed.

My big fat belly. Tobyjoe took this without my knowing. I’m putting it out there, dammit.

My breakfast the next morning. Lobster omelet (yes, again!), homemade sausage, bacon, and some potatoes. Holy moly, so good.

The garden.

A penny for your thoughts? Comment card.

Which we filled out.

Here’s the deal, on Sundays, they apparently shut off the water from 2 AM until 4 AM to add softener. During that time, the pipes began clanking something awful. We don’t believe anyone else could hear it; that it was just taking place in our room, but we were unable to sleep because of it. I was up for over two hours as was Tobyjoe. I called downstairs twice and the woman was super apologetic. But still…. for 500 bucks a night, we expected to sleep in silence.

The noise settled down after 4 and we were able to sleep soundly until 9 AM. The next day we talked to the front desk and he gave us a pretty hefty discount, which was nice of him.

I don’t want to come off as angry or disgruntled, but I think they would have wanted us to say something given their desire to please their clientèle. Overall, we had an incredible time and I would go again in a heartbeat (after saving up for it, of course). I would recommend the place to friends and family in a second. Even though we didn’t get the sleep we wanted, it was an amazing evening. Plus, I’m sure the knocking was an isolated incident. I don’t want to deter anyone from visiting. If you take one thing away from this post, take that. (Oh, and the bit about how awesome my squab was.)

If you have a thousand bucks or a credit card, you simply must go. You will have a wonderful night. I highly suggest going with a loved one; it’s entirely romantic. And make sure you are hungry. Also, if you’re pregnant or prone to heartburn, bring the Mylanta. Oh, sweet Jesus, I was on fire.

Perhaps we’ll go back for our 50th wedding anniversary. And I have to go again soon because I don’t want our last visit there to be tainted by the death of Schmitty.