Double-height ceilings, big windows, and plantation-inspired fans in the Trummer's dining room

It’s no secret that we planned this trip around the places we wanted to eat, which sometimes meant we traveled across multiple counties to visit a particular chef or farm. Such was the case with Clifton, one of Virginia’s many tiny, charming, towns. We biked from Fredericksburg to Clifton in less-than-ideal circumstances largely because we had heard amazing things about the two-month-old Trummer’s on Main. Owners Stefan and Victoria Trummer came home to Virginia after working in some of the world’s top restaurants, including New York’s Bouley, Masa, and Compass. They bought a historic 1869 inn, completely gutted it, and transformed it into a three-story restaurant with a stylish bar on the ground level and a cozy art gallery/dining nook on the top floor.

Stefan is a serious cocktail guru (it runs in the family – his brother, Alfred, owns New York’s Chinatown-cool Apotheke) and has introduced Clifton to the world of complex, innovative drinks. G tried his signature Titanic, a not-too-sweet mix of muddled grapes, verjus, vodka, St. Germain, poured over a dramatic glacier of champagne sorbet, while I opted for the refreshing Big Apple, made with Hendrick’s Gin, fresh apple, and dill. We could have easily camped out at the bar, snacking on parmesan popcorn and sampling different drinks but our stomachs were screaming for more substantial fare.

Eventually we moseyed upstairs to the main dining area, which has a soaring peaked ceiling with plantation-style fans and huge windows. It was tough to choose from the long menu – oxtail ravioli or roasted beets with pistachios? Butter roasted chicken with cornbread or grilled flounder with artichokes and fennel? Chef Clayton Miller comes to Clifton by way of the French Laundry and his food combines sophisticated techniques with comforting flavors. Our favorites were the warm hush puppies, the smoky tortilla soup, and the rich veal cheeks — and we’ll definitely be back for the vanilla pork belly with rhubarb.

Nothing like a good cocktail to get us smiling

Dinner was lovely but we couldn’t get enough of the desserts. Pastry chef Chris Ford was most recently at Manhattan’s Chikalicious and specializes in playful, delicious sweets. We started off with his double vanilla ice cream, made with Tahitian and Papua New Guinea beans and served over crumbled sable cookies, and his rich banana pot de creme. That wasn’t quite enough for us, though, so we had a second round of chocolate mousse with spiced meringues and cocoa nibs. We ended up staying long past our bedtime, in part because the mischievous sommelier, Tyler Packwood, kept sneaking over and topping off our glasses with luscious Las Rocas Garmacha. By the time we made it to our car we were feeling warm, happy, and well-fed.

Dr. Seuss-like flowers in front of Monticello

It’s not quite fair because we had already taken two unanticipated rest days.  But, still, Stephen Bilenky says that rest days help our muscles recover so that we might strive to go faster than 10 miles per hour.  Well, Stephen, here’s what we have to say to you:  We’ve been averaging at least 12 miles an hour, and we’re really speedy on the down hills.

When I told a friend that we were renting a car for the day to better explore Charlottesville and its environs, she wanted to know if it was legal.  The rules have changed a bit:  We got waylaid in Philly, we had parental stalkers in Berryville, and on our planned day of rest we wanted to make the most of it. So, yes, there was a car involved.

Mollie woke up at 6:30 am to the smell of bread baking downstairs at the Clifton Inn.  (She has a keen sense for ice cream and baked goods–and bathrooms, but that’s another story).  At a civilized hour, we headed downstairs for breakfast of poached eggs, Virginia ham, and braised leeks over a thick slice of country wheat bread, plus some just-made croissants and cinnamon rolls.

We had planned our day around a noon yoga class in an up-and-coming ‘hood called Belmont.  It’s still making its way, but we did spy some excellent restaurants–we were especially excited about The Local, which had an upstairs patio and an ingredient-driven menu.  At the Ashtanga Yoga Studio, we bended and stretched and sweated–and rewarded ourselves with massive sandwiches at Take it Away, right off the UVA campus.

After that, we zipped over to Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello, where we walked the grounds and oohed over the vegetable garden overlooking the Blue Ridge Mountains.  We could live here, we decided.  After that, we made two pit stops before heading to the 1804 Inn back in Barboursville:  The first was at Carter Mountain Orchard, where we picked up some apples for the road (including the Albemarle Pippin, Jefferson’s favorite).  The second was for provisions–more Virginia ham, Monte Enebro cheese, and a white bean salad from Feast.  We had big plans for an early night and a picnic in bed.

At some point we started singing "This land is your land." The cows seemed to like it.

G was up at the crack of dawn tapping out her latest Virginia Living blog, while I stayed snuggled in our king size bed until 7:30. Then, like a dutiful wife, I tramped down the stairs of the apartment-style Suites 249 and across the street to the Raven’s Nest coffeeshop for cappuccinos and granola. At 9am sharp we rolled out of town.

We had mapped out a meandering route that avoided all the major byways and instead took us down country roads that paralleled railroad tracks, cow pastures, and golden wheat fields (and also included a few rocky dirt paths). The riding felt much easier than our first day, probably because the route was fairly flat, save for a few heroic uphills.  And because there was little or no traffic, G and I could coast along next to each other for much of it, chatting or not chatting, and pointing out particularly beautiful views. At one point we accidentally rode into a granite quarry (somehow the “Hazardous Materials” signs didn’t deter us) and had to backtrack.

By the time we reached the Barboursville Winery, we had logged just under 40 miles.

We stashed our bikes by a wooden fence overlooking the vines, and quickly pulled dresses on over our tank tops and swapped our cleats for flats. After we shimmied out of our oh-so-cute spandex and gave our faces a once-over with handiwipes, we weren’t looking too shabby — though our server did jokingly offer to get me a little degreaser for the spots on my calves.

The winery’s Palladio restaurant is a local favorite for long boozy lunches and we tried to do it justice: local beets layered with bright pesto, fennel, and chevre; seared scallops with parsnip puree; and a rich lobster tagliatelle. Plus the wines: all local and surprisingly good, especially a crisp rose and rich 2006 Cabernet Savignon.

The only problem came when it was time to leave: we had arranged for a rental car to be dropped off at the winery so we could do some off-bike exploring during our rest day.  The only snag: no car. We ended up camped out on the steps of the winery for a couple hours, enjoying the cool autumn weather and watching people parade in and out of the tasting room with cases of wine.

We finally arrived at the Clifton Inn at dusk and stumbled into the lobby dragging our dusty panniers. The receptionist didn’t bat an eye and immediately showed us to our lovely light-filled room upstairs. The inn, which dates to the early 19th century, sits on a huge parcel of land that was once owned by Peter Jefferson. It has been renovated to have a modern, fresh feel, with lots of white and light green, and architectural sketches and leather books scattered about. Showers and naps later, we were ready for dinner.

Chef Dean Maupin is known for his DIY tasting menu, which simply means that everything is appetizer-sized and you mix and match to create your own multi-course meal. We had trouble not eating the entire basket of warm, crusty bread (and we did go through two dishes of butter). For dinner: a thick chickpea pancake topped with goat cheese, smoked salmon, and avocado; braised artichokes on a white bean puree; and Maryland crabcake served in a rich seafood stew. But the highlight was G’s homemade pappardelle with fresh herbs, Virginia ham, and creme fraiche. Their bittersweet chocolate tart with peanut nougat ice cream and salted caramel put us over the top and we practically fell into bed. More pics after the jump. (more…)

We have a broad view of what constitutes road food — we’ll take cookies over gels any day. After all, cookies help replenish all the calories we’re burning, and taste much better than bars. We’re not talking junk food, though – we have high standards. One of our favorite brands is Walkers Shortbread

Early Bird Granola is the ultimate salty-sweet combo

I take my granola very seriously. No super sugary blends, and definitely none of that flabby half-toasted stuff. I want the real thing: slow baked and crisp, with plenty of texture and a bit of sweetness. I had given up on finding the perfect mix until I happened upon Nekisia Davis’s Early Bird granola at the Brooklyn Flea. It’s far and away the best granola I have ever had – an oh-so-sophisticated blend of oats, pecans, coconut flakes, and pumpkin and sesame seeds that gets a slightly caramelized flavor from maple syrup and brown sugar. But what really makes Nekisia’s version truly amazing, is her genius use of olive oil and sea salt. The salt kicks it over the edge into dangerously addictive territory.

Nekisia still makes all the granola herself in a Brooklyn commercial kitchen, and sells it through pedigreed local shops like Brooklyn Larder and Murray’s Cheese. But with everyone from the NYT’s Melissa Clark to Martha Stewart singing its praises, her granola is in high demand. I tried to recreate the granola a couple weekends ago using her recipe but it wasn’t quite as good as the original – luckily Nekisia hooked us up with a couple bags for the road. That is, if I don’t eat them first. Check out the recipe after the jump. (more…)

In my short but intense biking love affair, I’ve quickly realized that the key to our relationship is the proper snacks. And that road food doesn’t have to mean goos, gels, and bars (though I still love my Luna Bars).

Recently I’ve been packing Dr. Kracker crackers on my rides. My favorites are the Seedlanders, sweetened with agave and molasses and sprinkled with poppy, pumpkin, and sesame seeds. I can spread them with almond butter, wrap them in plastic, and stick them in my jersey for a mid-ride snack.

Co-founder George Eckrich is also a cyclist — he did the 450-mile RAGBRAI this past summer— and we’ve been trading ideas for on-the-go energy concoctions.

We’ll be partnering up for a Dr. Kracker recipe contest so stay tuned!

I’ve been camped out in the kitchen all day, Bonnie Raitt on the CD player, happily playing in piles of flour and sugar and trying out recipes I haven’t had the time or space for: slow-roasted cherry tomatoes with thyme, Nekisia Davis’s absolutely cracktastic Early Bird Granola, and Smitten Kitchen’s adorable bourbon peach handpies.

I was in Seattle for a wedding last weekend (congratulations Craig and Christina!) and got in a little bit of filming amid all the eating and sight-seeing. My family was fairly nice about letting me video them (and I think Annie Chen has a bright future as a somewhat sarcastic TV personality). Check out the results – there’s even a shot of Mama and Papa Chen!