Sunday, July 23
We returned to the Inn at Little Washington to celebrate Barb’s retirement and also our 40th anniversary, our sixth visit to the Inn in 30 years, and first since the restaurant received its third Michelin star. I dropped Barb off at noon so she could settle in, do some reading and have tea. My hope was that she would take a couple of days to relax, unwind, and begin to enjoy retirement rather than fret about things to do around the house. Meanwhile, I would use the two days as a springboard to visit James Madison’s Montpelier and Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello, largely to see how they were now dealing with the topic of enslaved workers at each location.
The drive from the Inn to Montpelier was particularly glorious, accompanied by blue skies, puffy cotton ball clouds, with each turn and rise revealing an inviting ribbon of open road. My interest in the road was compounded by lack of cell service which meant I was navigating by nose for the first 30 minutes or so. I turned out to be on the right road, but I wasn’t 100% sure most of that time. This part of Virginia is an awfully pretty part of the world: green, not overbuilt, and not over crowded. No wonder it’s easy to be conservative here – I can understand a strong impulse to keep things exactly as they are…though better cell service would be a plus.
Montpelier, like James Madison, usually plays second fiddle to Thomas Jefferson and Monticello in the local and national memory. Madison gets credit as Father of the Constitution but name a second accomplishment of his, either as President, Secretary of State, or lifelong Virginia squire. OK, he didn’t quite lose the War of 1812 but he didn’t win it either, and Washington, DC, was burned to the ground on his watch. He lately has become problematic for having employed hundreds of enslaved people and not freeing any of them despite having reservations about the practice. I have to admit, I didn’t learn a whole lot more about Madison’s life or accomplishments from the house tour. The emphasis was very much on the history and furnishings of the house — James was the third generation of his family to live there, and it was subsequently owned by the DuPont family until the 1980s — and on Madison’s role drafting the Constitution, for which he did much reading and research at the house in the year leading up to the Constitutional Convention.
The Montpelier Foundation, which operates the site, its exhibits and tours, has been embroiled in some controversies trying to balance Madison’s legacy with the lives of the enslaved. I don’t know the current state of matters between the Foundation and Montpelier Descendants Committee, but on balance, I think the Foundation did pretty well…if you happen to go down to the basement to see the exhibits (titled The Mere Distinction of Colour, some of it online) about the enslaved. Unfortunately, of our little group of 30 people that took the afternoon house tour, I was one of the only ones that went down to the basement exhibits afterwards. The house tour is all about Madison and his wife, Dolley. The slavery stuff is at your option down below.
I stayed at Montpelier until closing time at 4:30pm then headed back to the Inn. While I was gone, Barb had her tea, documented with her own collection of photos.
After tea, she was able to check into our room, #14 in the Carter House. I think she was suitably impressed, judging by the photos she took.
We had our “fancy” dinner that night at 8pm. I went down at 7:30 to get a cocktail. For whatever reason, the service seemed just slightly off, usually the foremost strength of the Inn. It took a while for me to get a bourbon and even longer to get a set of bar munchies…which themselves were closer to ordinary than extraordinary. There was a little serving of roasted pecans, some olives, and spiced candied pineapple; nothing wrong with them but maybe a hint that Chef O’Connell is starting to pull his punches rather than challenge any diner’s taste buds (well, maybe still a challenge for Barb, who wouldn’t try any of them).
It took an extra 20 minutes or more to seat us while we twiddled our thumbs in the bar seating area, even though the restaurant was far from filled on a Sunday evening. We received our menus and saw there were only two meal options, one “standard” (the Gastronaut) and one vegetarian (there used to be three choices). The main entree was either lamb or duck, neither of which are on Barb’s preferred protein list. She asked for an alternative and several waiters came by to offer different suggestions (pork, chicken, bison, mushrooms) before landing on substituting beef for the lamb. It shouldn’t have been that complicated, but at these nosebleed prices ($350/person), she was going to get what she wanted one way or another. Speaking of nosebleeds, my glass of white wine, a Raul Perez Godelo, Ultreia, from Berizo, Spain (none of which I’d heard of) was the least expensive choice at $23; I later learned that was just about double the retail cost of a full bottle at a regular liquor store. We were paying for the show, I kept reminding myself.
We worked our way through the courses, including two amuse-bouches, one a tiny potato chip stuffed with a sour cream and onion concoction, and the second a gelled tomato gazpacho of sorts. We enjoyed each course, but my impression was that the flavors were surprisingly mild, even tame. The textures and temperatures were more varied and playful than the actual tastes of the several starters. My duck entree was quite nice with a touch of foie gras. My cheese dessert (with an extra $30 charge) was generously portioned but I quibble that the “Cheese Whiz” Cameron rather perfunctorily doled out my mix of goat, cheddar, Roncal, brie and bleu (though he did take our picture which was nice). The whole meal was extremely leisurely paced and we were nearly the last table left in the place at 11pm when we staggered back to our room.
I feel a bit silly and over privileged to be picking these nits with the Inn. They haven’t stayed in business waiting for us to come these six times over the decades, but one of the magical aspects of the Inn was how they made us feel special each of the previous times, and the meals were spectacular. It was less so this time, and we were both more aware of the higher prices we were paying for the privilege of being less impressed. To be fair, I picked my own price point for our room — we could have stayed in a less expensive alternative but I wanted to make sure Barb had a nice place to lounge around. Still, at the moment, I’m not sure we’ll be back for a 7th visit…but we probably will in another decade. Who knows Chef O’Connell’s realm will encompass by then? He already owns more than half the town, it seems.
July 24
Our included breakfast at the Inn was continental: yogurt, granola, berries, a selection of fruit juices and a basket of muffins, little wheat toasts and croissants. There was a $25 surcharge for omelets or other cooked items. The continental items were all top quality and I especially enjoyed the yogurt, granola and blueberries.
I left Barb to what I hoped would be a nice, relaxing day lounging around at the Inn while I headed out to Monticello, 90 minutes away. I think it had been more than 40 years since I’d last been to Monticello. There was a nice new visitors center where I watched a short introductory film before catching a shuttle bus to Thomas Jefferson’s home. The house tour was led by an enthusiastic older guide who managed to hold the attention of our large group that included a bunch of kids.
The house is chock full of Jefferson’s clever inventions and eclectic tastes. He was a remarkable man in many ways, and as at Montpelier, the emphasis of the house tour was a hagiography of the man who owned the house. The main tour stayed on the ground floor of the mansion — you have to sign up for a special tour to view the upper floors which I didn’t have time for. The first entry room focused on maps of the world and artifacts of the Lewis and Clark Expedition; I wondered if this was really representative of Jefferson’s decor but the guide claimed it was. The other rooms are also filled with scientific and other bric-a-brac which allows the guide to tell the well-honed story of Jefferson’s life.
The tour ends with an invitation to visit the basement of the house and grounds which include much more about the lives of the enslaved, at your option as at Montpelier. Montpelier actually did a better job giving an overview of the larger impact of slavery (kudos for using the SlaveVoyages.org timeline visuals) but the strength of Monticello’s presentation centers on the well-documented stories of individual slaves and families, particularly the Hemings. I had heard of Sally Hemings and the controversy of her relationship with Jefferson but didn’t realize the extent or background of her whole family’s involvement with Jefferson and Monticello. I certainly didn’t realize that Sally was the half-sister of Jefferson’s wife, Martha. The Monticello website does a good job explaining Sally’s life, with a useful timeline.
I took the free Slavery at Monticello tour of Mulberry Row. I was pleasantly surprised that this tour was less about each of the buildings and functions of the Mulberry Row site and more focused on stories of specific enslaved people, including Isaac Granger Jefferson, Ann-Elizabeth Fossett Isaacs (of the extended Hemings clan), James Hubbard who escaped Monticello, and James Hemings, the older brother of Sally and remarkable enslaved chef who brought French cuisine to Monticello in exchange for his freedom.
The Monticello exhibits introduced me to the phrase “shadow family,” a phrase I find resonant, useful and horrifying. Sally Hemings was herself a second generation shadow, three-quarters white (a quadroon, by the old nomenclature) but still condemned to slavery, as were her children who formed a third generation shadow family…until they were freed and three went on to “pass” as white. It’s a complicated, artificial structure, made more inscrutable by the need for secrecy. One didn’t discuss shadow families in polite society, thus Jefferson never wrote of Hemings or their children (despite writing and recording almost everything else in his life, it seems) and generations of Jefferson’s white descendants denied the legitimacy of Heming’s heirs. The tide only turned after a 1998 DNA study and even now is not a completely settled matter. In some ways, African Americans are still shadow families of White America: suppressed, ignored and not discussed in polite society. What would it mean to include everyone at the table?
I returned to the Inn and we had dinner at Patty O’s, the new “cafe” opened in 2021. Our 3-course meal was included in the price of our stay. We chose appetizers of escargot and French onion soup, and entrees of veal chop and tempura soft shell crab. For dessert, Barb chose a chocolate mousse while I had a big bowl of butter pecan ice cream. All were excellent, and more our speed compared to the excess of our main meal at the Inn the night before. We (mostly Barb), had a nice chat with the manager, Andre LeTendre, and generally enjoyed the more casual atmosphere of the cafe. Maybe we can come back to the Inn sooner than our 50th anniversary. We’ll see.
We retired to the room for one more night of luxury, including a bubble bath for Barb. The next morning we had a final continental breakfast before checking out and driving home to Manny and the real world.
This was a very nice, albeit expensive, getaway and celebration of Barb’s retirement. It was also educational for me. I’m quite glad I made the effort to see Montpelier and Monticello. The stories I learned there and subsequent research helped deepen my knowledge of these highly learned, accomplished and yet troublingly problematic men and the people they enslaved. A more complete, nuanced understanding of these peoples’ lives and complex times is more useful and interesting than the paper cutouts of our Founding Fathers.
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