Today is Thursday. On Tuesday, my friend, Agnes, drove down from my previous habitat to share with me a day of feasting. The last time we did so was roughly a year ago. (Agnes is a very busy girl.)
It was hot (and only getting hotter) when she arrived around noon. Agnes said she didn’t mind walking to our destination–downtown Charleston–and, forgetting that I’m a bit older than her, naively minded not, as well. Several long, hot blocks later, we arrived at our first destination:
This hip establishment opened here about a year ago. It’s mother shop resides in Fayettville, WV, about an hour away in the beautiful Appalacian foothills and home to WV’s famous “Bridge Day” and whitewater rafting crowd. This was Agnes’s first time to Pies and Pints, and I was excited to have her experience some of the best gourmet pizza out there. We decided to share a large pie, ordering half with the chicken gouda (and bacon) and the other with the Mediterranean-inspired Caprese, full of basil and fresh tomato goodness and delicate ribbon-squirts of balsamic reduction glaze.
(These pictures are not mine, btw. I had to “borrow” them from online sources. I’m sure they’re fine with it.) We also shared a lovely Greek salad, full of feta and Greek black olives. Agnes was joyful. Nothing like this exists in her backyard, unless she’s cooking. Armed with a box of leftover pizza (3 pieces, if you must know), we flung open the door to a hotbox and made our way further up the street to Charleston Bakery. I wanted Agnes to see all the great breads. But more than that, I brought her here for these:
Trail Mix Cookies! These will make you look at healthy tree-hugger’s food in a whole new way. I’m hooked on these things, thanks to violin girl.
I have to stop at this point and tell you what happened to our box of leftover pizza. You see, once we entered the bakery, the lady at the counter recognized the box and rejoiced about how we had brought our lovely leftovers for her to enjoy–jokingly, of course. For some odd reason, I had engaged in the joking, but took it a bit too far and actually heard myself saying to her (and her fellow worker): “Sure, have it!” And proceeded to tell them how many and of what variety of specialty pizza were contained in the precious box. To which, with each description, the fellow nodded approvingly. Which only motivated me further, to the point that I found myself practically pleading with them to take the box. Which they did. Then we bought our bakery goodies (without a discount bestowed upon them–not…that…I…was…looking for one) and left. It wasn’t until afterwards that I had realized what I had done. I felt a little strange about the whole matter, but the bakery people were so happy, if not somewhat stunned.