Yesterday's weather was pleasant for January, and the Colonial Williamsburg info line told us that the Christmas decorations would be up until January 7, so we headed over for lunch. Unfortunately, we got there just as they were finishing the process of taking them down, but happily, we still got to see a few. We expected crowds, so we headed over to the King's Arm Tavern to get there just as the restaurant opened.
We took in the atmosphere and looked over the menu. Our server put water glasses on our table, reminding us that we had clean water, safe to drink, which wouldn't have been the case in colonial days. A nearby table asked what the colonial people would drink, and the answer was beer for all, even the children. The father told his daughter that no, she couldn't have beer.
The child was actually more interested in her book than in beer or any other part of the lunch. It did my heart good, although I understand how it was probably frustrating to her family. She made the kind of bargain that you might with younger children: "If I eat 5 bites of my lunch, then can I read?" I was that kind of reader too, and with the right book, I still can be.
The meal was full of historical information. We learned that colonial gentlemen would try to impress women with their shapely calves, and if they didn't have shapely calves, they would put fabric in their socks or a wooden form--this led to the phrase "putting your best foot forward" because men would doff their hats, put a foot forward, and bow, while ladies surreptitiously surveyed their calves. We learned about people traveling with huge napkins which they would tie around their necks (tying up loose ends) to protect their clothes from food. We also had a lovely mini-concert on the Irish harp, and we learned that only Ireland has a national instrument, which is the Irish harp.
The other table was a family speaking Spanish, and I thought about how far the country has come: we have water that is safe to drink, little girls who want to read, and more food than colonists could dream of. We have dining rooms where people who can afford it can have a meal, all of us mixed together in ways that wouldn't have happened in the U.S. until late in the 20th century.
We decided to have onion pie for our lunch. It was a mix of potatoes, onions, and apples, with a pie crust on top, and an egg on top of that. I thought the chunks of potatoes, onions, and apples would be distinct from each other, but they were boiled into a mush. It was a delicious mush, like a savory applesauce. We had carrots and skinny beans on the side.
I made this Facebook post: "When in Williamsburg, one should eat like a revolutionary. This onion pie is made from one of Martha Washington's recipes."
After lunch, we made our way down the street, being careful to avoid the horse poop from the carriage that had gone ahead of us. We wanted to see the Bruton Parish Church; on previous trips, we hadn't been able to go inside.
It was truly beautiful (later, when I've uploaded the photos from my phone, I'll add them to this post). The decorations were still in place, all made the way they would have been made in colonial times, which is to say, they were made from natural materials like magnolia leaves and pods and flowers.
I've been in historical churches before, always as a visitor, and I always wonder what it would be like if one was a regular worshipper there. I imagine that sooner rather than later, one forgets the history, except when the building needs repair.
We made our way back to the car, a chillier walk as we faced the breeze. I was glad to sink into the car, even as part of me wanted to be riding in a carriage. I wondered what it would be like to work as a server in the restaurant or the people who walk around the town in character and in costume. It looks like a fun job to me, a former drama club kid, but I realize in the end, it would be a job similar to other jobs that happen without the costumes and the colonial overlay.
It was a delightful lunch, both a trip back in time and a look to the future. We returned home, nourished in all sorts of ways.
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