A Line for Love

When a restaurant critic arrives in a new city, chances are, she’s going to try a top tier restaurant first. At least, that was the theory I followed when choosing my first bakery in D.C. I called up a few friends, convincing them that I could not possibly do this first tasting alone, and finally lured one to downtown Bethesda.

Downtown Bethesda serves three primary subgroups of the Washingtonian population. First and foremost, it serves the teenyboppers of the well-to-do. They stand in throngs outside Barnes and Noble on the pretense that they are studying, and proceed to gossip and shriek, throwing looks across the plaza at groups of equally zealous adolescents. If you push past the oh-my-goshes on to Bethesda Avenue, you meet the second subgroup: their mothers. Women emerge from each store clutching parcels and smelling of spa treatments. You can spot them in the various organic restaurants on Bethesda Row – adding up their calories and discussing the latest string of children to be suspended from school. The third subgroup appears on weekends: movie goers, families looking for a relaxed meal, and people who really want to go Barnes and Noble to study. On Sunday, we were part of this third group.

Our target was Georgetown Cupcake. I marched us down Bethesda Avenue, avoiding the teens most masterfully, but stopped dead in my tracks as I stared across the street. Was that a line?

And then I remembered: Valentine’s Day. A cue of people snaking out the door of the tiny Georgetown Cupcake crept around the corner out of sight. At first, I wanted to kick myself for this clear oversight on my part: Valentine’s Day is the number one selling day for Red Velvet.

But then I looked closer at the storefront window and realized that no, this line was not about guaranteeing a Red Velvet cupcake for that special someone: it was about television. That’s right; Georgetown Cupcake was launching its second season of D.C. Cupcakes. Classy.

I shrugged my shoulders and turned away, there were other cupcakes to be had. I do not wait in line for something unless I know it’s good. We strolled through Bethesda Row toward a little wedding cake shop that had, in an almost half-hearted manner, added a sign to its heading that said ‘cupcakes, too!’ – promising the passerby that they had risen to meet the demand for these trendy treats. I saw no Red Velvet in the case. They were sold out; as was the next bakery! I guess it was Valentine’s Day, after all.

And so I walked home, palate unsatisfied. I started to text-message a friend about my plight. But try as I might, I could not make my auto-text spell 'Valentine’s'. Instead, the word ‘overdone’ popped up time and time again. And that’s when I started to think about that line snaking around the corner from Georgetown Cupcake.

Was it perhaps slightly ludicrous to wait in line all day just to be able to present a token that said “I care”? Especially if that token of affection was to be demolished in three or four bites? I thought about the couples that I strive to emulate in my own relationships. What were they were doing that day? One couple was off on a hike, and another was busy ushering the kids to and from various events. Some were cooking dinner for friends, or simply sharing a phone call before they went to sleep – just like every other night.

Valentine’s Day might give us an excuse to sneak a first kiss, or drive down for a surprise visit, but for me, at least, it wasn’t the date that made the moment matter.

And so, to all those Washingtonians waiting in line at Georgetown Cupcake, I applaud you for trying. But here is my advice to you: come back on Tuesday; the cupcake is still going to say, “I care.” Or, better yet, just say it (winks).  

Georgetown Cupcake

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