For those who missed my Wednesday posting, I wholeheartedly apologize. I can, for the most part, blame being on the road for 7 hours, but the truth probably has more to do with the insane amount of food I’d just consumed over a very short 3 days in Washington, D.C. (Which I will now refer to simply as D.C. For non-American readers, here is a clue to telling some Americans from others: Easter Coasters call the nation’s capital Washington; but West Coasters are obviously much smarter because we, knowing that Washington is in fact a state, refer to it as D.C.)

After getting a hurried several-day eating tour by our foodie friends who live outside the city, I was beyond sated — stuffed, saturated, and at some points almost engorged.

The above photo of Cafe du Parc, located at the historic Willard Intercontinental Hotel just off the Mall, was just the tip of the iceberg. Lemon tarts, madeleines, and cafe au lait at the regal-looking institution where Julia Ward Howe wrote the Battle Hymn of the Republic and Martin Luther King polished off his “I Have a Dream” speech was a slight topping on a day that started out with some of the best salad I’ve ever had (besides my own) at Chop’t. Pick your lettuce, pick from a huge array of cheese, nuts, veggies, fish, or chicken, and watch it all get chopped up together and tossed with fresh dressing, then dumped in a to-go bowl the size of a dog bucket.

For now, Chop’t is only in DC and New York, but I seriously hope the idea takes off countrywide.

I didn’t think I’d eat for the rest of the day. But our friends swiped our toddler for an evening and booked us in for a several-hour tasting menu at Vidalia, one of DC’s most renowned restaurants with an award-winning chef who focuses on local produce and seasonal menus. The sommelier-matched wines might have dulled my brain during the five-course meal, but nothing could cover the delicate and practically aphrodisiac-filled fois-gras and mushroom soup, or the thinly sliced grass-fed beef topped with morel mushrooms (give me mushrooms, I’m happy). Something with chocolate and cherries for dessert — is there any better description of heaven?

There is, and was. The next day saw us tucking into piles of Peruvian chicken at El Pollo Rico in Wheaton, a DC suburb. This unassuming family-run joint was voted by several food critics and newspaper reader surveys as serving the absolute best chicken in the city. My son chowed on his own whole breast and left me with mostly spicy green hot sauce and wings. But I still didn’t need the big pile of wedge fries.

Not being a foodie, and living for the most part on salad, stir-fry, and peanut butter, I would have stopped at this point. But our friends know their city, and wanted us to love it, too. There wasn’t much space left in my stomach on Tuesday, but somehow into its already expanded corners I managed to wedge in artisan and local cheeses (and a much-needed cup of freshly ground, freshly brewed coffee) from Cowgirl Creamery while we waited for the National Portrait Gallery to open; and a lunch of fresh sashimi bento boxes and satay sticks at Teaism afterwards. No way could I think of dessert, which is why my friend and I split a peanut butter-topped, chocolate chip-filled cupcake at Red Velvet, one of the city’s premier cupcakeries (did you know there was such a thing as a cupcakery? neither did I).

And then we just kind of waddled into dinner at 2 Amys Pizza, a certified Neapolitan pizza maker and member of Verace Pizza Napoletana Association. They make crazy good pizza and salads in their family-friendly restaurant (translation: lots of shouting kids throwing food, which is a relief if you, like us, have a stubborn toddler — but don’t avoid it for that reason; they have an upstairs which is ‘understood,’ we understand, to be more for quieter diners, like those above the age of 10).

Are you stuffed to the gills yet? Feel like living on water and sorrel for a week? Me, too. But that didn’t stop us from making one last lunch stop, just before leaving for home, at Nava Thai back in Wheaton. Its owners supposedly stated that they had started a restaurant for Thai people because they didn’t like American Thai cuisine. But guess what? All the Americans liked it so much they voted it the best Thai food in the city in the Washingtonian magazine. Red curry with bamboo shoots for me, and tom yum soup with chicken for my son, and we were good to go.

Too bad we had to go back home, where all I get is my own darn cooking. Sometimes it pays to visit a place where you know people, especially if they know their food. But I’m not looking at my bathroom scale for at least a week.