Happy Friday — we’re back with more Hot Bones. Finally.

I wanted to write last week, but G and I both had the flu. We spent our days flung across various pieces of furniture like hot, phlegmy ragdolls. Nice to be thinking vertically again.

And you?

Do one long thumb scroll for more Cville-specific updates like local events, cool houses, and pets to adopt.

🐶 Speaking of: Pup Side Down! Easy to fall in love with this girlie, with the biggest brown eyes you’ll ever see (hound x lab mix, 1 year, 40 lbs).

So before I caught the flu, I was in England for a few weeks as part of a family holiday trip, and on Christmas Eve a lot of new things happened at once.

We had just spent an hour singing carols in the town square, which was quaint and charming even before I tell you this was where they filmed The Holiday. And then the man with the microphone said the British equivalent of that’s all, folks (“thanks very much, everyone, and happy Christmas”) and the crowds moved like water to the logical next step: the pub.

My dad and I followed suit, as we had a dinner reservation in that very pub. Or rather, in the private dining room to the side, which, through the front window, I could see was blissfully empty.

But there was no entrance door to the dining room with the big leather booths.

There was only the entrance door to the pub on the right. And the pub was not empty.

I got to the threshold and beheld my greatest British test yet: Hundreds of merry Shire-folk stood between me and that quiet, empty, reserved dinner table. I’d already lost my dad in the crowd. The rest of our group was on their own.

“Ugh, I hate crowds,” I whispered to my dad, who turned out to actually be a different middle-aged man trying to get to the bar.

“Cheer up, darling,” he said with a nod before disappearing into the herringbone.

As I stood there, more and more people edged in behind me, dogs and children shimmied along at knee-level, and fake snow bubbles wafted in from the patio. A max occupancy number was hit long ago. Personal space could be measured in nose hairs.

“Deep breaths” I told myself. “Deep breaths through the waxed canvas mosh pit.”

It would have been easier to climb on a bistro table and use shoulders as stepping stones, but instead I elbowed further and further into the crowd, into the crevasse to get to that reserved booth. “The food better be worth it,” I grumbled.

Unfortunately that only got me so far. Pretty quickly I became marooned in a sea of cheery people who for some reason seemed delighted to be sardined together. There was nowhere I could go from here.

A voice at my elbow saved me.

“Go on, give him a shove,” the lady said, looking straight ahead of me at the broad corduroy back blocking our way. “He’s just a lad.”

We’re allowed to shove?? Oh hell yeah. Listen, sister, say no more.

Crossing the second half of the pub was much faster. For a brief moment, lads fell like bowling pins.

“This is way better than pilates,” I told my lady savior, who followed behind me before the tweed sea closed back up.

We had made it across.

You might think that after such an ordeal, a celebratory feast would have been earned. Tankards of ale and a steaming spit of suckling pig would be brought to the table as I tucked a thick linen napkin under my chin and banged my fork and knife. The pub warrior!

That happened for everyone else at the table.

But when you have a million food allergies, you’re stuck with the token plant-based item on the menu. In this case, a celeriac steak was my prize.

So while our waiter sweated under the weight of two steaming roast chickens and one hot meaty geode otherwise known as a steak and kidney pie, he made light work of my “steak,” which arrived late and with zero fanfare. It was a pale yellow cutlet the size of a CD-ROM, with frizzled kale on top, presumably to show scale and to remind onlookers that, for the small price of a lifelong set of wet-blanket food allergies, you too can enjoy an improved immune system, reduced inflammation, and the myriad other health benefits of plant-based fare.

But you’ll probably still be hungry!

Celeriac is what the Brits call celery root, and it tastes like if a potato and a parsnip got busy. It’s not bad. But it’s not as good as a steak and kidney pie. Nor a roast chicken. In fact, pretty much no root-based meal is going to beat hot meat, and that’s not anti-environmental, that’s just a little truth shove.

But if it’s not Christmas Eve and you haven’t just busted through a Downton Abbey casting call, celeriac is worth trying. This British trip was my first tasting, and I did some research afterward. Here’s what you should know:

Celeriac is also incredibly ugly. If you know what a screaming Mandrake is, this is the non-Harry Potter twin.

In addition to flying to England, you can also buy celery root at the Wegmans at Fifth Street. Just look for the alien softballs.

Once you locate your root, here are a few ways to add a sliver or two to your next home-cooked meal:

After our meat and Mandrake meal, the four of us gathered our coats and hats to walk back home. The people were thinning out a bit one room over, and we could finally see the lit Christmas tree and the actual pub bar.

As I gathered a second wind to pass through the crowd, I happened to look out the window toward the village square. The rest of my family blurrily walked by me, senses dulled by hot meat and buttery bread.

However, I was fueled by celeriac antioxidants and fibrous acumen, and I noticed this wasn’t a window at all. It was a tall, mullioned door. And it led directly out onto the patio. Without passing through the pub.

I took this door.

A well-stocked secret box at O-Hill

📸 Vertical or horizontal? Cville Pro Camera is having a huge yard sale this Saturday, 10-4pm. I was in there yesterday and the place is stocked with lenses, cameras, straps, flashes, and a ton of other shiny equipment.

🎄 How to recycle your Xmas tree: Cville will begin curbside tree pickup next Monday (following your regular pickup schedule), and there are also 7 drop-off sites around the area. Once the trees are mulched, you can pick up the free mulch at Darden Towe Park and Claudius Crozet Park starting Jan 19.

🏠 Riverside house of the week: 1909 historic cottage literally across the road from the Rappahannock River (1 bed, 1 bath, $320,000 in Fredericksburg). Flood insurance likely needed.

🏡 Cool rental of the week: Belmont bungalow with a bright blue door, hardwood floors, and a front fenced yard (2 beds, 1 bath, $2,050/month).

🚴 Free money for bikes: The next e-bike voucher drawing is underway, and in 2026 vouchers will range between $500 and $1,500. Don’t forget about the free e-bike library as well.

☕ Climate Café series is back: This one features Cultivate Charlottesville and how to expand the city’s urban food production and distribution (January 16, 9:30 - 11am).

💼 Remote job of the week: Program Manager for Campaigns at the Energy Action Fund ($144k for major metro areas).

➕ Another remote job: Storytelling and Content Manager at the Wildlands Network ($55k - $65k).

Have an event or rec you’d like to share? Hiring? Interested in advertising?

Share any and all info here.