Touted as an anti-depressant, an aphrodisiac, a euphoriant, and a sleep aid (145Cong.Rec.4513)

As luck would have it, TJ managed to swing by London after a work trip, so we could be together for Valentine's Day. We're not exactly into flower bouquets, boxed chocolates, and fancy dinners, so we celebrated our love with apples, hops, and oysters instead (hey, at least that last one is considered an aphrodisiac). 

There were some fresh flowers on hand when we arrived at Faversham, a small market town in Kent (top left). Unfortunately, the apple blossoms wouldn't be out until April, so the orchards at Brogdale Farm, home of the National Fruit Collection, were still closed for the season (top right). Nonetheless, we were able to try the farm's wares in liquid and solid form. We picked up a liter of medium cider from on-site producer Tiddly Pomme (bottom left) after TJ tried a pint of it with lunch at Courtyard Restaurant & Cafe, where my soup-and-sandwich combo featured cheddar and apple chutney on whole-grain bread (bottom right). 

We were happy for the cider because we struck out with the on-site Mad Cat Brewery, where you have to call ahead for a tour during the off-season. That was to be expected from a small operation, but we were surprised to find the large commerical Shepherd Neame Brewery shuttered, too. We settled for a stroll around its modern facilities (left).The former buildings of the oldest British brewer, opened in 1698, are now part of a residential/office development (right).

The brewery was and is clearly the crux of Faversham, as it backs right up to the other religion in town: the grounds, including the cemetery, of St. Mary of Charity (left). Just a couple blocks away from the church, hops rose from the ashes at The Phoenix Tavern, home of the Timothy Taylor Appreciation Society, so we didn't try any Shepherd Neame ales (right). On our way back to the train station, we passed Furlong's Ale House, so we stopped to sample a couple regional craft beverages.

From Faversham, it was only a 15-minute ride to the coastal town of Whitstable, where a view of the water was a Valentine's Day treat for normally doubly-land-locked TJ (left). The holiday retreat is known for its oysters, but its heritage as a mining town looms above the city in the form of Whitstable Castle (right), whose grounds originally were used for smelting iron sulfate from the eastern suburb of Tankerton.

 

Still, the oysters are the main attraction now, with their shells piled up right on the shore (top left). Across the boardwalk from the shuck heap sat the Whitstable Oyster Company, a restaurant housed in the former Royal Native Oyster Stores (top right). Even on Valentine's Day, we didn't need a full-on sit-down meal, so instead, we headed over to The Forge, a seafood shack right outside the Whitstable Fisherman's Huts (bottom). A mound of mollusks served up by a fishy-smelling man, alongside a pint of Oyster Stout from Whitstable Brewery, was all we needed to make our day of romance complete.