The Coffeehouse Journey

Perry County, Pennsylvania, is often treated like a drive-thru county, and there’s a historical precedent. In 2010, two years after its approval, Perry County got its first traffic signal.

Less than twenty miles from the capital city and center of annual political drama (Harrisburg), Perry County is nonetheless worlds away. It’s rare to Google a county and see that its primary industry is still agriculture. As health care and tech continue buying up as much of Great Valley as possible, Perry County remains outside their orbits, beyond their considerations, and halfway to everywhere else in the state.

I’ve reviewed plenty of coffeehouses here. From the stately Farmers Daughter cafe in New Bloomfield to Shermans Valley Coffee Company making countryside brew, Perry County is home to coffee galore. It’s never hosted a drive-thru coffee stop, though. That changed one year ago in July, when The Coffee Coop set up shop in the parking lot of Shermans Creek Inn; a locale that has far less to do with coffee than alcohol.

Confession: When I saw the name “Coffee Coop,” I didn’t know if it was a “co-op” or a “coop.” A cooperative, or a place for chickens to roost. It’s definitely a coop. Chicken place, I mean. Or, at least it was a coop at some point by the look of things. It’s a little brown-and-red barn located right off Route 34, a main artery of travel through Perry County that eventually takes you to Route 22, and from there to State College and its maze of highways that lead everywhere else.

It’s hard to describe exactly where Shermans Dale is, but easy to situate it. There isn’t a ‘downtown’ to speak of. I would have taken a photo of it if there had been. There’s a fire hall/general store, a slew of gas stations, and a plaza on a roundabout. It’s a place you travel through, unless you live there, and if you do, you’re probably living a pretty peaceful life.

This makes the Coffee Coop perfect for the place it is: between things. The owners pack a lot of artistry into a small place. I snapped a photo of the surprisingly homey interior. It has a 50s-vibe-meets-art-bistro feel at odds with the countrified exterior. I love the juxtaposition, and I imagine the people who run this place love art, even if their artistic focus is brewing coffee.

The coffee was a surprise: It was Lavazza. I should say, it’s surprising how popular that particular Italian standby is. Founded in 1895 in Italy, it has a reputation as a bulk supermarket coffee. The basic quality is undeniable, though, and it’s one of those brands that scales with the brewer’s efforts. In a recent Reddit post, someone expressed shock that they had an amazing Espresso only to discover that it was Lavazza. Well, just because something’s popular doesn’t make it bad, and people often forget that in Europe, the art of brewing is expected to be taken seriously. European brands seem geared towards that expectation.

My barista certainly did a good job. This was a breakfast blend, almost certainly a Colombian or similar Latin American roast, but with nary a hint of weakness. It had plenty of caffeine, though. It also had nice, subtle, nutty hints that were just hints, not foci. She did a really good job ot if, and I’m sure that comes from experience. Route 34 is a whirlwind of activity as car after car winds its way up the mountains and into the valleys of this corner of Appalachia, and she must be serving travelers on the regular. The takeaway is that the roast is only half the story of a cup of coffee; the brewer’s care is equally crucial.

I have to be honest, it took a few tries to find the Coop. Sitting (as it is) behind a wall of trees, I couldn’t see it from the direction I was coming on Route 34. I thought it was inside the Inn. Then, I approached it from the wrong direction, totally forgetting which side of the car I was sitting in. Hey, it was a long ride up into those mountains! Winding country roads and Pennsylvania’s unique geography help make central Perry County more isolated than it otherwise would be.

I could use a little of that solitude. This summer has been a blur, and not always a pleasant one. Harrisburg’s nature tends to add a layer of manic-ness to already strenuous situations. It’s been far too hot here to take day trips this summer, anyhow. I’m anticipating autumn days already. I have a few ideas about where the next coffeehouse I’m reviewing will be. No, I’m not divulging. Just whetting your appetites for more culinary flights of fancy down the backroads of the tri-state area.

Until then, stay caffeinated.

the sign…

the liminal situation…

the lovely coop…

the 50s…

the inn…

And then, the check engine light came on.

Starting in media res here, but it’s important to have context. I wanted an adventure, and I got one. Several adventures, actually, and they started two weeks before I set foot in the coffeehouse.

Adventure number one was Bluegrass on the Grass. That’s an annual festival happening the second Saturday in July on the green commons of Dickinson College in Carlisle, Pennsylvania. Dickinson is a massive institution, and its performance spaces draw acts from around the state and beyond. I’ve been a lover of Bluegrass ever since the Firefly soundtrack captured my imagination as a college kid back in 2002. This event has become something of an annual pilgrimage for me. The Black-Eyed Suzies, Tessa McCoy & The State Birds, Charm City Junction, and Lonesome River Band all showed up and played awesome sets. Lonesome River Band was my personal favorite; their tunes had a powerful Newgrass sound.

Carlisle itself is a powerhouse for a few reasons. Being home to an historic college, it’s developed the archetypal institutions of a college town: Trendy restaurants, bookstores, and a main drag lined with curio shops, brewpubs, and hangouts. There’s a thriving antiquing scene, not surprising given Carlisle’s deep history, from early settlement to the Civil War and beyond. It was a crossroads of several Native trails and was a munitions depot in the Revolutionary War, right before the college was chartered in 1783.

It also has coffeehouses…tons of them. The most prominent of these is Denim Coffee. The storied Denim Coffee empire began in nearby Shippensburg, but the flagship stop emerged in Carlisle in 2016. Then, the brand exploded across multiple towns in Pennsylvania. I reviewed a Denim operation years ago, so I wanted to explore what was happening in the rest of Carlisle’s coffee scene.

I attempted to do that during the festival, but there were two problems: Most of the coffeehouses were closed by late afternoon on a Saturday, and the traffic was not fun given that there was a classic car show in town the same day as the Bluegrass show. That’s a lot of places *not* to park, so I knew I had to come back later. Collect info now, return later to actually do coffee. The place I found that seemed interesting and unique was Mad Roast. To quote the Zoomers, there was just a “vibe.”

Vibe counts for a lot in coffee culture. Mad Roast has a distinctive one of those, and I’m still trying to place it. It was so…colorful. It wasn’t like a bohemian den or cavernous bookshop. Nor was it trendy and commercial. It was its own thing. It was also understaffed. I’ve noticed that at a lot of coffeehouses these days. Economy, I get it. That said, there was a clear demand not just for coffee, but for expensive coffee.

One young and overworked barista with a thousand-yard stare was trying to handle a line of customers backed up nearly to the door…and every single one of them (except me) ordered the most elaborate and expensive caffeinated concoctions imaginable. Few things exasperate me like wanting a simple black coffee and having to wait because the only person in front of me ordered eleven triple-dipple mocha-choka organic half-cafs with exotic Alaskan kelp or something. I tried not to give a look, but I knew I was. When I finally got to order, I made it clear they did a good job given the situation.

Here’s a good place to mention that you can’t actually get a drip coffee here. That’s one downside. The closest they can do is an Americano. Here’s the good news: The coffee is Square One coffee from Lancaster, PA. More good news: The barista makes it strong. I mean, this was a brew. The richness cut the sour astringency (yes, it’s innate if your drink is too watered-down, don’t fight me on this) of the thinned-out espresso that is an Americano. A person in front of me intoned that their coffee was too strong. Heretic. Just put some dang water in the…never mind. I thought the extra potency in mine suited the typical richness that’s kind of a Square One hallmark. Caramel and dark fruit were on display here, and it was beautiful.

Before I left, I did manage to get the other person behind the counter (an equally overwhelmed cook) to tell me more about the establishment. It’s only been established recently. January 1st. It’s fantastic to see places like this thriving in a town with an already-established coffee culture. By the way, if fancy-schmancy coffee is your thing, that’s certainly Mad Roast’s niche, because in the end, their mixtures were as lavishly candy-hued as the decor. Getting coffee here is as much about dopamine as caffeine, I gather.

I started my car. That’s when I heard it: ca-chunk, ca-chunk, ca-chunk. It felt like I was backing over something. Nope. It was the engine choking. OK, so that’s one thing more exasperating than the person in front of you taking forever at the counter. Maybe it was karma for my impatience. At least the car didn’t strand me. The engine light stayed on, but the reverberations quit, and I was able to take the backroads home from Carlisle. It felt like ignominious defeat. Like, when you picture ignominious defeat specifically, that’s how I felt. Like I was slinking home with my hoodie over my head.

Really, though, it wasn’t defeat. I found the coffeehouse (and it was good), got it reviewed, and started the blog post in my notes before the car started getting wobbly. I’ve gotten to coffeehouses before and experienced such bitter disappointment that I haven’t even reviewed them. Mad Roast was certainly not that. There were also a slew of accidents on the highway that day, as I’d found out when I got home. Taking the backroads home for the sake of the engine got me home safely. One has to wonder. That’s all. I’m ruminating out loud. That’s what blogs are for, right?.

I think I’m just on edge. This has been a summer of managed expectations. I’ll leave it at that. If there are any more festivals worth going to in August, I’ll find coffee there. I also have a family reunion up north, so that’s another possibility…assuming my car isn’t a paperweight.

Truth be told, I’ll walk to coffee if I have to. If I were pretty, I could get my simps to send me coffee and do an ‘unboxing’ and get a million views. Well, I don’t have simps, so you’re stuck taking road trips with me in my occasionally-functional vehicle. It heads to the shop today, so cross your fingers.

And stay caffeinated.

the urban ambience…

the buzz…

the beans…

the seating…

the niknaks…

the tent city…

the bluegrass…

the bluegrass, too…

Do you have summer teeth? You know, summer here, summer there?

My next dentist appointment is over a month away, and it’s already on my mind. I’ve got a lot on my mind this summer, a lot more than I thought I would when spring dawned. More issues, commitments, and concerns. A few deadlines thrown in for good measure. I’m fighting against the easy comfort of stasis and dissociation. In that spirit, I’m pushing myself out the door. Never let your horizons shrink, folks.

Summer itself is on my mind. I’m typing this a week after the summer solstice. A week since my friends on Facebook were vociferously debating whether the summer solstice is a Christian thing (St. John’s Day) or a Pagan thing (Litha). I made a post that linked to a Wikipedia article about the fascinating Megalithic origins of the solstice and how it represents a spirituality predating the debate itself. Nobody liked the post yet.

Perhaps it’s life’s absurdities I’m trying to hide from.

Travel is a good way to do that, especially when you travel to nature. It’s not cool enough to do that, so the next best thing was to attend a festival dedicated to nature: the Solstice Festival in Mount Joy, PA.

Now, the first concern regarding any festival and travel plans thereto is ascertaining the presence of victuals. Coffee certainly counts as a victual, especially when the festival starts in the morning and goes all afternoon. I checked the map to see if there was anywhere here that I hadn’t visited yet. Sure enough, Rise Bake Shoppe sounded totally unfamiliar, so I assumed it was new. As I would find out, it’s been here since 1998, and I’ve just been so absorbed with visiting locations far afield that I’ve neglected some places that are pretty much in my backyard.

Mount Joy is fairly close to Harrisburg. It’s a short jaunt down Route 283 towards Lancaster. There are two kinds of small towns in Pennsylvania: small towns and “small towns.’ Insular farming villages and nigh-abandoned coal hollers make up the former. The latter are the former that, for some reason, became havens for tourism. Mount Joy is one of these.

It was settled by Protestant Scots-Irish and named after the Mountjoy, a ship that broke the Catholic siege of Derry in 1689. Its proximity to other major early settlements in eastern Pennsylvania’s fertile southern valleys all but guaranteed the town’s success. The population is still growing, due no doubt to its being right off the ramp from a major Interstate, possessing its own railroad stop, and sitting at the junction of several other roads.

The traffic situation is kinda wild, or at least it was that day. I had to stop outside the town to check my map because I could tell early on that, especially with Main Street shut down for a festival, there would be no way I’d be able to turn around and get back out if I went the wrong way.

My recalculation point was a plaza. In that plaza sits Rise Bake Shoppe & Coffee Bar. Food is definitely the focus here. Baked goods are on display everywhere. They’re in glass cabinets. They’re on shelves. They’re on tables scattered around the room. The scent of fresh-baked bread is a dream scenario for hungry travelers on I-283. Coffee pairs well with baked goods, not only in a cultural sense, but in a practical one. I don’t know why I just typed that sentence; it seems obvious that the two go together. In fact, it’s important to remember that the first coffeehouses were in the Yemeni port town of Mokha. Sufis drank it. Traders spread it. Coffee shops have always been for people on the go.

All I needed was coffee that morning, and I found something of an overabundance. There were two brands of coffee for sale: the venerable Green Mountain coffee from Vermont and Whiff Roasters from the nearby town of Lititz. I had to get both, of course. I tried the Green Mountain breakfast blend first. It was certainly a breakfast blend with the normal characteristics. It was a bit weak for me. Oh, it was nice, and the sense that it was of craft quality was there, but the astringency was there, too, as is often the case with light roasts. Fine for parents on road trips.

The second was the Whiff Mudslide, a flavored coffee featuring double dark chocolate and Irish cream. I don’t normally do flavored coffees on this blog because I find it more interesting to let the beans speak for themselves without anything added. I’m glad I made an exception here. It was beautiful. The flavoring didn’t overwhelm the natural component. It had that dense and sumptuous quality I’d found in another recent blend. Mudslide was one of those coffees you can (or at least should) roll around in your mouth for a while to aerate and let the flavor pop.

After filling up on caffeinated goodness here, I headed into town for the Solstice Festival. It exceeded expectations. Small town festivals can sometimes be underattended. Habitual festival-goers (like me) have a preconceived vision of the ideal event. We want a small town with a big fest. A remote locale with a cosmopolitan feel. That simple idea is hard to execute. Pennsylvania’s small towns that sit near larger settlements do it best. The Philly countryside, the Poconos, Linglestown. It looks like Mount Joy deserves a spot among these.

People came in droves. Medieval bards were playing piratical instruments. There were folks on stilts walking around. Vendors lined both sides of the street, selling everything from art I can’t afford to food I can’t afford. I got exactly one cookie, but it was a good one. The spiritual aspect of the solstice was there, too. Well, let’s say it was spiritualist-coded. Nothing official. Lots of fortune tellers and other new-age folks were commemorating the metaphysical aspects of summer. A street fair with a higher meaning. Everything that matters is spiritual in a real way, though, isn’t it?

Consider: If you don’t accept a metaphysical aspect to existence, then ‘meaning’ is meaningless, and nothing has purpose; ascribed purpose is a contradiction in terms, like ‘personal truth.’ If you do accept a metaphysical component, then existence and higher meaning are inseparable. Might as well show it (and celebrate it)…if it’s a good higher meaning. And if the divine is the progenitor of ‘good,’ then any righteous purpose, purpose rooted in the nobler aspects of spirit, and the virtues upon which they rest, is logically of a higher order (and cause for celebration).

Well, that’s my position. Some of you might be throwing things at the screen right now.

Something else I’ve learned: I need to look at towns like Mount Joy more carefully. Some towns in Pennsylvania are undergoing a true Renaissance. Others never stopped being crossroads of history. Hopefully, a few more festivals will be in the offing in places like this, and I can absorb the local zeitgeists (and beverages).

Until then, stay caffeinated.

the shop(pe)…

the goods…

the baked goods…

the extra wares…

the extra rooms…

the view…

the menu…

the festival…

the history…

the time…

In previous posts, I said that the Journey’s schedule would be determined largely by festival season in Pennsylvania and beyond. Well, festival season has begun in earnest, and this find is an indirect consequence of it.

An indirect consequence, you ask. Yep. Let me explain:

It was a dark and stormy day. The Wetlands Festival had begun in Wildwood Park in Harrisburg, PA. As per usual, the weather was not cooperating. The first few hours were moderately dry, but right after lunch, the skies opened, and rain poured. I’d just finished a fantastic burger by Williams Catering (my favorite festival food, by the way) and was looking for shelter. So was someone else! Trapped under a white vendor tent by circumstances, I started playing a bird-identification game with a woman named Eden… who, as it would turn out, would lead me to a coffee paradise.

I’ve been to Fort Hunter Park more times than I can count. Festivals, events. So many things happen here over the course of a year. That said, I rarely head further up the road because there’s rarely a need to. What’s north of Fort Hunter besides an on-r/amp to US-22? There is coffee. Specifically, there’s a coffee cart-cum-food-truck with a drive-through window; a setup that’s becoming increasingly popular around here. I knew nothing about it. Certainly, Google Maps had been silent until I zoomed in on Fort Hunter Park and typed ‘coffee.’ I only did that because Eden told me that some sort of coffee place was extant somewhere north of the park. The mystery deepened until I saw some photos of the coffee spot: It was a craft coffee drive-thru!

A bit of context: Roadside coffee trucks have been a staple of life in the Pacific Northwest for years. Only recently have I begun to see this institution explode into other states like Pennsylvania. It fundamentally makes sense, though. Pennsylvania is in many ways a drive-thru state. It’s a transportation hub, and chain coffeehouses like Dunkin’ Donuts are ubiquitous. Why not something more small-batch and artisan?

Enter Torina Espresso at Fort Hunter Park. Or, TO Espresso as it’s also known (the T.O. standing for Torina Original). Torina has been around for only about two years, and it’s an operation built on partnerships. As implied by the name, Torina has recently partnered with Fort Hunter to bring roadside craft coffee to park-going families, riverside anglers, and road-weary travelers alike. There’s another partnership worth mentioning: Torina sources its coffee from what might be my favorite roaster: St. Thomas Roasters in Linglestown, through which they formulate their own proprietary espresso blend.

Finding the place was a bit of a struggle, unfortunately. There are signs, but the location is deceptive. You’ll see what I mean in the photos below. There’s a gorgeous, historic stone building that would be perfect for a coffeehouse…if it weren’t empty. There are plans in the works to fill it, but for now, just know that this is emphatically not the coffeehouse. The cafe is right behind it in what would be the back parking lot.

The ambience is gorgeous. One side abuts a green space, and the other overlooks a fishing spot next to the mighty Susquehanna River. I parked in the front lot and walked to the cafe, hoping I wasn’t parked illegally. I should say “we.” Eden met me there, with neither of us knowing exactly where it was or what the rules were for entering or leaving the cars (of course, if you like this type of adventure, that’s part of it…). Parking is a funny thing in Harrisburg.

The coffee here is no joke, though. It was fantastic. No surprise, given that the beans come from my favorite roaster. Even so, this was expertly prepared. The owner obviously knows her craft. I was especially impressed by the variety. When I heard the phrase “espresso bar,” I worried that it would be the only offering. Check the menu below. Espresso is most certainly not the only option. I got a Colombian roast. It was a textbook Colombian, nutty and rich. She makes it nice and strong, too, even in the morning.

I should mention this location isn’t static. Torina travels. The espresso truck is set to pop up at several upcoming events in the region. We need more of that. Festival victuals are everywhere. Good ones are hard to find. So are reasonably priced ones, and this came in at about seven dollars for two 16-ounce coffees. That ain’t bad at all. At a festival last weekend, I saw a lemonade stand charging seven bucks per cup. Torina will thus be a welcome sight on many levels when they show up as part of the food truck constellation at carnivals and such this summer.

It’s often been the case that the best festival experiences I’ve had involved chance encounters. Whether that means meeting a fellow adventurer like Eden, or finding a great band (or great coffee), it’s been the unplanned (and, dare I say, cheap) events chalking up win after win in terms of quality and fun. That feels like the tone for this summer: Let the journey take you on it.

Until next time, stay caffeinated.

the unoccupied building…

the very occupied building…

the goodies…

the full list of goodies…

the park across the road…

the ambience…

Let’s jump right into this.

I had just left Daily Drip and was eager to explore the rest of the town. You can’t park anywhere downtown without ending up in front of a “Historical Site” or a plaque or statue of some kind. Such is the Pennsylvania/Maryland border. Nothing important, just the future of natural rights and civil society at stake in a war for the future trajectory of the Republic. McConnellsburg is very much a town where the voices of past and future blend into a fugue.

Throughout McConnellsburg, old buildings are repurposed for new uses, but I couldn’t find a case where tradition did not reassert itself, even in the most modern reuse. Case in point: Clugston’s Market and Cafe. I’m not sure about the market itself, but the coffee spot here opened in 2016. Clugston’s is a massive boon to the town. There’s a plethora of food there, and plenty of space to enjoy it. It’s an “everything-mart.” Clugston’s is attached to a larger building that apparently has some historic cachet (see below) and is adjacent to several other buildings with even more of it (see further below). The Antietam Iron Works itself is a functioning iron crafting business that uses domestic steel.

The cafe portion of Clugston’s Market and Cafe was another example of urban/rural collision. On the one hand, the market epitomizes small-town Pennsylvania. It’s local and agrarian to the core. On the other hand, it’s polished, elegant, and the decor has an artistic whimsy that really stuck in my mind long after McConnellsburg was in the rear view mirror. Here’s a little secret: People who care about the past also tend to care about the future. Studying the past in depth gives you perspective. Perspective lets you see past preconception and bias. When that happens, you take the lessons of the past and apply them to the future while accepting the best of modernity, because now you can tell the best from the worst. Perspective.

That brings us to my own perspective on the coffee: It comes courtesy of Omega Coffee Collective. It’s a startup located in nearby Chambersburg, just like the last coffee spot. It’s a boutique roaster that began operations on December 2nd, 2023. Actually, that’s when the store opened; they’ve been doing fairs and festivals since 2022. That’s how a lot of small coffee roasters get their start these days. The festival scene is booming.

I got the 12.02 blend. The name is a tribute to their opening date. It was a blend of South American “Washed Process” coffee and a “Natural Process” Ethiopian. In retrospect, that makes a lot of sense, given the flavor palette I was experiencing. There was an unmistakable chocolate flavor. There was also vanilla, though it didn’t present as vanilla on its own; rather, it mellowed the chocolate, which was otherwise quite pronounced. It was light but not too light; I’d say it was more robust than the previous offering, but it remained suitably jaunty for travelers on the go.

Go, I did. For a walk through history, I mean. There was a massive courthouse to the left as I walked back to my car, and I had to take a closer look. A war memorial overlooked a massive bandshell that was unfortunately unoccupied. Another thought quickly entered my mind: I want to see McConnellsburg at its most active. That wasn’t today. There are so many sites of interest here, but few seemed occupied at the moment, which left me wondering exactly when those moments might be. When does this town come alive? What do festivals look like here?

One lively location was a vintage store just starting to get settled. It’s called Guess Where Thrift, and there’s a manic assortment of clothes, books, old VHS tapes, DVDs, old bottles, and other interesting objects of the past kept safe for people like me who need a bit of that in our present. The Fulton County Chamber of Commerce advertised the grand opening on its Facebook page. I’ve never seen a town get behind a new business so actively. Sure, a CoC will often give a new place a shout-out, but there was actually an event: a Grand Opening on April 15th. The Facebook post for the event was full of comments from local people hoping to shop there soon. McConnellsburg isn’t just a small town; it’s small and close.

I’m writing this almost a month after my visit. April was busier than I’d thought it would be, and this adventure was far more involved than I’d assumed it would be when I started planning it. Clearly, the coffeehouse surge of 2020-2025 had a massive impact on Fulton County’s coffee culture. I hope there’s a festival around here soon. After all, May starts festival season, and events will be happening everywhere. Some have to be happening in or around Fulton County. In Bedford County, just to the west, a town called Everett looks promising. I’m not promising the next review will be there, but I should be traveling to festivals starting…well, starting now. That means more small towns, cultures, and coffees to explore over the next two months.

Until then, stay caffeinated!

the sign…

the plaque…

the place…

the menu…

the stuff…

the space…

the time…

the brew…

Two C’s. Two N’s. Two L’s. It’s hard enough to spell McConnellsburg. It’s even harder to get there, but I did exactly that on a cold April morning.

I took this trip right before the big heat wave hit Pennsylvania. As I type this, another freeze has replaced the heat. Neither will keep me from drinking coffee or going on a road trip, especially when it’s to a place I’ve long wanted to visit. I’ve had McConnellsburg on my mind for a while. It’s the county seat of Fulton County, PA. If you haven’t heard of it, I’m not surprised. It’s the fourth least populous county in the state. Known largely for its agriculture, Fulton County sits at the bottom of the state, surrounded by trees and mountains. It’s also filled with surprises.

The McConnellsburg Historic District was recognized in 1993 on the National Register of Historic Places. For a town of less than 1,200 people, that’s impressive. A staggering 144 structures make up the district, including Fulton House, a stone tavern constructed in 1793, and the log home of Daniel McConnell, built in 1760. There’s also a slew of Civil War markers and war memorial plaques, especially near the surprisingly large Fulton County Courthouse (which also sports a bandshell).

The ride into McConnelsburg was harrowing. You either have to take the Turnpike or head west from Chambersburg. Either way, you’re headed over the mountains and into an isolated valley, through either Cowans Gap State Park or past Tuscarora Summit. I would not want to drive through the latter in winter. Grades aren’t too steep, but the road is winding, and if you make the wrong move, the fall is, well, precipitous.

Amazingly, there wasn’t just one good coffeehouse here. There were two. The second deserves its own post, so hold yer horses, Pilgrims.

Only one showed up on Google Maps. It was The Daily Drip. From the name, I expected at least an approximation of bougie. I mean, it sounds a little hipstery, right? Wrong. The Daily Drip is high quality, but all business. It’s a drive-through coffeehouse. In operation since 2022 (please correct me if I’m wrong!), this location was at one time attached to Sister Suds, a local liquor shop, before moving to its current spot. It’s clearly a community staple; there was a line in the afternoon. There’s also a second location in Chambersburg, and Daily Drip was voted best coffeehouse in the Tri-State Area (I’m still trying to figure out which three states those are) in 2024 and 2025. It’s quietly a big deal here.

I didn’t know what to expect from the coffee. Naturally, the coffee wasn’t what I expected. I’ve no idea from where they source their coffee (they obviously have it roasted for them in specialty orders), and didn’t have time to ask because I was holding up the line, but now I want to know. It was smooth and leguminous from the outset. An almost peanutty taste and mouthfeel dominated, and although it was a lighter blend, there was nary a whiff of the astringency I expected. A really solid offering.

The only sad part was…no coffeehouse. At least, there was nowhere here to sit down, though I can see why nobody minds the lack. McConnellsburg is a crossroads for people heading through the mountainous south. Resorts abound in the Laurel Highlands far to the west, while farmers work fingers to bones in the fields between the ridgelines. Nature can be rough in Appalachia, especially when the seasons are confused in a Pennsylvania April. Hence, the need for coffee and for little towns like this to be centers of industry and community.

I’ll show two photos of the coffeehouse below. The rest will be of my walk around town. You might have noticed, I’ve started linking to sites of interest. I don’t think it detracts too much from the travelogue format and word flow. If it does, let me know. In another week or so (to let the post work its way through the algorithm), I’ll post the rest of this leg of the Journey. Until then, stay caffeinated!

the looming mountains…

the roadside history…

the welcoming sight…

the coffee shop…

the downtown street…

the cabin…

the courthouse…

the fulton house…

the story…

the history in paint…

It wasn’t just that there were two coffeehouses side by side. There were two magic-loving coffeehouses side by side.

After leaving the last coffee spot, I now had three beverages in my hands. One was my coffee from King Coal. Another, my hot chocolate from the same place. The third was, of course, the coffee I’d just bought at the wizardly place. That’s too many coffees and too few hands. I quickly chugged the cocoa, took two last, lingering sips of the coffee, and chucked the three cups into the nearest public trash can (of which there are many). Seriously, this town has Disney-level tourist infrastructure, down to a row of blue port-a-potties abutting one nearby alleyway. With only my backpack weighing me down, I began the long trek…next door.

As I said, two coffeehouses share the same half-block of space. I walked down a liminal alleyway between the two, and the preternatural appearance was prophetic: Curiosities Coffee and Ice House also has a magical ambience. Alright, they’re very distinct magical ambiences. The last was more of a wizardly den, while this one was more of a…Well, I don’t want to tempt copyright laws by saying it. Imagine rabbits. White ones. Think about tumbling down a ‘hole’ of sorts into a ‘wonderous land,’ if you will. It just gave that vibe.

It was also busy. I was second in line after a large group that just happened to order each dessert item (there is a large array of these) and every triple-dipper-mocha-choke-a-latte on the menu. A line rapidly formed behind me, but the staff handled it with aplomb. They’re probably used to it by now. It wasn’t even close to dinner at that time. It was barely three in the afternoon. I can see now how two coffeehouses can coexist in the same space: There’s indeed enough business for everyone.

The coffee was, appropriately enough, from Mauch Chunk Coffee Co. The roaster has been in operation since 2013. It’s nestled in the Pocono Mountains’ foothills and seems to be something of a local institution. I got the Honduran roast. Again, clearly small-batch-style craft coffee was in evidence here. It displayed the characteristic Honduran richness with subtle cocoa hints. They were very subtle in this case, with the coffee presenting itself as a lighter breakfast blend. I feel like I’m on repeat saying that. A lot of the coffee here in Jim Thorpe leaned light. Tourists on the go don’t need (or seem to want) the veritable meal that darker evening roasts can be.

With that last coffee in hand, I made my way up famous Broadway. The name is apt. There’s a gorgeous opera house (The equally well-known Mauch Chunk Opera House) on the way up the hill. I didn’t have time to catch a show, but there is a massive lineup of music planned for the spring and summer, including a bevy of tribute bands.

I kept walking for what seemed like forever, and finally, my last goal came into view: The Old Jail Museum. Finished in 1870, the jail was Carbon County’s prison until 1995. The Old Jail is most famous for its connection to the Molly Maguires, a band of Irish advocates for miners’ rights up here in coal country. Conditions were truly horrifying in those mines. Even so, debate rages as to whether the Molly Maguires were desperate, maligned freedom fighters or violent agrarian guerrillas. The truth is often somewhere in between and buried under the stones of history. “Self-help organizations” blurred into gangs, and the “businessmen” they confronted could be little more than parasitic robber barons. History is messy because the human mind and heart are.

Speaking of history’s stones, one stone in particular stands out here. Four men were hanged at the Old Jail on June 21st, 1877, known as the “Day of the Rope.” Before being executed, one of the men put his hand on the floor of Cell #17, stating: “This handprint will remain as proof of my innocence.” The handprint remains to this day, despite constant attempts to remove it. The Jail has become a pilgrimage site for paranormal investigators. No, I didn’t take a picture of it. I didn’t want to do that just for clicks, likes, and reportage. Reverence matters.

With that in my mind, I walked back down the hill, stopping at an art gallery (pictures weren’t allowed), then got back to my parents, who were having a grand time at the station. I wanted to savor the last few minutes in Jim Thorpe after waiting all winter to come here. That said, I also wanted to get home before the mad rush hour traffic on I-81 made dinner an iffy proposition. Getting out of town was fairly easy, but don’t try to cross two lanes of traffic to get going in the right direction. Go the wrong direction, then double back. Even the wrong direction is scenic here.

With that, our exploration of Northeast Pennsylvania is at an end (for now). So, what’s next? Is the blog ending? Oh, heck no. As Marine Corps General Oliver P. Smith once said, “We are not retreating. We are advancing in another direction.” The Journey is heading to a Pennsylvania county that few people have heard of, much less visited. I’m also going to start doing some new things here. All kinds of things.

Until then, stay caffeinated!

the coffee next door…

the liminal corridor…

the blue door…

the brews…

the seating and such…

that one roast…

that other roast (my roast)…

the walk…

the opera house…

the haunted (big) house…

The grade is steep. The learning curve isn’t.

Walking from the train station towards the attractions at the top of the hill on Broadway will give you a nice little exercise. It’s not too bad, really, as long as you walk a lot regularly; it’s more brisk than anything. And there’s the view. Jim Thorpe is a beautiful town. It’s a slice of Americana, a compactification of it into a few small city blocks. Brick buildings that have clearly stood since the 1800s mingle with newer residential spaces and shops geared towards the outdoorsy travelers taking advantage of the surrounding mountains and gorges.

When I said the space was compactified, I meant it. Shops are crammed into just about every building within a quarter mile of the train station. There are little plazas accessible only through alleyways. The sheer number of tourists ensures that they’ll never run out of business. I found two coffeehouses positioned right up against each other. I’ll tackle them one at a time.

The Coffee Shop. That’s what it’s called. Unofficially/officially. You see, this coffeehouse has a very specific theme. It has a wizardly theme. That theme could have been a bit more specific, but for copyright issues. As it stands, this coffee shop is generically wizardly. That’s actually a great thing. I like generally magical things, and magic itself lacks our mundane bounds.

The interior spoke to that magical tradition. Hard, dark wood and strung lights felt like a magician’s den. One aspect felt out of place: the big screen TV on the side wall. Granted, they were showing weird, fun movies, but still, a roaring fire might have been better. I must say, it did add to the ‘living room’ feeling I got when I walked in. I could play so much Dungeons & Dragons here. The folks at the counter gave off a ‘vibe’ of being a bit esoteric. Esoteric like me. As I alluded to in the last paragraph, I’m deeply into spirituality and philosophy, so this place felt like somewhere I belong. I wanted to spend longer there, but I also wanted to head further up the hill to see the famous Mauch Chunk Opera house, among other sites.

I got the house blend here, and it was Ethiopian. It came courtesy of Greenstreet Coffee Co. of Philadelphia. Eastern PA craft coffee once again finds itself in an Eastern PA coffeehouse. Interestingly, I didn’t get much citrus flavor. Rather, there were notes of bright fruit rounding out an otherwise smooth blend. It drank like a breakfast coffee, with a swift and airy feel. I wish I could have had more than a taste, but this was the second coffee I’d bought and the fourth I’d had since Friday morning. So it’s a sip only from now on, or I’ll be running in circles all night.

After spending far too little time at this shop, I headed up the street after asking one last question: Was that other coffeehouse next door part of this project? It wasn’t. My eyes had not deceived me; two coffee shops were housed in the same little block. I’d have to get one last sip of coffee before making the long walk to the opera house.

I’m typing this on Monday, and I’m running on maybe two hours of sleep. For some reason, it’s hard for me to come down from an active weekend. I lose track of the days, counting time in miles, and my brain keeps replaying everything that happened. In a week or so, I’ll post the third installment, which will take us not only to that one last coffee shop, but to a haunting story of Pennsylvania’s past.

Until then, stay tuned.

the downtown vista…

the monument…

the vague sign…

the mystery…

the cozy living room…

the mystical view…

the mystical brew…

You probably thought I fell off. You thought I’d never accomplish the mission. That northeastern Pennsylvania would never get the wrap-up it deserves.

Y’all thought wrong.

On a cold, blustery Friday following a major belt of overnight rain, my parents and I finally (after months of planning) set out on the road to the Ponono Mountains and the historic town of Jim Thorpe. Fun fact: The town was founded in 1818 as Mauch Chunk. It was only renamed to Jim Thorpe in 1954 after the famed Olympian was interred there. He had no connection to the town beforehand. Another fun fact: Mausch Unk means “Bear Place” in Lenape. They were one of the local Native groups.

Mauch Chunk was a coal town, pure and simple. Pennsylvania anthracite was shipped via the railway lines that form a core part of the region’s history. That history is too deep to give it justice in this space. From Molly Maguire hangings to unexplained hauntings, the town was a microcosm of eastern Pennsylvania’s heritage. Today’s Jim Thorpe is a tourist town.

The scenic splendor of railways and bridges between mountains and over gorges is the first thing you’ll notice on the ride into the little valley city. The second is the traffic. On a Friday, it wasn’t horrible, but I’d caution everyone: Don’t try to turn across two lanes of traffic. The stream of cars is constant in the southern part of town, where most of the tourist spots are.

One of those spots is the Lehigh Scenic Gorge Railway, a gorgeous steam-age passenger service. The Jim Thorpe Train Station is conveniently central. The cozy but bustling visitor’s center is adjacent to the ticket counter. Most importantly, a massive parking lot sprawls along the Lehigh River from the rail station back thousands of feet near the road we took to get in. The modest $8 they charge for a day of parking on Friday rises to $25 on weekends, but it’s still notably less expensive than in Harrisburg. The newfangled parking kiosks are absurdly complicated and sometimes faulty, but an attendant was on hand, and he proved to be far smarter than the ‘smart’ technology being deployed. Chalk up another win for analog.

King Coal Cafe is part of the railway attraction…an actual, physical component of it. It’s impossible to miss; a glossy, red, old-fashioned railcar sitting right across the tracks from the parking lot. A sign cautions people to go around to the front of the car, and a nice little stairway leads up into the car itself. Safety is really at the forefront here, and with the functioning trains constantly coming and going, that’s a good plan.

The railcar looks new and old at the same time. I discovered a reason for this: The cafe only opened last July. As historic as it is, there is still a “new house” feeling to the interior. Still, it’s plenty homey. Homey like “home,” not homey like your buddy. Or is that spelled homie? Anyhow, there’s a sprawl of comfort food available at the counter for those (like me) who are about to take a walking tour of the town or a train voyage. Burgers, kielbasa, and even Nathan’s hot dogs were on deck. There was plenty of coffee, too.

King Coal was serving Gerhart Coffee from Lancaster, PA. That’s an old roaster, in operation since 1880. That was a fun surprise; I have yet to really sample the Lancaster region (oh yes, that means we’ll get there eventually). Surprise: This isn’t going to be their coffee going forward. That honor will go to Firehouse Coffee of nearby Maxatawny. It was easy to tell that Gerhart was craft coffee. It was light, but it had backbone. I’m not sure what region mine hailed from, but there was a slightly flowery component to an otherwise nutty profile. Central American?

I also got a hot chocolate for myself and my parents (who footed the bill for the gas and drove). I have to say this was the standout. The coffee was good. The hot chocolate was phenomenal. I have no idea what they put in there besides extremely high-quality chocolate. It was only two dollars for a small one, which, again, is reverse sticker shock after paying capital city prices (I’m a resident, I can rag on it). It was like a savory milk chocolate right out of the Hershey factory. I’m plotzing, but for good reasons.

With coffee and cocoa in hand(s), we made our way to the visitor hub. My parents stayed there. They took one look at the enormous uphill grade that constitutes Broadway and noped out in favor of exploring the train area. I knew there was more coffee up that hill, so we split up, and I resolved to make the trek. That’s a story for next time. There was simply too much to pack into a single blog post without droning on, so you’ll be learning about Jim Thorpe and its oddly wondrous coffee culture in a series of installments. I’ll be posting something every other week.

Technically, there is no “until next time.” Next time has already happened; I simply haven’t written about it yet. So, just sit tight. The caffeiniation is coming your way.

the approach…

the car…

the all aboard…

the setup…

the view…

the hallway to somewhere…

the current roast…

the future…

I almost got to the Poconos this week. Oh, it’s still a go. The trip, I mean. I just ran into a little situation this month that commanded my attention. That situation was the beginning of festival season throughout Pennsylvania, but especially in populous Eastern Pennsylvania.

The Fire and Ice Festival happened on the 7th of March in Harrisburg. Ice sculptures lined the streets, and food trucks filled every closed-down roadway through the Capital. Thankfully, only a few roads had to be closed, most notably (in)famous Second Street. As you can see in the photos below, a spring thaw led to crowded streets and a need for caffeination.

One of those food trucks was actually a coffee truck…Hangar 33 Brew Collective from…well, that wasn’t entirely clear. What was clear was that this was an entirely new operation. Operations are nothing new to owner DJ, of the Pennsylvania Air National Guard. This one began late last year, and it’s still a small operation. DJ sells coffee roasted to order online (promising small batches and delivery in seven to ten days with free U.S. shipping) and has launched a massive food truck to bring coffee to the festival scene this spring. There’s another mission: to bring coffee to first responders.

The distribution company appears to be Temecula Coffee Roasters of California. I’ve heard of them. I’m not sure how much they’re doing for Hangar 33, but the connections in the coffee world are so interesting. Coffee businesses have to connect. Roasting is only the beginning, after all. There’s inventory storage, distribution, and overseas trade (because I’ve yet to see a coffee plant thrive in Pennsylvania).

I got a cold brew of their medium roast. They were only doing cold brews that day. I’ve no clue what was in the medium roast…OK, I have a set of forensic clues. A deep earthiness manifested as soon as I took a swig. To say “leguminous” would be selling it short. This was like baking cocoa, but without the distinct chocolate. Rather, it was distinct in its own regard for being so deeply loamy. It was probably Sumatran or Central American. Very satisfying on an afternoon when I shouldn’t have been drinking any coffee at all because I’d had some already.

Right now, I’m going through a terrible bout of insomnia. It lasts about a week and is horrifying. My brain doesn’t stop processing, and it’s hard to distract myself until the point of collapse comes, and I just give out, and finally get sleep. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. It’s part of the reason I didn’t get to the Poconos this week. If I don’t make much sense right now, that’s why.

I can only imagine how a neurological basket case like me would fare in the National Guard. Thanks to the folks who opt to serve of their own free will (like DJ), I probably won’t have to. I’m quite grateful. They deserve their lauds and success at home. I was proud to patronize this place.

Next month, if all goes as planned, we’re off to the Poconos. Until then, stay caffeinated. Or, maybe, don’t stay caffeinated if you need the sleep…

the festival…

the pleasant surprise…

the roast…

the oddly satisfying cup…

the ice…