Venturous Coffee Roasters

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Venturous Coffee Roasters

19 Aug

Well, that didn’t take long. Getting back out on the road, I mean. I didn’t expect to make it back into the mountains for weeks, but on August 3rd, the morning dawned crisp and clear, filling me with an overwhelming need to drive. I have to remember that feeling. I have to remember how driving off into the hills makes me feel. The truth is this: My life seems intent on lurching from one little crisis to the next without a stretch of peace. As the old adage says, the best defense is a good offense. As such, If life won’t leave me alone, I won’t leave it alone. I’m not trapped in here with it. It’s trapped in here with me. Time to stretch my legs and wander.

That particular bright-ish August day (there was still, if I remember, a bit of wildfire haze lingering in the air), I decided to head out to McVeytown to visit a coffeehouse I’d only seen as a name on a map app. If you’ve heard the name, it’s for a good reason. McVeytown is one of those mountain burgs which, when conservatives talk about leaving Harrisburg for good, has its name bandied about as a prime place to flee. When I pulled into town after a long drive, I could see why. McVeytown is past a certain distance from Harrisburg, within which everything is becoming hipsterized and gentrified. Even Newport in Perry County is rapidly becoming a Mecca for the arts community, and it has a boom-town feel. McVeytown is neither of those things, still very recognizable as a farming town nestled in a random valley between random ridges. There’s a profound peace to that.

It turned out that getting to Venturous was an adventure in and of itself. Blame Google Maps. The dot on the map that was supposed to correspond to the coffeehouse instead sent me to an empty brick building. After walking around the place a few times like a confused vagrant (which I pretty much am), I finally gave in and called them. A kindly girl answered the phone and guided me through the backstreets of McVeytown by centering me on the one landmark with which everyone in town is familiar: the gas station. I’m sure it’s where everyone hangs out because the main street of McVeytown didn’t have much infrastructure. What it did have were several historical buildings that I would have loved to stop and explore. For now, though, the coffee was my only goal.

What I discovered at the end of my roundabout journey was a flawless example of the theme of the past few posts: a melding of urbane and backcountry sensibilities centered around coffee culture. The women at the counter were dressed in the modest ways of Amish or Mennonite folk, though I didn’t press for specifics. The Kishacoquillas Valley to the north of here is home to several prominent Amish groups, including the Nebraska Amish. Barista Mary skillfully filled my cup with brew and my mind with facts about the shop.

Everything is roasted on-site, for one thing. I snuck a gander at the roaster, and it’s a gorgeous machine. They are their own company entirely. Here’s another interesting tidbit: They opened in May of 2021. Did you notice how many of these local, homegrown coffee shops up in the mountains opened in the shadow of the plague? This is a trend, not an anomaly. It is, I surmise, a case of necessity breeding either invention or resistance. I imagine there’s a bit of both. They’re also responsible: A half pound of the blend I got goes to the natives (of wherever it’s farmed, apparently) for every pound-size bag you buy.

Here’s something else: The written predictions of what I’d be tasting were spot on. My usual order of the house blend offering really paid dividends this time. It was called The Old Faithful blend. There were supposed to be hints of chocolate, dried fruit, and citrus, and there were all of these to some degree. I couldn’t really taste the citrus that well; this seemed far more like a Guatemalan or similar. The chocolate and dried fruit were there at the beginning and end of the swig, respectively. The acidity was well-balanced. Dark roasts usually flatten acidity, but this was still crisp, though the body verged on heavy. Everything just seemed to hit a bullseye here, matching robustness with ease of drinking.

This cafe would not have been out of place in the Harrisburg area. At least not visually. Everything from the Edison lights to the polished hardwood interior said urban sophistication and luxury. On the other hand, the values of the people running Venturous are country to the core. That doesn’t just fascinate me; it attracts me. Let’s just say I agree with Voltaire. People believing in something good is preferable to believing in nothing. I know a great many people who have a deep and abiding faith in nothing. I prefer the opposite. I contend that values do drive quality to a great degree and that this simple postulate does much to explain the amazing growth we’re seeing in the rural coffee scene.

My next trip should be to a town straight down the road from McVeytown: Mount Union. It appeared on the maps to be nestled snugly up against a few mountains, which should make for an awesome view when I get there and take me deep into forested Huntingdon County. Although I must say that if a beer festival takes me to a different mountain (say, the ones surrounding Bloomsburg, PA) you shouldn’t be too surprised. The hills are alive with the sound of percolation. The next update should be in a few weeks. Until then, stay caffeinated.