Monthly Archives: October 2024

At least we’re on the road to the mountains. That road would be Jonestown Road, heading east from Harrisburg and along the foothills of the Kittatinny Ridgelines. Those ridges separate the Appalachian region from the valleys and Piedmont. Jonestown Road connects to Route 22, a major artery heading west to New York City. Along that stretch of Route 22, just south of the ridgelines and amidst an endless patchwork of farms outside the tiny village of Grantville, you’ll find The Kitchen Cupboard Coffee & More.

Correction: You probably won’t find it unless you enter the Farmstead Farmer’s Market. This is one of many everything-markets that dot the Pennsylvania countryside. I’m fairly certain that almost everything is local. Obviously, most of the items in cans were canned by hand and not in a factory. The food is fresh and clearly hasn’t been shipped across the planet. Another clear sign: There’s a spaghetti sauce for sale here that tastes like the green-pepper tomato sauce you put on roast beef. Oh, you don’t do that? You’re probably not from Pennsylvania.

So, where’s the coffee? It’s in the second building, behind the first one you encounter after you hit the parking lot. This place is a little confusing. There are two farmer’s market buildings, but there appear at first to be three. On approach from the road, The Nest antique store is the first thing to catch your eye, but it’s not technically a part of the farmer’s market. The close proximity of food to nicknacks is either good fortune on the part of both of these operations or strategic planning, and I’m not sure which applies.

I almost didn’t even review this place. The reason being I was certain I’d done so before. Hadn’t this been one of the first coffeehouses I’d reviewed years ago when this blog began? As it turns out, I was half right. There was a coffeehouse here before for well over a decade. The Bean Cuisine was a local fixture until it came under new ownership in 2022. When I saw who the owner was, it floored me: Right there slinging coffee was Dave from D&B Pizza in Harrisburg! He even remembered my old lunch order from years ago when I’d stop in during work or weekends.

What he’s done with the place floored me, too. Not only is this a massive coffee operation, but it’s become a massive everything operation. The ‘& more’ part of the name was accurate. Spices, sugars, and grains are only a few of the specialty foods available on shelf upon shelf of space sprawled out in the middle of the market. One thing remained from the old days: the multicolored sign reading simply ‘coffee.’

Let’s focus on that coffee. There’s bag after bag of it. He was decidedly mum when I asked about the provenance. It’s sourced through a local outfit, though. You could tell that much by the quality.

Dave was full of advice on which brew to try. The first one was the proprietary Kitchen Cupboard blend. I dove in and got a full cup of it. Bear in mind, I have no idea what went into these blends because they’re all specialties, even the basic house offering. Kitchen Cupboard Blend was clearly aimed at the breakfast folks, even though it was the afternoon. It was a little tart and astringent in its raw form, but as soon as I put cream in it, the diner coffee taste disappeared and was replaced with a soft, almost neutral mellowness. Even after two cups in the morning, I could drink this now.

The second coffee was the one I should have had first. Dave had suggested that, but being me, I had to do it my way and got a mere sample of what could have been a cupful of something deeply unique. It was called ‘Smiling Is My Favorite.’ Apropos, it was my favorite, too. I’ll go out on a limb and guess there’s a strong New Guinea or Sumatran component to this blend. The baker’s chocolate verging on dark chocolate flavor was right there in front. It lingered strongly on the otherwise malty, toasted aftertaste. I’m a dark roast fanatic, and this was a beauty.

Final verdict: Kitchen Cupboard Coffee & More is a wonderland for foodies, tea drinkers, and coffee lovers alike. I’m not just saying that because I reconnected with someone who’d fed my cheese addiction for years. If variety is the spice of life, this burgeoning general store has spices to spare. There’s one downside, though: the hours. The farmer’s market is only open from 8-6 on Friday and 8-3 on Saturday. That’s a bummer for the morning work crowd, but it’s a boon for weekend adventurers like me and other savvy ingredient hunters looking for their next fix.

The next coffeehouse should legitimately be in the wilderness, but the coffee industry in the so-called ‘front county’ is blowing up, and that’s not my fault. It’s my pleasure. We’ll see which road bears me to beans in the coming weeks. Will it be east or north? Until then, stay caffeinated!

it may not look like much…

but it is much…

and it is more…

the new sign…

a lot more…

cozy…

the first coffee…

the second coffee…

the old sign…

antiques next door…

The famous painter Bob Ross coined the phrase “Happy little accidents.” Sometimes, he meant to paint a certain thing but ended up painting a different thing, which ended up being the better thing. The previous weekend (the weekend of October 5th), I had intended to go to Baltimore for an Oktoberfest. It was called “Das Best Oktoberfest.” It was going to be my Big Event of autumn.

I woke up that morning…and was absolutely not feeling it. I wasn’t in the mood for a long trip to the big city. I blame the fact that it was the first weekend after a massive, two-week bout of rain. Following that impulse (and my subsequent abandoning of the road trip), I was hit by a second sensation: the fear of missing out.

I decided that the proper corrective to all this was to go to a flurry of little festivals instead of one big one. Thankfully, I’d read about a few happening that weekend and fairly close to me. I went to four events. Yes, it was a tour de force of autumn-related awesomeness. One of them was the annual Oktoberfest held at Spring Gate Vineyard. It wasn’t that big, but the beer was good, and so was the music. Really, what else do you need from an Oktoberfest?

After that, I went cruising for more adventures. Full disclosure: My Mom and I cruised for adventures since my car’s tire inflation warning light came on at some point during the morning. I took that as a sign that I was right not to head to Baltimore. This was, in other words, fate, I think. I am wont to believe in such things.

I’d vaguely remembered that something was happening near Linglestown. I’d seen it before when we were looking for garden supplies; a sign on the road heading towards Blue Mountain. Blue Mountain is the unofficial start of the Appalachian Mountains. It’s the first ridge of the ridge-and-valley system once you head north out of Big Valley (the aptly named valley containing the capital). It’s the hill you look over when you wonder what lies ‘over the next hill.’

That is how I came upon Maple Valley Acres Community Fall Festival.

A Hallmark Movie. That was my first impression of this festival. If there is an ideal of the ‘fall festival,’ this was it. It was very well attended for what initially appeared to be a small, local neighborhood festival in the foothills of Blue Mountain. There were hayrides for the kids, and vendor tents stretching around the large barn in the middle of the field. There was even a wine tent, serving free samples from J&P Winery in Grantville. The scent of smoked food wafted off a giant barbeque rig near the road.

There was also coffee. Somehow, there was coffee. Coffeehouse-on-wheels Crema had a truck parked near the hayrides. Crema is another coffeehouse that began during the plague. The business started in 2021, to be exact, a long-contemplated labor of love for the owner (see the card below). I must have seen them at other events; after all, Crema is local to the Harrisburg area, and there has been a bevy of fall fests since the beginning of September! Even so, seeing them here amid a great green meadow made yellow by the afternoon sun was a beautiful surprise.

The coffee was as unexpected as the appearance of the coffee truck. It was from Dillons Coffee Roasters. No, not the big Dillons food store known for shipping fast quantities of coffee nationally. This was the smaller Dillons out of Sumner, Washington. Smaller is a relative term in this case, with Dillons Coffee Roasters having grown to over 1,500 clients since it opened shop in 1992.

Despite being on the road, Crema had no shortage of offerings (as you can see in the photo below of the menu). Even so, I wanted to go basic as usual to take an accurate measure of how they roasted and presented. The coffee I got was Dillons’ original medium roast. Brazil, Papua New Guinea, and Central America were the far-flung destinations represented by the beans in this mix. It was easy to tell. The Chocolate notes were all New Guinea. The smoothness and acid were clearly Latin. This wasn’t ‘good for festival coffee.’ It was exemplary for coffee in general. Half the enjoyment came from what a well-timed surprise this was.

With coffee in hand, my Mom and I walked back around the barn, past the animals on display, and into the field where the car was parked. By this time, the sun was only beginning to go down behind the ridge, but  Today, it all went together: the weather, the joy of the event, the scent of the farm, the taste of the coffee. This was autumn in the country.

Next, I should be heading north, for real this time. Lewisburg still looks good, with a burgeoning college scene and the Pennsylvania Wilds looking more and more wild as the fall turns to winter. On the other hand, this next weekend is the last big weekend of festivals before the majority of events become small and cold. OK, so, there are some signs that this year might be different in that regard, especially in Bloomsburg, where the fairgrounds are set to get a workout. If there’s any more stellar festival coffee to be had before we head far north to the Wilds, you’ll know about it.

Until then, stay caffeinated.

the festival…

the truck…

the vittles…

the philosophy…

the brew…

the countryside…

the mountain…

the info…

As I put pen to paper here (or pixels to pixels), I’m just getting home from a big weekend excursion. The ‘Coffee Spectacular’ mentioned in the title resulted from a trip to Orwigsburg on October 1st. Orwigsburg is a town far to the northeast of Harrisburg, PA. It’s nestled in a valley between several small ridges of the Kittatinny Ridge. I’d been planning a coffee trip soon, but the October 1st date wasn’t preferred; it was necessary. On the next day, I would be getting a dental filling. This was also the first day in ten that there weren’t torrential downpours, relentless mist, and persistent drear. The rain was, however, welcome since we were in a major rain deficit before this.

So, yeah, this trip resulted from a blatant need to get out of my head (and out of town) for a while. Sometimes, getting out of your head requires getting out of dodge.

I’d never been to Orwigsburg before. Orwigsburg was just a random small town on the backroads branching off from the interstate highways heading towards Allentown and Scranton. I’ve been to both places before; Carbondale is north of Scranton, and that was known locally for a UFO crash. Oh, I’m sorry, I mean a mistaken UFO sighting. The purported UFO was apparently just a railroad light that fell into a lake…and didn’t go out for two days…and the media was involved. What? Don’t you trust official stories by officials? Never mind. Forget I said anything.

Back to Orwigsburg. This town could be straight out of a movie. I said the same thing about the Allenberry Playhouse, but this is a whole town with that feel. It’s also slightly less Hallmark and a bit more Twin Peaks. OK, it’s not that weird. I did get the impression that it was full of happenings and intrigues. I apparently just missed a historical festival. There was an extremely fancy Italian restaurant and a few less fancy ones. People say everyone here knows each other, and agriculture is massively important. There are enough people (about 3000) to have vibrancy without anonymity.

The first coffeehouse I visited, 419 Market Cafe & Eatery was a sophisticated establishment. Though it was ostensibly a coffeehouse first, the space had a fine dining feel. A hardwood ambiance lit with the yellowish glow of Edison bulbs was partly responsible. The real draw was the amazing variety of country crafts adorning every spare nook and cranny. It looked like a gloriously apportioned antique store. There was nothing antiquated about the rather massive menu, though. Sandwiches, bagels, appetizers…usually a coffeehouse only has light fare. As a traveler, seeing a full menu is always a pleasant surprise.

While I was taking photos I met a pair of friends, one of whom was from Tampa, Florida. We were both blown away by the sheer variety (and deep beauty) of objects to be found. The building itself was a journey. You’ll see what I mean in the pics below. The guy at the counter said they’d been in business for about six years, though he added that time flies and wasn’t sure. That’s been my entire mood lately, to be frank.

The coffee itself took me by surprise. I’d assumed a place like this massively advanced would be roasting their own proprietary coffee, but they were primarily serving Dunkin’ Donuts and Pike Place today. At least, those were the only ones currently in stock. That latter one is from Starbucks. The best part of the coffee portion was the series of vintage containers and bean-grinding levers behind the counter. I have no idea where they acquired all this past-century coffee gear. I should have pried.

As an aside: Rural Pennsylvania absolutely loves Dunkin’ Donuts. It’s everywhere here. There’s also a huge demand for Starbucks, which I always found odd because of the positions Starbucks supports. However, I must say, my rural, conservative friends have (taken as a whole) been unlikely to opt for boycotts based on purity of worldview alone. That deserves a post of its own. I’ll get philosophical later. For now, back to the coffee.

I asked if there were any other coffee options. It turns out, they were squirreling away some Lavazza! That’s a fantastic Italian espresso company in business since 1895. I was saved. I had to wait for it to be brewed; they acted like that should have been inconvenient. They had no idea how giddy I was at the prospect of exploring the building with my camera in tow.

Neither Lavazza nor the barista (baristo?) disappointed me. Whatever this blend was, it was creamy and full-bodied, though not too rich. A soft, delicate flavor profile made it good ‘road coffee.’ OK, that’s entirely my phrase, but there is a certain kind of coffee that gives a needed perk on a road trip. This was emblematic of the concept, and fit well with the fact that everyone in this place appeared to be a traveler. If you are a traveler, I suggest a stop here; it’s the first non-chain coffeehouse along the road coming up from Route 61.

From this cafe, I went searching for a second coffeehouse I’d seen advertised on my map program. Good old Google didn’t lead me astray this time. The second coffeehouse was called Market Square Coffee House. This venue looked more like the archetype of a coffeehouse. There was a little shelf full of books on the way in. It was bustling with early afternoon foot traffic. It just had the feel of a place that attracted a more typical coffeehouse clientele than 419. Most people seemed local, or at least in town on local business. As was the case at 419, an array of baked goods was on sale. Also like 419, there was a wide variety of coffee options on point. Market Square was also more chic and fast-paced.

Again, the ambient energy of the place was so different from the more past-oriented and art-suffused motif of 419 that the differences were almost entirely the result of it. Again, you’ll have to look at the photos to see what I mean. Contrast the yellow walls of Market Square with the aged wooded alcoves of 419. Both were worth the drive simply for the reminder of how diverse the coffeehouse experience is in its visual expression. Scratch that; it was a reminder of how different the experience can be and why this Journey is necessary for uncovering those expressions.

The coffee here was very distinctive. I was given a blend called Lionheart from Homestead Coffee Roasters out of nearby Upper Black Eddy, Pennsylvania. The blend was Guatemalan, Ethiopian, and Colombian. The package said there were hints of nectar, jam, and chocolate. I got the chocolate at the beginning and the finish, but ‘nectar’ and ‘jam’ felt slightly off. I tasted more of a citrus and fruit reflection of the Ethiopian component. Either way, despite its dense structure, the blend was aesthetically complex. That was a great coffee to end this leg of the Journey.

I actually went to Market Square twice. After leaving with the coffee, I looked for pizza to augment the sandwich I’d brought with me. Finding nothing that suited my admittedly particular taste, I returned for pastry. Sure enough, there was a gigantic blueberry muffin in the case. It was fluffy and ideal. I had one regret: that I didn’t have time to hike. Orwigsburg is practically a trail town, though it’s never counted as one. It’s only a few miles from an Appalachian Trail entry point to the east. Instead, I cut through Schuylkill Haven to the west to head home. There’s another burg I’ll have to make time for.

With that, I was back on the highway, heavy one jar of local honey I bought at Market Square and a bevy of new plans for the future. Those plans involve coffee. Spoiler. Yeah, the big secret is coffee. The big secret here is always coffee. Next time, I’m reviewing the coffee I had only a few days ago at a festival. By the time I do that, I’ll probably be making plans for another trip up the road, this time to Lewisburg. It’s a college town right on the border of the Pennsylvania Wilds. We’ve been there before on this Journey, but it’s changing rapidly as college life reverberates around the valleys of the Susquehanna River.

Until next time, stay caffeinated.

419…

the interior…

hardwood…

upstairs…

coffee…

downtown right…

downtown left…

up next…

the books…

the menu…

the roast…

the view…