Author Archives: coffeehouseguy80

I’m just going to be honest: I had no idea what a ‘drinkin’ pretzel’ is, and I didn’t ask. Call it poor journalism if you want to. This isn’t journalism. Fine. Technically, this is a journal. I think of it as a rough log that never becomes smooth. Those are nautical terms: The ‘rough log’ is the first version of the ‘captain’s log,’ and the ‘smooth log’ is the thing that becomes official. This blog will never be official.

This portion of the Journey certainly wasn’t official. At least, it hadn’t been anticipated. The plan was to go directly into Mount Carmel and possibly points north. Not until I checked the map twice to see how to get out of the mountains most expediently did I notice a coffeehouse to my south. It was located in the town of Pine Grove. I know what you’re thinking; Pine Grove is on South Mountain. Well, yes there is, however, there’s another Pine Grove up here in coal country.

Interestingly enough, this Pine Grove is also near the Appalachian Trail. About two miles to the south is a sizable trail parking spot along with a cluster of historical locales like the Pilger Ruh historical marker and several ‘lookout’ sites that are rather dangerous but offer breathtaking views of the valley below. I took advantage of the clear weather to take a nice little hike on the trail as I headed home. More about that later.

Pine Grove is another town that embodies the former Pennsylvania coal mining settlement lifestyle. Until 1862, Pine Grove was home to a branch of the world-famous Union Canal. This branch connected Swatara Creek to Union Water Works and was used to ship (you guessed it) anthracite. These days, much of the area is a state park, and the entire region is replete with historical sites like Nutting Hall and Pine Grove Theatre, both of which are on the National Register of Historic Places. A Lutheran church existed here as early as 1782, and it was among the first buildings, showing just how organically and haphazardly settlement took place here in the heady frontier days of Pennsylvania coal.

Stepping into Sweet G’s Bakery, I didn’t know exactly what to expect. It’s marketed as an eatery, but coffee was definitely on the menu, or at least that’s what the map indicated. Not being one to trust the Internet, I kept my coffee from the last place close at hand in case there wasn’t any coffee, or if they were exclusively serving chain-store coffee. It was a close call: They almost gave me Folgers.

OK, I like Folgers…for general use. I want something more distinctive when I’m out and about. Somehow, the woman behind the counter knew that intuitively. I don’t know how or why, but hidden in a cupboard was a craft roast they use specifically for lattes and other fancy drinks. I shouldn’t have been that shocked; rural Pennsylvania loves its big chain, powerhouse roasters. Cheap but powerful is how people tend to take the coffee, especially the truck drivers who forge their way up the mountains daily. Thankfully, Sweet G’s knew to keep everyone’s options open with a special stash.

The coffee I got came courtesy of Mississippi Mud, a coffee wholesaler out of St. Louis, Missouri. They’re big, but not well known; I’ve never seen their products in Pennsylvania. Dancing Dogs was the name of this particular roast. It was a medium roast and advertised chocolate, berry, and raisin notes. I got all of those notes in a melange. The almond milk I had in the latte drowned out a bit of the richness that occurs with a roast like this, but this particular roast was only currently available in latte form. Even so, it was an excellent blend.

I was surprised to find a craft latte up in the mountains at all. Sweet G’s is as modern as its surroundings are historical. The cafe has only been around for about four and a half years. The newness shows in the fresh, upbeat surroundings, especially the exterior which would have been hip downtown. I’m picturing this place as a centerpiece of the growing community here. Yes, the roughly two thousand residents added a few to their number this year. Given the virtues of small-town living in a hypermediated age, I wouldn’t be stunned if we started to see the young professionals heading back to the countryside. Time will tell. Those sophisticated folks will need a space of their own. We know that space already exists: the coffeehouse.

Oh, and by the way, I finally figured out what a ‘Drinkin’ Pretzel’ is, and there’s a reason I’m capitalizing it now: It’s proprietary! It’s a trademarked thing. Drinkin’ Pretzels are these flavored hard pretzel chunks that look like a dentist’s nightmare and a gluten lover’s dream. I’m the gluten lover in question. A meal without bread just doesn’t feel substantive to me. I held back from getting any vittles this time, but when I return (and I will), I need to remember there is a crunchy, bready meal waiting when I get off the trail.

Ah yes, the trail. I decided to take the long way home, down Route 501 and over Blue Mountain. In doing so, I came upon an entry point for the Appalachian Trail. I didn’t have my bear spray handy, so I didn’t wander far. This is the time of year when bears eat the last of their dinner before hibernation. I wasn’t keen on being that dinner. It had recently rained, and the mountain sky was clear and blue. Autumn has just begun to fade into winter here, and that afforded a chance to see through the trees to the valley below the ridgelines. Climbs here are steep, but that’s what I like about them. It’s a beautiful challenge. At one point, the trail looks like it’s curving up to meet the sky.

As the sun sank deeper toward the earth, I packed up my trekking poles and put my boots on the gas pedal. It was time to go home. At least the car didn’t blink any disturbing lights at me this time. The next entry should be even further afield. I want to head northward into the mountains in both directions (northwest and northeast) to examine what the deep wilderness beyond the river valleys is doing with coffee. Many of these towns are very isolated. That makes them very interesting. I want to get across the Maryland and West Virginia borders soon (I’ve reviewed coffee in Baltimore in a previous entry), but, for now, there’s a lot left to explore in Pennsylvania.

Until next month, Happy Thanksgiving (and stay caffeinated).

the main drag…

more of town…

sign, sign…

everywhere, a sign…

self explanatory…

the seating…

the roast…

the liminal seating…

the woods…

the trail…

I like my coffee black as coal. I want no part of it if one can confuse it for tea. It’s only right that I’d eventually reach the heart of Pennsylvania’s anthracite country looking for a strong cup of coffee. A little background: Pennsylvania’s coal-mining country lies well northeast of the capital in the branch of the Appalachians spreading inexorably into New York. Anthracite coal is known as the most carbon-rich and clean-burning form of coal, and it’s been Pennsylvania’s trademark for centuries. This has resulted in an amazing number of ‘boom towns’ having emerged over the years nestled in the valleys and ‘hollers.’

I might have said this is Pennsylvania’s former coal-mining country, but that wouldn’t be accurate. As of 2022, Pennsylvania produced 2,357 short tons of anthracite and 37,345 short tons of bituminous coal (most of the latter being mined from the southwest region of the state. The coal industry isn’t what it once was in this state. Most of the forested mountains in Pennsylvania state were denuded of trees in the process of mining them in the 1700s. Thankfully that disaster is over. In its wake is a region being slowly retaken by nature as populations fall. Even so, beautiful small towns persist here.

Mount Carmel, situated in eastern Northumberland County, is one of the most iconic of these towns. Like coffee, the borough fills the ‘cup’ of the mountain fold it sits within from ridge to ridge. Towns tend to spread organically in the valleys, but Mount Carmel is a tight grid of buildings that includes two discernable ‘main streets.’ The area was settled in 1770, but Mount Carmel didn’t become an incorporated township until 1854 and wouldn’t be a borough for eight more years. Coal was the reason for settlement, so in many cases, the mines came long before the towns did.

This town embodies the friction between the past and the future in Pennsylvania. It’s rich in history and people, but unfortunately, much of that population is leaving for supposedly greener pastures. From a height of about 18,000 people in 1930, today’s population is less than a third of that. Even so, civic pride waxes high here, and I discovered hotbeds of local activity; individuals keeping the flame of culture burning in the heart of coal country. I came with the express purpose of visiting one that’s existed for 27 years: Cinnamon Stix Coffee and Gift Shop.

OK, first of all: This place is Christmas incarnate. When I heard the phrase ‘gift shop’ attached, I expected tchotchkes. Nothing prepared me for the sheer number of gifts available for sale here. As it turned out, the first floor was only the beginning. I went upstairs through a narrow stairwell, the woman at the counter had told me there were places to sit and hang out. That was quite an understatement.

Each upstairs room contained a different set of odd delights. A different delightful setting, I should say. ‘Delightful’ isn’t a word I use lightly, especially as a fortysomething guy. It’s gotta mean something if a guy with an unkempt red beard goes and says it. Seriously, there were more ways to relax than I have ever seen in a coffeehouse. One room was a Christmas wonderland. Another had what looked like an old English tea table. Yet another had a streamlined, modern setup. There was even a pink bedroom. Yes, it was open to the public. I didn’t stay long, though, eager to head back downstairs to explore the rest of the town. But first, let’s talk about the coffee.

The beans came courtesy of Basin Coffee Co. in Danville. Danville is a town to the northwest of Mount Carmel and it’s home to several coffee roasters if Google Maps is to be believed. Clearly, I’ll have to investigate further. I got a nice medium Columbian roast. The freshness was the standout characteristic here. Here was a case where the local nature of the roast manifested immediately. It was nice and mellow, with well-balanced acids. The structure existed (I would say) because the beans weren’t too aged. It’s the same in most cases. This is why it’s good to source locally, and there seems to be a real network of local roasters here in coal country, similar to the Amish roasters you’ll find elsewhere in rural PA.

With coffee in hand, I set out to explore the rest of the town. One thing became immediately obvious: This is a close-knit community. Everyone at the lunch joint I went to seemed to know each other. Events were advertised on shop windows. I stopped at the library. Outside were free books, one of which I snapped up. Children played inside. A woman at the counter lamented that nobody comes in except to use children’s services and how members of former clubs are passing away. The library itself was beautiful and the staff cared. I wanted everyone else to care that much.

Vibrancy, however, clearly remained in the form of a fantastic bookstore called Secondhand Rows. This place was paradise for book nerds. Books were stacked haphazardly (which is how I stack them at home). It seemed there was a book for every topic, even a selection of witchcraft-related tomes, likely for Halloween. After resisting the urge to shop, I headed back up the mountain that would eventually lead me home. In fact, I didn’t take the direct route home, but that tale will have to wait for next week.

This was only Part One of the Anthracite Tour. Thanks to my penchant for taking the long way to anywhere, I found even more coffee on the way home. In this instance, I came down to Route 81 through twists and turns through the mountains and gaps between them. Until then, stay caffeinated!

the road in…

the road out…

the sign…

the season…

the coffee…

the gifts…

the coal…

upstairs…

also upstairs…

the melody…

the friend…

the time…

the bookstore…

the long road home…

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…

Remember when I said sometimes the trail of this coffee journey would depend greatly on the festival circuit? The New Cumberland Apple Festival, located near where the mouth of the Yellow Breaches Creek empties into the mighty Susquehanna River near the capital city, proved on a rainy day in September to be the perfect storm of coffee.

Coffee culture isn’t a static thing. Arguably the most important part is the art of the brew. Sure, the venue is paramount. The coffeehouse itself is the institution we’re journeying to, so the quality of that space is crucial. That’s part of the art, though. I’ve rarely found a cafe where the one did not reflect the other. Either there’s good coffee and lovely surroundings, or both are phoned-in. Art tends to be present or absent. You can make art anywhere.

One place you can make coffee art is in a food truck. Wherever there’s a fall festival, you’ll usually find food trucks. These days, though, an increasing number of coffee carts are hitting the trail. It’s worth mentioning that roadside coffee has been popular for a long time on the West Coast. In the Pacific Northwest, roadsides are dotted with small coffee stands with little more than a cart and some chairs and tables in the great outdoors for thirsty travelers.

Those mostly wooden constructs are no less artistic than an indoor coffeehouse. Food trucks differ only by not being static. Instead of you coming to the coffee, the coffee comes to you. I could see three coffee stops here at the Apple Festival, and all were doing a brisk trade. That wasn’t surprising given the number of attendees. There were over a hundred seller’s tents, a full band under a giant gazebo, and an entire street was filled with food. There must have been thousands of people in attendance during the day.

The first little impromptu cafe I stopped at was called Revival Coffee & Espresso. You have no idea how hard it was to conduct an interview with the barista as the maddening crowd formed a line behind me. Even so, we managed, and I discovered they were from New Oxford, PA, and had been around since 2015. They were a machine; clearly, they had prepared for plentiful customers. The quality didn’t suffer at all, though. Their beans, after all, are roasted right here in Central PA. I was given a medium-dark mixture. The flavor was right at the border of leguminous and nut-like. It wasn’t overpoweringly so; there was more of a pervasive earthy aroma mixed with a piquant but mellow acidity. I’ll be keeping an eye on New Oxford!

Continuing down that row of foods and beverages, I walked past another coffee truck. It was literally a hundred feet from Revival and was called Quinn’s Coffee Bar. I had no time to stop. Actually, I had no remaining hands! One was full of coffee, the other had a bag of apple dumplings. I did take a parting (camera) shot of the truck so I (and you) can remember the name. Help me out. If you know where these people are from, or where they’re going, give me a heads-up.

As I made my last rounds, I finished one coffee and prepared for another. Thankfully for my stomach, it would be my last. This time, it was coffee for a cause. The cause was The Link 4 Youth, a charity formerly known as Medard’s House. It’s located in New Cumberland, and the operation offers life skills and empowerment to young people in need. They raised funds at the festival by selling coffee graciously donated by Lancaster County Coffee Roasters. There were two blends available: Witches Brew and Pumpkin Batch.

I got the Witches Brew. I was told it would have an apple flavor, and I thought since I’m at an apple festival with an armload of apple pastries, I might as well go all-in. I’ll be honest, given the festival setting (and the age of the coffee pourers), I thought I’d be getting a face full of coffee-flavored apple juice. I should have known better. Lancaster County Coffee Roasters produced a subtle work. Sure, it was enzymatic like all fruity coffees, but that’s all it was. Nobody added sugar or bogus flavoring. Those little baristas-in-training kept the quality on point, too, and they resisted the urge to dilute.

And with that last coffee drunk, I left the festival in the now-misting rain for the long walk back to my car. I felt bad for the everyday person trying to navigate New Cumberland on festival day. Parking was ‘anywhere you can find it,’ which meant a few harrowing moments of navigating the backstreets of town. Residents were making the most of the crowd, though, with many having yard sales that day. In that way, the festival was extended from the borough park to the entire town. I love that kind of civic pride and hope to see more of it as the Journey continues outward over the next few weeks.

Until then, stay caffeinated…

tents and more tents…

the first truck…

the call to action…

i feel ya, lady…

the charity…

option one…

option two…

now we’re on the trolley…

musical accompaniment…

thank you borough park…

Mere days remain until autumn as of this writing…officially. It’s still warm and sunny here in Central Pennsylvania. I’m of two minds about that. On the one hand, the end of summer means no longer being pressed into the pavement by the relentlessness of summer weather here. On the other hand, it means the countdown to short and frigid days.

Pennsylvania’s weather is unique and extreme. Summers feature a combination of humidity without rain, heat without wind, and sun without shade. Winters are the exact opposite of all those attributes. In between those extremes lies a veritable paradise. Spring and autumn in Pennsylvania are three to five weeks of epic beauty and perfect temperatures. As fleeting as they are, they’re worth anticipating.

Now that summer is ending, I anticipate more coffee runs. The Breeches Cafe in Boiling Springs, PA, is a good place to end summer (or kick off autumn) in that regard. You might remember our Coffeehouse Journey journeying to Boiling Springs before. That was to visit Caffe 101. That cafe is still there. The Breeches is located just outside the town proper at Allenberry Resort. Allenberry is locally famous for having a variety of performances take the stage at Allenberry Playhouse, located in the main complex of resort buildings. As resorts go, Allenberry has everything, from posh spas to fly fishing.

The Breeches looks like a ‘resort’ coffeehouse. It’s trendy and modern but infused with a massive amount of rustic charm. I considered not reviewing The Breeches because it’s a ‘resort’ coffeehouse. They’re too corporate, right? They fall under the category of chain coffeehouses, don’t they? Little deep conversation can take place in an establishment created just to cater to the transient needs of transient people. I know that’s what you’re thinking. That’s what I was feeling at the outset.

The ‘rusticness’ is a little staged, with just the right colors and precisely the right amount of bric-a-brac on the walls, but let’s remember, Allenberry is very much a stage. There is literally a stage. When you go to a resort (whether you admit it at the time or not), you want your expectations to be catered to. You want the idealized version of the setting you’re immersing yourself in. The Breeches is the ideal of a mountainside, trail-town cafe. I felt like relaxing on those comfy couches following a long hike in the forest. It embodies that particular feel to an even greater extent than Caffe 101.

Here’s the big confession: I don’t think that’s bad. There’s nothing wrong with artifice. That’s what all art and crafting is: attempting to bring a form, a thought, into the physical world. Follow the logic, and you’ll probably conclude that the world could use more staging, not less. Intent. That’s the word I was looking for. Consider how in a Hallmark movie set, where a perfect small town is built to inhabit if only for a while, there’s the intent here to recreate a worthy ideal. The idea itself is beautiful. I am a Hallmark movie apologist, and as beauty and innocence suffer attacks in the name of ideological gamesmanship, I become ever more so as time progresses.

We want the virtues of a thing like The Great Outdoors without the flaws. Ergo, creating a place that reflects that aim can’t be bad. The coffeehouse is part of an enterprise striving to embody the paragon of a certain notion. That’s honestly wonderful. There’s nothing less than artistic about the performance art that happens here. I think people are inspired by this space. They’re definitely well-fed. There was a plethora of bready pastry treats available.

The coffee was as much of an emotional roller coaster as the aesthetic was. The beans are sourced from John Gross & Company. That’s a rather massive food services supplier from nearby Mechanicsburg. It’s local. But, it’s not local…right? JG is a large distributor. You might guess I was worried at this point. A coffeehouse with big-store coffee. What could go right? The answer: a lot could go right. A lot did go right. Let me explain:

The roast I had was the ‘Signature Blend.’ That could mean anything, obviously, so I was bracing myself for the standard astringent diner-coffee fare. It was not that at all. There was only a hint of that taste. The rest of the flavor palette was a sumptuous nuttiness smoothed with an even acidity. Well-balanced, I mean to say. I don’t know whether the ‘Signature Blend’ is truly that good, or if the barista making it was just that adept. She was clearly one of those engaged people who knew her job and cared. Care matters. Care is the arm of decision in the coffee world.

Before this experience, I had never been to Allenberry, either the resort or the playhouse. After this, I’ll certainly return to experience one or both (and hopefully both). That’s the thing about Allenberry and places like it. They end up offering exactly what they aim to. Someone like me who needs to escape to a place on the exciting ontological borderlands of Nature and man will get exactly that. We’ll get good coffee, too, if this visit was any indication.

Note: The frequency of posts on this site should probably pick up quickly over the next few weeks. There is a slew of new coffee spots emerging around here and beyond. Additionally, the weather is nigh ideal for heading north into the Wilds and northwest into the deeper Appalachians. That’s right: Certain new coffee spots in non-Lancaster Amish country could use a little publicity and patronage. We’ll be tending to them in October and November, along with a few small coffeehouses associated with certain rural Pennsylvania universities.

And with that, I’m off to a poetry night downtown. No, I don’t have the poem done yet. Or, maybe I do. I might do the poem and then come back to finish the rest of this blog entry. That might render it less organic in the process. Oh, well. Freeform is overrated. Intent matters, and I intend to write a ton of words, by hook or by crook.

Until next time, stay caffeinated.

the playhouse…

the signage…

one side…

and the other…

high tech…

low tech…

the beans…

children’s pond and townscape…

Did I ever need a trip to the country! City life is fun until the construction vehicles dig the same section of road outside your home for weeks. Especially when they park their loud equipment outside your house at 6:00 AM. Then, the hustle and bustle is more of a hassle. Then, the local government’s empathy for its citizens is discovered to be somewhat lacking. Then, it’s time to get the heck out of dodge and run for the hills…or, at least a different part of the valley.

That’s where I went this past week: a different part of the Great Valley region. The Journey has focused on the mountains north and west of Harrisburg lately, but I thought it was time for a shakeup. This leg of the Journey takes us to the outskirts of Myerstown, to the east of Lebanon. For my out-of-state readers, that description likely clarifies nothing. Suffice it to say, it’s out in farm country. The drive to Myerstown was gorgeous. I found myself navigating an endless network of small country roads. Glades and hills blend together in the mind. It’s as easy to get lost as it is to find yourself.

Timber Creek Coffee offered a surprise. It’s a high-tech, streamlined, modern-style coffeehouse…frequented by a conservative Mennonite community. Yep, I think we’ve found more Amish coffee. I don’t know, for certain, whether the owners or operators are Amish, but the attire was nigh-unmistakeable. Once again, Amish coffee operations are experiencing a rapid growth spurt. Timber Creek was opened about a year ago, putting it right in the middle of the timeframe of explosive country coffee growth.

Often, we’ve found on this Journey that these rural coffee shops have represented a melding of cultures. This cafe exemplified the phenomenon. The angular, modernistic architecture was a work of dignified beauty. The cream paneling, dark brown finishes, and Edison lighting would be cutting-edge even in the context of the capital city. Out here, the contrast with the bucolic surroundings was stark. I saw no Bible verses on the walls, but you could all but see them in the hearts of the modest young people working here. Laptops sat open at desks as the sun rose on fields outside.

Another standout characteristic: This place is clean. I mean, really clean. Even the restrooms. I’m not talking about the spotlessness of sterility. Rather, it’s the cleanliness of care on display here. Could it be that the work ethic of the farmer and the existential grounding of spirituality are necessary to sustain modernity and modernist institutions like the coffeehouse? I would make the claim that it does. I would go further, and say that this melding represents a golden opportunity to distill the best of both cultures. Deploying modern technologies obviously isn’t changing how these quite spiritual folk present themselves or behave toward others. The rural surroundings don’t alter the fact that Timber Creek’s partons are a cultural cross-section of Central Pennsylvania. This cafe isn’t a juxtaposition. It’s a synthesis.

The coffee was also something of a surprise. It’s neither local nor chain. It’s from Ohio! I’ve never had anything from CrimsonCup Coffee & Tea before, so I had no idea what to expect from it. One good sign: They founded a program called Friend2Farmer. Friend2Farmer seeks to deepen the concept of sustainability in coffee farming by ensuring that farmers receive a fair share of the actual coffee sales. The founder of CrimsonCup (Greg Ubert) got the idea after working with small farms in Honduras and Guatemala.

As was the case in several other locations, the blend was a mystery substance. Let’s put on our thinking caps: We have a provenance in Central America. It was called Amanda’s Blend. It was intended to be a medium roast, but the mouthfeel was that of a light roast. I’m going with the idea that this was at least primarily a Central American coffee. The package did advertise the blend as smooth and nutty. It was certainly both of those things but in measured quantities. If the roast had been darker, I would contend that those notes probably would have been more pronounced, but that’s just splitting hairs. This was an excellent blend, but I believe it was meant to be a breakfast blend.

So, if you’re planning to make your way through the eastern Pennsylvania countryside, it’s worth making a pit stop at Timber Creek. One more thing: A local informed me that Myerstown is home to one of only three postcard museums in the U.S.A. It was closed when I stopped by, but I am far from giving up.

Where we go next on this Journey depends upon how much sleep I get over the next few weeks. Coming up on weekends, there will be festivals, so expect an alignment of goals. Some will be far afield, ranging from Maryland to northeast Pennsylvania (NEPA). There’s bound to be coffee, even if only a coffee truck. For the record, that’s fair game. Coffee trucks, I mean. Roadside craft coffee posts are big in the Pacific Northwest, and putting the concept on wheels just seems like a natural evolution. It’s still a place for congregation, conversation, and caffeination.

Until next time, keep yourselves caffeinated in the manner you see fit.

the welcome…

the exterior…

the interior…

the sentiment…

the modern architecture…

the roast…

the center of town…

the streets…

Into the wilds.

A few months back, I’d hinted that we’d expand the Journey into the Pennsylvania Wilds region. For readers unfamiliar with this part of the Keystone State, the Pennsylvania Wilds stretches across a great swath of the north-central part of the state. Here, eight major forests covering over two million acres blanket the countryside in an ocean of green. The Pennsylvania Grand Canyon and the glorious Cherry Springs dark sky site are fixtures of the region.

People come here to escape from an overabundance of civilization, which means if you want something like fancy coffee, you often have to make a journey of it. That sounds like a challenge.

Lewisburg is (unofficially) the line of demarcation between the Wilds and the Valleys of the Susquehanna to the south and east. Elevation starts to increase, as does the level of solitude on the drive north. Watsontown, a town of about 2,500 people, lies only a few miles to the north, in the panhandle of Northumberland County, but it’s clear when you drive Route 147 north from Sunbury that something has changed. Outside Watsontown, this thoroughfare becomes 180 and heads north into Williamsport, the Paris of the Wilds. Oh, we’ll be heading there eventually.

Confession: My dad drove me. We had been planning to tackle a coffeehouse together for months, and then finally, on July 8th (between heat waves and thunderstorms), we got the perfect opportunity. The area north of Sunbury is the ancestral home for branches of our family tree, so I figured this would be an interesting jaunt for that reason alone…as long as we don’t stop and talk to anybody for hours. Stealth mode time.

It was a wild ride into (and out of) Watsonville. You go immediately from a veritable superhighway down an off-ramp into small-town America. Something I loved right away about Watsonville was free parking. There was also a “glass shop,” wink-wink; a place for the silicon arts, hint-hint. I didn’t like our inability to get a satellite connection for Google Maps. OK, truthfully, it’s liberating to know there are some places the signal doesn’t reach.

It was a short walk from our parking spot to Wagging Tail Coffee Company. Adorable is the word I’d use to describe the cafe, and I don’t blithely toss that word around. It was pink. It was white. It looked like one of the confectionary sweets sold here. The walls were festooned with oddball phrases, some clearly the product of a passionate dog lover (see below).

One thing I learned right away: This isn’t the only Wagging Tail location. It began as a food truck back in 2019. Then, another popped up in nearby Allenwood in 2021. Next, this shop opened in 2022. Just last year, another branch emerged in the nearby town of Muncy. That’s right: During what might have been the most challenging years in American history, the Solomons (the owners’ last name) crafted a rapid and bountiful expansion for their startup. It’s a pity I didn’t get to chat with them when I visited. I bet that story is worth hearing.

The coffee is certainly worth tasting. Apparently, Wagging Tail contracted with Fresh Roasted Coffee, LLC. They’re a local roaster located south of Watsontown in the larger burg of Sunbury. Alright, the name “Frest Roasted Coffee” might sound a bit vague and generic to the uninitiated. Fortunately, their coffee is neither of those things! Instead, what I found was a shockingly stalwart breakfast blend. Yes, you heard right. I found a breakfast blend I like. The roast is proprietary, and the barista was tight-lipped, guarding the recipe like a state secret. I don’t really blame her.

I’m going to speculate, here. I think it was an Indonesian coffee. It had a dense mouthfeel but lacked the undertones of chocolate that many South American blends with a similar acidity possess. There was a prominent fruit flavor, but it wasn’t citrus like an Ethiopian usually is. This was more of an umami flavor. Overall, the flavor profile spoke to a convergence of regions. Either way, it was a beautiful mystery.

Slowly, but surely, we’ll be winding our way out from Harrisburg again over the fall. I want to head further into the Wilds. There might be a few fall festivals worth attending around Williamsport, and the deep country town of Liberty also looks promising! Expect a few local coffee trucks to be reviewed as the Journey heads to various late-summer festivals. Until then, stay caffeinated.

the wilderness in the distance…

watsontown…

the middle of somewhere…

the signage…

the view from inside…

dogs and disco…

the beans…

the info…

New Bloomfield. Most people have probably never heard of it. For those who do, it mostly means the county seat of Perry County, Pennsylvania. Everyone thinks that honor belongs to Newport. Newport is the cultural hub of the county, after all, home to multiple cafes and boutique shops. Newport is the hub of the hipster incursion from Harrisburg into what used to be a county with no red lights. New Bloomfield is just somewhere on the way to elsewhere. That’s what most people seem to think of it. To me, however, New Bloomfield means something else. It means freedom.

New Bloomfield was the first town I visited when we were finally allowed to, once again, take the long road home in June 2020. When the restrictions came off, I first wanted to hit the road and go somewhere new; somewhere I’d never been before. That somewhere was the Perry County Cafe in New Bloomfield. Scroll back to 2020; you should see it in its original iteration. Since then, I’ve traveled farther afield but never forgot about this beautiful little mountain town or the liberated emotions that flooded me as I gazed off into the rolling mountains beyond.

In truth, the town doesn’t feel all that little. It bustles. That’s true of all capital cities, though, when you think about it. A county seat is indeed a kind of capital. It’s the center of civic life for its county, and in a commonwealth (as Pennsylvania is), local government is the sole variety of government the average person is likely to encounter on any given day. Viewed through that lens, it shouldn’t be any surprise that New Bloomfield is full of people hurrying about looking for two things: coffee and a better world.

Perry County Cafe was always a cute little artsy place. It still is. There’s a good reason: Rise Cafe is owned by the same people. The original cafe had to be temporarily shuttered by the ownership for various reasons, but it came roaring back only a month and a half ago. Coffee is clearly a passion for these folks. So is impacting the community. From the chalkboard signs with inspirational messages and mission statements scattered about, doing good is central to the mission of Rise Cafe.

No, there was no political bent to that message whatsoever. I know you’re thinking about it. In an age where words like ‘community’ and ‘peace’ and ‘rising’ are increasingly used as dog whistles for ideological grandstanding, the kind, benevolent universality of Rise Cafe’s message of hope and civic unity was something I found even more refreshing than the coffee. You can see in their eyes and read in their words that their motives are pure. We need a little bit of ‘pure’ right now.

Speaking of the coffee, it was easily as good as I remember. Today’s house blend hailed from Papua New Guinea. Red Diamond is the name of the roaster. They’re out of Moody Alabama and are fairly well-known, though I hadn’t had any samplings of the brand until this. I haven’t had a New Guinea coffee specifically in a long time. Most shopkeepers opt for a ‘safer’ option familiar to everyone. Columbian and such are the go-to brews. This bold option was deeply complex, with very subtle notes of nut and (I think) umami I’d almost ruined with too much cream. Speaking of the cream…I was given actual cream. Heavy cream and it was glorious. My doctor will never hear of this madness; it will remain our delectable secret.

On that subject (delectable things), Rise also has a lovely selection of pastries and other sundries. Tempting as it was to sit at the broad window looking out on Main Street, I had to get going. Every weekend in June is a festival weekend these days, so I have to plan coffee sojourns around the larger events. For that, I can only grateful.

I’ve got plans. Oh yes, I’ve got plans. It’s time to start expanding the radius again. The goal is to travel to the valleys west of the Cumberland Valley or forge a northward course into the Pennsylvania Wilds. I’ll also be peppering this blog with reports on coffee from the various festivals I plan to attend, so stay frosty.  Until then, stay caffeinated.

the signage…

the new seating…

the old view…

the art…

the beans…

the meaning of it…

the center of town…

the long road…