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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…

Do you get the feeling that I’ve reviewed this coffeehouse before? So did I. There’s a good reason for that.  As was alluded to in the previous post, we’re back in the mountains. To South Mountain, in fact. Yes, we’ve been there before. If you’ve been reading this blog for the past two years, South Mountain has been a perennial focus. That’s because it’s recently become rich with coffee culture. It shouldn’t be surprising. South Mountain is home to a massive state park and is, therefore, an epicenter of outdoor culture.

Bikers, hikers, mountaineers, and survivalists are all fueled by coffee (at least a lot of them are), and there’s a massive crossover between coffee culture and small-town civic pride. Coffeehouses are a symbol of sophistication and civil society as a whole. They have been since the 1600s. Coffeehouses were the crucible of Enlightenment philosophical thought and thus of modernity as a concept. Wherever there’s a small town aiming at revival, a coffeehouse likely serves as an anchor point of that cultural resurgence.

No specific small town is home to Deja Brew. Miney Branch is a stream in Liberty Township, PA. It’s in the Carroll Valley, home to Liberty Mountain Resort, several lakes, and many Appalachian Trail hikers, especially in May and June. The tiny village of Zora is nearby, but the closest small town is Emmitsburg, Maryland. You almost have to drive through Emmitsburg to make good time. Emmitsburg is fascinating; it’s a small, historic town, but one beset by traffic. I pulled off the road into a parking spot and got beeped at for daring to open my door, as pickup trucks and 18-wheelers whizzed past me down the main drag.

Getting out of Emmitsburg, one heads directly towards South Mountain. Deja Brew sits at the mountain’s base on Route 16, offering easy access to hikers and other travelers. Although this cafe didn’t seem to be a component of any particular town, it did appear to be a fixture in the lives of everyone populating the region. I was the only person in the Cafe that day who didn’t know the owner or the barista. As I looked out the window at the crossroads of Route 16 and the road to Liberty Mountain, it struck me just how central this particular intersection is. Even so, Deja Brew is a new phenomenon. It opened on November 11th, 2023.

The architecture of Deja Brew touched on a theme I’ve seen repeated elsewhere: the juxtaposition of a very modern, streamlined interior with distinctly backcountry surroundings. Brown and cream walls gave the building a look of cultivated elegance slightly at odds with the down-home exterior. Again, there’s a juxtaposition, but not an unexpected one. Those walls bore posters of local hiking events…and a Biblical performance. There was a well-stocked bookshelf…featuring philosophical and historical pieces from a libertarian press. Deja Brew sells coffee…and local beef jerky. As we’ve often found, the seamless integration of rural and urban institutions is a facet of PA’s coffee revival.

The coffee was so fascinating. Yes, I mean a good fascinating. I heard a name I haven’t for far too long: Ragged Edge Coffee. That’s a coffeehouse and roaster in nearby Gettysburg. I remember going to Ragged Edge 20 years ago when I was in college. There was a poetry reading there, and it was evident that this was a center of Gettysburg’s ‘bohemia’ back then. It’s a great local roaster, and several of their offerings were on display here. Those are pictured below, but I don’t think the full extent of the selection was displayed. Leaving a little mystery is classy.

I had the Honduran. Honduran coffees have a reputation for depth and character. Although Honduran coffees are commonly lush and nutty like Guatemalan roasts, there’s a special nuance to the Honduran. The rich nut flavor wasn’t as prominent as expected, but the complexity certainly was. If this was a breakfast coffee, it was a sturdy, full-bodied example of one. If it was a stronger concoction, that power was mellowed with a dialed-back acidity. This is the kind of coffee you’ll probably want accompanying you on a hike, should you experience a desire to explore those nearby mountain ridgelines.

I already have the next target in mind: a new branding of a cafe I visited years before during a tumultuous time. It’s up an entirely different set of mountains but on the same side of the Susquehanna River. I have no clue what I’ll find or what changes have been made. I’m not even looking at Google Maps to get a hint of what to expect. That would dampen the fun a bit, don’t you think? Until then, stay caffeinated!

emmitsburg…

the sign…

the edifice…

the main room…

the seating…

the sentiment…

the supply…

books are good…

the mountain looms…

Finally: After a complete breakdown of the plumbing at the house, dodging rainstorms to plant the vegetables in our garden, helping my parents with things, and dealing with $600 worth of car repairs, I’m finally back on the road on the hunt for coffee. Dealing with those things obviously required a ton of coffee in and of themselves, but that’s different. Not only because it was big-name-brand coffee, but because I was stuck enjoying it in my room. It’s my blog, and I can whine if I want to, whine if I want to, whiiiiine if I want to…

OK, let’s be optimistic for a minute. Coffee at home certainly has its own pleasures. Sure, this is The Coffeehouse Journey, but just as one can take a journey by reading a book in the solitude of their bathtub, can’t a coffee journey be taken home as well? In the same vein of thought, wonderful things can often be found in the most unexpected places. Setting out to accomplish one goal is no guarantee that you won’t fulfill another instead. These two ideas came together splendidly last weekend as I set out for Hershey ArtFest.

Spring and summer are festival seasons, collectively speaking. In Pennsylvania, festivals normally consist of three basic offerings: Music, food trucks, and beer (or wine). Festivals with only one are practically unknown and doomed to failure, while those with only two often feel like they’re missing something. Coffee is rarely on anyone’s radar, though coffee trucks do show up at the occasional fest (as we’ve seen before). I didn’t expect ArtFest to be one of those. The focus here was definitely on art. I saw phrases like “juried exhibition.” Tchotchkes and oddities abounded. Local authors had tents of their own. There was beer and music, though, too. After two hours, I was sunburned, satisfied, and on my way back to my car. That’s when I saw it: the Pronio’s tent.

Apparently, Pronio’s is an Italian restaurant native to Hershey, PA. By “native,” I mean they’ve been there since 1914. I’d never heard of them until today. What a tragedy, especially since they have proprietary tomato sauce! Confession: I’m always looking for new Italian sauces to experiment with. I was equally shocked when they told me they had a proprietary coffee roast. Who would have thought? After passing about a hundred tents selling niche knickknacks I had every desire (and zero intention) to buy, the last five minutes of my festival experience revealed my favorite part of it. I had to wait until I got home to brew the coffee, but it was well worth the wait.

The flavor palate of the coffee definitely had a rich and nutty quality. I picked up hints of almonds and possibly pecans. Lo and behold, the back of the coffee bag (pictured below) name-dropped Guatemala, Brazil, and Costa Rica as bean sources. Pronio’s pride themselves on sourcing straight from family-run farms. The degree of care they take showed quickly in the savory characteristics displayed in this particular blend  The coffee is no longer roasted on-site by Pronio’s, but they have partnered with Kitty Town Coffee of nearby Lebanon, PA. I’ll have to visit the brick-and-mortar Pronio’s and Kitty Town. I’m sure this is only the beginning.

Next time, I’ll be traveling a bit farther afield. The Pennsylvania Wilds may have to wait until this coming autumn, or at least until later this summer. New coffee spots are popping up in the South Mountain area, especially along the 11/15 corridor. Hiking culture is big here. Festival culture is, too. This region is where the monumental Apple Harvest Festival happens in October every year. Until next time, stay caffeinated.

the tunes…

the tents…

the ambiance…

the coffee…

Spoiler alert: I peed in line.

Let’s dial it back a few hours. Today’s leg of the Journey has been in the works for a very, very long time. It represents the culmination of the Alleghenies portion that began months ago, exploring the heart of rural coffee culture in Pennsylvania. During that time, there were several side trips into other mountains in pursuit of a full picture of those lifeways. Now, we’re headed into the town of Mount Union, located on the Mifflin and Huntington Counties border. When people talk about the ‘countryside,’ this is it. The mountains look hairy with trees, and the fields of one farm touch those of the next in a patchwork quilt of life.

I needed this trip. Once again, this area of Pennsylvania saw a precious two-day break in the bonkers March weather, and I decided to make the most of it. Driving on Route 22 and Route 522 is an interesting experience. One could easily think these roads don’t go to places but through them. Everything on the way is geared to the traveler, with pull-off areas every few miles and plenty of food and gas options. It’s like the Turnpike if the Turnpike weren’t manic insanity. These roads are calm and endless. Liminal in the extreme.

When I found The Roast Post on Google, it seemed like a normal coffee stop on a normal stretch of road in a normal town. Wrong on all three counts. Roast Post is anything but normal. Let’s break it down: First, The Roast Post is a literal post. The coffee shop is a drive-thru trading post with a touch of outdoor seating for especially weary travelers. Second, this place is popular in the extreme. Locals are quite vocal about their love of coffee and cherish what appears to be the only source of coffee within ten miles. Their Google rating, after 149 votes, remains five stars. Lastly, the owners of Roast Post take their craft even more seriously than the customers do. The coffee is an unlabeled proprietary roast held to stringent standards.

Oh, and the lines to get coffee are a phenomenon. As you can see below, I was stuck in a veritable traffic jam. This segues to my one complaint about Roast Post: no restrooms. And so, I grabbed an empty bottle, and the rest was yellow history. I had plenty of time. People in front of me were ordering carloads of expensive and complicated victuals. I opted for something simple. There was a combination of nutty and smoky flavors on the bouquet. The mouthfeel was milky-smooth. Oddly, the smoky notes didn’t stick around. The subtle nut taste was there and pleasant. I don’t know the provenance of the beans, but they presented like a South American would. Acidity was low; the lowest I’ve tasted in a while. This coffee can be quaffed ad infinitum.

Mount Union (the town) was quietly awesome (emphasis on the quiet). The real standout here was the temperament of the townsfolk. Everyone was nice. The main drag was a small collection of old-fashioned buildings containing a few normal shops (a pizza place, a church, or two) and a few standouts like Jaedylans Antiques Glass, a soon-to-open antique shop filled with glassworks from the 19th Century through early 20th. As a fan of the Art Deco movement, I couldn’t resist.

Something interesting was mentioned here: East Broad Top Railroad. Apparently, during the summer they have the train running. I’m willing to bet that many fun folk events happen at that train station. As a verified expert, I say with authority that train stations are great places for beer festivals. Alright, I say that as someone who had a beer at a train station before. Anyhow.

I couldn’t come all this way without visiting a local hiking hotspot: the Thousand Steps Trail. Reinvigorated by the coffee, I grabbed my EDC (everyday carry; that’s a “prepper” term for the small collection of important survival tools you should carry on your person consistently) and began climbing. I didn’t get far before the fatigue of driving a hundred miles on 5 hours of sleep caught up with me. I did get to the headwaters of a small waterfall. It poured from a ruined brick edifice upon whose purpose I can only guess.

So began the long trip home. I savored every moment I had left in these mountains. I said at the beginning that this was the culmination of the Allegheny Journey. I’m not sure of that anymore. While in Mount Union, I was pointed toward the towns of Huntington and Orbisonia. These locals really do love their coffee. I want to head north into the Pennsylvania Wilds region soon, but at this rate, it might have to wait until fall. In terms of coffee, these mountains are getting bigger by the day. Until next time, stay caffeinated.

the road…

the ridge…

the welcome…

the post…

the mystery beans…

the mission…

the blue sky…

the main street…

the domes…

the thousand steps…

the spring…

the waterfall…

If you live in Pennsylvania, when the weather gives you a chance, you take it. During a break between storms, when the wind had finally abated, I decided to head to Port Clinton, PA. Port Clinton is an Appalachian trail town in eastern Pennsylvania, about an hour from Harrisburg. However, the coffeehouse I’m reviewing today was not in Port Clinton, but in a town less than a mile away called Hamburg. Hamburg is far larger, yet it is somewhat less known among the hiking community. Thus, I first visited Hamburg before venturing into the mountain ridge where Port Clinton sits nestled.

Four Twelve sits in the very heart of Hamburg. But what, I wondered, does “Four Twelve” refer to? As it turns out, the moniker refers to Acts 4:12, a passage in the Bible. If you’re a longtime reader, you know I don’t normally review religious coffeehouses. I take the position that coffeehouses are fundamentally an Enlightenment-era institution steeped in modernity and its pursuit of ideological neutrality and the triumph of objective truth over worldview. I obviously still hold that position. Four Twelve is linked to a church, but the owners wear their faith on their sleeves far less than those managing the ostensibly secular coffeehouses I’ve recently reviewed.

Said another way, these people seem more intent on living out their faith than insisting on it. Our freedom of speech, like all freedoms, is sacrosanct not because it is unlimited, but because it bears a concurrent responsibility. Thus, a message delivered artfully and tactfully is one I can respect, even if I disagree with it. Plenty of ‘progressive’ coffeehouses cross the line from art to grandstanding. Civil and artful folk from both sides of the aisle share more in common than grandstanders on either side. The quiet faith of the baristas here illustrates this point to perfection. Oh, and the coffee’s good, too.

The coffee is also local. Passenger Coffee Roasters hails from Lancaster. That’s far enough from Bethel, but familiar to those who venture southeast of the Capital in search of a cup of coffee. They’ve only been around since the spring of 2014, but in that brief ten years, they’ve carved out major territory in the Pennsylvania coffee scene. Part of it is likely due to a vocal commitment to building partnerships and sustainable coffee storage techniques.

The barista gave me a cup of Passenger’s ‘Necessary Blend.’ ‘Necessary’ is apparently a subsidiary company of Passenger (a step that magnifies their ability to focus on specific customer bases). Was the coffee tasty? Oh, yes. Was it also a bit confusing? Also, yes. On the one hand, Necessary Blend was totally African. Conversely, it was advertised as having ‘chocolate’ and ‘brown sugar’ notes. I could taste neither of those. Instead, Necessary Blend presented itself as a classic African roast, with the citrus hints and lightness that one would expect.

It’s worth noting that the barista did a good job here. Not only did she brew me a fresh pot when they were running low, but she also managed to mitigate some of the more bracing citrus strength for which some African coffee is famous. She made it smoother than it otherwise would have been. Fun fact: Ethiopian Yirgacheffe gets its fruit-forward flavors from the dry processing techniques unique to Ethiopia. But I digress. Overall, this was a lighter offering, suitable for breakfast on the go. The residents of Hamburg often seem to be on the move.

And so, with a belly full of caffeine, I was on my way into the forested hills toward Port Clinton. On the way out, I heard a townsperson yelling at me. It turns out, I left my coffee on the roof, remaining upright as I drove down the street. I might not be too religious, but I know a miracle when I see it. It’s worth mentioning that Hamburg is a bustling town. Port Clinton is not. That surprised me. Most “trail towns” have hiker-driven amenities like outdoor supply stores.

Port Clinton seems similar to most Appalachian hollers: A winding line of houses and family restaurants, tucked between mountain ridgelines. Still, it had a bizarre appeal. Port Clinton looked like one of those abandoned towns in The Walking Dead. That’s a compliment. Looking down from a bridge into the creek that winds through the town, I caught sight of a brick building in the distance. The fog along the river created a liminal quality as if I could just keep walking forever. I like taking those ambling walks in the woods. This town looks caught between humanity and nature. That’s the kind of place my soul needs sometimes. Does yours?

The Appalachian Trail is surprisingly difficult to access in Port Clinton, requiring either a climb down a very sheer (and wet!) hillside or guessing whether (or not) the place you park is private property. There’s also the matter of the large and busy highway bisecting the trail line! After all that driving, I decided not to chance a hike. What a bummer. Had the ground not been so wet, I’d have slid down that hillside and onto the southbound trail. Next time, I’ll start somewhere else and walk into Port Clinton. Undoubtedly, the tavern along the main drag will feel very inviting afterward.

Thus ends this leg of the Journey. Hopefully, I can dodge the weather again and head north or northwest. This week’s beautiful weather should melt the last winter snow up there. Until then, stay caffeinated!

hamburg…

the storefront…

the nook…

the time…

the company…

the brew…

the ridgeline…

port clinton…

the downtown…

the misty water…

The mountains continue. So does my car, thankfully. My trip to Caledonia Cafe continues the theme I’ve been doing for the past few months. Namely, focusing on rural coffeehouses springing up in the Appalachian Mountains. Appropriately, Caledonia Cafe is a stone’s throw from the Appalachian Trail entry point at the top of South Mountain. Yep, I’m back on South Mountain. You might remember another cafe or two that I reviewed in this region. South Mountain is crisscrossed by several roads along its winding ridgeline, and each of them is a world unto itself with its own attractions.

Caledonia Cafe is quite an attraction. It’s near the top of the ridge along Route 30. Mr. Ed’s Elephant Museum and Candy Emporium is a few hundred yards away, which should give you some idea as to the character of the area. Oddities, subcultures, and folkways abound up here in the backcountry. That is, of course, why I come to the backcountry. I’m definitely one of the oddities. Even so, nothing could prepare me for the sights I’d see inside the Caledonia Cafe.

Bear in mind, I’d had no idea this place existed. That’s probably because I’m not part of the culture that the cafe caters specifically to: The fiber arts community. Antique sewing machines grace the walls of the cafe’s main seating area. A gigantic selection of cloth and lines of state-of-the-art sewing machines illuminated with uplighting grace the center of the fabric room. Those can be rented. This venue is clearly a haven for local knitters, sewing enthusiasts, and crochet fanatics. Oh yes, there are many. You only have to witness the Sheep-To-Shawl competition at the Farm Show in Harrisburg to see how intense this world gets.

But what about the coffee? The coffee portion of this establishment is actually pretty new. The business as a whole has been a fixture for decades, but it only became a caffeination station two years ago. Yes, the proprietors mirrored the timing trend of the Amish coffee boom. No, they don’t appear to be Amish (though appearances can be deceiving). The woman running the coffeehouse portion told me it was part of a conscious effort to expand the scope of the business to create a place for the significant others of the fiber arts folks to congregate while their partner was engaged in the sewing section. An excellent plan! I’m in a niche, and I recognize the need for those outside said niche to be provided with alternative activities.

The brew itself was completely unfamiliar. I’ve never encountered San Francisco Bay coffee. I don’t even remember it being a thing when I visited Cambria near Frisco although, to be fair, that was a good 25 years ago. The woman at the counter gave me the current house roast, a French roast. It was a mix of Central and South American beans and was advertised as a dark roast. I would have gauged it as a medium, and the smoky finish wasn’t too evident. What I did notice was a strong and savory nut flavor. The last coffee of this sort that I tried had a very buttery mouthfeel, but this was sharper, possibly evident of a higher acidity. The flavor was very focused but also well done, so I deeply enjoyed it.

As of mid-February, when I visited, there was still a ton of snow on the ground up in the mountains. Even so, I took a short hike in nearby Caledonia State Park before sunset. Several powerful storms had by that time just buffeted Pennsylvania, and buzzsaw operators were hard at work clearing debris from the trail. Downed trees and warning signs blocked my path in several places. It was still gorgeous and a stark reminder that I savor traveling to these areas. The next entry will bring more mountains, as we sort of spiral outward into Appalachia. Until then, stay caffeinated.

the signage…

the art…

the cozy interior…

the sewing machines…

that’s not all…

fiber arts or fibre arts…

the beans…

the mountains…

And yet, I smile. That’s what King Ezekiel said in The Walking Dead. Life kept pouring down obstacles upon him, but he kept smiling. I wish I could be like Ezekiel. It’s been a month. First, my tire light came on. Then, I had to drop out of my graduate classes at Penn State (because Penn State has a certain kind of bureaucracy which I shall not risk defaming upon this humble blog for fear of a certain bureaucracy taking issue). Next, the check engine light came on. Now, a tooth needs to be removed (so say the experts), and my insurance is of typical American quality. That is to say, it ain’t good. Positivity isn’t really my jam, so instead of smiling through all of this, I’m simply going to caffeinate and run away. Run with me.

One boon of city life is that coffee can often be found in unexpected places (and also close ones). Such was the case with the local international grocer right down the street. It’s within walking distance. Even so, I didn’t know the place at all. I certainly didn’t realize they had exotic coffee from the Middle East among their wares. To wit: I hadn’t gone in looking for coffee. I was seeking Indian spices, only to find that the store had an Islamic Halal food focus.

The fact remains that the Middle East is the homeland of coffee. Sufi monasteries in Yemen used coffee in the 1400s to help devotees stay awake during grueling religious services. One can imagine that European monks wished they’d had a similar crutch for their beleaguered intellects. As it stands, scholars think that the first coffeehouse in Europe was opened in 1632 in Livorno.

The coffee I got was Egyptian, though the company was apparently founded in Lebanon around 40 years ago. The company was called Cafe Najjar…a word that means ‘carpenter’ in Arabic. I had no idea what to expect. I should have expected it to be broadly similar to Turkish coffee. It very much was. For those who don’t know, Turkish coffee differs from what we experience in the West. However, if you’ve been to the Greek festival here, you’ve probably had it. Turkish coffee is ground very fine, left unfiltered, and placed directly in a tin (called a cezve in Turkey and an ibrik elsewhere) over an open flame. The coffee is mixed with water and sugar in the tin and then drunk straight. A porcelain cup is used by purists.

I must admit that I didn’t do what I was supposed to. I lost my ibrik (yes, I have one). As such, I made this coffee the Western way, in a coffee maker. It was still good, but be warned: This will not taste like the coffee you’re undoubtedly used to. There was an astringent aftertaste to it. That might not be the right word. Rather, I might say there was a strange tang; the flavor was almost sanguine (I know, eww). However, if you don’t include that aftertaste in considering the palette, the overall effect is one of power. It’s high-test coffee, though in a way that reminds me of a strong black tea. Vegetal: That’s the descriptor I was aiming for. Next time, I’ll be making it the proper way. I’m sure that subtracted from the fullness of the flavor.

I need a trip to the mountains. Fortunately, there are plenty. As the weather warms, I (hopefully) plan to head into the Pennsylvania Wilds region. The car just left the shop a few days ago, and I’m looking forward to heading out into the woods and small towns of hilly Appalachia again (after a test drive, of course). I ask only that you pray that my problematic tooth falls out painlessly in the middle of the night. That would save me a lot of money. Until February, stay caffeinated!

the exterior…

liminal…

coffee land…

the brew in question…

It’s the most liminal time of the year. The days between Christmas and New Year’s Day seem to be between times. We really don’t know quite what to do with these particular days. One constant in my life during these times is the need for coffee. What was left under the tree for me this year was a treasure trove of beany goodness. Exactly how those beans arrived is a circuitous tale (and is the subject of this post). My car was a bit…persnickety…so I was doubly grateful that the coffee came to me this time. Without further ado, here are four new varieties for your vicarious perusal:

Bewley’s Rich Cafe Blend

Bewley’s is a venerable tea and coffee company. It’s just not known well here in America. I believe I reviewed one of their blends last year. A small Celtic specialty shop near where I live carries products made throughout the British Isles. The one I received this year (shown below perched upon my mom’s stainless steel countertop) was their Rich Cafe Blend. Bewley’s is a fantastic standby. It’s a good coffee when you want something solid, as it lived up to the designation ‘rich.’ I feel like there was a Latin American component here; whatever the case, it was savory without being too dense. Bewley’s is a major company, so I expect that theirs is the Irish equivalent of big-name coffees here. If so, British offices are lucky to have this solid offering as a go-to.

Dark Canyon Coffee Company: Highlander Grogg

On the other hand, there is a rich roast out there that is incredibly dense: That would be Highlander Grogg from Dark Canyon Coffee Company in Rapid City, South Dakota. A family friend sent this after moving from Wyoming to work in Rapid City. I’ve never been there, so I had no idea what to expect regarding coffee culture. I must admit, I’d stereotyped the situation. South Dakota isn’t the place you think of when you imagine hipsters, hippies, and the boutique coffee that tends to arrive with them. Oh, how wrong I was. Dark Canyon is apparently another sizable outfit, but you wouldn’t know it from their very Western brick-and-mortar store. If that’s indicative of life in Grand Rapids these days, I might just have to make a visit.

Highlander Grogg epitomized the idea of the “dark roast.” It’s thick, rich, almost syrupy. The friend who sent it says it’s the regular coffee at her office. Believe me when I say it would be the coffee equivalent of having daily ice cream. Fantastic in theory, but in practice, it’s a bit too rich for my blood. Don’t get me wrong, there’s no problem with the coffee. In fact, I’d call it an ideal dessert coffee. Yes, I’ve coined a phrase there. This brew is what I’d term ‘situational.’ Have it as a treat, not a standard.

Cafe De La Seine En Grain

The French penchant for the delicate was on full display with this offering. Another stereotype, I know, but French cuisine typically displays gentle touches and deft flavor applications. Such was the case here. In truth, it was impossible to remove that quality. When a roast is very airy and light, I usually attempt to give it more backbone by putting extra grounds in the machine. That tactic didn’t work here. The roast remained ethereal. I couldn’t discern the provenance of the beans, but there wasn’t a hint of citrus, so Africa isn’t likely. I love a good mystery.

As an aside, I often talk about how impressive it is that the Amish coffee scene emerged from several years of national hardship. This French coffee operation began in 1945. I can only imagine the flood of emotions going through these newly liberated people. Did the process of creating the coffee and building the business help to put the trauma of war in the past? One can hardly imagine France without thinking of sidewalk cafes. Cafes in which people are free to think. Again, coffee proves itself to be far more than a beverage.

Great Lakes Coffee Roasters: Taste Of Italy, Almond Biscotti

Truth in advertising. Drinking this coffee was like downing a liquid biscotti. That’s not a criticism nor a compliment, just an honest impression. The taste of Italy that we got here was actually pretty smooth. Great Lakes Coffee Roasters, as it turns out, is relatively close by (in New York), near Lake Erie. New York has a large Italian population, so it makes sense that they’d do an Italian coffee. They say they specialize in roasting small batches, so it’s not surprising that I didn’t actually know them despite their being a known quantity. Here’s another good dessert option, by the way. Almond Biscotti is not a flavor I’d pick for daily drinking, but plenty of options exist. The coffee is very flavor-forward, but that only means you have to find something to pair the flavor profile with. I would suggest chocolate.

A bit of good news to conclude with: My road-trip-mobile isn’t as damaged as I thought it was. I feared the worst because my tire light came on a few weeks ago. State Inspection Day loomed like Ragnarok. Fortunately, the repairs only cost about $160, meaning I’m good to go for more road trips. Oh, and another bit of good cheer: I just got accepted into the graduate program at Penn State. I’ll be studying History. At least I don’t have to travel far for school…Penn State Middletown is right down the road and is the institutional hub of historical studies. Don’t worry; I’ll find plenty of time to sneak off for more coffee adventures. Until then, stay caffeinated, and have a happy holiday!.

It’s interesting how sometimes misadventure can lead to adventure and then to misadventure and back again. Such was my trip northward to Hometowne Cafe in Herndon, Pennsylvania. Everyone in the Central PA microverse has heard of Herndon, but few others have. It lies just barely across the northern border of Dauphin County in neighboring Northumberland. Like most of these small Pennsylvania towns, food is the major industry and few big events take place. One or two main streets and a civil building or two define the aging yet cozy downtown. Herndon, you see, has yet to be gentrified, despite its proximity to the capital region. As such, it’s kept most of its character from Pennsylvania coal days. I managed to find one fascinating exception.

Hometowne Cafe is situated right at the intersection of two main roads, one of them being the venerable Route 147. There was even a band called “Take 147” that graced many a barroom stage back in the day. The coffeehouse is also seated upon an intersection you’ve probably noticed several times in recent posts: the meeting of agrarian tradition and modernity. Hometowne is yet another coffee spot run by Amish/Mennonite folk. In other words, the revolution in rural coffee continues unabated.

The cafe opened during the same time frame as many of the others, too. This May, it will have been two years since the owners took the leap and created this little bistro. Interestingly, I noticed the exact same juxtaposition of rural custom and urban culture present in many of the other establishments. There were the standard coffeehouse trappings of streamlined architecture and cozy seating. Signs in cursive were there, as well. Some of them, however, were Bible verses, and the baristas were modestly adorned and unfailingly polite. In all of these explorations, it’s been rare to find an operation that indulged in ‘country’ kitsch. This one certainly didn’t. A lack of kitsch and camp implies an earnestness within the scene. That’s a green flag.

Notable aside: The cafe itself is located within a shared zone. They rent the space in which their kiosk, drive-thru, and internal cafe seating rest. A grocery company called Ridgeview Foods owns the surrounding edifice which is a massive grocery store. There’s an emphasis on fresh foods here. Fresh vegetables lined one wall and there was an abundance of preserved meat in home-packaged bags. None of this is surprising in Northumberland County. It’s why I come to Northumberland County.

I can’t really describe the coffee itself as ‘unremarkable,’ even though I didn’t mentally remark upon it as I took that first swig. I would, instead, say that it was difficult to take the measure of. It was a breakfast blend, and I rarely drink those. A bit too light for my liking. That said, I gave the drink a second swig, and that’s when the nice little nutty flavor in the background came out to play. In retrospect, any darker and the blend might have been cloying. It really was fine breakfast fare. I really need to try one of those darker, denser offerings, though! Where exactly this brew originated proved something of a mystery. Nobody who worked there seemed to know. It’s clearly proprietary since the Hometowne Cafe label was affixed to the front. It must be a pretty tight secret. Who can blame them for keeping a few of those; after all, as we’ve seen, the rural coffee scene is getting competitive.

On the way home is where the misadventure happened. Well, okay, the misadventure started when I wasn’t able to attend a family event (mapping the route was how I noticed this cafe in the first place). The misadventure did, however, escalate as soon as I got back on the road back to Harrisburg. The last photo you’ll see below was taken from the parking lot of the fire company. After taking that pic, I started up my car and noticed the check engine light was on. Uh oh. I figured I’d get as many miles in as I could before the engine gave out. It never gave out. Somehow, the thing survived the trip through the rolling terrain. I thank God, the gods, and maybe an ancestor or two for bringing me home without incident. Someone was looking out for me.

There were a lot of fascinating sights to see up on these hills, though, both coming and going. Hence, a warning. This post is pretty photo-heavy. Scroll at your leisure. The car is misbehaving again obviously, so I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make my oft-teased foray into Huntingdon County until after the holidays. We are going there soon, though, rest assured of that. Until next time, stay caffeinated.

the surrounds…

rocky ridges…

the cafe…

the shared spaces…

the inside…

the shared sentiment…

the voluminous menu…

the liminal space…

the beans…

the town of herndon…