The Coffeehouse Journey

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…

I’ll just say this: September was insane. It feels like hubris to make this post because it’s fun, and I feel like I shouldn’t try fun yet, lest something terrible happen to balance the scales. Fear of stepping out of line, I mean. I get in a bad headspace that way. If this seems like rambling, my brain is a little sparky right now. I told the people at these coffee spots I’d blog about them, so I need to keep my word on that. Simply put, I’m alive, so I have that going for me, which is great. It’s been that kind of month.

Leaving the city behind for a while felt like breathing. That isn’t far from objective truth, given the air pollution that gathers in the Great Valley region of Pennsylvania at the end of summer. The mountain air is of a distinctively higher quality. In the process of going crazy and fleeing to the woods, I ended up going to two standout coffee spots, which I’ll detail below.

The first of these new coffee spots was Joe’s Chili Stop, located along Route 34 on the way to Mount Holly Springs. Mount Holly Springs marks one of the entry points to South Mountain. South Mountain is a significant entry point to the Appalachian Trail. If the name sounds familiar, I reviewed another coffeehouse here a few months ago, across the Maryland border.

Joe’s is a veteran-owned breakfast spot that bears all the hallmarks of a “last stop.” The infrastructure is ramshackle. The food smells like a bit of heaven. The locals are rural mountain men heading off to parts unknown. I immediately felt glad to be here, and I’m sure everyone taking 34 over the mountain feels the same. If only there was alcohol, it would be the consummate cantina. As it stands, there were uppers, rather than downers, on the menu. Here’s where things get really interesting.

The coffee was Hugh Jackman’s proprietary blend: Laughing Man. I do not know why this blend is being sold in the middle of Pennsylvania mountain country, but here it is. I am of two minds about this coffee. First, the brewing was done well by Joe’s staff. It was high-test stuff, too, ideal for a long hike. However, the flavor profile was unremarkable, and this quality appeared innate. It didn’t taste bad by any stretch…it was simply an average blend with an origin I couldn’t pin down. It tasted like diner fare. I will say this much: I am convinced that the high quality of my caffeination was due to the establishment’s efforts rather than Mr. Jackman’s.

Finding the next coffeehouse was the result of a totally distinct mission. My mom and I went north to visit a winery. We assumed that the winery would be open in the middle of a weekday. Nope. After an hour-long drive, we were greeted by closed doors and a dark room. Not ready to admit defeat, we continued searching for an open winery and found one to the south outside Berrysburg in the ridges and valleys of northern Dauphin County. We found something else: A coffee shop set to open two days hence.

I had no idea what to expect here. The shuttered barn did not indicate what kind of coffee shop I’d be walking into when it opened. At the end of the week, though, I returned and found what is set to be a local hotspot. Bear in mind that there are few coffee options in northern Dauphin. Do a Google search, and you’ll come up with little except for family restaurants. Nearby, Elizabethville has a brewery…but no independent coffee shop. Espresso Inspired is changing that. They’re also clearly an Amish/Mennonite operation.

Here’s another example of Amish coffeesmiths (yes, I coined a word) doing things right. I peeked inside the little mobile barn doubling as a coffee shop (you can’t actually go inside; it’s walk-up and drive-thru only) and saw Bible quotes on one wall and high-tech gadgetry taking up the other side and back. The baristas, having just started their work two days ago, were shy but efficient. The big surprise was the menu. Not only was a wide variety of coffee available, but plenty of breakfast fare, such as muffins, was also pumped out of that tiny hut.

As for the coffee, the exact blend is something I can only guess. The brand was Turk’s Head out of West Chester. Another significant link between coffee operations in Pennsylvania. This isn’t the first time I’ve found Mennonite folk sourcing locally. Notice how the rural coffeemakers sourced their material from urban institutions? It’s only fitting given that most ‘urban’ food is sourced from fundamentally rural regions. Coffee culture is again blending the two worlds, though this time in a material sense. It does bear mentioning that the iconography of this coffee shop also combines urban hipness with traditional Christian values.

In brief, thank my mom for this new discovery and for this latest installment of our journey through the burgeoning rural coffee scene in Pennsylvania. My car is in the shop, so I don’t know when the next road trip will be unless I’m schlepped somewhere. Somehow I’ll get to the Alleghenies. Until then, my patient readers, stay caffeinated!

Joe’s shop…

the signage…

the roast…

not just inspired…

the barn…

a clearer view…

I warned you this might happen. I took a side trip to Bloomsburg, PA, for a Bluegrass concert this past weekend in place of my planned travels west. Call it a case of, once again, striking while the iron was hot. Recently, I’ve concluded what many wiser men already have: I can’t take any of these days for granted. I can’t even plan for the future without first regarding the possibilities of today. Tomorrow is not guaranteed. Suffice it to say that this past year has brought that message into focus for me. I like surety and guarantees. I like plans and mapping the future. Sometimes, the future takes issue.

Let’s not dwell on strife. Instead, let’s focus on what happens when a plan comes together without a plan. This concert exemplified that. It wasn’t on my itinerary. The surplus money I kept locked away for adventures contained nothing for BBQ & Brew at the Bloomsburg Fairgrounds. That was an oversight on my part. I’m glad I overcame the stasis because the entire event was phenomenal, including the bluegrass music playing from the surprisingly massive stage. To think, I was planning for autumn because I was growing tired of this summer without ever really giving it a chance. I’m glad I woke up and stepped out the door.

The Bloomsburg Fairgrounds are getting more use than anyone ever thought they would decades ago when the Bloomsburg Fair itself was the annual treat in these parts. What a difference the years have made! The Susquehanna valleys are growing in importance, if not in population. There are so many new events here that keeping track is difficult. The same is true of the local coffee culture.

If readers remember, I’ve reviewed a few coffee shops in this area before. The main difference is that of trend. You’ll find more overtly trendy establishments here. Between Bloomsburg University, Bucknell, and Susquehanna University, this region is rife with college life. With that comes a confident expectation in regard to coffee culture. Hip young folk proffer big-city sensibilities to exiles from urban centers and also to rural students, for whom the coffeehouse might be their first entrepot into a more cosmopolitan culture than their own. The collegiate life also fuels venues for cultural events, which is what we’re seeing here in Bloomsburg.

That brings us to the two places I reviewed today. They’re not actually coffee shops. Instead, they represent how coffee culture is making its way into the festival scene. Coffee culture is planting itself at the heart of the peripatetic festival world with food trucks and kiosks. Here are a few examples:

Number one was a kiosk in the middle of the farmer’s market that came before the festival. Apparently, it’s a regular thing here and one to which I must return. The seller was called 2 Sisters Coffee. In reality, they don’t just sell coffee. There was a selection of boutique garlic as well. I decided to go bold and get the dark roast this time. It was a Peruvian, which I haven’t had in ages. The label on the table promised strong chocolate hints and a robust flavor. The chocolate was actually not as prominent as I thought it would be, but the density and power shone through when I ground the beans at home in my machine. A very savory selection.

Number two was “Buckin’ Bean Coffee Co.” which came packed in a classic food truck. Their coffee is locally sourced, in this case from Danville. They gave me a Sumatran/South American blend. I drank it cold-brewed because, by now, the temperature had soared into the 80s, with a thick blanket of humidity in the air. In a strange twist of fate, this coffee had the strong chocolate notes that the previous offering from 2 Sisters lacked. That might have been from the oat milk I used, but the flavor was really prominent. It was also a more airy and light blend. Again, the folks at the helm must have been acutely aware of the needs of their wilting customers!

One note: Buckin’ Bean was founded this past February, making it an example of a coffee outfit that’s sprung up in the wake of 2020’s troubles. They’re a rural operation, but in this case, they’re specifically catering to the massive increase in outdoor festivals and traveling events. The food truck revolution is taking the coffee world by storm.

Unfortunately, the chaotic nature of this month and the next doesn’t seem to be abating anytime soon. There are commitments and hurdles ahead. Even so, I hope to get on the road again soon, this time into the heart of Huntingdon County’s Amish world. Maybe a storm of craziness will provide the impetus to do just that. Until next time, stay caffeinated!

the beans…

the bus…

the band…uncle jake and the 18 wheel gang

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the beginning…

the backstreets…

wow…

cozy interior…

the machine…

the selection…

the history…

the mountains call…

The week had finally come. My backpack was packed, on my back, with a few bottles of water and other supplies, just in case. I thought all the T’s were crossed, and the I’s were dotted. Then, the engine started to shimmy, and the check engine light started to blink, and I knew that my perfect chance to head out into the mountains was royally screwed. Cut to a week later. The car is fixed (I hope), but this was the weekend of the big Roots concert in Harrisburg, so I couldn’t trek off into the Appalachians in search of coffee. What was I to do?

Credit this post to my Mom, who took pity on her immobile son and found a new vintage store in the area, which also happened to be selling coffee from far afield. Grammarly may have a problem with every move I make, but having a family that understands me and my oddities and proclivities more than makes up for it. In truth, there was an actual journey involved here. We went out the road to Paxtonia, near Skyline View. That’s on the outskirts of Harrisburg, or rather, what most people consider Harrisburg. There’s still a Harrisburgness to the area. By that, I mean that even though you can see the mountains from your car, there’s still a city-paced tenor to the movement of life.

Going into the shop (just called Home Goods) was interesting in several ways. It’s wall-too-wall nik-naks. There was an entire shelf of silver and glass vases and such, which would have made rather awesome terrariums. I was tempted to pick up a few, but the coffee had to be the focus. My Mom had gotten some here a while back, and we soon made our way to the specialty foods shelves. Not only was there a large selection of coffees from all over the country; the opposite side of the coffee shelves had specialty Italian food! I was in heaven.

We picked up two bags of coffee from the West Coast…or at least I thought we had. Although the themes of the coffee were Western, the origin was a bit closer to home: White Coffee Corp. from Long Island, NY. It was called “Moose Munch,” so I had assumed it was from Oregon or Washington. Perhaps I’m stereotyping. Anyway, both blends were labeled “Arabica,” which tells me next to nothing besides the fact that neither is Robusta. For more info, I had to get brewing.

The first I tried was their signature Northwest Blend. It reminded me a bit of Maxwell House, actually, but with a few citrus notes suggesting an African origin. The notes weren’t too overwhelming, though, and there was a cocoa flavor on the back of the presentation, so that says Columbian or even Guatemalan to me. When they said “blend,” they meant it! I’m willing to wager that beans from both sides of the planet went into this offering. The next on the list was the Maple Vanilla. It was broadly similar to the Northwest Blend but with a touch of maple flavoring and a bit of vanilla which made the whole blend seem a bit more full-bodied. I actually prefer this specialty flavor because it’s more robust overall, yet the roasters didn’t give in to the temptation to amp up the flavor. An excellent weekend coffee!

OK, so, let’s hope that the next few weeks bring some chance of getting back up into the woods to search for more coffeehouses! There are a few more “hurdles.” August brings my family reunion, doctors’ visits, and other swell events like them. As such, don’t expect another post until late in the month, or maybe even until September! This coming month is nutty. I love summer, but I’m already looking forward to the opportunities for easy travel and sweat-free hiking that autumn will bring. As an aside, does anyone else think coffee tastes better when the weather is cold? Enough speculation. I hope to see you all in a few weeks. Until then, stay caffeinated.

the unassuming exterior…

brew number one…

and brew number two…