the first town in the first state

We drove down to Lewes, Delaware the other night for dinner and drinks. It is a lovely town and it reminds me a lot of Lambertville with all the restaurants and historic homes. We have read that Lewes is a good place to live and since that day we have been looking into the plausability of relocating the VFH central headquarters to the comfy confines of the "first town in the first state".

That evening we parked on 2nd Street, right in front of the old St. Peter's Episcopal Church and strolled down to Front Street and stopped to read menus and window shop and look at the Cannonball house with it's British shell still embedded in the lower wall, fired there during the war of 1812. We admired the pastoral scene of boats moored in the canal and beyond the placid waters of Delaware Bay and watched the Cape May - Lewes Ferry, aglow in the waning golden light of the day, slowly make it's way towards the terminal before we turned to the Agave Restaurant and Tequila Bar on Second Street. Small with limited table space, people often endure hour long waits for seating, but we got a place at the bar and had our meal there.

The lovelier half of the adventurous VFH team is not a fan of Mexican food, but I have been slowly turning her to the intricacies of this fine cuisine. It's just not mushy beans and rice and fajitas and Agave was another pleasant discovery. I had Chilies en Nogada, which are poblanos stuffed with meat, fruit and spices served on top of a creamy peanut sauce and Janet had a mango and lettuce salad with grilled shrimp. She and I were pleased, but not just with the food but also the margaritas. We watched in awe as the bartender took a long time in preparing them for us. After first chilling the glasses with ice and combing tequila and Grand Marnier he squeezed lime after lime and sweetened the concoction with agave nectar. They were large and strong and very tasty. Agave also sells "flights" of tequila and a couple of people had them lined up before them at the bar. Agave doesn't have a website though they have a page on Facebook.

After our dinner we gave a wide berth to the crowded King's Ice Cream
(www.kings-icecream.com) where people were lined up on out the door and we strolled the streets of the quiet town looking at the lovely homes before heading for our chalet in Milford. It was a good evening.

beer snobs

This has been the summer of love. The winter of our discontent has been made glorious summer by the house of brews. We have been traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound, but of beer. It has been a journey into a wondrous land of imagination and hops. That's the signpost up ahead.... the next stop, the Beer Zone!

And indeed fair and lovely readers of this most devout blog to all that is cheap, drinking free beer is in a different dimension, a higher love. It is ambrosia. It is liquid manna from heaven. -

Those of you who follow this blog may recall the recent trip to Cooperstown, NY a couple of weeks ago where we sampled many many free beers at the Cooperstown Brewing Company and the Belgian styles ales of Brewery Ommegang. They were brewery tours, followed by a sampling of some or all of the beers offered by the brewery. Also in the past we have ventured into the psychedelic world of Magic Hat in Burlington, Vermont where one can linger for a long long time sipping little flutes of their concoctions.

Yes, craft brews are the rage. They are the new "wine". And today, we finally got to the Dogfish Head Brewery in Milton, Delaware. Janet and I often try to compare and contrast beers and most noteably the brewpubs attached to them. Triumph in New Hope is a favorite. But, Iron Hill in Phoenixville, Victory in Downingtown, and the Dogfish Head Brewery in Rehobeth Beach all seem to take the lead in beers and food and ambiance. Depending on our taste buds and dismal memories, or geographical perch, one outshines the other and is replaced by the third. But, as we are here for the week we have been drinking a lot of Dogfish Head and we are enamoured with the brew. We were in Rehobeth Beach yesterday after a day at Herring Point in Cape Henelopen State Park for a quick one and today we signed up for a brewery tour and the inevitable tastings at their brewery in Milton.

We had been looking forward to this event for years. One needs to sign up for the tour and it is often filled up. You cannot just show up. So, the anticipation is heightened with the wait and the lingering taste of their brews. Well when you arrive they greet you at the door with your name on a list which they mark off dutifully and hand you a pair of safety glasses. Dogfish Head says they are "off-centered for off-centered people." (http://www.dogfish.com/) They tried to evoke a whimsy and jovial way that can be engaging. Sadly we have been on brewery tours and there is always a sense of pride in the craft that shines forth, but at the Dogfish Head Brewery it all seems calculated and more in control. The bartenders at the end were not pleasant and more interested seemingly in getting us moved through the system. We had to hand in little cut out cardboard sharks used as chits for the four beers that they poured and we were not allowed to take the beer unless we handed them in. Of course, Janet and I are beer snobs and perhaps we're being snide here. Others may have had a wonderful time, but for us the whole experience was not as much fun as other brew tours. But hey, they did pour us four small cups of some different beers and we were not complaining. Evidently the pours change daily and we had the good fortune to drink in order: Saison du Buff, My Antonia, Sah'tea and the very strong 12% Palo Santo Marron which is a rarity in the bars. We were very happy with the tastes given, we just didn't like the tour.

Indeed, we are planning on returning to the brewpub in Rehobeth on Thursday when the open that week's 75 minute Johnny Cask IPA on hand pump. It is creamy and smooth and strong and they only have one barrel of it each week and when it kicks there's nothing left until the next week. Looking forward to it.

caveman coffee

When opportunity knocks you don't ask why; you just smile broadly and say 'thanks' as you grab at it with two hands. Even when that 'opportunity' comes without a coffee grinder, you figure out a way of smashing the beans without too much grousing. A plastic freezer bag, paper towels and a hammer wielded with just enough force will eventually yield the necessary product. Janet is calling it Caveman Coffee, as she giggles at me on the backporch of our friend's house in Delaware. We are watching their house and dog while they are away for the next week. There were a lot of instructions left for the dog, but no coffee grinder.

We drove down yesterday evening after watching most of a Phillies game. Tickets were courtesy of Janet's father and they were very similar to our seating arrangements earlier in the week at Yankee Stadium. The vibe is noticeably different in Philadelphia where it is more of a minor league, good natured mentality. For instance, between innings they were piping in Christmas music, as it was 5 months to the day for the next Christmas and brutally hot. On the scoreboards they were putting up pictures of the players clad in red Santa or green Elf outfits. The cameras often caught the spectators mugging and flexing their muscles for the stadium. I couldn't imagine the Yankees indulging the crowds in such a way.

Anyway, it began to rain fiercely around the 6 inning and after being lashed by wind and rain for half an hour we decided to leave to drive down the Delaware. Today we're off to the beach, probably Cape Henlopen.

thanks for reading.

vacations at home

Spent the day lazily kicking around Lambertville and New Hope. We had no desire to travel far or anywhere, but mid afternoon we walked down the wooded hill that is across the street from my house just to say we did something. Truthfully whole days can ooze by while perched on this hill, locally known as Music Mountain, without knowing there's the "city" of Lambertville not far away. The backyard is secluded, the front porch looks out onto woods. If I had a pool there would be little reason to leave. I often like to sit on the front porch and watch the day saunter into evening and listen to the birds and watch the occasional bat flit overhead.

Anyway yesterday, after our New York City adventure, we decided to stay in town. We walked the trail through the woods that skirts the ridge, listening to the train whistle from the tourist line in New Hope across the river, and descended onto York Street and eventually made our way onto the bridge and the cool breezes off the water cooled our skin in the bright sunlight. South was Washington's Outlook on Goat Hill on the New Jersey side and further along after the river bends to the east was Bowman's Tower. We settled onto chairs on the patio at the Starbucks just over the river in New Hope and watched people and cars pass us as we sipped our rewards. Later my son picked us up in the Pathfinder on his way to his job at Staples and we bought salmon for dinner that we grilled with lime juice and cilantro that we ate with grilled tomatoes and a large arugala/spinach salad with pinenuts and avocado and mushrooms.

Later it was a vacation to nowhere on the blue Cape Hatteras hammock Janet bought me for my birthday a few years back and we swayed in the breeze near the now green forsythia and beneath the proud Tulip tree and were happy we were together.

....just like i pictured it

Your VFH team followed their favorite team yesterday, all the way to the Bronx. Sure, Janet SAYS she is a Phillies fan, but she knows when to jump on the Yankee Bandwagon. Truthfully though we at VFH central often have both games on simultaneously and root accordingly. This upcoming weekend we'll be down at the Phillies stadium to catch a game.

Still, whatever your team affiliation, or hatred of the Yankees dynasty, going to Yankees stadium is as revered a trip as traveling to Cooperstown and the Baseball Hall of Fame. And, typical of your highly decorated VFH duo, we made it quite the occasion. We endeavor to to make each day an "event" and a mini vacation from home.

We opted for a different approach to getting to New York. Janet has often taken the ferry from Weehawken, NJ to cross the Hudson, but yesterday was the first for me. The train is a reliable means of transportation. The thought of driving all the way to NYC is prohibitive, with the wear and tear on the car and traffic and weather a major concern. But, this was a special occasion and because we left after rush hour for the 1:05 first pitch start of the game, and the typically summer slowdown of commuting, the traffic was light and we reached the ferry stop at Port Imperial fairly quickly and early enough to cash in on the cheaper parking. After 10 a.m. parking goes up an extra $2.00 to $10.00. The 10 minute trip itself was $8.50 each way, so it was slightly cheaper than going by train without the gasoline factored into the equation. But the trip itself was worth far more than the ultra efficient NJ Transit train ride. New York City rose majestically out of the Hudson, seemingly floating on the waters of the vast estuary. To the north was the George Washington Bridge, south was the Statue of Liberty with one spire of the Verrazano Narrows behind it in the far distance. The day was hot, but along the water there was a cooling breeze and a sense of promise as we awaited the ferry. We rode outside and marveled at this vast great island as the wind ruffled our hair. This was much better than the train and we sighed at our luck.

In Manhattan the Ferry company operates free shuttle buses and we took one all the way to Rockefeller Plaza. That would have been a $10 cab ride at least or a very long hot walk. You're able to get off the bus anywhere you'd like too, making this an added plus. At Rockefeller Plaza we walked around like tourists for awhile, chatted with a fellow I used to work with at NBC and eventually took the D train to 161st Street.

The old Yankee stadium is gone. I had first gone there with my Dad, who dragged half the neighborhood to a game one day decades ago. We ran around the stadium that dreary day, it was a rain out, but we really didn't care. I remember the pillars in the stands and the ornate facade. Over the years since I'd sat in every nearly every section, before and after the renovations of the 1970's. A childhood friend, Brian, and I often drove in and parked on the street and got bleacher seats for something like $1.50. The last game I went to at the old stadium was a couple of years ago, courtesy of free Maury tickets. I'm still amazed they tore down the old place, and as I stood before the new one, looking across the street at the gaping construction site, I was sad. Yet, the new Yankee stadium was clean and polished and beautiful, and it was more than a game, but an event.

Baseball always seems to evoke the child in everyone. Rather than the violence of football, it is an event, a gathering, a social occasion. There is a feeling of gaity throughout the stands and there's nothing like passing money and IDs and beers between patrons and concession employees. Even at the great heights of our seats, 6 rows from the edge in section 420a, there is an intimacy with the game and we were quite readily able to tell the Umpire his strike zone was askewed. We had purchased our tickets through Stubhub.com (http://www.stubhub.com/) when we couldn't get tickets through the Yankees website. We paid $25.00 not including varioius fees tacked on.

Before the game we went to Stan's Yankees bar on River Street. It is a New York version of Philadelphia's Chickie and Pete's, but without the Crab Fries. It was loud and packed and the scene was odd because the last time I'd been there the sky was blotted out by the EL and the stadium across the street. But since that was gone sunlight spilled in, illuminating the Yankee memorabilia. It's a great place for a beer or two before heading into the stadium.

We got to the stadium too late to tour the Monument park; they evidently need to close it to prepare for the game. No worries, we got a beer and walked the circumference of the stadium before walking forever to get to our seats 6 rows from the rim. (For Phillies fans following this blog, don't worry, nothing at Yankees Stadium replaces the food or the selection of beers you can find at your home. One stand, Beers of the World, featured Yuenglings....)

Oh yes, there was a game....the Yankees beat the Los Angeles Angels 10-6. It featured three home runs by the home team, but none by Alexander Rodriquez, A-Rod. He was stuck on 598. He should hit 600 soon, becoming the youngest major leaguer to reach that number. From our perch we had a clear view of everything, including the scoreboards and huge television in center field. I pointed out to Janet that Joe Girardi, the Yankees manager, had his number changed from 27 last year to 28 this year. Of course, last year the Yankees won their 27th championship...
Yeah, I'm a Yankees fan.

Don't worry...we'll give the Phillies their due on Sunday.

What makes your VFH team so successful is their ability to recognize serendipity when it rears its lovely head. We left our aerie after the 6th inning and decided to see if we could get seats closer to the field. Turns out the ushers guard these expensive seats zealously and as well they should. If I'm paying $1,325 in something called the Legends Suite I certainly don't want moochers like the VFH team sitting next to me! The Nazis glowered at anyone nearing the steps of the Field level seats which only went for $125 to $300 per, but Janet saw an opportunity when one lady was distracted from her post while tackling a poser and we deeked around her and watched the last three innings from great seats. I know its all a business, but there were certainly a lot of empty seats there.

After the game we decided to take the train down to Little Italy for a dinner at one of countless places on Mulberry Street. New York is fascinating as it changes dramatically within a block or two. We left the stadium, awash in pinstripes, rode a subway with humanity pressed and tired from their day, exited the subway and stepped into China with shops brimming with frogs and shark fins and crowded sideways and within a few blocks along Grand we entered a world of waiters waving us towards their menus. We ate at Da Nico and the only reason I give this place any space is because Janet and her friends had eaten here in the past and liked the food. I had Pollo Cardinale and was pleased.

We then walked up the Bowery and eventually into Greenwich Village. Before boarding the subway at 4th street we walked through Washington Square Park and watched the kids splash in the fountain on this humid night. A group of people played guitars and sang in one corner and we sat for awhile on a bench enjoying the scene.

The ride back across the Hudson was ethereal. As we slipped along the dark waters, with the lights of Manhattan dancing in the wake, we lingered in a loving embrace. Your favorite VFH team had a successful day....just like I pictured it.

this and that .... here and there

Sorry faithful readers... We have been doing much, but relating none of it for your entertainment. Consider this analogy, offered by Janet's lovely daughter...She says that although her bedroom needs a serious cleaning, she would rather be outside and enjoying the sunshine and the company of family and friends. Such is the case with the VFH team as well... Sadly I have been lacking in my devotion to relate our travels to you, and sadly, you're probably not missing the entries!

So, I'll try to get caught up little by little.

One of the best parts of living in the historic river town of Lambertville is the Delaware River. I have been on that river countless times over my decades of life. The Water Gap was a destination for the family trundling about in the Plymouth sedan. Towns like Hancock, Calicoon and Milford and stretches of the river like the Mon Gap and Skinners Falls inspired beatific visions of the summers canoeing on the upper Delaware. There was a week long trip sponsored by Boy Scouts that featured a spontaneous double date with two girls we met while paddling. My canoe partner and I hitch hiked back upriver to the girl's campsite for a rather pleasant evening....

When my family was young and intact we would linger by the Delaware, either at Lewis Island or a bit upriver near where the Alexauken Creek joined the timeless flow of this gentle river and we'd flounce about and Duke our Golden Retriever would follow us as we'd wade in up to our chests, lazily paddling along with us.

Soon after moving to Lambertville in 1989 I made a point of purchasing a surplus Old Town Discovery 158, a cadillac sized canoe, from a canoe rental place. The fellow asked if I needed help putting it on my truck. I said 'no'. I had him help me drag it to the river and I paddled the 8 miles to l'ville on my own. When I lived just off the canal in town I would paddle the kids into town to get ice cream... we called it "canaling". My son and I often did overnights and we'd camp on Eagle Island just above Stockton, cooking our meals on flat rocks heated in the campfire.

The other week Janet and I dragged the canoe up to Bulls Island and we meandered down the river to Lambertville. It was blisteringly hot day, but the river was cool and refreshing. We took our time and even lingered by Eagle Island. Janet placed the beach chair we toted along in the water and we let a hour pass without a thought. It was all pleasant and reminiscent of lives lived and good times to yet come.

Nirvana

The VFH "brew" crew just got back home from a glorious trip to Cooperstown, New York. I'd like to say that we explored this slice of Americana that is the home of the National Baseball Hall of Fame http://www.baseballhall.org/ sober and walked through the museum dizzy in awe of the legends of this great American Pastime enshrined here. I would love to say that we allowed a languid afternoon to meander towards evening as we lolled by the picturesque Lake Otsego with nothing stronger than unsweeted Iced-tea, or to take in a free game at the historic Doubleday Field with nothing more than a box of crackerjacks. Yes, we could have communed with nature at the Farmers Museum http://www.farmersmuseum.org/ or nodded in appreciation at the art of John Singer Sargent at the Fenimore Art Museum http://www.fenimoreartmuseum.org/.

It could have been all clean, wholesome fun. We could have trundled down Cooperstown's Main Street with the hordes of tourists ogling the baseball memorabilia shops, perhaps to even stroll, linked arm-in-arm, down to the small bridge at one end of the town to view the source of the mighty Susquehanna River.

But....beer is a strong incentive.

As well as the World Cup.

Our first thought when we arrived in Cooperstown on Tuesday was to find where to watch the World Cup match between Netherlands and Uruguay. We made a point of leaving very early so that we could drive the 240+ miles to Cooperstown with enough time to find a decent place. Well, we were worried at first. Several exploratory phone calls to restaurants and bars in the area were not promising as our questions about the World Cup match were often met with a "huh". One bartender said they didn't like the television on, another said it's first come first serve with the viewing..... Ugh.

At least the choice of beer would not be a problem at any of the places because Brewery Ommegang, which makes wonderful Belgian style ales, is a local company and every place had at least one on tap! http://www.ommegang.com/ But like a lot of the United States these days we're pretending to like soccer during the World Cup and we had followed religiously, although we weren't close to declaring war on Ghana when USA lost to them in the knock out round. We were still interested in seeing the two matches scheduled on Tuesday and Wednesday.

We flitted from bar to bar with nothing catching our fancy until we happened upon an information booth... I asked the woman there where to find three things. 1) World Cup 2) Food & 3) Ommegang. She immediately pointed across Main Street to the Doubleday Cafe. It was a crowded, noisey place brimming with tourists, but it had a nice menu with good prices and a bar with a spectacular flat screen television and a brew from Ommegang called Rare Vos for just $4 a pint! The best part was the bartender, a cheery fellow named Juddy, and one of the patrons, who bounced in and out from his dry cleaning business around the corner, Helmut, were enthusiastic about the matches as well. It made for a delightful afternoon.

After Netherlands won we said good-byes and walked down Main Street and visited the National Baseball Hall of Fame. Your interpid (and slightly snookered) Vacations From Home teammates are fans of the game and we delighted in the memorabilia and tales of the sport's history. We marveled over the pricy collectable baseball cards and uniforms set up in locker room displays and the balls collected from each no hitter hurled from 1940 onwards on one massive wall. We laughed at Abbot and Costello's timeless 'Who's On First' routine played in a loop and like dutiful altar boys at the Stations of the Cross we read nearly every bas relief plaque of the HOF enshrinees. I was particularly interested in seeing the locker room displays of the garrulous Ty Cobb and Lou Gehrig as well as Phil "Scooter" Rizzuto's plaque as I had grown up listening to him talk about canoli as he called the Yankees games on WPIX.

Wednesday was much of the same, though we got it in our head to go on something called the Cooperstown Beverage Trail. http://www.cooperstownbeveragetrail.com/. Visit all four and sample some good (and bad) drink and you get a FREE beer bug (or wine glass). Use the word "free" in a sentence anywhere near the Vacations From Home team and you're sure to be trampled in the ensuing bedlam. We took our breakfast at the Fly Creek Cider Mill by sampling every possible use of apples from butter to salsa to bbq sauce, dipping fistfulls of pretzels in the concoctions and washed it all down with some Hard Apple Cider and Apple Wine. It was a hot morning and we also cashed in the coupons that gave us a free Apple slurpy or slushie... it was good. Then it was back to the Doubleday cafe for Germany / Spain and more pleasant company from Skully and Helmut as well as a husband and wife from the area who rooted for Spain. The rest of us were on the German bandwagon. Spain agonizingly neutralized the German machine though to gain the final on Sunday.

Turns out the couple were school teachers too and were both from the Kearny/Harrison area of New Jersey where I grew up and so the banter soon turned from soccer to life and after the game they took us to a pleasant restaurant/bar tucked away on a side street away from Main. The Hoffman Lane Bistro proved to be a find. http://www.hoffmanlanebistro.com/. Not only did they have several Ommegang on tap, but they were pushing 750 ml bottles of Three Philosophers beer from Ommegang at just $4.00 per; a substantial savings from the normal retail price. They had several cases leftover from a party. We brought several bottles to take home, but left them at the restaurant to keep on ice until the next day. After our school teacher friends left Janet and I then strolled through the leafy streets of Cooperstown and breathed the fresh air and pondered the plausibility of moving here. The people are friendly, the town had a bit of a spark with all the baseball and the rural country side was just around the corner.

The next day, Thursday, we had no World Cup and no baseball. It was not an empty day though. After Janet made a glorious breakfast of bacon and eggs and we sloshed it all down with strong strong strong percolated coffee we then headed out on the beverage trail again. Ignoring the caravans of vans brimming with youth baseball players headed to the Cooperstown Dream Park emblazoned with colorful signs saying things like "Cooperstown or Bust" we hustled down the base path to the Bear Pond Winery where we sampled some "interesting" wines. We split the cost of one tasting, which included 6 choices. We were afraid we would not be able to pick another six! We ended up buying a bottle of rose that we figured would be good on a hot day.

But today was beer day and we very quickly headed north to the Cooperstown Brewing Company where we were entertained by the tattooed brewmeister/mechanic/salesman, Dennis, and it changed our minds about the beer. I had tried something called "Old Slugger" at Doubleday, thinking a change from the Rare Vos of Ommegang was necessary, and thought it tasted as if there was something wrong with the tap.... Turns out Old Slugger was sluggish no matter the venue.

The rest though were very good and all featured baseball motif names. We purchased two six packs of Coopertown Brewery beer; an award winning Porter called Benchwarmer and a very strong special ale called the Pride of Milford, which features a picture of the owner in a baseball uniform on the label. It was a positive visit. We had not expected much, but were pleased.

All was forgotten when we reached Nirvana; Brewery Ommegang! Looking like a Belgian Farmhouse in the New York State countryside, Ommegang beckoned us like a safe haven from Apple wine dead ends and skunk beer. Gleaming white in the brilliant afternoon sunlight Ommegang was the real reason for our trip to Cooperstown. We have been drinking these wonderful elixhirs, these Beligian style farmhouse ales and wheat beers for years and have long considered a trip to the brewery an implausible dream. But, here we were, standing before the gates like long lost children and we giddily waited for the tour and free tastings. We then bought a bottle of Ommegang, a Trappist Monk ale, and sat in the shade of an umbrella at one of the picnic tables to further extend our visit. We bought gifts and took pictures and when we finally left to swim at the campsite we were happy and satisfied and pleased we had traveled all these miles to reach this destination. We collected our decorative coasters and our Cooperstown Beverage commemorative beer mugs and drove away thinking here's another reason to buy property in Cooperstown!

After enduring the cacophany of youth baseball team members cannonballing their way into the pool we dressed and had another Ommegang at the Blue Mingo. If you decide to go, please please please ignore the dusty parking lot and boathouse, as well as the tacky gift shop in the front. When you finally enter the bar and restaurant that literally sits on Lake Otsego you will be so enchanted that perhaps you'll alter your plans for the rest of the day. We almost did, especially since our favorite bartender, Juddy, was there having ended his shift at the Doubleday Cafe. But, in the end we stayed with our original plan for the Hoffman Lane Bistro where we capped our mini vacation with a fine meal.