WHY I RUN AWAY TO ‘THE PINES’

 

EXCURSION TO THE BARRENS

 

I like to watch old farms wake up

ground fog furling within the turned furrows

as dew-drenched tendrils of some new crop

lift toward dawn

 

three solid horses bumble

along the split-rail fence

one rusting tractor pulsing

at the field’s hem

 

just over the horizon

the invisible ocean

paints white wisps

all along the Pinelands’

blank blue canvas

as gulls intensely circle

this tractor driver’s

frayed straw hat

 

from rotund ex-school buses

workers spill

long green rows suddenly peppered

by their vivid headgear

as they bend and bend again

to sever Jersey’s bright asparagus

 

some of which I’ll buy

just up ahead

at the unattended farm stand

slipping folded dollars

into the ‘Honor Box’

 

before driving so reluctantly

away from this region called ‘Barren’

where people and harvests

still move to seasons and tides

 

 

CAROLYN FOOTE EDELMANN

May 30, 2005/July 19, 2006

OLD-FASHIONED ICE CREAM PARLOR, in Burlington NJ, near Delaware River

UMMM Ice Cream Burlington July 2017

NJWILDBEAUTY readers know I recently savored river towns, thanks to our brilliant light rail system from Bordentown (for me) to Camden.  This immaculate, zingy, Swiss-made train is reconnecting and resurrecting towns that died with the age of sail.

Coke of Yesteryear Ice Cream Parlor MMMM Burlington July 2017

Tickets are for a time period, not any particular destination – and mine (because of venerable age!) is 75 cents for two hours.  I guess non-venerables pay $1.50.  Heaven awaits.

CHOICES! Ice Cream Parlor MMMM Burlington

But also, the visceral experience of other eras.  I am convinced that Burlington’s brick sidewalks must have been made with bricks from the Abbott Marshlands, ages ago.  Signs of 1776 and 1656 abound.

Important Men Burlington July 2017

This ice cream parlor is in Burlington, (two blocks east and one south returned us to the train station, to buy and then validate a second set of tickets.)    It feels as though it were founded in the earliest part of the twentieth century, and has barely changed since.  Even I am not that venerable!

Eloquent Bricks Burlington

Back to the Ice Cream Parlor:

Get a Split Ice Cream Parlor Burlington July

 

FLAG Ice Cream Parlor MMMM Burlington July 2017

If Michelin had not invented “worthy of the journey”, I would have to do so for this idyllic sojourn.

On that hot summer’s day, all we needed to cool ourselves in the river towns, was to walk a block or two west to the river, or pop into this ice cream parlor.

O.K., the 21st-century waitress didn’t know how to make an ice cream soda.  But, beautiful and charming, she tore herself away from studying, to follow perfect instructions from my Princeton Photography Club (New York natives) companions.

Hit the rails — Think “River Line”!

 

 

 

 

Lumberville (PA) General Store — Unique, Even Outstanding Foods and Welcome

http://thelumbervillegeneralstore.com/ [sign up for notices of SPECIAL events…]

 

Feast by the Fire Lumberville General Store Jan. 2017

One of Winter’s Welcoming Fireplaces, Lumberville General Store, PA

How can one be homesick for a place that is not home?  Or actively miss a place, when one is there every few weeks?  This has been my fate since I ‘met’ the renovated Lumberville General Store, on ‘The River Road’ above New Hope.  This emporium of excellence has been eincarnated by brilliant Laura Thompson, aesthetic genius behind the Black Bass Inn across the road.

***

Black Bass Inn Lumberville PA Jan. 2017

Bass Inn, Venerable ‘Parent’ Establishment Across Route 32

***

A Florida friend and I had set out for Bucks County with Christmas presents for one another in hand,  planning for breakfast at a traditional Lamberville morning restaurant.  Now that she lives in the South, time together needs to be timeless and quiet.  Our destination, that morning, turned out to be rambunctious and raucous, with a line out the door into December’s gelid air.  “We’re not doing this,” I announced.  “I’ve read about new chefs at the Lumberville General Store.  Let’s give it a try.”

Ice Floes on River Lumberville General Store Jan. 2017

Ice Floes Race Down the Delaware River, Out Lumberville General Store Windows

***

Lantern Lumberville General Store Jan. 2017

Welcoming Lantern on the Mantel

***

Pheasant Feather Array Lumberville General Store Jan. 2017Window Decor, Lumberville General Store Haven

***

 

Fireplace Tile Lumberville General Store Jan. 2017

Fireplace Tile, Lumberville General Store

***

 

Fireplace Gloves ready for Christmas Lumberville General Store Jan. 2017

Even the Fire-Tending Gloves are Decorative!

***

 

Scotch Woodcock, Sage and Ginger Sausage, Hash Browns Lumberville General Store

Scotch Woodcock (home-smoked salmon), gossamer eggs, cloud-like roll, home-fashioned-and-smoked sausage with ginger and sage — and the most ethereal (so-called) hash-browned potatoes of our lives — [Chef Anton’s secret being pre-preparation inspired by The French Laundry] — an hour and a  half  sous-vide… and, o, yes, “We finish them in butter.  Everything’s better in butter.”

***

One chooses a room, a table, a fireplace.  One picks up a handy compact clipboarded menu in the main room of the General Store.  One agonizes between their own bacon, quiche with crust that levitates, scrambled eggs in the form of the omelets of France, triple-berry or cheese scones, hearty breakfast biscuit, and the like.  I cannot count the number of friends I have taken there or met there.  All are astounded — even at lunch.  This attention to detail, to sources (“We’re between Manhattan and Philly — purveyors are glad to serve us.”) I seem to remember Anton’s delight in the storied Viking fisheries of LBI for salmon and other fish; and local eggs whose provenance resembles that of works of art.  Their legendary soups are also available frozen to take home, as are those remarkable quiches.  Tall sturdy glass bottles with metal and porcelain stoppers hold (free) refrigerated water for your table, by whatever fireside, or outside, setting you may choose.

While Amy and Charlie and Anton banter with you behind the counter, you can create mixed coffee concoctions to meet your morning needs.  Everyone’s pride in his and her work is palpable.  Their delight in one’s presence is as though you’re guests and they’re cherished hosts in the warmest of homes.

We’ve done any number of Christmas and birthday rituals, wrapped in timelessness that is not the norm in this dire century.  There have been celebration of having recovered visits and even sympathy returns.  Hale or not, merry or sad, by the fire, or with backyard breezes wafting in as guests feast at the sturdy outdoor tables — in this historic setting, one feels blessed.  As well as gastronomically enchanted.

Black Bass Inn Plaques Lumberville PA Jan. 2017

***

And afterwards, in most weather (once, even in black ice — a short jaunt), one can walk the foot(e)bridge across my beloved Delaware and its Pennsylvania canal, to Bull’s Island in New Jersey.  There’s even a successful eagle nest visible when trees are less leafed out, one mile below the New Jersey entry to Bull’s Island.  This hefty structure crowns a massive sycamore, almost on the river.  And another eagle nest may be found on the power tower near the Lambertville toll bridge — whose three young fledged on the Fourth of July weekend!  For a long time, the Homestead Farm Market on the Lambertville hill had its scope trained on the nest where these hefty young were “branching” — testing their wings.

***

Canal Towpath Delaware River Jan. 2017

Canal and Towpath, Pennsylvania Side

***

January Delaware and Canal from Footbridge 2017

Canal and River Alongside/Below Black Bass Inn

***

 

Pennsylvania Canal Towpath and Delaware River

Winter Canal, “Down By the Riverside…”

NJWILDBEAUTY readers well recognize that this haven, which extends far beyond a mere restaurant, constellates most of my passions:   beauty, history, authenticity, gastronomy, and Nature herself — especially my cherished Delaware River.

Places such as Riverton and Burlington NJ, and Perkasie and Sellersville, PA, remind us, along with Lumberville:  Without preservation, we would have little or none of the experiences and photographs on this ‘page.’

This canal was connected to our D&R Canal by an aqueduct at nearby Raven Rock.  Much of New Jersey was settled, in the canal era, beside canal towns.  Before that, the Delaware was the main artery.  Lumberville was named for the trees harvested there and floated down the river to build Pennsylvania and New Jersey in those centuries.  It is a miracle that not only beauty, but even artifacts of those time, let alone buildings, remain.

NJWILDBEAUTY readers know I celebrate living in the Delaware Valley, because it is so easy to get to beauty and wildness, and HISTORY, within an hour’s drive or less!  It wasn’t like this in Michigan, which became a state in 1837…  Open your eyes and your tastebuds newly to our surroundings.  Give yourselves these memorable gifts.

***

From their web-site — you see, yet another passion, art in general and Delaware Valley Impressionism in particular…

HISTORY

As you can see from the original date stone on the front of the store, our beautiful building has stood on River Road since 1770. Over the years – with ownership passing from local family to local family – the General Store has always honored the same fundamental tradition: providing a place for the community to congregate. While our visitors may not be relying on us for their weekly groceries these days, we’re proud to still maintain the cozy, communal feel that has defined our store’s history.

PAST

This once-sleepy area alongside the Delaware River steadily developed over the course of the late eighteenth century, and with it, the General Store. In 1775, Revolutionary War hero Colonel George Wall, Jr. acquired the land and began personally overseeing the store. He also (modestly) renamed the area “Walls Landing” and created two lumber mills, a grist mill, and a surveying school. By 1825, the store started to serve a dual purpose as the post office of the newly renamed “Lumberville” – a moniker chosen by Jonathan Heed and Samuel Hartley in response to the successful saw mill operations. As the eighteenth century turned into the nineteenth, the General Store exchanged hands between the Livezey family and the Heed family.

Over time, Lumberville became a bucolic haven for artists, such as Martin Johnson Heade, who was originally a “Heed” before leaving for Europe to study painting. His romantic landscapes experienced a resurgence in popularity the 1940s, with pieces selling for up to $1,000,000. When the daughter of his nephew, Elsie Housely, became the owner of the General Store in 1939, she ensured Heade’s continued recognition after disassembling his sketchbook and selling the pages to eager dealers and collectors. The store remained in her capable hands until 1973, when the ownership changed again.

 

TRULY RURAL: SELLERSVILLE, PENNSYLVANIA

Modern Male Sellersville

MODERN MALE, SELLERSVILLE, PA, FOURTH OF JULY WEEKEND

(A recent Pearl S. Buck pilgrimage took a friend and me also to surrounding towns in very rural Pennsylvania.  Sellersville was a curious combination of past and present.  We had to turn to Wikipedia to learn some of its past.)

Guide Pearl Buck Estate July 2017

EMMA, OUR CHARMING GUIDE TO NEARBY PEARL BUCK ESTATE

Sellersville was founded in the early 18th century. It was centered on a major road known as Bethlehem Pike that connected Philadelphia to Bethlehem and the rest of what was then far Western Pennsylvania.

(Wikipedia is rather voluble about this tiny burg surrounded by farmland, hills and almost-mountains of the appropriate shade of violet.)

(We had begun our Pearl Buck-quest at a delightfully vibrant and lively farmers’ market in Perkasie.  First peaches joined healthy cabbage, vibrant tomatoes and a rainbow, so to speak, of fresh ‘greens’, sold by the farmers themselves.)

The ‘shank of the day’ was spent exploring the Pearl Buck Estate on nearby Dublin Road. 

Welcome Sellersville Rural PA July

WELCOME TO SELLERSVILLE

Our finale was a bountiful and gracious late lunch at Sellarsville’s remarkably sophisticated Washington Inn, in what most people otherwise might describe as ‘a backwater’.  The name of that Inn was just part of the constant Fourth-of-July references that peppered our adventure, –none planned and all greatly appreciated–, on our Country’s sacred Birthday weekend.)

Flag Sellersville PA

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR AMERICA, FROM SELLERSVILLE

The town was very small and was called Sellers Tavern. Its most notable feature was a large inn. The present Washington House in Sellersville, however, was not Sellers Tavern.

Washington Inn Side View Sellersville PA

HOW WASHINGTON INN LOOKED FROM MAIN STREET IN ITS PAST

The town grew slowly over the years until the Industrial Revolution. In the 1860s the North Pennsylvania Railroad was built, running parallel to Bethlehem Pike: this stimulated the growth of light textile industries and brought a wave of population growth.

Proud Past Sellersville Rural PA July 2017

PROUD PAST – SELLSERSVILLE’S MAIN STREET

The East Branch of the Perkiomen Creek runs through the town, connecting it to an adjacent town of Perkasie. This creek was dammed in the early 20th century,  creating a small body of water known as Lake Lenape. (So, even in Pennsylvania, places are named after those who were destroyed — these first settlers — in order that ‘progress’ might take place…)

Along the length of the lake, a park was built on Perkasie and Sellersville lands. In the 1920s and 1930s this park housed a carousel, a roller coaster and several other amusements.

The railroad brought hundreds of people from Philadelphia in the summertime.  It became a well known vacation spot for blue-collar city workers.

Sellersville Theatre 1894 2017

SELLERSVILLE THEATER, 1894

The town was also home to the Radium Company of America, which was the largest uranium milling facility in the world at the time.  (There seems to be no notice of the human toll of uranium milling, or the “luminescence” to follow.  At Wheaton Glass Museum in South Jersey, the human toll of luminous glassware is frankly declared.)

Cloud Bank Sellersville PA

TURRETED TOWN OF SELLERSVILLE, PENNSYLVANIA

The United States Gauge Company originated in Sellersville in 1904.  It became a prominent manufacturer of gauges for military use, many of which were coated with radium-based paint[1] for nighttime luminesence. The company later became instrumental in the production of nuclear weapons,[2] leaving behind a legacy of industrial and radioactive contamination that has been well-hidden by local, county, state, and federal government agencies for decades.  (Ironically, my friend – who had planned this intricate excursion- and I were actively speaking with longing of the healthy air, the healthy lives these fortunate residents must have!)

Clematis Exuberance Sellersville PA

CLEMATIS EXUBERANCE, WASHINGTON INN

Today the town is still relatively small, sandwiched between a ridge line and the larger town of Perkasie. The center of town still runs along Bethlehem Pike, now called Old Route 309.

Storied Washington Inn Sellersville PA July 2017

THE WASHINGTON INN, 2017

The Washington House still stands and has recently been restored to become an upscale restaurant.

Washington House Sellersville PA

HOTEL AND RESTAURANT: WASHINGTON INN

Next door to the restaurant was a livery stable, which was converted into a theater (later a movie theater) in 1894. It has since been restored.  It was reopened in 2001 as Sellersville Theater 1894 as a live music venue.  (The Washington Inn and the Sellersville Theater cooperate in evenings of food and drama.  My friend and I signed up for chances on “A Big Night in Sellersville — involving gastronomy and theatre and ‘a night in the Tower.’)

Parisian Cafe Chairs Sellersville PA

PARISIAN CHAIRS, WASHINGTON INN, SELLERSVILLE, PA

The creek is still dammed but only the carousel in Perkasie remains of the amusements.

The textile industry has long moved out of the area.  Sellersville has become mainly a residential town for people working in the many urban centers that are only a short commute away.

The town is surrounded on three sides by open country and spread-out housing developments.

The Teller Cigar Factory was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1987.

TURRET OF YESTERYEAR, SELLERSVILLE, PENNSYLVANIA

Sellersville Turret PA July 2017

 

“Extreme Environmentalist” Confronts Sarah Palin – Poem by Carolyn Foote Edelmann, June 2010, after Gulf Oil Disaster

Because I will be birding pristine Island Beach this Sunday, –with five other intense bird-lovers, two of whom are the well known fine art nature photographers, Ray Yeager (of Ray Yeager Photography.com) and Angela Previte, (of Simple Life at the Shore Nature Blog), I am expecting to be in the company of gannets.  There is no more elegant, no more spectaculara shore bird in my world, especially when gannets are feeding.  We may also be gifted with long-tailed ducks, out beyond the third waves.  Island Beach remains  as impeccable as gannets, –still serene, shrubby, wind-blown and un-BUILT since creation, thanks to PRESERVATIONISTS.  We six have the sense that we must relish this magnitude, this nature at her peak, while we still can…

northern-gannet-adult-plunging

Northern Gannet Plunging, From Internet

Most of the time, dear NJWILDBEAUTY readers, I have managed to keep politics out of NJWILDBEAUTY.  Even though, as we all know, politicians threaten most if not all of the wild beauty of our (most populous, never forget it!) state; and, increasingly, of the Planet itself.

gannet-on-rocks-1web

Gannet on Rocks in Healthy Habitat

Even though I dared once refer to this state’s so-called governor as ‘our Caligula’, in these ‘pages’; and termed then-newly-nominated presidential candidate ‘the new Hitler.’

I have not revised my opinion, by the way.

Although I try to concentrate on nature instead of politics in these ‘pages.’

oiled-gannet-on-beach-from-internet

Oiled Gannet on Beach from Internet

Now enormous confrontation looms, in which politics will do all in its power to to destroy nature.  One of their cohorts, now, –Sarah Palin–, is mentioned as Cabinet material.

oiled-gannet-face-from-internet

Oiled Gannet Face, From Internet

Long ago, my poem, (in the form of a letter to Ms. Palin) –before appearing in NJWILD, which Ilene Dube asked me to launch for Princeton Packet Publications–, had won internet publication by a clean water group asking for poems about the seemingly insuperable, and now mostly overlooked, Gulf Oil disaster.  You may recall whom Sarah Palin blamed…

120424051724-bp-oil-spill-horizon-horizontal-large-gallery

BP OIL DISASTER, from Internet, which everyone continues to refer to as a “SPILL”, including internet title to this image

No one who cares about birds has forgotten the BP explosion, which was originally reported as emitting 200 barrels of oil per day.  Do note that, –even in the caption for this photo on the Internet–, the ceaseless explosions and outpourings are simply termed ‘a spill.’

I did write, in NJWILD, “If you believe that gallon estimate, you’ll believe anything.”

We all know that far more than birds was ruined in those terrible months — especially the way of life of people of Louisiana who had fished and shrimped and boated for generations.

oiled-human-protestor-to-bp-oil-disaster-from-internet

Oiled Human Protestor in Gulf during BP Disaster

You may have forgotten that Sarah and her ilk blamed the disaster (which means “torn from the stars!”), on “extreme environmentalists.”  I proudly accepted then, –and even more insistently now–, rejoice in that title.  The result was the poem below.

mutant-seafood-image-from-internet

The Livelihood of Gulf Fishermen because of BP Disaster

oiled-pelican-in-gulf-during-bp-disaster

ICON of BP DISASTER – Oiled Pelicans

Today, I mailed the poem to my my professor daughter to read it to her Literature class at a California college.  I dared challenge this formidable young woman and ardent feminist to suggest that her students have their pictures taken HUGGING A TREE, to promulgate on Facebook.  To show the shuddering world that not everyone in America agrees with its most outrageous current spokesman.  To demonstrate that the guardians of the future know what really matters.

Everyone reading this can do so, letting our allies know that some of us do have planetary consciousness.

tree-hugger-from-internet

We Need to Become a Nation, a World, of TREE-HUGGERS

WHAT REALLY MATTERS:

Liberty

Nature

The Planet

 

PLEASE SHARE THIS WITH EVERYONE YOU KNOW —

Remember, Margaret Mead insists, “A small group of people can change the world.  Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”

And Edwin Burke:  “All that it takes for evil to happen is for good men (PEOPLE) to do nothing.”

WHAT WILL YOU DO?

the poem of June 2010:

DEAR SARAH PALIN,

 

I understand it’s all my fault

–this Gulf oil disaster, I mean–

not only all that fire

bodies catapulted into air

then drowned

soon likely shark bait

but also this volcano of oil

spewing interminably

into our blue mantle

 

Sarah, you say

I did this

all of this and more

now some six weeks ago

with no end in sight

 

and no businessman

politician not even a general

let alone you, Sarah Palin,

knows how to stop

this tornado of oil

 

it’s also my fault, the oiled birds

— Northern gannets —

pristine as Josephine

in her Empire gown

frail white silk

adorned with gold

though not quite bees

dark eyes snapping

as each becomes increasingly encased

in ‘my’ oil

more abruptly than all those mastodons

in La Brea’s tar pits

 

now slender cormorants

who, everyone is sure, are drowning

as they swim along

neck barely afloat

no one realizing

the genius of cormorants

who can fly/swim 30 miles an hour

underwater

when they are not oiled

 

about the mpg of my car

my old car

for the ownership of which

I am quite guilty

for the replacement of which

I have no means

 

cormorants

must wave both wings

after every dive

to dry them

so that they may

dive and dive again

–no wave strong enough

to shake off ceaseless poison weight

of oil

 

it’s my fault, the reddish egrets

you know his own epitaph

–written by photographer Ted Cross

for his own recent death–

describing his multi-faceted self

on the Other Side

“still searching for the perfect photograph

of the reddish egret”

 

Ted did not have in mind

this soiled oiled specimen

trying, unsuccessfully

to lift newly leaden

legs wings and feet

out of Gulf mud muck and oil

 

it’s all my fault

and not because I use the wrong lightbulbs

in a couple of fixtures

nor because I do turn on the heat.

inside, in winter, sometimes

although I’ve been doing without air

conditioning so far this troubled year

 

it’s my fault

because I am an “extreme environmentalist”

because I think there should never be any more

drilling for oil in our country

because I deplore petrotyrrany

the privatization of profits

socialization of poverty

because I think we should start with the auto companies

 

well, what do you expect, Sarah?

I grew up in Detroit

 

I’ve never seen a wolf in the wild

as you do and deplore.

These beings you condemn to bloody deaths

I would embrace

 

nor have I encountered

a single polar bear

let alone a starving female trying to find food

for her new brood

attempting to swim with them

toward vanishing ice floes

but that’s o.k. with you

Sarah

it makes the hunting

easier

 

it’s my fault, Sarah

for I am quite literally

a tree-hugger

 

I believe that greed should end

America return to her original nobility

where people pledged lives

fortunes

sacred honor

remember sacred honor?

— ah, well, probably not, Sarah

 

I believe we are our Planet’s

keepers

 

Sarah – who are you?

Carolyn Foote Edelmann

June 2010

“This is not an environmental disaster, and I will say that again and again.”
– Congressman Don Young (R-Alaska) speaking about the Gulf of Mexico oil spill.

 

 

 

THE FOUR SEASONS RESTAURANT — HAVEN OF EXCELLENCE — R.I.P.

4 Seasons Motif Restaurant Manhattan

The Four Seasons Motif outside the restaurant

Once there was a bastion of excellence, in Manhattan, called The Four Seasons.

Pool Room Four Seasons Restaurant

The Pool Room, The Four Seasons Restaurant

People think it was all about the food.  And, to a high degree, it was.  In that faraway year of 1959, when I moved to Manhattan, here was regionality and seasonality, and therefore savor and freshness and beauty such that no other cuisine could equal.  Not even Caravelle and Cote Basque.  Nowhere.

Metal Rain by Day 4 Seasons

Metal Rain Inside the Four Seasons, by day

Now, The Four Seasons is no more.  Several farewell nights took place, and many articles have appeared.  Nothing conveys the exquisite uniqueness that was our constant experience in every family meal at the hands of Four Seasons staff, from owners, through maitre d’, through waiters, and those invisible magnificent chefs.  All hands created that museum masquerading as restaurant, appropriately the jewel in the crown of the Seagram Building.

Palm Room Four Seasons Restaurant Manhattan

Palms and Tranquility, The Four Seasons Restaurant

The farewell articles go on and on about power lunches and billionaires and of course the movers and shakers of Manhattan.  The focus on guests splashing in what, –to us–, had always been, that sacred reflecting pool.  Seeing that pool room in vivid memory, I realize that its astounding simplicity and tranquility generated the air of haven in the middle of Manhattan’s notorious bustle.  Entering, it was as though a shawl of silence lightly descended upon our shoulders.

4 Seasons Modern Bench Manhattan Restaurant

Four Seasons Art

It cannot be true that all the superb art was reflected in that barely rippling water — yet that is how its multiplied beauty appears in retrospect.  Seeking images on the internet, nothing satisfies.   I am SURE there were Picasso tapestries hanging on stairway walls.  They appear nowhere today.  As Four Seasons appears nowhere today.  Progress and mercantilism dominate this century.  So are we deprived of this sanctuary whose aura to echoes the interiors of Chartres, Ste. Chapelle, the mosic-rich glittering basilicas in Ravenna on sunny days.

Night Scene Four Seasons Restaurant, Manhattan

Night Scene, The Pool Room, Four Seasons Restaurant

A major aspect of family meals at Four Seasons was the silken warmth of everyone’s welcome.  Come with Diane and Catherine, Werner and me, on a scintillating early autumn Saturday.  Settle in at a capacious table, carefully far enough from others so that privacy is maintained.  Hear the girls gently order their beverages; as Werner, their Swiss father, discussed wines with the sommelier.  Watch the girls’ tall gleaming glasses arrive with one waiter, as towering menus are settled silently into our hands.  See Catherine, –the younger but taller, with her long blonde Swiss hair–, open that menu and knock over her Coke.  Empathize with the horror on that young girl’s face..

4 Seasons Final Menu

Four Seasons Menu

See a brigade of waiters and busboys dash to our table.  Watch as though each had been Blackstone, the Magician.  Whisk!  off with the stained cloth and whatever had been so artfully arranged upon it.  Whoosh, floated the impeccable new one, like linens for an altar.

Hear the empathy in the voice of the headwaiter as he soothed our chagrined daughter:  “That’s nothing!,” he’s exclaiming.  “At night, we have grown-ups who catch their menus on fire!”

4 Seasons Plate with specialties Manhattan

Four Seasons Sampling

Laugh with all of us, and see Catherine’s shame erased.  Understand that this gentility was the hallmark of that restaurant.  We were not movers and shakers.  We were suburbanites, –upon whom I knew, as twice-former Manhattan resident–, that town looks askance.  We even dared to bring young girls, who happened to adore rituals and would eat anything (well, except petite friture in Villefranche, Provence, because, “Daddy, they have eyes!”

4 Seasons China

Four Seasons China

Werner knew, and we would come to know, that the poliltesse that suffused The Four Seasons was in the best European traditions, –as in Claridge’s of London, the Plaza Athenee and the Ritz of Paris.  But we weren’t in Europe — we were in America.  And for those few savory scintillating Four Seasons hours, we were experiencing the best of our country.  As with those legendary hotels and their sublime restaurants, what we took place at table rivaled beauty and majesty and tradition we had spent all morning absorbing in the world’s most important museums.

Metal Rain Four Seasons Restaurant Manhattan

Metal Rain by Night, Four Seasons Restaurant

The Four Seasons was not a museum.  It was alive, and its excellence could be counted on, time after time after time, no matter the origins of our guests

WAS alive.

IS no more.

So I must mourn this loss.

America is the less for this finale.

My words are so feeble.  I need Will to give me lines such as “Take and cut [it] out in little stars, and all the world shall be in love with night!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SHADY WALKS: US 1 NEWSPAPER article & LAMBERTVILLE & BARLEY SHEAF FARM, PA.

NJWILDBEAUTY readers know that sometimes, (if VERY fortunate), I can convince local editors to feature nature articles for their readers.  I’m very aware that people of the 21st Century, if they are not out IN Nature, can absolutely forget, if not negate her.

The perilous state of journalism in our time renders my media appearances more and more scarce.  Nonetheless, those who find US 1 Business Newspaper tomorrow/Wednesday, August 10, will see my article on four shady walks in this time of searing sunlight.  I’ve been blessed to have a new poem, “Earthwise”, in US 1’s Fiction Issue the past two weeks.

Lambertville Towpath Water and Shade

Canalside Shade, Lambertville Towpath

Meanwhile, on  Sunday, I relished a fine shady towpath hike with Jeanette Hooban, (original Intrepid), first heading north out of Lambertville (NJ), then south, so far as the weir, otherwise known as the rapids of the Delaware River near New Hope.  There are towpaths with canal on both sides of this river that I cherish above all others.  Our side has the right amount of water in it.  Pennsylvania is finally getting ’round to filling theirs to historic levels, but it’s taking an unconscionably long time.

Lambertville Towpath Doowary

Typical Lambertville Canalside House

I have to admit, since I am in terrific turbulence over the difficult diagnosis given my 20-year-old great nephew last week, my ‘eye’, –as manifested through my camera–, was seriously off during these refreshing hours.

Bear with me, nonetheless.  I will expand the quantity and quality of my meagre offering with fine photographs by Jeanette and by Brenda Jones, known to readers of this blog and its predecessor for the Packet, NJWILD.

Know that Jeanette and I relished every foot(e)fall.  That the journey WAS the destination.  And that our culminating brunch at Pennsylvania’s Barley Sheaf Inn, past Lahaska, may have been our most luminous yet.  Every sustaining visit to this haven (known for weddings) has us plotting our return, listing the friends with we MUST share this multi-faceted excellence.

Sunflower Crown Lambertville Towpath

“Sunshine On Your Shoulders…” — Towering Towpath Sunflower

Exquisite as the food was, as always; chaleureuse (warm) as the welcome always is; beckoning as the grounds always are, we could barely eat for watching continuous courtship dances of various species of butterflies.

BlackSwallowtail among Loosestrife Brenda Jones

Black Swallowtail Nectaring by Brenda Jones

Come with us to our post-hike haven — Barley Sheaf Inn:

A Barley Sheaf Dormers and Autust Sky

Barley Sheaf Inn Dormer and August Sky

A Barley Sheaf Balcony

Barley Sheaf Shadows

cabbage white gold flower Brenda Jones

Dance of the Cabbage Whites by Brenda Jones

A Barley Sheaf Pond  August

Barley Sheaf Inn Pond, Fed by Spring Once Essential to Indians

A Barley Sheaf Summer Garden

Barley Sheaf Inn Pool Garden

A Barley Sheaf Pool House

Barley Sheaf Inn Pool House

clouds by Jeanette Hooban

Barley Sheaf Inn Summer Skies by Jeanette Hooban

les deux Carolyns par Jeanette Hooban

Les Deux Carolines, Brunching in Moss Hart’s Exquisite Dining Room

Jeanette's Breakfast Barley Sheaf by Jeanette

Jeanette’s Eggs Benedict by Jeanette Hooban

A Barley Sheaf Petals for the Bride

Petals for the Bride

A Barley Sheaf Tracery

Barley Sheaf Tracery, Above the Rose Petal Path

lotus by Jeanette Hooban

Lotus Farewell, Barley Sheaf Farm by Jeanette Hooban

Swallowtail bumblebee brenda jones

Swallowtail and Bee — Two Pollinators to One Flower — by Brenda Jones

LOBSTER ON THE MENU — SHARING MAINE

This will be a blog of few words —

I am back in New Jersey, still enraptured by this flawless visit in Maine with my sister and our (formerly) Toledo cousins

We were treated to five entire days of unconditional love, in Margy and Peter’s new home on Casco Bay.

At home, we were surrounded by towering pines and firs.  We found last roses (salt spray) of summer, and tasted last blueberries.

We walked among ever-burgeoning seaside goldenrod.

We were treated to memorable hikes, sentimental journeys, even kayaking the Bay among rockweed garlands (a first), in sea wind and waves.  Heaven on earth.  I’ll do this first blog post on our lobster feast — setting the scene in all ways:The three cousins - my sister, Marilyn Weitzel, Sally Lee and Margy CowgillMy Chicago sister, Marilyn Weitzel with Sally Lee and Margy Cowgill

An Ebullience of Buoys

An Ebullience of Buoys -(pronunced Bew-eez)

Maine Lobster Workboat

Maine Lobster Workboat

Parking for Dick's Lobsters

Parking for Dick’s Lobsters

Lobster Shanty

Morse Lobster Shanty

Maine Lobster Gear, Newagen

Maine Lobster Gear, Newagen

LOBSTERS

LOBSTERS

Lobsters Everywhere!

Lobsters Everywhere!

Enough Rope

Enough Rope

Bringing In the Catch

Bringing In the Catch

A Good Lobster Morning

A Good Lobster Morning

Another Catch, Same Morning

Another Catch, Same Morning

Farm Fresh

Farm Fresh

Farmer-to-Table

Farmer-to-Table

NATIVE

NATIVE

First Pumpkins

First Pumpkins

First Macs of Maine

First Macs of Maine

Still Fresh Green Beans of Maine

Still Fresh Green Beans of Maine

Price of Spice in Maine

Price of Spice in Maine

Wicked Joe, Specialty of the Market

Wicked Joe, Specialty of the Market

Local, Right this way -- Market Sign

Local, Right this way — Market Sign

Crabster

Crabster

Serious Corn

Serious Corn

Sally Lee (cousin) and Peter Cowgill, host, shucking corn

Sally Lee (cousin) and Peter Cowgill, host, shucking corn

Peter and the Corn

Peter and the Corn

Margy and the Bib

Margy and the Bib

Crowning Glory

Crowning Glory

Table Ready for Feast

Table Ready for Feast

FEAST

FEAST

Cousins in the Kitchen

Cousins in the Kitchen

Maine FFisherman Painting that reminds me of Milton Avery, 21st Century Version

Maine Fisherman Painting — Milton Avery qualities — 21st Century Version

Genesis: Aioli Feast for Confrerie Assemblage, June 2015

Le Grand Aioli Assemblage, June 7, 2015

Le Grand Aioli Assemblage, June 7, 2015

NJWILDBEAUTY readers know that I have adventuresome friends.  Some we’ve begun to refer to as “The Intrepids,” as you know from the blog post about our daring a wild autumnal Nor’easter at the easternmost point of Island Beach.  Others have dared arrive to eat and bring aspects of Le Choucroute Garnie of Alsace, and Le Cassoulet de Toulouse.  At this March feast, we planned Le Grand Aioli for June.

The guests change somewhat, depending on travels and even surgery.  However, each fully earns the Intrepid title, never more than last weekend.

I salute their courage because, with all three feasts, there’s no way I can know or really alter the outcome.  All involve long, traditional processes.  Each process is transformative — the whole infinitely greater than the sum of its parts.

Creating aioli gave me the chance to be my Provencal self again, when I lived in a villa high above Cannes from October 1987 through August 1988.

Guy Gedda, whose book I read daily in Provence, and very often ever since

Guy Gedda, whose book I read daily in Provence, and very often ever since

Every guest becomes amazingly caught up in these quests, going to great extremes of research and search for authentic ingredients for each part of the meal.  They find recipes on line for me (who prefers cookbooks, but can never read too much about food.)  They go with me on the wine quests.   They’re amazing!

Jeanette Hooban and Bill Rawlyk, formed the Original Intrepids of Island Beach. My co-author of the Stuart Country Day School book, Carolyn Yoder, became an Intrepid, as you’ve seen on the Williamstown trail trip; Valerie Meluskey, whose wilingness to travel, especially to France, and also to eat just about anything, has been my friend since the 70’s.  Everyone knows the gastronomic courage of Pat Tanner and Faith Bahadurian, food writers and critics par excellence.  So we were seven.

Table and Rose De Provence:  mas de gorgonnier of Les Baux, Domaine La Colombe from the Varois of France, and Cotes de Provence in Romanesche de Tourins

Table and Rose De Provence: mas de gorgonnier of Les Baux, Domaine La Colombe from the Varois of France, and Cotes de Provence in Romanesche de Tourins

The wines were roses de Provence, two from Joe Canal’s, one from Trader Joe’s, the darker the better — which is no longer chic, but quite essential for aioli.

I forgot to take pictures of the champagne hour, provided by Carolyn Yoder — Charles de Marques from Champlat, France.  That with simple very fresh nuts, especially almonds, was the only appropriate precursor to something as rich and profoundly Provencal as aioli.

Few words will follow.  Many scenes will show you the genesis of Le Grand Aioli, on a perfect late spring Sunday afternoon.

Guy Gedda's Recipe in his livre de cuisine, "La Table d'un Provencal", which I read and re read during my year in Provence and ever after

Guy Gedda’s Recipe in his livre de cuisine, “La Table d’un Provencal”, which I read and re read during my year in Provence and ever after

Of course, I should have been making this in my long-lost marble mortar, with its handsome, sturdy pestle of olive wood.  Alas…  I made two batches — four eggs each, and however much olive oil each would transform into the sublime mixture.  More than a cup and a half, but not two cups…

Commencement d'un Grand Aiioli - organic garlic, morning eggs from Brick Farm Market, Trader Joe's superb extra virgin olive oil

Commencement d’un Grand Aiioli – organic garlic, morning eggs from Brick Farm Market, Trader Joe’s superb extra virgin olive oil

Crucial Ingredients

Crucial Ingredients

First, peel the garlic

First, peel the garlic

Sea Salt of Brittany

Sea Salt of Brittany

Guy Gedda's Recette

Guy Gedda’s Recette Sublime

Voila!  Guy Gedda's Aioli

Voila! Guy Gedda’s Aioli

Salt Cod Soaked, rinsed, soaked every 8 hours for at least 24 hours

Salt Cod soaked, rinsed, soaked again, every 8 hours for at least 24 hours

Soaked Salt Cod Refrigerated overnight for Party

Soaked Salt Cod to be refrigerated overnight for Party

Vegetable Broth Lemon Court Bouillon to Poach Salt Cod at Last Minute  8 - 10 minutes

Vegetable Broth Lemon Court Bouillon to Poach Salt Cod at Last Minute 8 – 10 minutes

Faith's Surprise Octopus

Faith’s Surprise Octopus

Pat's Fresh Fennel Sticks, Rare White Asparague, Bill's Hard-boiled Eggs

Pat’s Fresh Fennel Sticks, Rare White Asparague, Bill’s Hard-boiled Farm Eggs

Valerie's Separately Roasted Mixed Baby Beets, Roasted Cauliflower, Roasted Potatoes, Roasted Scallions

Valerie’s Separately Roasted Mixed Baby Beets, Roasted Cauliflower, Roasted Potatoes, Roasted Scallions, Bill’s Farm Radishes

Pat's Baby Artichokes

Pat’s Baby Artichokes

Salt Cod a Table

Salt Cod a Table

Jeanette's Farm-Fresh Lawrenceville Strawberries, Nougat, and Calissons de Provence

Jeanette’s Farm-Fresh Lawrenceville Strawberries, Nougat, and Calissons de Provence

With each Confrerie supper, we had a paired liqueur with dessert.  With the strawberries, I wanted a Provencal delight, oft made at home:  eau de vie de prune.  This sounds ghastly – but means what the Swiss call plumliwasser, or essence of plums.

My Plan B had been Le Vieux Marc de Provence.  I could find recipes to distill this rustic cognac-like elixir at home in my Provencal kitchen.  However, not the most esoteric nor the most bountifully provisioned wine and liqueur stores here in and around Princeton could come up with Marc.

Bad picture of Armagnac awaiting dessert

Bad picture of Armagnac awaiting dessert

Trader Joe’s to the rescue with Armagnac — the French would have this, also distilled of leftovers of the grape processing. It was a curiously appropriate rose color, and full but not overpowering.

Even Carolyn Yoder’s generous champagne –(also Trader Joe’s – she took me with her to find it)– had turned out to have the faintest hint of rose.

When Pat found the white asparagus (so rare, so Europe!) at Wegman’s, no one could tell her the price.  Finally, the manager arrived with a question (as she was thinking it could be $20) —  “How about 99 cents?”  Of course, her response had been, “I’ll take it.”

We didn’t tell anyone about the octopus, and kept it covered til everyone was a table.  It was a great hit, occasioning oo’s and ah’s  and very nearly finished.  Faith took the rest home to craft a light and elegant octopus stew, as only she and Pat could do.  Whoever heard of leftover octopus?

As you can see, a fine time was had by all.

Aioli was then shared with Tasha O’Neill, my dear photographer friend, the very next day.  The ingredients served me for a pretty meal:

Aioli Leftovers the Next Night

Aioli Leftovers the Next Night

My dear former Kingston friend, Janet Black, here all weekend for hikes this weekend, found beautiful carrots of many colors, and ‘cheddar cauliflower’, on a farm market stop in Pennington.  I peeled but did not cook the carrots.  I reheated Valerie’s magnificent roasted vegetables, which had resembled the rose window at Chartres.  And Janet and I feasted on the last of the aioli.  We tried the items also with Hollandaise — interesting contrast.  Either would do – but not both, normally.

The main point of the Confrerie dinners is always fellowhip.

The main gift is memory.

Aioli Leftovers for Houseguest Janet Black from Manhattan

Aioli Leftovers for Houseguest Janet Black from Manhattan

Aioli Leftgovers with sauces -- Aioli and Hollandaise

Aioli Leftgovers with sauces — Aioli and Hollandaise

LIGHT-FILLED DINER — HYDE PARK — “WORTHY OF THE JOURNEY

NJWILDBEAUTY readers are accustomed, possibly too accustomed, to my being enervated and worse by lack of light.  On the other hand, you also experience in your writer a certain ecstasy in the presence of light.  Add to that the hint of time-travel and surprisingly satisfying food, and you have my all-time favorite diner.  It doesn’t hurt that major historical shrines of Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt await nearby.

It’s in Hyde Park (New York), where I travel on Roosevelt-quests, as much Eleanor, of course, as Franklin.  And it’s a step back into my teen-age years, except we didn’t have anything nearly so exciting in Detroit!

Hyde Park's Iconic Diner at Night

Hyde Park’s Iconic Diner at Night

Floats!  Time Travel...

Floats! Time Travel…

Glowing Interior

Glowing Interior

Franks

Franks

Sandwiches

Sandwiches

And, of course, COCKTAILS

And, of course, COCKTAILS

Homemade Chicken Noodle Soup and Fresh Hot Biscuits -- I would go back for this alone...

Homemade Chicken Noodle Soup and Fresh Hot Biscuits — I would go back for this alone…

Nouvelle BLT at Eveready Diner, Hide Park

Nouvelle BLT at Eveready Diner, Hide Park

Our Table, Our Reward after the (rain-slashed) Day's Long Ride

Our Table, Our Reward after the (rain-slashed) Day’s Long Ride

Howard Johnson’s, it isn’t!

That was the closest I’d ever come to a diner in my Michigan life.  First one I met was the Edison Diner in New Jersey in the 1980’s.  And it was industrial strength…

Mr. Coffee

Mr. Coffee

Whimsical and retro, I’m sure you see why I make at least one pilgrimage per Hyde Park trip, to the Eveready!  Breakfasts are hearty, hefty, also filled with light, even on downpour days– stoking us for continuance, whether to or from the Berkshires.

Night Delights, Hyde Park

Night Delights, Hyde Park

Even now, looking back on our October trip, this diner shimmers like a mirage.

The diner is right on Route 9, not far from FDR’s Springwood.  Stay at the ’50’s motel, impeccably kept, to which one is warmly welcomed, The Roosevelt Inn.  Make reservations by phone – the owner/hostess enjoys that.  This is also on #9, a few blocks north of the diner, and near one of the town’s timeless churches, which plays a hymn at 6 p.m. — which may well honor the Angelus.

The highlight of that day was a Ranger-guided tour at Eleanor’s home, Val-Kill, tucked into woods, just far enough from Sara Roosevelt.  The President loved going to Eleanor’s haven, for which he gave her the land; and for which he, an amateur architect, made clever plans.

Unbeknownst to me for decades, Franklin also had a Sara-haven on the Val-Kill property, Top Cottage.  If you’re not delayed by rain, heading to Hyde Park, you can arrange to visit both in one day.  Details may be found by checking the FDR Library site.

You used to have to pay for tickets and take bus to Val-Kill and then back and then another such arrangement for Top Cottage.  We could drive into Val-Kill, pay among a cluster of very friendly Rangers.  What I love about the Roosevelt guides, in Springwood and the Library, as well, is that they bring ‘my’ President and his lady back to life.  Even last October, it was as though Eleanor would come ’round the corner at any moment, pick up her knitting, and settle down next to Fala’s basket.

(Fala was FDR’s Scottie — very famous in his day, and thoroughly bereaved, as was I as a child, by the death of that larger-than-life man, my only president, due to all those terms…)

The night before departure for Hyde Park, my travel-and-hiking friend, Deb Hill, and I watched the last ‘reel’ of the splendid PBS special on the Roosevelts of the Hudson River Valley, by our arch-film historian, Ken Burns.

Franklin's and Eleanor's Train Station -- many a campaign speech took place at this site...

Franklin’s and Eleanor’s Train Station — many a campaign speech took place at this site…

This Welcomed the President Home

This Welcomed the President Home

This May Have Held Their Baggage -- Milk Cans of Hyde Park

This May Have Held Their Baggage — Milk Cans of Hyde Park

Another Form of Time Travel -- Fresh From Hyde Park Cows

Another Form of Time Travel — Fresh From Hyde Park Cows

BAGGAGE of Hyde Park

BAGGAGE of Hyde Park

Wild Grape -- Hyde Park Train Station

Wild Grape — Hyde Park Train Station

This is a casserole I made in advance, had ready to sustain us travelers, upon our return.

FOOD BACK HOME AFTER JOURNEY Strata, Ready to Bake

FOOD BACK HOME AFTER JOURNEY
Strata, Ready to Bake

STRATA - PART II

STRATA – PART II

STRATA READY TO BAKE -- A NOURISHING WELCOME

STRATA READY TO BAKE — A NOURISHING WELCOME