small.town.girl

When I was a senior in high school, I had the pleasure of visiting the beautiful campus of Washington College to see author Tim O’Brien speak as part of something called Sophie Kerr Weekend. The weekend included the lecture, dinner with Mr. O’Brien, an overnight stay in a real dorm room and a Saturday morning writing workshop with other prospective students. This weekend trip is what convinced me to go to Washington College; in fact, after I spent the weekend there, it was the only college to which I applied. Seven years after that initial visit, I returned as an alumna for Sophie Kerr Weekend 2010 to see Daniel Handler, aka Lemony Snicket, address the prospective class of 2014.

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Dogfish Head Beer is easily one of my favorite beverages. I am a fan not only because many of the brews are tasty, but also because the story of these craft brewed Delaware delights is so intriguing. The founder of Dogfish Head, Sam Calagione, was an English major who started a brewpub in 1995 at the age of 25. His brewpub grew exponentially since then, and now DFH is a mid-Atlantic empire, even seeing expansion in the face of 2009′s recession. DFH has built a culture around their ales, or perhaps the beer has evolved around the off-centered culture; the off-centeredness is seen not only in the taste of the ales themselves, but also in the employees and avid fans of their craft brewing, of whom my father may be #1. My Dad, Dan and I rang in the new year in Rehoboth Beach, DE at a dinner celebrating DFH’s 15 years in the brewing business and toured the brewery (with its new and improved visitors’ center) before we headed back to PA. Though I’ve done the brewery tour before, I was especially struck by the knowledge of our guide John and convinced that I do, in fact, need to evangelize this fabulous company’s off-centered ales to other off-centered people around the world.

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My good friend, Kate Amann (Chocolate Cake and Beer), was in from Scotland for the holidays. I haven’t seen her in person since 2006, so when the opportunity arose to visit her, I made the appropriate plans. I’d known about her trip since spring, and I made Dan sign on for the visit in summer. We didn’t really anticipate the decade’s biggest snowstorm to hit the weekend we were supposed to drive to Frederick, Maryland.

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One of the benefits of dating Dan is his proximity to Longwood Gardens. The Gardens exist thanks to the Peirces, who took an interest in planting an array of trees on the land, and the du Pont family (aka those who amassed a fortune from the DuPont chemical company) for purchasing the land to preserve the trees. The place has amazing history going back to the late 1700s, but I won’t bore you with that, because this is mainly a picture post.

Dan’s been going to Longwood since he was a kid, but I only went for the first time when we started dating. I’ve seen the seasons change there this year, and it’s been a beautiful experience. Longwood at Christmas is something that draws in huge crowds. Usually, they have their fountains lit in addition to all the Christmas lights, but the temperature wasn’t cooperative during our visit. It was probably in the low 30s and it was breezy! Thankfully we spent some time in the conservatory where it was warmer, and Dan bought me a hot chocolate when we were back in the outdoors. All in all, it was another amazing experience and he walked away with some beautiful pictures.

So without further ado, the gallery…

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Sunday morning came far too fast. We woke up to the smell of breakfast cooking, and when I emerged from the bathroom, my birthday presents were waiting for me on the bed. Dan, of course, did a fabulous job. He framed a picture of us before our He Said Beer / She Said Wine dinner and one of my favorite pictures that he took on one of our outings (and he got frames that were my style, too). He also got me the Dandy Warhols vinyl that I had drooled over–and it’s signed! The mix CD that came as part of my gift beat the mix I’d made him in August, but I wouldn’t know that until the drive home from his house that evening.

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We celebrated Dan’s birthday at the beach, but for my birthday I wanted to do something special to me. Twenty-five being a symbolic age, I wanted to do something “grown up.” My idea was to rekindle my romance with the Eastern Shore and visit Washington College now that I’ve gained some distance from it. There was also supposed to be a music festival on campus (which never came to fruition). Little did I know when planning this trip, however, that Chestertown no longer felt like home to me. I’d felt it a bit on previous visits, like when I saw the new dorms for the first time. However, this visit was to a different campus. I recognized so few faces, and I’ve known for some time that the general make up of the student body has changed since I was there. Needless to say, after our 90 minute drive to town, I was nonplussed. After visiting a few friends and grabbing lunch at one of the restaurants I miss most, Procolino’s, Dan and I departed for Rock Hall, a town 20 minutes to the west and right on the bay. While debating where to stay when we originally planned this trip, we’d considered the hotels in Chestertown, but I ended up deciding on a whim that I wanted to stay at a bed and breakfast–one in particular. The Inn at Huntingfield Creek had a website that lured me in and promised relaxation and comfort, and I thought it would be close enough to Chestertown that we could go back and forth between the two with ease.

When we finally arrived at the bed and breakfast, I tried to shake the foul mood that Chestertown’s changes had caused. The long driveway led up to a beautiful house, and as we pulled into a parking space, the awkward kicked in. did we go in the front door? How do we announce ourselves? Questions even Google can’t answer always rush into my head at inopportune times; they make interacting in the real world difficult because while I’m really just petrified with fear over doing or saying the wrong thing, it often comes across as rudeness. Luckily, in this case, there were three dogs to announce our arrival and one of the innkeepers–Jim–was quick to intercept us and give us a tour. He greeted Dan as the “person who asked the most pre-stay questions ever.” In Dan’s defense, most of the questions were mine. I’d started having nerves about the trip as soon as I’d given my credit card information, and Dan swooped in to help ease my overactive imagination’s fears.

The property of the Inn at Huntingfield Creek was absolutely gorgeous even though our stay fell on the cusp of fall. The path to the dock was bordered by soybeans and sunflowers. The field of sunflowers–probably majestic in the summer–were going to seed. The leaves of the trees were threatening to change colors, and some crunched under our feet. Inside, our room looked just as it did online. We had a large bed an an antique bathtub. The blue was rich and gave the room a relaxing vibe. Since it was too early for dinner, we thought we’d take our books down to the bay to enjoy the sunset. We set out, Dan with his Nikon and me with Sedars and King in my purse. The walk took us through those fields and a wooded area before opening up to bay grasses. However, the Chesapeake was so happy to see us that it tried to come up to greet us; the water had cut off access to the dock, and mocked us by seeping up further as we stood there. We returned an hour later after settling for secluded chairs by the pond and the scene was worse. Fish swam in the path, and our shoes squished in the grass. The sunset was breathtaking, and it symbolized that we needed to grab food. At the advice of our innkeepers, we went to a local restaurant called Harbor Shack for dinner. My entrée was basic, but our appetizer was scrumptious. I wanted to give myself a facial with that crab dip! After dinner, we drove to the ice cream shop down town, debating its hours and where to park. A young girl scooped our Butterfinger cones and gave me a cup of water after overhearing me talking about needing to take a pill. she complimented the purse Kate bought me in New Zealand, prompting me to make awkward conversation.

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Since June, I’ve been told by Dan to keep September 13 free for a “surprise.” This boy is good, too; he let no details of the surprise slip, and only told me a few days prior that I should bring a dress. It wasn’t until we were standing in line on Main Street in Newark that he explained what was happening. We had reservations for a beer/wine dinner with the authors of He Said Beer, She Said Wine, Sam Calagione and Marnie Old. This is greatly significant because in my family, Sam Calagione is sort of a celebrity; he is the founder and president of Dogfish Head, also known as my Dad’s favorite brewery and one of the first places I started to drink beer.

I’m a pub grub kind of girl; the idea of a fancy dinner with good wines and beers intimidated me slightly, but I was excited because I have been trying more new things lately. The staff at Caffé Gelato seemed a bit overwhelmed at first, but as the night progressed, the process began to move smoothly. In some ways, I feel we got shoved into a table in the back because we were younger, but because we had this table for two to ourselves, it added a romantic aspect to the dinner. Whatever the case may be, it took us a bit longer to get served our first drinks. We actually got the food before the beverages, and I didn’t want my pan-seared scallop to get gross, so I ate most of it before my 60 minute IPA was poured. With this reception course, I immediately noticed how well the 60 Minute IPA worked with my last bite of scallop.

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