T's Travels

Washington, DC

Over the years I have seen the monuments on the National Mall again and again as we took guests to visit our nation’s capital. I’ve seen new monuments come to fruition and old ones get a facelift (or, sometimes, a repair). Friends who had already seen the monuments themselves were coming to DC and so I worked to plan a weekend that gave them (and me) a new side of Washington.

We started with the State Department Diplomatic Reception Rooms, where they actually do host diplomats and other dignitaries. I had heard about this on Antiques Roadshow and made a reservation. Our tour guide, Chic, showed us through the rooms with both authority and humor. Nice way to start the weekend! Dinner that night was at my favorite Peruvian in DC, El Chalan, and of course included Pisco sours. We ended the evening by walking past the White House at night, a little reassurance as we knew the terrible news from Paris (and so were not surprised when we were scooted a little farther away than usual).

Desk where the Treaty of Paris was signed (State Department Diplomatic Reception Rooms)

Breakfast the next morning was at Paul, which quickly became our friends’ “regular” breakfast place. They come from York County, PA, the best agricultural place I have ever lived, so I gave them the option of visiting Washington’s Eastern Market in Capitol Hill on this sunny November day. In addition to the fresh fruits, vegetables, and meats we’re so accustomed to, Eastern Market has a large outdoor international flea market. We looked at furniture both new and antique, clothing, jewelry. We talked to vendors, admired little kids’ outfits, and bought a persimmon. We even sampled deep-fried cheese curds from a Juniata County, PA, dairy farmer.

Carpets for sale (Eastern Market)

From there we hailed a cab to the National Building Museum (built 1887 as the Patent Office). Right now they are featuring an exhibit on the construction of the World War II memorial. Another exhibit details the efforts to repair the earthquake damage to the National Cathedral and the Washington Monument. We strolled back toward their hotel, past the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial, and back to Pennsylvania Avenue. It was heartening to see people gathered in front of the White House again, some in awe, others protesting, and one solitary woman—Melody Crombie—campaigning for president. Dinner at Firefly, just off Dupont Circle, was noisy but warm.

Sunday—just another morning at Paul. The weather was so gorgeous we decided to walk to the National Museum of the American Indian. On the way we stopped at the Department of the Interior; not many people know that building has both a museum and an excellent Indian craft shop open to the public (of course they weren’t open while we were there since it was Sunday), with an adjacent sculpture garden. We wandered down the Mall, around groups of kids playing kickball, until we got to 13th Street and had to stick to a walkway. Sounds of drumming could be heard for a block or so before we saw the drummer and his plastic bucket collection making beautiful music. A quick pop into the National Gallery to show our guests a Van Gogh I love brought disappointment—it’s back in storage. But a great thing about so many of the DC museums is you can do that—pop in, pop out—for free!

The drummer at the Smithsonians

The Van Gogh we missed

At the American Indian museum, artists were working with clay as part of the Ceramics of the Southwest: A Native American Heritage Month Celebration. In the center of the room, the Zuni Olla Maidens were performing the Pottery Dance, balancing pottery on their heads! (I probably wasn’t the only person watching, just to see if that pot would move.) I spoke with the dancers afterwards, who were only too happy to talk about their dance and their clothes and what they kept in the pots (salt is traditional, a cellphone is not!). Our guests and I started looking through this museum by watching the introductory film. This was the first time I have seen it—quite spectacular and gives you a good idea of just how massive a project it is to depict the peoples who are designated “Native.”

 

Zuni Olla Maidens

We had one more tour stop for the day before dinner and so hailed a cab for Georgetown. A note on cabs vs. Metro in DC: if you are just going from place to place, Metro will get you there very efficiently. However, if you have people interested in sightseeing on the way, cabs may be the best way to go. Every driver we had was both pleasant and knowledgeable. We got to see buildings we would have missed if we had traveled underground.

According to a walking tour book I found, 3307 N Street NW is the house where John and Jackie Kennedy were living when he was elected president. And 3017 N Street NW is where Jackie first lived when she left the White House. So we took a little stroll through Georgetown. Walking the residential streets is a pleasure if you like to admire architecture in its many forms. We then headed down to the waterfront where kids were ice-skating on a little rink, past the C&O Canal, and back up to M Street for dinner at Bistro Francais (again the French!). I highly recommend the Poulet Bistro—cooked perfectly! We sat at the window table, so part of our dinner amusement was watching people realize they had parked in a bus zone.

Georgetown waterfront, looking up toward M Street

 

Our final day was a day-long van tour of the monuments with a National Park Service ranger. As I said, I have seen the monuments many times. But I have never had a narrator before. Our ranger, Mark, took us first to the Washington Monument where he showed us some of the repairs (having seen the engineering explained two days before at the National Building Museum made it even more interesting). I am old enough to remember being able to walk down the stairs from the top of the monument. That’s not allowed anymore (graffiti) but the windows on the elevator allow riders to see some of the decorative stones inside the monument. It’s a great trip down!

We next went to the World War II Memorial where, again, our trip to the National Building Museum paid off. We had seen a video of the Memorial artist discussing the wreaths that are held up by eagles (he got the idea from wreaths held up by angels in a church in Italy). That exhibit—including the plaster casts of the friezes also at the Memorial—gave us a whole new perspective. From there it was the Lincoln, the Vietnam (including the nurses!), and the Korean War memorials, with explanations and narrations by our ranger. I noticed many people hanging around our group, listening to him. A lunch break, Jefferson, and finally FDR. As I always say, if you haven’t been, go. If you have been, go again. Not when it’s hot or cold, but when you can spend some time among these monuments, reading, learning, reflecting. We’re so very lucky to have them.

A wall at the Franklin Delano Roosevelt memorial

This itinerary was a huge four days. We could have done less, but the weather was excellent and we promised ourselves we’d skip anything we didn’t feel like doing. I got to see parts of Washington where I’ve never been and visit a few old favorites as well. DC is a great city to visit . . . and I know I’ll be back before long!

The Shoe House, York, PA

I can’t believe this but when I changed blogs I lost my original piece about the Shoe House in York, PA. Well, this will give me another chance to tell you how wonderful it is! I wanted to include it in my first book on small museums, but in its past incarnations the Shoe House never really qualified as such—it was more roadside America post-World War II architecture tourist attraction. Now, finally, it is what I have always believed it was meant to be.

Mary the Photographer and I haven’t been on the road much lately (not nearly enough!) so there hasn’t been much to write about. Today, though, we decided it was time to open the sunroof and head somewhere. When I found out that she—proud native of West York, PA—had never toured the Shoe House, I couldn’t believe it. I had to right that wrong. When I lived on the east side of York, I took every house guest I could to see it. If it wasn’t open, I just pulled the car up so they could look at it.

The Shoe House was built in 1948 by the Shoe Wizard, Mahlon Haines. Quite the entrepreneur, he owned a shoe company and used every opportunity to promote his business—cosmetic mirrors, fans, pencils—but his most ingenious idea was to build a shoe for people to stay in. Hence the Shoe House, a three-bedroom, two-bath architectural wonder, a honeymoon haven for lucky couples chosen by Haines.

Cosmetic mirrors (from author's collection)

I often toured the house in the 1990s and 2000s, as friends came to town and I said, “You have to see the Shoe House!” Tour guides and the accompanying stories changed as the house changed hands. At one point Haines’s own granddaughter owned it. Some of my favorite tours were done by Ruth Miller, who was passionate about York County history and feared that if she didn’t rescue it someone else would buy it and move it out of town.

Today the Shoe House is owned by Melanie and Jeff Schmuck. In addition to Beck’s ice cream, Melanie has added other goodies, all for sale in the heel, a cheerful spot with tables and photos of the Shoe through history. The tour starts in the wonderfully decorated living room and ends in the kitchen; I won’t give it all away, but visitors should take the time to look at the photographs on the walls, the artifacts on display (what makes it a "museum"). One shadow box contains a metal box, a pencil, and some cosmetic mirrors gifted to the Shoe House from a 90-some-year-old neighbor who said she watched the Shoe House being built! Photos include pictures of some of the first honeymooners in the Shoe.

The latest incarnation of the Shoe House is both popular and loved; when Mary and I visited, we were with a woman who was pleased to have recently found one of the Shoe Wizard’s metal boxes at a flea market. We had to wait for a tour to finish and there was another group right after us—on a weekday! It was a gorgeous day and we spent time talking with Melanie and walking around outside to take pictures. After our tour, we treated ourselves to a wonderful lunch at the Blue Heron, just down the road. (El Serrano is right nearby as well!) If you haven’t filled up on goodies, either one is an excellent choice. But you have to see the Shoe House!

Photo of kitchen by Mary Brenner

Char's at Tracy Mansion, Harrisburg, PA

I most recently wrote about my experience at a restaurant that I loved, one that had moved and changed since my last visit seven years ago. This past weekend I went to another restaurant, one I loved, that has also both moved and changed.

Husb and I discovered Char’s Bella Mundo in Shipoke, a Harrisburg neighborhood near the river, about four years ago. It quickly became one of our top “special occasion” restaurants. Like the Blue Moon in York, it was the first floor of an old house, bringing Philadelphia to my mind. The food was fabulous and the service was probably as good as we’ve ever had. Never fussy, never overbearing, well paced (on the slow side, which is refreshing), and Char herself always visited each table. I always felt like she was sincerely interested in each guest having the best experience.

As anyone familiar with Harrisburg knows, the Susquehanna River flows on the west side of the city and sometimes decides it needs to visit the city itself. Shipoke is probably one of the most flood-prone areas and Char’s place was under water more than once, the last being Tropical Storm Lee in 2011. It was time to move.

Her new place, Char’s at Tracy Mansion, graces Front Street right along the Susquehanna, but on much higher ground. When Husb and I walked in, the sun was setting on the West Shore—what a beautiful view. This was our (very late) anniversary and (early) Valentine’s Day dinner. I had tried to make a reservation on Open Table but it showed nothing before 8:30 pm. So I called and they managed a table for us at 5:30—a little early to eat but we got to see the sun set.

Dinner was every bit as good as it ever was in Shipoke. The attention to cocktails can make a guest feel festive right from the start (I loved my Old Fashioned). Husb had the appetizer special—alligator hushpuppies!—which came with French fries and could easily have been a small plate entree. I ordered the baby spinach salad (roasted butternut squash, crimini mushrooms, sunflower seeds, orange segments, blood orange dressing), which we shared. It’s on the regular menu and I would order that again and again.

For our entrees, Husb had “Duet of Domestic Lamb—chop and merguez sausage, autumn harvest orzo, roasted garlic oil, mustard verte,” but without the mustard (because he is anti-condiment, of course).I had the fish special, halibut over a (four- or five-cheese, I can’t remember but the server listed all of them) mac-n-cheese. That came with some lovely little asparagus. I took half of it home for dinner the next day.

Dessert of course. For once Husb and I were on the same page so we ordered the “Apple Smoke Roasted Apple Crumble–cinnamon gelato, whipped cream” (perfect for a winter's evening) and the “Bella Mundo Parfait–mango sorbet, vanilla ice cream, fresh fruits and raspberry sauce,” which we’ve had before, and shared. That parfait is just perfect for after dinner: the tang of the mango, the sweet of the raspberry sauce, the creaminess of the ice cream.

Service, too, was every bit as good as it ever was in Shipoke. Even though we were squeezed in, we never felt rushed. We spoke briefly with Char on the way out; even though the new digs are three times as large as Shipoke, she still watches over every guest. My photos would not do it justice, so I recommend looking at the ones on their website. I’m already looking forward to my next sunset at Char’s.

Photograph above from restaurant website.

 

Blue Heron, York, PA

My father often pronounced, “Thomas Wolfe was right. You can’t go home again!” It must have been a family saying because I’ve heard my aunt say it many times as well.

You may not be able to go “home” again. But you can find those places that are familiar, that feel somewhat like home. When Husb and I married, we moved to York County, PA, and—Philly girl that I was—I felt as though I’d gone off the edge of the earth. I was sad, I was lost. That Pennsylvania Dutch cooking just didn’t answer my yearnings. And then in one evening (I mean this), one meal, I started to find my way back “home.”

I don’t remember the occasion but we chose the Blue Moon in West York for dinner one night. I walked into the old rowhouse on West Market Street and knew I was home. Wooden floors, high ceiling, narrow room. That might not sound too attractive but to this ex-Philadelphian it was heaven. And the food was even better. French but not fancy. So good we went there any time we wanted good food. It became our anniversary tradition to sit at one of the tables in the windows, drink good wine, and order any one of our favorites (the duck in black-cherry sauce was particularly memorable . . . and, oh, the side potatoes!).

The Blue Moon closed right before we moved away (although it is now open again in a new incarnation). We tried to get a table for the last night but those reservations were gone in a flash. We moved here to Harrisburg and while we have enjoyed our new experiences, and even developed new favorites, we still talk about our nights at the Blue Moon.

This past August friends Suzanne and Mark (she a York County native and our original landlady when we moved!) came to the mountain to visit. Suzanne has long loved everything French and through the course of our conversation let us know that David (co-owner of the Blue Moon) now has the Blue Heron on the east end of York. I considered telling Joe not to bother heating up the grill, we were headed south, now! But more rational heads prevailed and we agreed to come to York another time.

That time was this past weekend. On our way, we drove through Foggy Hollow past our old house and the rental we started out in, reminisced about living in the woods (oh, wait, we still live in the woods), paused at our dogs’ graves by the creek. Even though we’ve moved, and we’re very happy here, that place still feels like home, too.

The Blue Heron (remember, this is supposed to be about a restaurant) resides in what had been a pizza place, a brick building that sits among banks and garages and other local businesses on East Market Street. But the blue glow of lights under the restaurant’s awnings beckoned. We walked into an interior completely unlike the rowhouse on West Market Street or the pizza place this building used to be; with soft colors and white tablecloths, it’s a space transformed.  

Menu? For me there was no anticipation. I had read the menu on-line and knew there would be no duck (but I let Husb read the menu and find out). The waiter listed the specials, which included two fishes, a seafood combination, and lamb chops. Ding! I knew what Husb was getting. I thought about swordfish or mahi-mahi, but instead ordered the seafood (crabcake, scallops, shrimp, grilled). Suzanne had boeuf bourguignon (she makes a pretty good one herself) and Mark joined Husb in selecting lamb chops. Although I was thinking of the potatoes from Blue Moon days, we had rice and vegetable sides with each meal (except Suzanne’s, of course). Normally we would have started with a salad (would the dressing be the same?) but we had indulged in appetizers before going to the restaurant.

I took a picture of my tower of seafood (that’s an onion ring circling the crabcake at the bottom and a sundried tomato on top). There’s no better way to prepare scallops than grilled, but it was all delicious. Joe and Mark loved their lamb (and so did I the next day when I had Joe’s leftover chop for lunch). I reminded Suzanne that when we took them to the Blue Moon (their first time, so many years ago), she had also had boeuf bourguignon—obviously a keeper. With a nice bottle of wine to share and much conversation, it was a perfect evening.

Did we have enough room for dessert? If Husb doesn’t get chocolate mousse, the meal is not complete. But he couldn’t decide between that and a slice of a mango/coconut/pineapple creation (I should have taken a picture) and so he ordered both, the latter to go. Suzanne and I had crème caramel, Mark the crème brulee. Great way to end a meal.

And as I said, the next day I had Husb’s last lamb chop. He ate the carry-home dessert. We were both home.

Bistrot La Minette, Philadelphia

South Philly. Those words make one think Philly cheesesteaks, right? Or Italian food—pastas, red sauces, olive oils. Mangia!

No, wait. Not this time. I’ve been in many fantastic Italian restaurants in South Philadelphia. But this time I was traveling with Husb (not the biggest fan of red sauce) and we were meeting Miss C and her Vince for dinner. There’s no one better at finding a good restaurant than Miss C and so I gave her Husb’s parameters. She came up with Bistrot La Minette. Voilà!

Sixth Street just below South. Saturday evening. Of course the streets were full and parking was difficult. But I knew the struggle would be worth it. We arrived at the restaurant exactly on time. And hungry. I had perused the menu on-line a few days before and had only one thing on my mind: haricot verts. Some might say that “green beans” is not usually what people look forward to, but back when we had a garden Husb grew the best haricot verts I’ve ever eaten. Slender, dark green, tender, and full of flavor. I have no idea why anyone grows any other green bean.

So yes, I was getting the haricot verts. But first a drink, madame? Bien sure. I was surprised to see French 75s on the menu, something I haven’t had since Le Bistro (now Café 210) in college. Fun way to start a meal.

What to order for dinner? Miss C was decisive: Terrine de Foie Gras (“duck liver paté, arugula, cognac raisins, honey vejus vinaigrette, red wine reduction”) to start and Escargots à la Bourguignonne (“Burgundy snails, garlic herb butter, croutons”) for entrée. Needless to say, I did not ask to share hers. Vince chose the Lapin Rôti à la Moutarde (“mustard-braised rabbit, house-made taglietelle, rabbit jus”). Thinking of the duck we used to have at the Blue Moon in York (now the Blue Heron and soon to be reviewed!), as well as the trout amandine we once experienced at Maison Robert in Boston, Husb and I were of like minds. He ordered the Magret de Canard Vigneronne (“pan-seared duck breast, vigneronne sauce, grapes, raisins, sautéed cauliflower, pommes purées”) and I the Truite Meunier (“Miller-style trout, green beans, fingerling potatoes, lemon brown butter, almonds”). Yes, my meal came with haricot verts, but we still ordered a side to share.

Dinner met our expectations (which, honestly, were pretty high). We split a bottle of wine, enjoyed and shared our meals (except those pesky snails!), and just pretty much had a great time. Serving size was perfect—enough to enjoy but not enough to ruin opportunities for dessert.  My Tarte Tatin (“upside down apple tart, caramel ice cream”) reminded me of the apple tart at the Blue Moon. Husb’s Pot de Crème au Chocolat (really, they shouldn’t call it chocolate pudding, that’s an injustice) was light and silky smooth.

The owner and executive chef at Bistrot La Minette is Peter Woolsey, with quite the Philadelphia fine dining record (remember Striped Bass?). Read the “About” on the website if you are hesitating at all. This is a wonderful place for French bistro food. I’m sure it’s where Husb will suggest we go in Philadelphia from now on.

Photos from the restaurant website.

Au Bon Lieu, Harrisburg, PA

I thought I knew all the restaurants in Harrisburg—maybe not all the ones out of town but surely all the ones in the city. But I was wrong. Amy and I (she who first took me to Arepa) were looking for a place to meet for lunch. I googled Harrisburg restaurants and the name Au Bon Lieu popped up. Francais? Ici? Oui.

On Third Street, just off Market (how more downtown can you get?) is this little crêperie. We’re talking petit. A few tables inside, a few more on the sidewalk. I got there first (!) and chose outside seating. It’s a very casual place—about as casual as the city gets. When Amy arrived, I made sure my phone was playing Edith Piaf singing “La Vie en Rose.” (It was either that or the Marseilles—I think this was more appropriate.) Did I mention she’s a French teacher?

The menu consists of a list of savory crêpes—pretty much something to please everyone. Poulet (chicken). Poisson (fish). Boeuf (figure that one out yourself). And vegetarian. I stared at that list a while before ordering the chicken with mushrooms and caramelized onions. (J'adore champignons!) Amy went for the eggplant.

Our plates arrived. Bien! My beautifully folded crêpe was savory and delicious. Amy (who makes her own crêpes at home and therefore knows what she’s talking about) pronounced hers delicieux aussi.

And, bien sur, I then had to have one of the sweet crêpes from the other side of the menu. Amy ordered one with Nutella and I took the Belgian chocolate with banana.  Same lovely folded crepe, banana perfectly ripe, and just the right amount of chocolat. Excellent! (Works in either language, non?)

I am really surprised that I haven’t heard of this place before. If Husb still worked in the city he would be there twice a week for lunch. I’m happy to say that there are now a number of really good places to eat in the ‘burg. Don’t overlook Au Bon Lieu—you won’t get a better lunch in Harrisburg.

(Author's note: I had to look up very few of these French words. Madame Pettigrew would be proud.)