T's Travels

Colorado, Day 2: Walkin' in the sand . . .

The next morning—the big one! I strapped on my hiking boots and we arrived at the dunes at 9:30 ready to go. To get to the dunes everyone must cross Medano (pronounced MED-a-no) Creek. During June and July the creek runs at full capacity and people play in the water and the sand just like they’re at Wildwood, New Jersey! But in late August the creek runs at little more than a trickle so we could cross it without getting more than the bottom of our boots wet.

First dune, easy—up and down. Second dune, not so easy—up and where can I go that’s not down? Third dune, how to cross it—stick to the ridge? Walk on the slope? Whoa, is that too steep? Hiking the dunes takes thought and consideration in where to step and what direction to go. We were lucky in that it had rained the night before and so more sand was firm than the day before. We also had no wind so there was no blowing sand.

I probably made it halfway before I said, “Good enough! Yay me!” Husb went all the way, as I knew he would. Until he was nearly at the top we could still hear each other and once he got to the top I could still tell it was him and could see him wave at me.

Coming down the dunes is much more fun (a little dip, a little slide) and faster. In no time at all I was back in the parking lot to retrieve my sneakers (still drying out from Zapata Falls) from the roof of our car. As I waited for Husb I watched families head toward the dunes, carrying little sleds (they say you can sled down the dunes but I never saw that in action). Hiking boots was a good choice in footwear for climbing; I can’t imagine trying it in sandals.

After such a triumph we decided to go to the Sand Pit picnic area to have our lunch. Looked like an easy hike, 1.5-mile total. But the trail was full sun and soft sand. I felt like I was at the beach except there would be no ocean at the end to reward me for the effort. When we reached the picnic area we saw it was also in full sun. Eventually we found shade under a tree and had our lunch, then took the road back to our car, passing the (unmapped) very pretty Ponderosa Pine picnic area looking so cool under the trees.

By the time we reached the car we could see storm clouds in the distance, so a scenic drive sounded good. The Los Caminos Antiguos Scenic Byway runs in a square from Alamosa east to Fort Garland, south to San Luis, and west to Romeo, where you can go north (back to Alamosa to complete the square) or south to Antonito. Mount Blanca, one of Colorado’s 53 fourteeners (I learned what that means on this trip) rises in the northeast corner of that square, a solid, anchoring landmark.

We watched the vegetation change subtly as we drove, shades of green and gray and brown. At San Luis there is a Stations of the Cross monument, with a walkway up the hill and a crucifix on top. As the rain came, we approached Manassa and one of my trip’s highlights—the birthplace of boxer Jack Dempsey, considered one of the greatest heavyweight fighters ever to step in the ring. I was so excited that when Husb stopped the car I ran across the road in the rain and never took a picture of the actual building (the one here is from someone else).

Inside, the walls are covered in Dempsey memorabilia. In the midst of it all I met Michelle Richardson, who has been tending the Dempsey homestead for 18 years and was very happy to tell me the story of the Dempsey family’s struggles and how Jack became the breadwinner through his success in the ring. My regular readers know no trip to anywhere is complete without a visit to a small museum. Jack Dempsey’s Birthplace was just what I needed!

Our final stop of the day was back in Alamosa at the visitors’ center. We weren’t sure whether to stay longer in the area or move on. The man I spoke with was quite helpful and recommended a drive to the west, up to the town of Creede and beyond. We had heard that from a friend as well, so that’s what we decided to do. Back at the hotel we told the woman at the front desk that we’d be checking out in the morning. This is the difference between booking with an independent and a chain hotel; we could change our reservation with little notice. I still completely support staying at independent places (which, as you will see, we did for the rest of the trip) but for this part, the chain hotel was perfect.

The end to this perfect day: dinner at Calvillos, which according to more than one person we spoke to is the best Mexican restaurant in Alamosa (and there are a lot of Mexican restaurants in Alamosa!). Tamales for me, combo for Husb, green chile sauce all around, it was as good as any Mexican restaurant we have ever been to.

Next . . . a lost railroad . . .

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

El Chalan, Washington, DC

A vegetarian friend comes to visit—where do you take her (or him, as the case may be)? Husb and I picked up Carol at National Airport in DC right around dinnertime. We gave her a bit of time to catch her breath, talked about some dining options, and settled on El Chalan, a Peruvian restaurant on I Street between 19th and 20th, which was recommended by Husb’s colleague (she also said we should get the Pisco sours when we go).  

I was psyched for this restaurant. When we lived in York, we went to every special Peruvian buffet we could at El Serrano, so we are familiar with the cuisine. Not too “exotic” (that means not “scary” to people who are afraid to try new things) but definitely not like Mexican food. Meat, potatoes, vegetables—yes. So we figured Carol could find something.

We walked down the stairs to the restaurant (it’s the lower level of the building) and into this cozy little place with white tablecloths on the tables and paintings on the walls. First thing we ordered: Pisco sours, of course. Pisco is a “colorless or yellowish-to-amber colored grape brandy produced in winemaking regions of Peru and Chile,” sez Wikipedia. The sour looks sort of like a daiquiri but a little paler. Most definitely just as we were told—powerful and excellente! (Note to self: "Pisco Sour day" is celebrated on the first Saturday of February.)

In a nod to my days at El Serrano, I ordered the tacu-tacu for my entrée; I wanted to see how different it was from what I had in York. Plus it kept me from having to make a harder choice—some of the seafood sounded especially good that night. Carol ordered Vegetariano El Chalan, a chickpea and spinach stew. Husb chose a beef stew. Everyone pronounced the food delicious.

I was surprised at how different my tacu-tacu was from what I’ve had before. At El Serrano, it is “grilled Spanish rice and beans, mixed with egg and Pico de Gallo,” topped with their fabulous green sauce. It’s actually rather light. At El Chalan, beans play a much larger role (it’s much denser) and it comes topped with a creamy shrimp sauce. Of course this meant I had to look up the history of tacu-tacu: Afro-Peruvian . . . working class . . . many different forms. On the Internet the pictures I saw most often show it with a steak and fried egg but I’ve never seen that on a menu.

So at El Chalan I did not have any of Buzzfeed’s “15 Peruvian Foods You Have to Try” (although I have had chicha morada at El Serrano). I did take pictures of my Pisco sour but now they don’t seem to be on my phone (we will chalk that up to one powerful Pisco …). Already looking forward to my next visit—another friend (this one a carnivore) is coming to DC. She has been to Peru and can’t wait to try El Chalan.

Someone else's picture of Pisco sours:

 

Latin American Flavors

One of the highlights of our years in York, PA, was El Serrano for Mexican food and—occasionally—Peruvian specialties since that’s where owner Manuel Torres and his family emigrated from (there is also a larger El Serrano restaurant in Lancaster). The annual Peruvian Buffets we loved were eventually replaced with some Peruvian specialties on the menu all year long. A favorite for me was Tacu Tacu (grilled rice and beans, mixed with egg and Pico de Gallo).

Their green sauce was so good, we experimented at home until we found a satisfactory replication for when we couldn’t get the fix we needed (it starts with roasted Serrano peppers). In the early years we could also get mazamorra, a special pudding dessert made by Manuel’s mother, and she was kind enough to share the recipe with me.

We haven’t been back since we moved to Harrisburg but El Serrano raised my awareness of the diversity of Latin American cuisine.  I read about an El Salvadoran restaurant outside Fredericksburg, VA, and we stopped there on one of our trips south. (I can’t find it on the Web so I’m not sure it survived.)

And now in Harrisburg we have Arepa City, a small Venezuelan restaurant downtown. I assumed it was named for a place, but as my friend Amy informed me, arepas are simply sandwiches in cornbread. On a warm summer day we sat outside on Second Street near the Capitol and she led me through the large menu.

We started with appetizers—she had the Yuca Frita (cassava fries) and I ordered the Tostones (fried plantains). Both came with a spicy red cabbage slaw. The waiter also brought us four different sauces to sample—from a thin green (cilantro) sauce to ones thick like mayonnaise. Amy knew she would have the Pabellon (shredded flank steak, black beans, sweet plantain, and queso fresco) but it wasn’t that easy for me. The options are limitless, which makes the “¿Undecided?”—“can’t choose just one? 1 arepa, 2 flavors (served in two halves)”—a really good idea. I settled on the Pabellon and Caraqueña (avocado and grilled queso fresco).

 

I know many people who say they don’t like “Mexican food” because it’s “spicy” or whatever. Arepas are not what we think of as “Mexican” food. The cornbread is thicker than a pita but not as thick as focaccia, soft and slightly browned on top. The Caraqueña was mild, the Pabellon more diverse in texture and flavor, with the beans, meat, and plantain. (I would order either again but the menu is so large, I’ll probably try something new.) I can’t imagine that someone couldn’t find something to like.

Amy and I ended the meal splitting a flan loaded with shredded coconut. My day was done.

Arepa City is a great addition to downtown Harrisburg's “Restaurant Row”—I’d love to see more like it. While I was writing this review, I did some Internet searching on arepas and came up with an article titled “Arepa Wars,” noting the best arepas in New York City. There won’t be any arepa wars in central PA, but Arepa City definitely has Harrisburg’s best!

El Serrano (York)

 

Arepa City