T's Travels

Josephine's Downtown, Lancaster, PA

I heard the name Josephine

It came to me in a dream

—Frank Turner

(Not really, but these days I’ll use pretty much any excuse to quote Frank Turner.)

 

Husb and I are hitting another anniversary and so wanted to celebrate with a nice dinner out. We often go to Blue Heron in York but I was in the mood for something different, a place we hadn’t yet tried. We settled on a local place that has had rave reviews and a menu we could agree on. But when I went on Open Table to make a reservation, something else—a familiar name—popped up. Josephine’s!

For years Husb and I would make the trek to Marietta for a lovely Country French meal at Josephine’s. When the new chef came in, we didn’t mind one bit and continued to go for special occasions. When it closed, we missed it.

So to see the name again this week? Surely, it must be . . . and it is! Right in the heart of Lancaster City and serving contemporary American food. This was meant to be—even though it was an hour’s drive (and at rush hour), we had to go.

One complaint people often have about restaurants in cities is “where do we park?” That’s not a problem at Josephine’s Downtown—it is next to a large public parking lot. Couldn’t be more simple.

Sometimes you can just feel that good things are coming and I certainly did when I saw the elegant exterior of the restaurant. Once inside, we were greeted with a smile and led to our table. Because I had selected “anniversary” on the Open Table reservation, not only did everyone wish us a happy anniversary, but when we opened our menus there was a personal card saying it as well!

I’d looked at their Facebook page so I already had an idea of what I was going to order, but Husb didn’t. As I looked over the menu, though, I wavered. So many things looked so good. Black cod? Risotto? Duck breast? The decision was not going to be as easy as I thought.

We started with wine, a lovely Cabernet Sauvignon for me and an absolutely incredible Old Vine Zinfandel for him. For an appetizer, Husb ordered the Warm Cauliflower and Barley Salad (roasted butter beans, herb emulsion, lemon vinaigrette, radish, celery leaves, shaved fennel, raisins) without the lemon vinaigrette (because he prefers me to be the only zest in his life). It was seasoned so well he didn’t miss the dressing at all.

His entrée was the braised short rib (butternut squash custard, roasted pearl onion, roasted chanterelle, black garlic demi, togarashi, micro basil, micro lemon balm). The short rib absolutely fell apart with a fork—divine would be a good word for it. He doesn’t like mushrooms either but he sampled the chanterelle after giving me most of them and was sorry he had let them go. Is it possible we have found a mushroom he will eat?

After all my considerations, I went back to what I had thought I would order. I started with the Caesar salad (baby romaine, rosemary bread crumbs, parmesan). It was simple, not overly dressed, excellent. And then I had something everyone who doesn’t have a seafood allergy should have: the Butternut Squash Bisque (king crab, spiced pepita, white chocolate powder, cilantro pudding, chive blossom, micro cilantro). I had seen the picture of this online (the picture I’m using) and it called my name. They serve you the bowl with the crab, etc., in place, and then pour the cream over it all. Presentation counts but even if they hadn’t done that, it still would have been a dream (just like the name Josephine). This is the soup I will want every time I go back. Because you know I will.

We ordered tarts for dessert but before they arrived we were served flutes of champagne to toast our anniversary! What a nice surprise. When we were first married, it felt like every time we turned around someone was handing us champagne to celebrate; this little touch took me right back to that.

My tart was the Apple (green apple, Calvados custard, apple honey glaze) with a little scoop of caramel ice cream on top. Husb had the Chocolate Pecan (orange sassafras cream, micro mint) but switched the orange sassafras cream out for coconut ice cream because, well, orange (plus all ice creams are made by the restaurant).

I can’t tell you when we’ve had a better dining experience. We’ve had some very good ones over the years, including in Philadelphia and DC, and this one has made it into the top five of all time list. Part of our conversation during dinner was (a) figuring out which of our friends will want to know about this place and (b) when would we be coming back. Because you know we will.

 

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

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.

Hotels of the Past (#31)

Yesterday I headed south for a book reading and signing by Marion Winik for her latest release, Highs in the Low Fifties, at the Holy Hound Taproom in downtown York, PA. Husb and I lived in York County for many years so I figured I wouldn’t have any problem finding the address 57 W. Market Street. Right downtown. Been there many, many times.

 

And yet I found myself going around the block again and again, thinking, “Where the hell is it?” Downtown has changed a bit—most significantly George Street is now two-way the whole way. But that wasn’t it. It was that I was thinking it would be one of the little storefronts and it is actually in one of my favorite buildings in York--an old hotel!

 

When we lived there in the 1990s–2000s a lot of discussion in the newspaper revolved around what to do with the old National Hotel on the corner of Market and Beaver streets. And it was the same debate that always comes with one of these old hotels. Tear it down? Preserve it? Modify it for 21-century tastes?

 

Obviously someone saw potential in the building and for the past year the first floor has been home to the Holy Hound Taproom. Gorgeous room, 30 beers on tap, bar food menu, some live music, plenty of events—if only I lived closer! The place was busy the entire time I was there; in addition to the book crowd, plenty of regulars came and went. The Baltimore band 27 Lights played between Marion’s readings.

 

Of course I came home and started researching the building. Like so many old hotels I’ve found, this one has a few links to celebrities and a long life of changing owners and names. This description comes from John Gibson’s History of York County, Pennsylvania (Chicago: F. A. Battey Publishing Co., 1886):

 

“The National House, corner of Market and Beaver Streets, was built by Z. Durkee, and long known as the White Hall. It is the largest hotel in York. Some of its early proprietors were John Welsh, Daniel Ahl, Daniel Miller, Hodges, Rhinehart, Maish, and Mrs. West. It was called ‘the Tremont House’ for a time by one of its proprietors, who came from Tremont, Schuylkill County. When it was purchased by Frederick Stallman, its present owner, the name which it now bears was given it. The great English novelist, Charles Dickens, stopped at this hotel in 1841, and said that he was here served with the best piece of road beef while on his visit to America. During the Revolutionary war, and many years later, peter Dinkle kept a store on this site. He was an ardent patriot, and furnished supplies to the army.”

 

A few years before Dickens, President Martin van Buren also stayed at the National House, but this writer must have thought that wasn’t worth mentioning.

 

It looks like the Holy Hound is well established in downtown York. I hope other people thinking about what to do with old hotels take note.

 

Photo from the Holy Hound Taproom website

Sips Bistro, Phoenixville, PA

How often do you have French food? Husb and I were in another city and were going to have lunch with another couple. When the husband in that couple balked terribly at the thought of a French restaurant, my husb and I had a little “huh?” moment. What is it about the thought of “French food” that would bring that reaction?

We have no clue. Modern French food is simple, yet complex. Full of flavor but not overwhelming. When we lived in York County the Blue Moon (in its previous incarnation) was our favorite place to eat.

So when cousin Carolyn was visiting, my sister suggested we have lunch at Sips, a beautiful French bistro in Phoenixville. Yes! Although Sips is a few blocks off the crowded downtown, it has its own parking lot and is actually very convenient.

The building had been the Hotel Chester, another of Phoenixville’s classic Victorian hotels. As Sips, it is a mix of Victorian grandeur (with the original bar) and modern comfort. We chose a table in the indoor brick courtyard because it was sunny and bright.

The owner, Fabien Chaigneau, has quite a background in French dining, including time as general manager of Georges Perrier’s Brasserie Perrier in Philadelphia. Once I started asking questions, our server, Michael, asked Fabien to come talk to us about the building. When he decided to open Sips, Fabien visited the Phoenixville Area Historical Society to get the full history. We learned we were sitting in what had been an outdoor space; my bench seat was actually an outdoor wall and hooks on the pillars in our courtyard were used at one time to tie horses.

All this and I haven’t even mentioned the food yet. The menu gave me many choices. I was considering the flammkuchen (skirt steak, spinach, blue cheese on flatbread) or maybe the Sips’ Salad (mesclun, apple, blue cheese, cranberry, walnut, balsamic vinaigrette) until I heard the daily frittata was crab and asparagus (Spanish-style omelet, gruyère, mixed greens). Sounds not too heavy, non? Oui. I knew I wanted to try a dessert so I wasn’t taking any chances with getting stuffed. And Sips didn’t disappoint. The apple tart was magnifique.

As we left, we made sure to look at the worn spot in the stone at the front door—a relic of the building’s days as the Hotel Chester—which Fabien had mentioned. This visit did was make me yearn for a French restaurant closer to home, which I know won’t happen. So I’ll be back to Sips--husband in tow--to try the dinner menu just as soon as I can.

The Hotel Chester (photo from Phoenixville Area Historical Society)

 

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