Lancaster from the Inn Side

An Apple A Day

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 06:39:56 PST

It seems like everyone is talking about the flu…be it swine or the regular run-of-the-mill variety. I’d rather avoid getting either of them. So it’s time to boost our immune systems and do all those things that Gram and Mom said to do – get plenty of sleep, gargle with salt water, clear your sinuses and…yes, eat an apple a day to keep those doctors away.

I know of a great place where you can get enough apples to carry you through the entire winter. Not far from The Artist's Inn, along Route 340 near Bird-in-Hand, sits the quaint store of Kaufman’s. The Kaufman family (now in its 5th generation) has been in the business since 1915, and they harvest apples—by the ton. Here are some of the huge bins piled up in the back of the store.

They currently carry Braeburn, Cameo, Cortland, Crispin, Empire, Fuji, Gala, Golden Delicious, Granny Smith, Idared, Jonagold, Jonathan, McIntosh, Red Delicious, Rome, and Stayman apples. Sound like enough?

They also make cider – 102,000 gallons this year.

A visit to their store is a must on your next trip to Lancaster County. But don’t wait long….winter is coming! You’ll find the pretty apples inside, the outside bargain bins are shown here and are still great for baking pies and cakes, and making applesauce. Kaufman’s is closed on Sundays, but has a website, online store, and a blog.

Here’s an easy recipe I tried recently, courtesy of Whole Living. It goes well with baked pork chops (and I only changed the recipe a little).

Apple, Leek and Butternut Squash Gratin

· 3 tablespoons olive oil
· 2 medium leeks, white part only, trimmed of roots and tough outer leaves, thinly sliced crosswise, well washed and dried
· Kosher salt and fresh ground pepper
· 1/2 cup dry sherry
· 1 tablespoon chopped fresh sage, plus leaves for garnish
· 2 tablespoons butter
· 1 1/2 pound butternut squash, peeled, seeded, and sliced 1/4-inch thick
· 1 pound apples, such as Gala, Cortland, Baldwin, or Macoun, peeled, halved, cored, and cut

into 1/8-inch thick slices
· 1/2 cup freshly shaved Parrmesan cheese

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. In a 10-inch skillet, heat 2 tablespoons of oil over medium heat. Add leeks and 2 tablespoons water; season with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until they begin to brown, about 10 minutes. Add sherry and sage and cook until liquid is reduced to a glaze, about 3 minutes; set aside.

Melt butter in a 9 x 13 glass baking dish, arrange squash in overlapping layers; season with salt and pepper. Spread leeks evenly over the. Squash. Arrange apples in an overlapping layer over the leeks. Cover tightly with aluminum foil. Bake 1 hour.

Uncover and sprinkle cheese over the top. Raise the oven temperature to 450 degrees and bake 10 minutes, or until the cheese has melted and is golden brown. The tip of a paring knife should easily pierce the gratin. Let cool 10 minutes before serving. Garnish with sage leaves. Enjoy!

A Tale of Two Kitties

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 21:07:23 PDT

It Was the Best of Times:

I was talking to my Mom on the phone one sunny afternoon in May while sitting on the back porch. I noticed some movement in the shrubs by the Carriage House. Kittens were jumping up and down inside the bushes. I could see their heads appear on top of the bush, next there was a tail in the air! I watched as they made their way to our backyard, jumping and running and doing all the cute things that kittens do. The weeks went by and the kittens were around more and more. They were so tiny and Mom was still nursing – but all were very skittish and (I assumed) feral. And so, being the cat lover that I am, and knowing that the odds of these kittens leading a full life was very low, we set out some boxes with towels for beds and fresh water and food. But they liked the coconut mat and windowbox under the porch.

We knew that their only chance for ever being adopted was to trust people. All of our four cats were strays. Unfortunately, we live a small “apartment” inside The Artist's Inn. Outdoor cats have an average lifespan of four years, but indoors, that average soars to 14 years.

I don’t know when we started to name them, but they were simple names used to tell the difference in them: Big Red, Little Red, Tuxedo Man, The Man in Black, Mom. They would entertain us at night as we ate dinner on the back porch. They chased after fireflies, climbed the tree (and go down backwards!), jumped on each other, rolled and played, ran and jumped into the air – all under the ever-present watchful eye of Mom. And a mom she was – quite good actually – cleaning her kittens, and being so patient as they landed on her head and pulled at her tail – not unlike small children waking up their parents in the morning in bed. Guests delighted in seeing them in the early morning and cat lovers would often try to pet them.

That is why my flowers were a bit trampled and thinner this year, why we didn’t put fresh water in the bird bath (lest the birds become dinner) and why there was usually a towel on the Adirondack chairs to cushion their nap.
And so the process of socializing the felines started. Our cats loaned us a toy they hardly ever used. It was a stick with a rawhide string attached, and, at the end, a white lambswool “mouse”. It was a hit from the time it appeared on the porch. And so I would spend as many evenings as I could trying to tame the kittens…starting with letting them “catch” the mouse, then having the mouse “touch” their bodies, then having the stick scratch their head or tail, and finally getting them to be brave enough to have a human hand touch them.

Tux was the bravest. We scooped him up and held him in our palm – and once he felt the warmth of Bruce’s hands, there was no turning back. Every time we went out to the back, he was there looking for attention. As so the Friis, who came to bike and visit, went home with our little Mr. Tuxedo Man (although it took quite a while to wake him from his nap under the boxwoods). They wanted Little Red as well, but she was just not tame enough to come to them – even though Tuxedo Man was her best buddy. And so Little Red was left behind.

The report came back from the Friis’s vet – no feline leukemia, no fleas, no ear mites, no diseases of any kind. He was in great shape and ready to take over the household.

With that successful adoption, we were inspired to move on to the other kitties. I started to put out milk on the porch twice a day, and call the kitties by name. Their little heads would appear and even Mom enjoyed the treat. Little Red was the next to be petted. It happened one sunny Sunday afternoon. Bruce lay down on the porch and she and Big Red went all around smelling his hair and nose – and eating the treats that we tossed to them.

They would visit our porch parties regularly, as if patrolling and checking on us, but were still pretty aloof.

As the weeks went by we were able to feed them all treats. Big Red was probably the most affectionate. I got to hold him like a baby and he would stand by the porch door on his back legs, looking in at Chardonnay. Did they know they looked alike? He would stand in my windowboxes and meow and Jack would come over and they would smell each other through the screen. And they were both talkers. What they had to say to each other remains a mystery to me, but it sure seemed like they had a lot to talk about.

Mom was not spending as much time around our yard, and the kittens were now answering my calls more than hers. Our goal was to get them all spayed and neutered and adopted out to homes. Progress was slow and when Bruce’s cousin stayed for a visit, he was able to catch Little Red by the scruff of her neck. But as she was held in the air screaming, I just didn’t have the heart to trap her and I made him release her. It was my hope that I would win her over my way – with gentle persuasion so that she would learn to trust people. And so he let her go.

It was the Worst of Times:

One day as I was driving down Main Street, I felt a terrible thud and my front tires went over a bump, and, in what seemed like slow motion, the back tires went over a bump too…..dreading what I would see in the rear-view mirror, I caught a glimpse of the tiny little mottled kitten (yes, there was a fifth) pulling his injured body off the road. By the time I went back he had gone somewhere alone to die. I felt awful and still do.

As I parked the car at home, I saw Mom on the back ledge by the gardens. She seemed to know and I explained how sorry I was. Did those big eyes understand? Was that why she was waiting for me and didn’t run? Can they tell by the tone in your voice? I was now more determined than ever to get these kittens off the streets and into homes.

While Big Red and Man in Black would stick fairly close by (and I knew their sleeping places) Little Red was spending a bit more time away. Her favorite spot to snooze was on the back steps from the Garden Suite. Although the spot was sunny, there were several times when she was in the way of guests going down the back stairs, and fell from the steps into the lilac bush.

I started to get concerned because she wouldn’t always answer my calls. One busy Saturday she appeared for milk and her tail was huge. She seemed to be dragging it behind her. I called my vet and, although they couldn’t look at her that day, I arranged to have her boarded – she would be safe and they would evaluate her on Monday. And so the kitty that I had never picked up, got scooted into the dining room while I ran for the carrier in the basement. I’m not sure who was more scared, but on the fifth try and wearing my biggest oven gloves, I managed to get her into the carrier and off we went to the vet. Man in Black and Big Red looked on as she was hurried past them crying all the way.

That Monday we learned what we had feared – she had to have her tail amputated – apparently she had gotten it caught in something and had pulled so hard to free herself that she had damaged the nerves in her back end. We had her spayed since she was undergoing surgery anyway and we were scheduled to pick her up on Wednesday. I was busy with guests, and Bruce was away when the vet called. The surgery had gone fine and Little Red was recovering but there was a chance that the nerves would not regenerate and she would be somewhat incontinent. She was making it to the litter box in her little cage but, he warned, in a house, she may not always have the time to get there.

We hoped and prayed and waited for her return. She was the runt of the litter and seemed even tinier than before, with just a stub of her tail left. So inside she came--and adapted as though she owned the place. At first she hid under the couch to sleep, but as she became more comfortable, she took up more and more space on the couch – stretching out her toes, leaning her head against the arm, and once fell asleep with her head in the food bowl! She took her antibiotics like a trooper, and learned to jump on the back of my chair and onto my lap. She immediately took control of all the toys, especially the one with the merry-go-round ball. She would paw at my leg and squeak for attention. She ate everyone’s food, watched as the printer pumped out papers and was patient as I prepared breakfasts. As she regained her strength, she and Jack would run and jump and climb all over each other and even paw at each other under the closed door. Often I would get up in the middle of the night – just to check on her – she would be laying on the floor just outside our bedroom door, wanting to be with us.

But it was a rough go from the start. Little Red, try as she might, just had no idea sometimes when she was urinating. Most poops would be caught, but there were those that she missed and would try to clean up by pawing imaginary litter across the floor. A bleach bottle in my left hand, paper towels in my right, I would inspect the floors all hours of the day. We restricted Little Red mostly to our family room and covered the couch with piles of towels – which I laundered twice a day. And we hoped and prayed that she would regenerate her nerves. We researched the condition and talked with vets – all saying the same thing – this is a serious condition and one that may get worse.

It was about this time that the Woolleys came to visit. Big Red and Man in Black had now abandoned their little beds down below and were sleeping every night and afternoon on our side porch. Paws landed on each other’s head, rested in their ears, tails and legs intertwined, they didn’t mind and the two were inseparable.

I found myself going out to love them a lot during the day, and they seemed grateful for the visit (or was it the treats?!). I could now carry Big Red around like a baby. I looked for them every night before I went to bed, tucked them in and greeted them before I set the table for breakfast. If the window was open and they saw me, they were quite vocal about getting their morning milk.

Big Red charmed his way into the hearts of the Woolleys (guests at the inn) and they offered him a home. As he was in the carrier on the porch, Man in Black came over and pawed at Big Red as if to say goodbye. And mom must have heard the cries, because she appeared on the porch as well. We hadn’t seen her in days. Is there more communication going on with these kitties than we know? It was so sad to see him go and see Man in Black left all alone.

That is when Man in Black started to cry – every time I went onto the porch, he cried. Was he crying for the loss of his brother, Big Red? Was he crying because everyone else was gone and only he was left? It seemed like he was spending all his time on the porch. At night he would stand on the windowbox and cry to come in. Bruce’s mom had agreed to take him – if only we could get him tame enough. The clock was ticking. He had been eating treats out of my hand, and now became very brave and let me pet him, but would run if I tried to pick him up. These cats surely tried to teach me patience.

The day came when Little Red got her stitches out and Bruce put her outside to reacquaint her with Man in Black. (We had planned to take them to Priscilla’s farm, where they could look out for each other.) They played like crazy all day, running around the house, up and across the porch, into the yard to chase after butterflies, hardly stopping to eat. That night I kept looking on the porch for Man in Black. I had hoped that he and Little Red would sleep together – just as he had with Big Red. But there was no sign of either of them.

My last guests arrived late that night, and as I was turning out the lights, a black form on the sidewalk across the street caught my eye. Man in Black must have been hit by a car and dragged himself to the sidewalk. I stood there and cried – just that day I had been able to rub his belly, and he rewarded me with kissing each finger. I had looked up and Mom was in the corner of the porch, witnessing the little miracle. But all the lessons had been in vain, for I had failed to find him a safe home fast enough to get him away from the danger of living outside.

How sad to end this little life of 6 months – Man in Black was probably the most loving with his siblings – he was always grooming one of them, and I’m convinced, if given the chance, he would have been a very loving and handsome addition to any family.

As I stood there with just the moon lighting the way, my mind raced to Little Red and I starting calling earnestly for her. I had to find her and get her inside again. I did find her, running wildly next to Main Street, clearly saddened by her brother’s passing as she ran back and forth to him.
And so she came inside again and I cuddled and comforted her cries. She had been through a lot in 6 months – getting her tail caught in some horrible terror, going to the vet with strange cats and dogs and noises and smells, losing her tail, and now witnessing her brother getting hit. Was she with him when it happened or did she find him after? Did she narrowly escape the same end?

I was glad when the rain came on Sunday to wash away the blood left on the sidewalk from Man in Black.

We researched cauda equina syndrome; and learned about lower motor neuron bladder, we cleaned up after Little Red and hoped for a miracle and the nerves to regenerate. Although there was great improvement on one day, the next day would bring bad news again. Both Bruce and I had grown to love this little fighter and would gladly give her a loving home – if only she could control herself.

Bruce was at a show talking to a customer when he learned about The Best Little Cat House in PA – a no-kill shelter for cats that have no other hope. He called and found out information and Lynn seemed to know a lot about Little Red’s condition – in fact, they had a cat with the same problem. Could this be the answer?

A date was set – unfortunately it was a Saturday. I cancelled my trip to see family, cancelled the innsitter and rearranged my schedule on a busy Saturday to drive to the facility and see if Little Red would like it. I cried two days before, the whole time there, and since. I packed her favorite merry-go-round toy and, of course, the mouse, loaded her into a carrier and set it in the front seat. She is so tiny that she didn’t weigh enough (even with the carrier) to set off the seat belt alarm. Did she know where we were going? I had told her and she looked at me the whole way there – past Hershey, past the two dead cats on the road, past the places where I turned around because I couldn’t concentrate on the directions.

It is a wonderful place – full of things that little furry ones like – lots of windows, a place to go outside (safely), plenty of food, places to investigate and other kitties.

But, I had never been to a shelter before and I was not prepared for what I saw. A cat with one eye, a kitty born paralyzed with his feet turned the wrong way, cats with brain and kidney tumors. Cats were craving affection, especially the ones in the “other” room – where they separated the leukemia and AIDS cats. My heart ached for them. How could I leave my perfect kitty here – would she contract the upper respiratory infection that the little grey cat had? Would she have anyone who could play with her? Would she have anyone to cuddle at night when she cried? Would they notice if her condition got worse? Would she live a long life?

The answers to my questions were mixed – they have a staff of volunteers, but never enough. The kitties have no rules and can come and go outside whenever they want - something that we could never give her. Once you leave a cat you cannot ever visit it again (thank you insurance companies) and once you leave it, you leave it like an unwanted pile of clothes at Goodwill – she belongs to them and you cannot, under any circumstances, have her back (thank you to the lawyers of the world).

All of these things weighed heavily on my mind. My cell phone wouldn’t work at this remote location so there was no talking with Bruce. His words rang in my head: This may be Little Red’s only hope for a happy home”. I watched as she lay still in her carrier – eyes wide as two other cats climbed on top. And so I tried to make my decision, and in the end I left her. As Charles Dickens said, "There is a wisdom of the head, and a wisdom of the heart." Unfortunately, we had to choose the wisdom of the head this time. But our hearts will ache for quite some time.

Little Red will probably adapt – she’s a fighter and will have other cats to play with, will be fed and kept safe and warm. There are very good people at this shelter and she will meet cats from all over the world. Her basic needs will be met, but the cuddling and comfort that a family pet receives is gone and she will have to adjust.

We miss her terribly. How I wish I could take back the day that she got in trouble. How I wish I could have worked more quickly on taming these cats and finding them homes. How I wish I had just taken them in where they would have been safe -(even though we were at our limit with two and now have four cats).

How I wish I had a place big enough where Little Red could be isolated and cared for by us, but we do not have that luxury.

So, what have I learned from all this? That you may not always have the time to love something, so you’d better love it with all your heart and soul. That everything in the world needs love and that we all need to take care of someone. That we never know when our time is up and that it’s important to remember the good times. That it’s important to take pictures – I have only a few of all those happy times. And that cats live in the moment – and there’s a wisdom to that. The porch is now quiet and soon winter will set in. All that there is left to do is to somehow trap Mom and get her spayed so that she will not be bringing more litters to the neighborhood. Poor Mom has seen her babies leave one by one. If she’ll let us, we’ll provide warm towels and food and water and her basic needs will be met as well.

And so ends this tale of two kitties – two kitties that beat the odds and ended up in loving homes with furry friends.

If you would like to help, consider volunteering at a local shelter – cats and dogs need to be loved, walked and groomed. Consider donating food, gift cards from PetSmart, or money. Have your cats and dogs spayed and neutered. Not only does it cut down on the explosive growth in population, but it helps lower the spread of disease. Keep them inside and give them lots of love.

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness” - Charles Dickens

All the County is a Fair in Lancaster

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 20:38:39 PDT

Harvest time is here – bright pumpkins dot the rolling hills, fields of mums stretch through the farmland. Farmers are busy cutting down corn, drying tobacco, and bringing in the last of the tomato crops.

There’s a busy-ness as a touch of fall starts to turn the leaves just a bit…you can feel it in the early morning mist…things are changing. This is a time of celebration, and Lancaster County sure knows how to party. There’s a change in the air….a distinct aroma….could that be….funnel cakes?

From one end of the county to the other, Lancaster Countians have Fair Fever. State routes are closed for days at a time, streets are jammed with vendors selling every imaginable kind of greasy food, hawkers entice you to try your hand at games of chance, and midway rides thrill the young. Kids get off from school, every non-profit organization is involved in some way, and you’ll make it to your appointments only if you plan a little extra time for detours.

Inn guests have long enjoyed these fairs, with their vast array of contests – from scarecrow judging to cake decorating competitions. Guests can sense the strong community support here. They’re impressed by all the parades – babies in the morning, pets in the afternoon and at night the Homecoming Queens, dozens of marching bands from around the state, and local businesses transforming tractor/trailers into floats.

Guests are also surprised and delighted by the skills demonstrated in the apple balancing race and the water-balloon throwing contest. (These may not be listed on anyone’s resume, but they sure make for good entertainment. And most of it is free – from the musical groups to the local radio broadcasts.)

All of this is impressive, to be sure. But what my guests comment about most are the chairs.

Yep, just ordinary lawn chairs.

People put them out on the sidewalk to reserve a “spot” as early as noon on the Sunday before the Thursday parades. Kids walk to bus-stops and ride their bikes by them. No one moves them or would dream of stealing one, for this is a long and respected tradition. Welcome to small-town America at its best – with the respect of another’s property and your neighbor’s right to claim a good seat.
So, if you are planning a trip to Lancaster this September or October, pack your chairs and, you too, can get a good spot to see the parades and enjoy the fairs. It may be your last chance to take in the sights, sounds and tastes of late summer.

For a listing of fairs, schedules, and directions see http://www.collectiblewebs.com/fairs/pa-lancastercounty.htm

The summer of Two Tomatoes in Lancaster County

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Sat, 12 Sep 2009 13:19:33 PDT

Bruce thought we should plant tomatoes. I looked at him, and said “why?” Our bed and breakfast is in a great little town in Lancaster County, surrounded by the richest non-irrigated farmland in the country. These farms produce a bounty of the best foods - just outside our door - at unbelievably fair prices. Why on earth would Bruce, an artist and big fan of staying indoors on hot summer days, want to grow tomatoes? The answer was as good as any, “I just want to”.

And so off I went to the nurseries. I looked at all the different kinds of plants, mostly heirloom. This is shear torture in April - as you begin to salivate just reading the description…your mind wanders back to summers past and the bright red meat of perfect tomatoes. I picked out five tomato plants, knowing that this would produce way too many tomatoes for the inn, but thinking that I would make sauce out of the rest, as I have done for the past ten years.

After a rainy spring, I got behind on planting and so the tomato plants went in late.

Then there was the issue of watering them. It seems both of us forgot – even when reminded – and after a week away, I returned to find them gasping. A little digging by Bruce produced the old tomato baskets that I had used long ago when I had a real garden – now we just hoped the plants would someday grow into the cages.

But I’m afraid we just got too busy to pay much attention to these plants. And, let’s face it – tomato plants are not the prettiest sight in the garden. So I didn’t want them in my flower gardens where guests would see them. Their location in the herb garden by the side of the inn tends to get overgrown but hopefully most guests don’t ever see it. It doesn’t get all-day sun but I had hoped that it would get enough to make them happy. I put them next to the basil, thinking that they should get to know each other as they most surely would meet again.

I have fond memories of my dad in his garden, tending to the plants, pinching off the suckers, training the branches, tying white cloth to help bear the weight of the fruit,. His garden was planted in straight rows, basked in plenty of sunshine and watered consistently. Weeds didn’t have a prayer of surviving. Our tomato plants could only dream of such care.

And so it is now the end of summer and time to harvest our bounty.

Both of them.

There is hope that there will be a third, but it is pretty small and still green.

But I’m grateful to be a neighbor to these farmers and support them. They produce crop after crop, one as delicious as the next. As I look at the box of tomatoes in the kitchen, I know that the sauce (or gravy as they say in New Jersey) they will produce will be so much better than anything I could buy in a jar.
Lancaster County farmers are safe for another summer - there’s no competition here!

Here is how I roast my tomatoes.

Sundried Tomatoes:

Cut thin slices of fresh tomatoes, remove excess seeds and place on a silpat (or parchment paper) on cookie trays. You can place them close together, they will shrink a little.
Sprinkle with a little of your best olive oil and a small amount of kosher salt.
Bake for about 2 hours in a cool oven – about 175 or 200. You don’t want them to completely dry out but this will really concentrate their flavor.
You can freeze them, store them in the fridge for a week, or serve – I like to top them with a nice Parmesan cheese and serve them at the inn with an egg dish. Bruce has been known to eat an entire tray while standing at the kitchen sink…..hey, maybe that’s why he wanted to grow tomatoes!

Enjoy!

Container Gardening, Lancaster County Style

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Fri, 28 Aug 2009 12:00:38 PDT

I’ve always liked container gardening – cute bunnies holding armloads of flowers, baskets overflowing with blooms, cupid pottery set on tabletops to bring color to unexpected places.

A trip to Germany and Austria reawakened my love for window boxes. I love to stuff them with flowers in the warm months, pumpkins in the fall, and fresh greens for the winter. It’s a special treat if the greens trap some snow - somehow it seems to frame the window, giving it the appearance of an old-fashioned Christmas postcard. And so, when we opened the inn, I wanted to have flowers everywhere – in the gardens, on the porches, in vases in the rooms, hanging from the windows…. Of course, the reality of having window boxes is that I’ve seen small nursery plants carried away by birds looking for nesting material, pumpkins dropped from the second story as I tried to arrange them through open windows, and greens blown away by fierce winter winds. Ah, well—they are still undeniably romantic. Like a string of pearls around a neck, window boxes make the inn look “dressed.”

Lancaster County has a unique style when it comes to container gardening. Locals here pretty much invented the word “frugal”. They never throw anything out that still has a useful purpose. And talk about creative! You can’t help but be inspired. This explains why I now plant flowers in a chicken feeder, pig trough, coal bucket, old washtub, and wringer washer. I’ve created a mini-herb garden in an old roaster, and made a centerpiece of primroses in metal canning containers.

Maybe it’s the whimsy that I like – the look of surprise on guests’ faces when they realize what they are looking at.

So enjoy the color and playful “pots” when you visit. But beware—this knack for pairing plants and innovative containers is quite contagious, and I’ve often heard guests say, “You know, I have one of those gathering dust in the basement…”

Lancaster County – The Land of “Ahs”!

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Tue, 11 Aug 2009 08:29:09 PDT

It all started with my dad. He’d take a sip of a cold drink (beer, perhaps) on a hot day, close his eyes, lean back his head, smack his lips and sigh “ah”. Soon the whole family would mimic my dad, and I now do it in his memory.

So it got me to thinking about the word “ah”. It gets a lot of use at The Artist’s Inn. No matter how sophisticated or elaborate our vocabulary may be, we all use this simple word. And there are so many ways to express it!

There’s the quiet and respectful “ah” that people utter when they learn about our Amish culture, or encounter their first buggy passing the inn.

When guests take in the breathtaking scenery of the Weaverland Valley from our back deck, there is a soft “ah”. The sound slowly escapes from them like air out of a tire. I like to think it’s their stress valve releasing.

The surprise of seeing horses playing and rolling on their backs often brings forth a short “ah”, accompanied by a laugh.

Guests can’t resist sighing a sweet “ah” when they view Amish children peeking out the back of the buggy.

Then there’s the satisfied “ah” that results from tasting something new and wonderful. From simple farm-fresh ice cream to gourmet meals from restaurants tucked away in small towns, you’ll find it all in Lancaster County.

And let’s not forget the “ah” of wonder that comes from seeing an Amish wagonload of ten different kinds of pumpkins heading for the auction – a colorful sight that delights the eye.

So……..come to Lancaster, because there are so many reasons to open your mouth and say “ah”.

Thanks to Dr. Charles Carroll for taking this wonderful picture when he visited our inn.

Girls Just Wanna……..Go Shopping in Lancaster!

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 10:07:02 PDT

We think that Cindi Lauper would agree….you have fun when you go shopping. And, as you can see in these pictures, it seems the guests at The Artist's Inn never run out of places to shop. What better way to carry on a conversation, discover new things, stop for lunch, and generally…have fun.

The thrill of the hunt is just ten minutes away in Adamstown (the center for antiques shopping in Lancaster County). Two huge warehouses and lots of little shops and outdoor flea markets await you. Whether you are adding to a collection or just browsing and open to new ideas, it’s a great place to visit. We’ve found many a treasure for our inn, cottage and carriage house in Adamstown.

Of course the outlets are here – three centers in fact – VF in Reading, Tanger and Rockvale in Lancaster. We are smack in the middle between Reading and Lancaster, so you can take your pick of bargains. Amish quilts, local crafts and small interesting shops can be found on the back roads throughout Lancaster County. They may not be listed on the major tourist maps, but you are sure to enjoy these special gems.

Be sure to leave room in your car for some of Lancaster’s bounty, whether it’s home-grown produce, nursery plants or pumpkins in the fall. Our fields burst with corn, tomatoes and squash in all varieties. And if you like flowers, trees and shrubs…..there are at least 8 nurseries within a 15-minute drive of Terre Hill.

Don’t forget our “sales”. Outsiders may refer to these as auctions. It’s a great way to mingle with the locals and catch great prices. Many auctions take place every week, while the mud sales (to benefit our local fire companies) typically take place in the Spring. You’re liable to catch auction fever if you go!

Lest you think only girls like to have fun, we recently had a guest who bought 29 quilts at a local auction. Everyone on his list is getting a quilt for Christmas!

So, the next time your girlfriends want a getaway, bring them to Lancaster – they just wanna have fun and go shopping! And you just may find your picture on our blog!

Mrs. Garrabrandt Goes to Harrisburg

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 11:56:24 PDT

(with apologies to Jimmy Stewart/Mr. Smith!)

I was there with the Queen of England, Ben Franklin and about 200 other folks. The common interest? All of us were attending the Tourism Rally on June 10. We are very concerned about proposed cuts in funding for tourism in Pennsyvlania.

The advertising budget may be slashed, and we are hoping to convince the legislature and Governor to preserve it and to support the 400,000 jobs in the state that rely on this industry. Tourism is the second largest industry in the state – and raised $28 billion in revenue for 2007. The money that our local Convention and Visitors Bureau gets from the state is used for advertising – and for supporting small businesses like ours in Lancaster County that rely on the CVB.

So, when I was asked to represent the bed and breakfast industry, I accepted and gave my speech in front of the steps of the grand rotunda in the Capitol Building in Harrisburg. Four other people spoke, all from different backgrounds and jobs, all representing the many different businesses that are affected by tourism.

It was a bit like Mr. Smith’s trip to Washington so many years ago. Here’s a picture of me being

videotaped. The Capitol was dedicated in 1906, modeled after St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. It is a strikingly beautiful building – although the acoustics are not conducive for taping. So we searched for what we thought would be a quiet corner near a side entrance, only to discover that our taping would be interrupted by half a dozen people hurrying past us to get to work.

The press conference itself was interesting – legislators coming and going, most of the people not easily identifiable as press – and then the camera crews rushing in, testing the light settings, taping, running around to interview spokespeople.

It was all very exciting.

And, in light of what is occurring in Iran this week, we are reminded that our freedom is something that we should not take lightly. This government that we have created is like nothing else anywhere on the planet. The fact that we can rally, protest, write letters to the editor, call our representatives, vote…all of those freedoms did not come easily. Let us not take for granted what has been given to us. There are people halfway across the world who are risking their lives to do what I was able to do.

If you are serious about preserving funding for tourism, I urge you to take action. Get the facts, see pictures (including some bad ones of me!) and listen to part of the rally here: http://www.patourismequalsjobs.com/?page_id=3 ualsjobs.com

How Green I am

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 18:43:21 PDT

How Green I am
How dead I’ll be
If someone doesn’t
Cut for me.
It’s too late now,
I’m almost “done”
Beat by the work,
Burnt by the sun.

I wrote this little poem for Bruce…ok, I was drinking wine at the time …I guess that accounts for the similarity to another popular verse…

What inspired me to write was the sight of Bruce lying prone on my oriental carpet in the sitting room – exhausted after having cut the lawn with a push mower (these are quite popular here in Lancaster County).

This happens every time he mows. You see, this year he decided we could trim our budget by cutting our lawn at The Artist's Inn. So he cancelled the service that had cut, trimmed, carried away clippings and done a terrific job for the past ten years. Now we have Bruce with his green machine.

Of course, we have a perfectly good mower – actually a self propelled one that used to be my father’s. But Bruce answered the call of “going green” last year when he was inspired by our neighbors, the Wengers.

Bruce would watch as Bob effortlessly cut their lawn with the old-fashioned push mower. At times, their ten-year old son, Michael, also mowed. The mower seemed to glide over the grass like swans on a lake, didn’t make any noise, and would afford the “pusher” some exercise.

All sounded like a good idea at the time.

And so Bruce ordered the bright green mower. It came in a box and he put it together. The handle broke in the first three months. It never felt quite as easy to operate as Bob Wenger’s. Bruce came across an old push mower during his walk one day. A neighbor had put a “free” sign on it and placed it at the curb. This was a convenient find, as Bruce was waiting for the other mower’s replacement handle to arrive.

Once the blades were sharpened, the mower seemed to do the job. Yes, it takes a little muscle, and my flowers are a bit worse for the wear…but we sure are green. And Bruce remains trim while he trims the grass. I just wonder how exhausted he’ll be when the dog days of August roll around….

Some New Rooms at the Inn This Spring

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Fri, 15 May 2009 18:42:52 PDT

While some might say the economy is sluggish, we’ve seen just the opposite here at The Artist’s Inn. In fact, this Spring saw more rooms filled than ever. As couples make their way back every spring to their favorite spot, we’ve had to add additional rooms….outside the inn.

I guess by now you’ve figured out that we are talking about our feathered friends. For years, a mourning dove has made her nest in the gutter above the old summer kitchen. No matter how hard the rain runs off the roof and onto her head, she is there protecting her nest. One year I was lucky enough to catch the first flight of her little ones as I looked out the window of the Garden Suite.

If you’ve visited in Spring and thought that the porches were a bit untidy, it was probably due to the annual nests that are built high and safe above the front porch lights and the outdoor speaker on the side porch.

Two new nests appeared this year – in the middle of the flowering pear tree just outside the Kriss Kringle Room, and in the lilac tree just off the side porch. The eggs were blue, so our guess is that it was a robin’s nest. I’ve noticed that the birds also set up residence in our Carriage House, under the back deck.

From the sounds in the early morning, it’s fair to say that I think we have a pretty happy feathered crew. There are the two sets of cardinals that visit in the early evening, the hummingbirds that are drawn to the bright flowers, the mockingbird high atop the Carriage House, and the finches that love to bathe in the bird bath. The small wrens have it made – their homes are the small white birdhouses that sit atop our fence in the back yard.

It’s nice to know that not only do we provide a respite for humans, but also for our feathered friends as well. They reward us with their song and beauty from May through October.

Gourd-o-mania in Lancaster County!

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Fri, 01 May 2009 14:36:15 PDT

I had driven by many times. I had even seen the family in the fields harvesting. But I had never stopped in. And then she came for a visit - my crazy cousin, Pat, from Ohio.

And so it was that I found myself at Smucker’s Gourd Farm on a cold, rainy, windy day in April. Pat is a painter of gourds – of all sizes and shapes. She makes cats, snowmen, Santa’s, you name it….they are beautiful works of art.

Once inside this expansive shop, I knew from Patty’s comments that we had discovered a wonderful place. She quickly started picking out different gourds and making piles on the floor. Some gourds were big, some the size of a grape, some had long skinny tails, others were a little damaged. It didn’t matter; Patty looked at them all - at least once. Then we went outside to look at the “dirty” gourds – the ones just harvested by the family that hadn’t been scrubbed clean. Patty let out a low yelp. As I followed her gaze, I saw that off in the distance there was a field brimming with even more gourds. I was now thankful for the bad weather…because I knew that if it weren’t raining, we’d be heading down to that field. Patty clearly had a bad case of “gourd-o-mania”.

One of the Amish girls working the front desk asked if we needed any help. Since Pat was looking for a certain type of gourd (don’t ask me – these “gourders” have a language all their own), she offered to look for them in the barn. So we waited. Patty picked out more gourds while I admired the finished ones. Birdhouses, planters, and even a hat were painted for every occasion. I followed the sound of someone singing and discovered yet another teenager painting flowers on a gourd in a small room. We waited a little longer. Patty picked out still more gourds. After about 45 minutes, we politely asked if we could go to the barn.

As we followed a five-year old to the ordinary looking barn, I remember thinking “what could be taking her so long?” But once inside, I felt as though I was in a movie as the place ballooned to the size of a football field. Stacked everywhere were four foot by four foot steel bins – filled to the brim with – you guessed it – gourds. Patty was in heaven. Even I was excited now. We arrived just as the 14-year old expertly backed the forklift through a tight spot to present a whole bin of the specific type of gourd that Pat wanted.

We filled my car to the roof, made our way back to the inn and stored the gourds in the barn. When Pat’s husband came to visit a few days later, she went on another shopping spree. This time I asked John to take some pictures. Patty and John had a chance to meet the owner, Eli, and I don’t think it will be the last visit for Patty.

The Pennsylvania Gourd Society holds its annual Gourd Fest at Smucker’s Farm, just down the street from our inn (The Artist’s Inn) on Route 897. It is scheduled for June 12 and 13 and features classes, supplies, children’s activities, a silent auction, and of course, gourds galore. If you are the least bit curious, this might be just the opportunity to discover if you, too, might be coming down with your own case of “gourd-o-mania”.

The Bananas Foster Cheesecake Was A Big Hit Indeed!

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Fri, 17 Apr 2009 15:26:10 PDT

Easter was coming and I usually make a cheesecake. I’ve made all kinds – chocolate, lemon, New York style, my mother’s creamy recipe, with every kind of fruit…..but this year I was looking for something new and different.

I love recipes and collect them from everywhere – the internet, newspapers, guests, magazines, friends…..I cut out the recipes and stuff them into my collection of cookbooks. I think I’m somewhat organized, but Bruce says that if I made a new recipe every day of the year for the next 20 years, I’d never run out. And so it was that I found this recipe –from a 1999 issue of Gourmet Magazine. They give credit to Café Vermilionville….a quick look on Google reveals an historic inn in Louisiana. Their crawfish beignets sound wonderful.

But back to the cheesecake. On Saturday afternoon, I start on the recipe. I am somewhat “storage challenged” at The Artist's Inn…and the specialty pans get pushed into the cabinet above the refrigerator. This means that there is no way (at 5’4”) I can reach them. Do I take the time to go get a chair from the dining room or a ladder from the basement? No. And there’s no tall husband around to retrieve the springform pan I see hiding in the far recess of the cabinet. I grab my handy wooden spoon and start poking. I manage to close my eyes just before I feel the first object come crashing down. The edge of a tart pan hits me between my eyebrows, followed quickly by the bundt pan and several mini-muffin pans. I know I’m in trouble and manage to reach into the freezer, grab an ice cube, and head for the bathroom. Watching the pink water run down the drain was not encouraging. The tart pan had left an inch-long gash. My only hope was that my eyes would not turn black and blue and that swelling would subside by the time I had to give a presentation on herbs the following Tuesday.

Apparently, some families are quite amused at another’s expense. So was the case for the Garrabrandts. As family members arrived for the holiday, I heard several jokes – “Jan, I think the recipe called for a “dash”, not a “gash”, another suggested planting a sprig of rosemary on my forehead and yet a third (this was my husband) thought it would look good with a jewel covering the wound. My day was not complete until that evening, as we were coloring eggs, Bruce’s niece, Heather, accidentally bumped the cup of blue die and sent a tidal wave of blue water heading my way. Now I not only was sporting a gash between my eyebrows but also had blue die from my forehead to my waist. Did I mention that I was wearing a cream and aqua sweater?

All’s well that ends well: The stains came out, my eyes never turned black and the swelling went down. Best of all the cheesecake was, indeed, a hit of the culinary kind. I hope that you have a less exciting adventure if you make it. I served the praline topping separately and found that it was just a bit much…..you may not need it at all. I also made a cream cheese crust – rather than the graham cracker one. As for that banana liqueur – I had it left over from some trip to the islands long ago, but the liquor store usually carries those cute little bottles by the check-out. If not, I think it’s a good excuse for a little trip to the Caribbean. You can also add to your rum collection while there. Enjoy!

For crust:

½ stick (1/4 cup) unsalted butter
nine 5 x 2 ½-inch graham crackers
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
12 to 13 Italian savoiardi ladyfinger cookies

For bananas foster filling:

¼ cup sliced almonds
½ stick (1/4 cup) unsalted butter
½ cup packed dark brown sugar
2 tablespoons banana liqueur
2 tablespoons dark rum
1/8 teaspoon cinnamon
½ teaspoon vanilla
4 medium firm-ripe bananas

For cream-cheese layer:

5 large eggs
1 ½ pounds cream cheese, softened
1 cup granulated sugar
2 tablespoons banana liqueur
1 tablespoon vanilla

For praline topping:

1 ½ cups pecans
2 sticks (1 cup) unsalted butter
1 cup packed dark brown sugar
1 ½ tablespoons water

Preheat oven to 350 and butter a 10-inch springform pan. Wrap outside of entire pan with heavy-duty foil to waterproof.

Make crust: Melt butter and cool slightly. In a food processor finely grind graham crackers with granulated sugar and blend in butter until combined well. Press crumb mixture evenly onto bottom of springform pan. Halve cookies crosswise and arrange upright, rounded edges on top, around side of pan, pressing lightly into crust to stabilize them.

Make filling: In a shallow baking pan toast almonds in one layer in middle of oven until pale golden, about 5 minutes. In a 10 to 12-inch nonstick skillet melt butter with brown sugar over moderate heat, stirring until smooth. Stir in liqueur, rum, cinnamon, and vanilla and simmer mixture, whisking until sugar is dissolved, about 1 minute. Remove skillet from heat. Halve bananas crosswise and cut lengthwise into 1/4 –inch thick slices. Add bananas to butter mixture and cook over moderately low heat, turning them gently with a spatula, just until softened, 30 seconds to 1 minute. Sprinkle almonds over bananas.

Make cream-cheese layer: In a bowl whisk together eggs until just combined. In a mdedium bowl with an electric mixer beat together cream cheese and granulated sugar until light and fluffy and slowly beat in half of eggs, scraping down side of bowl with a rubber spatula occasionally. Slowly beat in remaining eggs and stir in liqueur and vanilla.

Pour half of cream-cheese mixture into crust and bake in middle of oven 10 minutes. Cool layer on a rack 5 minutes. Gently spoon filling evenly over layer, arranging bananas so they are not overlapping. Pour remaining cream-cheese mixture over filling and put springform pan in a large roasting pan. Add enough hot water to roasting pan to reach halfway up side of springform pan. Bake cheesecake in middle of oven until filling is set in center and top is golden and firm, 50 to 60 minutes. Cool cheesecake in springform pan on rack. Chill cheesecake, loosely covered, 1 day.

Make praline topping: Preheat oven to 350. In a shallow baking pan toast pecans in one layer in middle of oven until a shade darker, about 5 minutes. In a 2 to 2 ½ quart heavy saucepan melt butter with brown sugar over moderate heat, stirring util smooth, and stir in water until incorporated. Stir in pecans and cool topping to room temperature. Serve cheesecake with praline topping. Serves 10 to 12.

The Mysterious Noise At The Olde Stone Cottage

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 20:13:01 PDT

It was a dark and stormy night. Well, sort of. It was getting dark and storms were in the forecast. I was at the cottage and had just finished putting the new coverlet on the bed in the back room. I checked the bathroom to make sure there was enough soap and shampoo. It was then that I first heard it.

It was a mournful cry….muffled and sort of distant….like something in distress or pain…something that needed help. Oh no, my mind raced, the poor thing – how long had it been crying? What was wrong? Could I help it? Where was it trapped? And….most importantly, what was it?

Could it be a bird trapped in the gutter outside? – I opened the windows and looked, listened in the other rooms, went outside and looked up at the roof, ….no it seemed to be in the bathroom….odd.

Having read too many Nancy Drew books in my childhood, I knew I had to investigate and find this “creature” before the guests checked in the next day. (It seems these things always happen when Bruce is out of town – he left early that morning for an art show in Maryland.) Being the (not so) brave innkeeper, I quickly sought the help of my friendly neighbors, Kathy and Bob. They are, after all, used to our antics as innkeepers – it’s part of the price of knowing the Garrabrandts - and sharing the adventures of running an inn and two houses. Surely they would know what to do.

I found Kathy with Michael at the kitchen table going through the spelling list for school – equivalent and beverage were the hard words for the night. Kathy suggested that it might be a bird stuck in the attic. The attic – a look of horror must have come over my face because she quickly volunteered Bob to investigate. By law we must keep the door to the attic locked (no second means of egress from that floor). So the first order of business was to find the key.

A call to Bruce bought forth the following: “it’s a small silver key next to the kitchen door”. We live in an old house – 160 years old. In that time lots of keys have collected on the key rack behind the kitchen door – in fact some would say there’s a convention taking place. Where these keys belong is anyone’s guess, but we are hesitant to throw any away because surely we will need that very key the next day, even if we never used it. It’s just the law of keys. So as I’m looking for the small silver key, there are no less than a dozen that would fit that description. Half of these fall off the little hooks and onto the floor, where the cats are quick to “help” me, as they become the latest soccer toy.

With my keys in hand, I set off for the cottage – thinking that if none of these fit the lock, I won’t bother Kathy and Bob and the poor creature will have to wither away in the attic. Maybe it won’t smell too bad and when Bruce comes home he can smash the lock off the door. My mind was racing. Did I mention that it is now dark? Luckily, Bob and Kathy see the lights on at the cottage and are brave enough to both come over. Michael also shows up at the door, but Kathy tells him to go home, fearing that whatever is in the attic will come flying after the three of us….

And so we start up the stairs to the second floor. Step by step we climb higher…and enter the bathroom. All is quiet. And then it starts. Low and mournful, we all hear it and a silent look passes between us. What the heck is that noise?

There is no choice but to try to get into the attic…and so we go to the back bedroom toward the lock…..luck is with us as the third key fits, the lock unsnaps and we slowly open the door and listen…….all is quiet…the creature is probably just up the steps waiting for someone. Kathy and I manage to step back in unison as Bob, (hey, he’s the guy), bravely reaches behind the door, turns on the light and starts the long walk up the attic steps…alone.
Kathy and I look at each other – surely there will be a yelp or a scream any second as the creature comes flying around the corner. Visions from "The Birds" flood my mind from some dark recess.

But all is quiet. We hear a few footsteps…..and then, when Kathy and I can’t stand it any longer, we tentatively yell out….Bob? A muffled voice from the back of the house says “there’s nothing up here, I can’t hear the noise”.

Confused, the three of us now head back to the bathroom. Bob is listening to the wall, Kathy is inside the shower listening to the drain and she determines that it’s too rhythmic a sound to be an animal – perhaps it’s a child’s toy or some kind of alarm. I center on the area around the toilet. With one brave move I lift off the tank cover and there it is.

We all stare in amazement.

I will pause here to explain that almost everything in the cottage was replaced, removed or repaired when we remodeled. Everything, that is, except the toilet. Being an innkeeper I qualify as a semi-expert on toilets. (And having had eight old ones and one new one, that darn new one gave us so many problems that we tore it out and swapped it with an old one – there is no sight quite so terrifying for an innkeeper than a guest with a plunger in their hands morning after morning.) So no matter how much the plumber wanted to sell us a new toilet for the cottage, I held firm and kept this old one.

The noise is coming from inside the tank. The three of us watch in amazement as a mixture of air and water move rhythmically back and forth in the tube connected to the round bowl connected to the flapper.

And then Bob flushes the toilet.

All is quiet.

And so, the mystery of the noise at the cottage is solved and life in Terre Hill is once again peaceful.

A Rare Sitting

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Mon, 23 Mar 2009 17:52:17 PDT

Guests often ask me, “Do you ever sit down”? Seems I must be moving all the time. While we do lead very busy lives, both Bruce and I can often be found sitting with guests in the evening and occasionally catching a show or two in the area.

So when the Rainbow Dinner Theatre sent an offer to tourism businesses for a free dinner and show, several innkeepers responded and could be found laughing away the hours at their show, Felix and Oscar, last Sunday afternoon.

Dave and Cindy Disavino have operated the dinner theatre for 25 years, and it’s clear that they enjoy what they do. Audiences respond to their work with enthusiasm -- the show was packed. We especially liked Gerry Konjura, who played Oscar. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel Walter Matthau’s presence from the original version of the play.

One favorite scene shows Oscar looking for tax receipts and emptying his pockets – all innkeepers can relate as we scramble to pull together our expenses, and brace ourselves for April 15. Speaking of taxes, I’d better get back to another sitting – in front of the computer with numbers….

Neil Simon’s masterpiece will be playing through April 25 – call The Artist’s Inn for special discounts on shows. Thank you, Rainbow Dinner Theatre, for a fun day.

Spring is (Literally) Just Around the Corner

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Fri, 13 Mar 2009 08:09:45 PDT

I couldn’t fight it anymore. I saw the lights on late at night. I knew what they were doing in there. I’ve driven by the signs, fighting the urge to turn in. On quiet days I could hear them call me by name. And once the weather broke a little last week, I was overcome with desire. My willpower caved, my resistance forgotten and I just had to go.

And so began my visits to the nurseries. They surround The Artist’s Inn in Terre Hill, and range from small mom-and-pop greenhouses that are only open until they sell out their inventory, to large wholesalers like Frysville Farms that grow 500,000 mums in the fall and just as many poinsettias at Christmas time. One thing all the greenhouse owners have in common – they are passionate about their love of growing plants and very knowledgeable about what they do.
Oh what a treat it was. As you walk through the door, you’re greeted by green, green, green in every direction. It’s the promise of Spring and all the hope it brings. You can feel the mist and rise in humidity as it falls from the overhead sprinklers (and straightens your hair), smell the herbs as you explore new varieties, and almost hear those happy little leaves growing as they gobble up the nutrients in the soil.

It is a bit of a tease, as it’s really too early to plant anything. But oh, the dreams these trips feed. Your mind races as it tries to visually place flowers in just the right conditions in your gardens. I usually explore Lancaster County greenhouses with my two innkeeping buddies, Ruth from Flowers and Thyme, and Carl from Harvest Moon. Together we have found many treasures for our yards, taking notes about new varieties, adjusting our lists of what we want more than need, pulling our wagons through the perennial beds, up the gravel lots to the annuals, oohing and ahhing our way through and cramming our cars full of newfound plants like excited kids on a scavenger hunt.

Some of the greenhouses have come to know us (is that why they call for more help as we head for the check-out?) – we certainly do not go unnoticed at many. Between the three of us, we can usually talk about our past success (or not) with most plants, discussing the benefits, the drawbacks, the pests and the blooming cycle. Of course, my specialty seems to be finding plants that take over your garden, encroach on your neighbors and seed half the town….but that’s a blog for another day. We clog the aisles, get caught in the rain, pull carts through the mud, and wolf down lunch along the way, all the while answering our cell phones and taking reservations.

Ah, but those trips are a few more weeks away, and we still have a little time yet to prepare for our annual trek around the county. So make your lists and plan now to take advantage of the best selections that our local nurseries offer. Weaverland Auction, just a mile from the inn, will soon be opening, offering wholesale prices and breathtaking displays if you can buy in bulk.

Black Creek is now open year round and we had a nice conversation with the owner about what is new on the herb scene. Actually, we were working on research for our Herb Tour on May 9, but that is another blog for another day. They always have a great display. That is where these pictures are from – I love the brave little flower blooming its heart out - do you see it? It’s certainly bigger than the leaves and stem that support it.
Your list of local greenhouses that surround the inn, complete with directions, is waiting. And if you listen closely, you can hear those plants calling you. They know your name. We hope to see you soon. In the garden! After all, Spring is just around the corner.

The Wizard of Wine

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Mon, 09 Mar 2009 09:28:46 PDT

In our never-ending quest to discover the culinary treasures of Lancaster County, Carl and I visited the new tasting room at Tamanend Winery. This winery is named in honor of the Chief of the Delaware Tribe of Indians, who signed a treaty with William Penn for land that became Penn's Woods, or Pennsylvania.

Never judge a book by its cover: Although the setting of the winery is based across the street from a Mercedes dealer, the tasting room inside, with Kate Albert as our guide, soon made you forget those cars!

We learned about their Wild Wines first. Named after Pennsylvania wildflowers, these have labels that picture scenes photographed by the owners – some in their own backyard. These wines are sold in a bag-in-box, a method becoming more popular –because it limits the amount of wine that is exposed to oxygen, thereby extending the “life” of the wine.
The premium wine labels are beautiful too – and truly works of art. They are taken from original paintings by Suk Shuglie. All the wines are made from Pennsylvania grapes – with the exception of their Torosa Zinfandel and the Trop, a dessert wine made from the same California zinfandel grapes. Ironically, these were my two favorites - what can I say, I’m a California red girl at heart. All their wines tended to be more on the dry side (yeah!) with a nice clean finish. Yummy.

It was about that time that we met Dr. Richard Carey. He owns the winery with his wife, Linda Jones McKee, and also runs the Vitis Wine Center that services the mid-Atlantic region. Say you own a vineyard and something goes wrong along the way….perhaps your wine has too much alcohol, or you just can’t figure out what went awry. This Wine Wizard helps you figure out the problem – and correct it. He says, “Wine is half science and half art and the trouble is that we don’t know which is which!” We think his love of both science and art are apparent in his wines…Here’s a picture of him in his lab.
We got a peek at a machine that helps him – it looked to be right out of the Wizard of Oz – full of dials and controls…I thought I heard a faint voice in the background saying “don’t touch those dials” ….but maybe that was the wine talking.

There's a new research project that he’s trying – storing wine in big white plastic “tubs” instead of the traditional French or American oak barrels. The plastic allows the same amount of oxygen exchange as the oak, but lasts 20 years, instead of 3. (Wow, very green indeed.) It also provides a better barrier for temperature fluctuations. I never knew I liked science so much!

We hope to have Tamenand on one of our Lancaster County Tours later this year, so stay tuned for details.

Effie Oh!

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 20:03:44 PST

Weeknights during the winter are not quite the busiest time of the year for The Artist’s Inn, so it’s a perfect excuse for Bruce and me to try new restaurants. We had heard about Effie Ophelia’s last summer during our Wine Camp, but couldn’t remember the name!

When talk of the restaurant surfaced again, and we found that friends of ours, Lynne and Bob Griffin of the Australian Walkabout, also wanted to eat there - and when they were able to get a sitter at the last-minute - well, it just seemed like fate that we should go.

Named for Eric Howton’s (the owner) grandmother, it’s a tiny bistro of about ten tables in downtown Lancaster. One of the rare, “bring-your-own bottle” restaurants, Effie Ophelia’s is a great place to enjoy the German Riesling that the Griffins brought. Our bottle of a French blend – even though it had a great looking label (my test of whether or not to buy a new wine) - fell short of expectations.

But the food did not. I could have dived into my appetizer - sweet potato gnocchi with sage cream and candied pecans. It was a heavenly mix of textures and sweetness. The roasted root vegetables, chevre gratin with spinach cream, tasted as wonderful as it was beautiful. It’s featured on the home page of their website and pictured here.

We all liked our main courses as well, the pan seared trout with herbed spaetzle and shitake leek cream, lime-ginger roasted chicken with carrot and golden raisin mostarda, and the chiles rellenos, with citrus and white bean puree and tomato coulis. I had the seared diver scallops with cilantro crisped hominy and pickled pepper pot – the portion was quite generous. The spicy bite of the scallops danced so well with the sweetness of the peppers. We sipped tea while our friends polished off a serving of cream brulee. It looked yummy and next time I hope to try it.

I thought I had a small kitchen, but Eric does very well in what little space he has – the “kitchen” is open to the restaurant and about the size of a broom closet, albeit a stainless steel one. No matter, people still like to go up to him and talk while he is whirring around. Hey, I know what that’s like!

You can bet we’ll be back and will certainly recommend it to our guests….although they don’t take reservations, so there may be quite a wait. But it’s a nice neighborhood to window shop – they are on gallery row.

We have the menu here at The Artist’s Inn, though entrees change frequently. Now, if we can just remember the name!

Mad About Maple!

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 18:36:32 PST

It’s starting to look a lot like Spring in Lancaster County. Bruce noticed white buckets hanging from the maple trees along Wentzel Road during his walk early one morning. He came upon a farmer out feeding his chickens and stopped to chat. “It takes 40 gallons of sap to make one gallon of maple syrup,” said the farmer. “Once you boil the clear liquid, it turns amber.”

Conditions are now perfect for collecting sap – freezing temps at night and 40s in the daytime. Pennsylvania produces quite a bit of maple syrup – less than Vermont, yes -- but more than New Hampshire.

At The Artist’s Inn, we have always served only pure maple syrup. There is just no substitute – we are crazy about the stuff. So, during the month of March, we’ll be featuring breakfasts made with Pennsylvania maple syrup. Stay with us in March and receive your own little jar of Pennsylvania Maple Syrup from Brydonson Farm in Coudersport to take home. It’s the real thing.

Of course, we know that most of you come to The Artist’s Inn for a romantic retreat, to soak off the stress in a whirlpool tub, or in front of a fireplace. Maybe you’re here to connect with each other and, perhaps to even socialize a little with the innkeepers. Not so for all our guests, though. One in particular (we won’t divulge your name, Bob from Iowa) comes purely for the maple pecan scones. It’s the only way we can entice him to return!

Here’s Bob’s favorite scone recipe, and one we’ll be serving when he and his wife Diane visit us again.

Maple-Pecan Scones

2 cups all purpose flour
1/2 cup sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons chilled unsalted butter, cut into pieces
1/2 cup toasted chopped pecans
3/4 cup heavy cream
2 large egg yolks
1 1/4 teaspoons maple extract

Glaze – 1 egg, beaten to blend with 1 teaspoon water

Preheat oven to 425. Line large baking sheet with parchment paper (or use silpat). Place flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in processor. Pulse to blend. Add butter and stir until mixture resembles coarse meal. Stir in pecans.

Whisk cream, egg yolks, and maple extract in small bowl. Pour into flour mixture, pulse until moist clumps form. Turn dough onto lightly floured surface and knead gently until smooth, about 4 turns. Pat dough into ½ inch thick round and cut shapes for scones, using either a fluted cutter or just cut into triangles. Transfer scones to baking surface. Brush with egg glaze. I like to sprinkle them with coarse sugar.

Bake until scones are browned and tester inserted into center comes out clean, about 14 minutes. Cool slightly and serve warm or at room temperature.

Makes about 18.

In Lancaster It's Fasnachts

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Fri, 20 Feb 2009 18:54:10 PST

Soon it will be Lent. That means that between now and (especially on) Fat Tuesday, February 24, Americans all around the country are gearing up to chow down.

In Parma Heights, Ohio, where I grew up, the food of choice before the fasting of Lent was a Polish donut called a Paczki (pronounced puunch-keys). You can only get them this time of year and-if you are smart-you’ll go early to get these donuts filled with jelly or cream; they are sinfully good.

Speaking of sinful, so too are the beignets in New Orleans – a city known not only for its great jazz and food, but, um, other things in abundance. There is nothing like sitting in a corner café and eating these wonderful French confections. I’ve tried to make them as delicate and light as they do in the French Quarter – believe me - it’s easier to buy a plane ticket and go experience the real thing.

Baltimore residents prefer hot cross buns and people line up at bakeries waiting for them. They are only available during Lent.

Here in Lancaster County, the choice of the season is fasnachts (or Pudert Faasnachtkuche in Pennsylvania Dutch) - fried donuts that typically used up the lard before the fasting of Lent started. The locals love their fasnachts as much as people in other parts of the country love their specialties, and bakeries will be bursting with orders.

So, if you find yourself in the Lancaster County area in the next week, be sure to add it to your list of local foods to experience – because all too soon the fasnachts will be gone. Achenbachs, Shady Maple, Oregon Dairy, Sadie’s Bakery and even the small bakery outside of Terre Hill will all have fasnachts available. If in doubt, call The Artist’s Inn and we’ll steer you to a fasnacht nearby.

No matter how you fry your dough, enjoy Fat Tuesday. I'm heading for the kitchen....

The new Cat

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Sat, 14 Feb 2009 14:17:55 PST

Some of our favorite guests stayed with us a few weeks ago and brought us a present. A new cat. You would have thought that we had enough of the four-legged variety but this one is different – it doesn’t need attention or to be fed, but still looks adorable and has found a spot under the antique high chair in the dining room.

It came from one of my new favorite places – Graybuck Country Home in Mohnton. Last fall, my friend, Paula and I went to Graybuck looking for Christmas decorations for the Carriage House. We weren’t disappointed – they have some great ideas and nice gifts. I can’t wait to go back in the summer when the garden center is open. I was already drooling over the outdoor fireplace. Check their website for directions and hours and, if you go, tell Barb we sent you.

It seems a lot of my guests are quite fond of shopping. I do my best to investigate new places, whether it’s a craft shop, nursery, or woodworker. There are so many great little stores to discover in Lancaster County – we are really blessed with lots of local talent.

But buying is the easy part – getting everything home sometimes presents a challenge. We’ve helped folks tie luggage to the top of cars, mailed home goodies and even held an occasional piece of furniture. I should really start taking pictures of people’s cars when they leave – the shot of two outhouses in the back of the pick-up would have been nice. Or the station wagon packed with purchases – I had to help load the tall planter so it would sit across the laps of three women or it wouldn’t have fit!

And so, as I look around the inn, I see that many of my favorite things have been gifts from people. Little reminders of fun times and warm hearts. But the best gifts of all are the friends that come to visit us at The Artist’s Inn.

“My Kind of Town”

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Sat, 07 Feb 2009 04:06:37 PST

Do those words remind you of a song perhaps? Frank Sinatra recorded it in the 60’s, about Chicago. Although Bruce is a huge fan of Ole’ Blue Eyes, I don’t often have Sinatra songs stuck in my head. But this one came to mind last night as I drove home from a Terre Hill Days Committee meeting.

I am secretary on the committee. We organize activities for our little town in Lancaster County, doing all kinds of things to raise money for the upkeep and improvements in our park: Cooking lunch in the community center in February, holding an annual Terre Hill Days Festival in the summer, and making and selling wreaths in the fall, are some of the events that take place in our small town. While I am one of the few people who make it to committee meetings, the most important work is done by scores of volunteers whose tireless efforts make our events successful.

It doesn’t matter their age, background, or occupation--these folks all unite for a common good. While the events do provide a social outlet for some, (and laughter is often the common ingredient), the truth is that some serious goals are met each year because people sacrifice their precious free time and pool their talents for our community.

Here’s a great example: Due to our current economic climate, the committee lost its sponsor for our annual fireworks show. For the past two years, Conestoga Wood (a local cabinet maker) has graciously donated the funds for this impressive fireworks display. This year, as housing starts have slowed and construction jobs have dwindled, Conestoga Wood has been forced to forego bonuses and to lay off employees. Because of these factors, the company simply couldn’t justify the fireworks expense. It was the right decision, to be sure, but no doubt a difficult one for them.

Fireworks have only been part of our Terre Hill Days Festival since 2007 but, once you start something as popular as this event, it’s tough to forego it (sort of like asking kids not to visit Santa at Christmastime). But a donor(s?) (who has asked to remain anonymous) has stepped forward for our little town, and generously donated the money needed for the fireworks to continue in 2009.

Doesn’t that just make you warm all over? Oh, to have the financial means to make people happy in such a way! Wow--now that would be rewarding.

So, if you find yourself in Lancaster County any time from July 16th through the 19th, drop by Terre Hill Park – you’re going to have a good time. If you need a place to rest your feet, contact us, at The Artist's Inn. We’re sure that you’ll find people just like the ones in the Sinatra song….and that’s why Terre Hill is my kind of town - one town that won’t let you down.

A visit to Wertz Candy Shop

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Wed, 04 Feb 2009 14:53:54 PST

It was snowing as I drove down the one-way street in downtown Lebanon, PA. I managed to parallel park the car (on the left side of the street no less), squish through a foot of slushy snow, plug the meter, and headed for Wertz Candy Shop. I opened the door and was instantly transported back to childhood. This closet-sized shop held treats of every kind, from the beautiful upscale almonds to sugar plums to caramel corn popping in the big stainless drum.
There’s everything you can imagine and more – in barrels at your feet, piled on top of counters, high on the shelves around the perimeter of the shop and beautifully displayed in old-fashioned glass cases. One can only imagine all the faces of the children that have peered through those glass cases in the last 70 years.

And then there’s the chocolate – there were the usual creams, nuts, truffles and turtles. But there are also blobs, molasses coconut strips and chocolate covered bacon with sea salt. You just never know what Bill will come up with. This family has fun with chocolate and was recently featured on “Dirty Jobs” with Mike Rowe.

It was quite a hopping place while I was there – people were buying all sorts of candy tucked into every corner of this shop – some people were from far-away places like Spokane and others were from town – like the Chief of Police. That’s when I suddenly remembered that parking meter which had probably expired….the Chief gave me a token, I put it in the meter for the next car and left Lebanon, munching happily on opera fudge.

Oh, you say you’ve never heard of opera fudge? Well, you can learn about that and so much more on our Chocolate Covered Romance Tour February 27 and 28 at The Artist's Inn. We’ll spend the day traveling around tasting chocolate with Lancaster County Tours. For details see www.artistinn.com/ChocolateCoveredRomance.htm.

“Have You Ever Seen An Amish Wedding Presents Room”?

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Wed, 28 Jan 2009 20:36:46 PST

Mary asked us this question as she led the way through her kitchen, dining room, then past the sewing machines where she was making aprons, and into a long room at the back of the house.

Here were tables laden with cooking utensils, a round clothespin contraption, plates….even a propane lamp/table. These, she explained, were her daughter’s gifts from her wedding in November. It was now late January and her daughter and new husband were still living at Mary’s, waiting to set up house when they move in the spring.

As we walked toward the rear of the room, the groom’s corner was even more interesting, boasting lots of tools and a great-looking grill. Some of these were given the day of the wedding; other gifts had been “collected” as the happy couple traveled to their friends and relatives for dinner visits.

Mary will be part of our Amish Tour on March 28. This excursion will focus on a behind-the-scenes look at local Amish businesses, and explore the Amish way of life – mostly from a yummy culinary point of view!

As we drove home from Mary’s house, chomping on home-made potato chips, I realized that in all the years that I’ve lived here and heard about Amish weddings, I’d never before seen a room full of their presents!

Participants in our upcoming Lancaster County Tour of the Amish will be able to walk around the farms, meet several different families and visit in their homes. We’ll learn how the Amish utilize fruits and vegetables in their family recipes, hear about their traditions and why they love the land. (You’ll even be able to ask Mary about what it’s like to have two of your children married in the same month!)

For more information, call us or visit our website at www.artistinn.com/amishtour.htm. Our tour group will consist of The Artist’s Inn and the guests from The Harvest Moon Bed and Breakfast. The cost is $100/person and will cover lunch, dinner, all demonstrations and tours and transportation. Hurry! Seating is limited; reservations are required. Reserve online or phone us at 888-999-4479.

Our thanks to Dr. Charles Carroll, a recent guest, who snapped the picture below.

Do they REALLY sell mud?

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Sat, 24 Jan 2009 13:34:12 PST

Well… not exactly. But it’s a long standing tradition in Lancaster County to have mud sales and we guarantee that you haven’t seen anything quite like it. Known as auctions everywhere else, in Lancaster they are simply called “sales”. Throughout the months of February and March, volunteer fire departments from Gap to Intercourse hold these sales as their biggest fund-raisers of the year.

These are no small affairs, mud sales start as early as 7 a.m. and it takes the better part of the day - with three auctioneers - to get through the inventory of handmade quilts, antiques, Amish-made wagons, jars of jams, wooden crafts, tools, and farm equipment. And sometimes even horses and pigs and cows…..oh my! You just never know what you will find.

While most of the business takes place outside (hence the name for the sale), hundreds of colorful quilts hang from the rafters inside the fire halls. You can tell they’ve done this before: Women volunteers can secure a quilt on clothes pins and hoist it high above the crowd in a flash – and the bidding is just as fast. Other fire halls use a bed to illustrate how the quilts will look when made up – no ordinary bed, but one tilted to swivel for the audience to see. At really big sales, two or three beds will be on display.

Whether it’s the cadence of the auctioneer, the smell of the hay, the slide of the mud underneath, or the steam rising from your hot chocolate outside, there’s nothing like the “thrill of the hunt” for something special.

And then there’s the food – hearty Lancaster County fare. Homebaked sweets line the tables with chicken corn soup, pork bar-b-que, hot dogs and sauerkraut, sticky buns and whoopee pies. (All your New Year’s resolutions may be abandoned in one lunch.)

The locals really turn out for mud sales – since most of the fire departments are staffed by at least some plain folks, you’ll see lots of Amish kids pulling each other in wagons and riding horses behind the barn, while their parents catch up on local news and help dish out food or make purchases.

Warm up at The Artist’s Inn when you return – either in front of the fireplaces or in one of our whirlpool tubs. We’ll even supply directions to the find the sales and some plastic bags for those boots…do bring yours, lest you want to stand out as one of those first-timers….

For a list of mud sales, see our Things to Do page.

Here's a picture from one of the sales last year - a few pieces of farm equipment, buggies, mud....and a whole lot of atmosphere. Nowhere but Lancaster County.

Take Your Romantic Valentine to Lancaster County

stay@artistinn.com (Jan Garrabrandt) — Wed, 14 Jan 2009 06:14:54 PST

What could be more romantic than a sleepy small town in Lancaster County where the Amish buggies clip-clop by and chimes can be heard from a nearby church?

Well, maybe sharing a romantic dinner in a great restaurant, strolling through the art galleries in downtown Lancaster or enjoying the thrill of the hunt for that special antique in nearby Adamstown.

You could catch a show at American Music Theatre in Lancaster or the Sovereign Center in Reading. Or maybe catch a bargain or two at Rockvale, Tanger or the VF outlets. Tour local wineries or nearby microbreweries. We can recommend our favorites.

Take a hike in nearby Nolde Forest, or snuggle together on a buggy ride.

Or say you did it all -- and just relax at The Artist's Inn , Olde Stone Cottage or the Carriage House. Surprise your special someone with cheese and fruit from the Lover's Basket, a tour of covered bridges with the My Forever Valentine Package or gourmet chocolates with the Romance Basket. Enjoy a massage. Warm up in front of the Vermont Castings stove fireplaces, soak in our whirlpool tubs or just enjoy watching movies together.

In the morning, you'll wake up slowly to the aromas of a four-course gourmet breakfast served by candlelight. Later you can enjoy Bruce's artwork in the gallery.

Best of all, you'll share it with the one you love.