Road Game: Central New York
Pepi's Pizza, Wing Night at the American Legion, Utica Club, Soft Serve, Pineapple Cream Pie...
Welcome to the Working Week
With writing deadlines, project deadlines, and Bar Convent Brooklyn and all the ancillary pop-up events around NYC, this is going to be an incredibly busy week for me. I love catching up with industry friends from near and far—especially all the visiting Italian producers—at BCB but it’s always really hot and overwhelming with all the talking, tasting, taking notes, and being pulled in so many directions. Last year I took full advantage of the many post-show events around town but I’m trying to be a bit more selective this year so I don’t burn myself out. I received so many invitations to events this evening, the free day before everything kicks off. If you’re in the industry and in NYC tonight you will have plenty of options to stay busy all night long.
I’m sad to miss my friend Jim Meehan’s party at Porchlight tonight to celebrate the launch of his new book, The Bartender’s Pantry (tickets are still available if you’d like to go!), but I’ll be back uptown tonight, returning to The Carlyle for a special launch event with The New York Cocktail Company. Otherwise, I’m trying to keep things relatively close to home with stops at the Tick Dog pop-up at Caffe Dante, the Handshake pop-up at Dante West Village, the iichiko Shochu event (one of my favorites from last year) at Bar Goto Niban, the Yacht Club takeover at Grand Army, and catching up with Zio Vito at the Antica Torino event at Travel Bar.
If you see me at BCB or out and about, please say hello. And I’ll be signing copies of my book Amaro and pouring Negroni Sbagliatos made with Cappelletti Vino Aperitivo at the Haus Alpenz booth (81-601) on Tuesday, June 11 from 2:15 p.m. - 3:15 p.m.
Why Don’t We Steal Away
I love living in Brooklyn, but recently the pre-summer vibes of Big City living have been chipping away at me. Especially as the nonstop cacophony of traffic and all the horns, the honking, grinding tractor trailers, shouting motorists, and piercing sirens in the notoriously busy intersection near the BQE that I look down upon from my writing desk has had me on borderline Howard Beale in Network breakdown mode.
So last Monday, knowing I was staring down the anxiety-inducing madness of this coming week, I booked an Amtrak ticket home for a few days to visit my sister and her family in Sherrill in Central New York. I had a lot of work to do, but I hadn’t been home in almost two years and wanted to see everyone, but also longed for a bit of fresh air and to see the stars at night. And for three days my chaotic soundtrack of urban noise pollution was replaced with the refrain of Finches and the trilling of tree frogs at dusk.
Wednesday
Last Wednesday I took the Amtrak 63 Maple Leaf to Utica from the Moynihan Train Hall. The last-minute gate announcement cattle call to the designated track always stresses me out, but I made it through and secured a window seat on the left-hand side to take in the north-bound views of the Hudson River. I leaned my head against the window and nodded off for a bit to the steady rhythm of the train.
Though it’s always like a ghost town, the Italianate style Union Station in Utica, New York, is a grand affair with its 47-foot-high ceiling, marble columns, and long, curving wooden benches. It’s also one of just a handful of train stations with a working barber shop. My nephew Jack (now almost 23!) picked me up at the station and served as my makeshift Uber driver for most of my stay. When I’m back home I love a good country drive. I’m like an old farm dog. Jingle the keys and I’m hopping up onto the back seat with my head sticking out the window.
We ran a few errands on the way home then had a nice visit with my sister Victoria, her husband Bob, and the official welcoming committee of their Bichon Frisé Bella (looking spiffy in her purple kerchief) and Bear, their 21-pound Tuxedo/Maine Coon cat, who I particularly bonded with this trip. And I’m always thrilled to find the refrigerator in the garage of their home stocked up with endless cans of soda, seltzer, and beer and an expansive kitchen pantry that would rival Ina Garten’s.
I unpacked my bag and handed over the dozen assorted bagels from Shelsky’s and two loaves of lard bread from Caputo Bakery I had muled up from Brooklyn. I also had two new caps for Jack, a red dad hat from Montague Diner (they were sold out of the British racing green one) and a navy blue snapback from Dante. After a tour of all of the recent home renovations since my last visit (new bathroom makeover, updated guest room, new flooring in the finished basement, the vines cleared out from the back patio bringing to bring in sunlight) Jack drove me over to the Vernon-Verona-Sherrill High School so I could restock my local maple syrup made by the school’s FFA chapter.
My family gets me a quart every Christmas which usually gets me through most of the year, but I had recently run out as I’ve started adding a tiny splash to my morning oatmeal (along with a small knob of butter and flaky salt). We had to get buzzed in to the still-in-session school then went to the front office where there was a display of the available sizes. I ended up dropping $40 on two quarts to bring back to Brooklyn. The design of the bottle and the local connection always brings me a sense of nostalgia.
Driving around, it was sad to see a few longtime businesses had permanently closed since my last visit, including my beloved hometown doughnut shop, a local ice cream parlor, and a longtime roadside business that sold locally made provisions, produce from nearby farms, the freshest cheese curds you’ve ever had, and an entire section devoted to beer with plenty of regional brands. I was on the hunt for the old-school Barbecue flavor from Syracuse’s Terrell’s Potato Chips that had been re-released due to customer demand but I failed in my quest. But I did score some limited-edition Buffalo Wing flavored chip dip from Heluva Good!
A quick stop to Byrne Dairy for my first soft-serve cone of the season. They only offered sprinkles or chocolate dip (I usually like it when they roll it in those crunchy-sweet assorted nuts). I went with a twist and dip but cold ice cream and warm chocolate dip made an instant mess, dripping all over the picnic bench, but once it firmed up all was good. Jack went with classic vanilla with rainbow sprinkles.
A relative of Vicki’s had been chronicling her recent honeymoon in Italy and Vicki was craving an Aperol Spritz, which she had never tried. While out and about I picked up plenty of ice and some soda water and once I was back home stirred up two rounds of Aperol Spritzes for Vicki and Bob, which they loved (I even showed them—despite what most recipes will tell you—the move of pouring the Prosecco first in the bottom third of the glass and then adding the Aperol and splash of soda).
Despite the frequent refrain that they’re not the same as they used to be, and the quality has gone downhill, whenever I’m home I always have to have a pizza from Pepi’s, my childhood pizzeria (even though I admit I’ve had some not so stellar Pepi’s pizza on recent visits). I also like to order it to eat in at the pizza parlor, but we compromised by ordering it to be picked up rather than delivered, so I could spend a little time inside waiting for our pizzas. Normally I would have an order of Hot Wings as well but as there were three potential stops during my stay that could potentially involve excellent Buffalo Wings, so I demonstrated restraint and instead got a small antipasto salad with my pizza.
The family split a large pie with meatball and onion on half (now you understand why I had to order my own pizza) and ham and pepperoni on the other half. I got my usual BTP special (ham and anchovies) and requested it “well done.” My sister suggested I request “crispy” like them as “well done” means burnt in Pepi’s parlance. But I stuck to my guns and was really happy with how it turned out. When I posted a pic on Insta I received a lot of excited DMs.
I had woken up at 4:00 a.m. in the morning so didn’t have much left in me after dinner aside from eating an ice cream sandwich in the wicker rocking chair on the front porch to the buzz of the tree frogs across the street.
Thursday
I woke up at 5:30 a.m. and got cleaned up then posted up on the back patio to do some writing and catch up on email. But I didn’t realize I was sitting right near a wall planter that had been commandeered by two Finches as their new home. The sound of their frequent angry whistles let me know that I was too close for comfort to their three offspring living in the nest they had built within the planter, so I moved to the opposite side of the table. These two would become my morning rivals during my stay as I liked the relative calm of writing outside in the morning sun.
The weather forecast for the next two days called for three hour windows of intense rain, but that didn’t stop us from hitting the road. We started by visiting St. Agatha’s Cemetery in Canastota to visit the gravesites of my father, mother, and grandparents.
Then we took a country drive over winding roadways and cresting hills to Cazenovia where we stopped by Meier’s Creek Brewing Company for a beer and a snack.
I had a Honey Kölsch to drink. The family ordered a round of Pulled Pork Nachos and Crispy Fried Shrimp in a Sweet Thai Chili sauce. I thought about trying the Bavarian Pretzel with an IPA Mustard and Beer Cheese, but limited it to having one of a trio of Dippers (smoked roast beef sliders with horsey sauce on homemade caraway salted buns), sharing the other two with Bob and Jack.
With imminent rain on the horizon, our second stop was The Blue Canoe Grill, a rustic waterfront tavern Tuscarora Lake in Erieville. We sat on the back porch, which was thankfully covered, as by the time we ordered our drinks and food a severe downpour came raining from the skies.
I had the first of what would be several (overall) Utica Club beers during my time back home and ordered a BLT. The salty bartender/server gave me a little guff about my inquires on whether both slices of bread were coated with mayo on their respective interiors. And I was excited to try Sidewinder Fries for the first time (sort of like a corkscrew potato wedge). Jack had an order of Fried Calamari with sides of Marinara and Peanut Sauce. The thick-cut bacon on my sandwich was a winner and I ended up giving Jack most of my fries as they were quite filling.
When we were finished we made the dash back into the tavern and I had another Utica Club at the bar while we waited for the rain to pass, though it only got worse.
After the treacherous country drive back home we chilled out for a bit. The plan was stopping by the Sherrill American Legion as it was Wing Night and there was also some kind of popular prize basket silent auction fundraiser going on so it was much more crowded than usual.
Bob worked the room while Vicki checked out all the gift baskets. I bought $20 worth of pull tabs (no winners) and had a couple Utica Clubs while soaking up the atmosphere. It was also Cans & Clams Night so a dozen steamers were $10 so baskets of clams were flying out of the kitchen along with their jumbo wings, which had been hyped up to me.
They were a dollar a piece so when we placed our to-go orders I asked for ten wings, hot sauce, well done. I was curious about their “Everything” sauce, which seemed quite popular—a mix of several of the featured sauces, but stuck with classic Hot. The wings took forever to come out (they were quite busy) but there was disappointment when we got home as they were far from the crispy/well done spectrum. They were cooked through, but the skin hadn’t been rendered and was a bit rubbery. I ate around four and then lamented over the quality of the wings I had so looked forward to experiencing.
Everyone settled in at home after and a couple hours later Bob suggested we take drive to Nicky Doodles for sundaes. I ordered a classic Hot Fudge Sundae for my sister and a Reese’s Pieces Sundae (swapping in Peanut Butter Swirl ice cream) for myself. Bob had finished his Chocolate Mint ice cream cone before the first sundae was ready to pack up but for some reason there was a long gap for the second sundae to appear. By the time we made it back home both sundaes were a disappointing ice cream soup. But that didn’t stop me from taking it down to the basement under the whirring ceiling fan to watch Game 1 of the NBA Finals. Bear was down there and hopped up next to me and was rewarded with tiny dabs of whipped cream he licked off my finger.
Friday
I woke up early again and after getting myself together decided to take a long walk around the neighborhood, stopping off at the gazebo in the park and a veteran’s memorial. Then I noticed a new coffee shop called The Coffee Tree nearby and stopped in there for a cortado. When I do go for long walks for exercise they tend to wind up at a bakery which, I realize, defeats the purpose. Their display cases were stocked with so many housemade baked goods. I was quite taken with display case filled with Lemon Glazed Cookies but knew it would be a bad look coming back from exercise with clandestine cookies (so instead I went back later to pick up a few to take back to Brooklyn with me).
We had all agreed upon lunch at Eddie’s, the landmark family-owned restaurant in Sylvan Beach where I spent many summers of my youth. I texted the owner Rick, who I went to high school with and worked for during my college summers at their sister business Harpoon Eddie’s on the shore of Oneida Lake to see if he’d be around. It was another overcast day and we would soon be hit with another pounding rainstorm, but the restaurant was still crowded with late afternoon diners.
When you first walk in to line up for the host station you come face to face with a cooler filled with their famous cream pies (Coconut Cream, Banana Cream, Chocolate, and Pineapple Cream), which plants the seeds for dessert before you’ve even been seated. They also have Apple, Blueberry, Red Raspberry, and Strawberry Rhubarb, along with day-of-the-week specials including Strawberry Pie, Raspberry Cream Pie, and Chocolate Peanut Butter.
The menu is expansive cover a lot of categories and I’m always torn between the red sauce Italian American section, a classic fried fish dinner, or an old-school club sandwich or their signature Hot Ham Sandwich. I ended up with the fork-and-knife required Covered Meatball Sandwich and a small salad with Italian dressing and homemade croutons. Bob went with a Pepper and Egg Sandwich, Vicki ordered their Original “Hot Ham” Sandwich but grilled with Provolone, and Jack had the Popcorn Shrimp special.
On my way out of the restaurant, Rick gave me a call and invited me to stop by the back office before leaving. I went through the kitchen, GoodFellas style, into the break room, and to the locked door leading into the back office where Rick buzzed me in to catch up for a bit. This August will mark the 90th anniversary of Eddie’s and he invited me to come bak up to join some of the other old-timers for a guest bar shift at Harpoon’s.
We had some time to kill before Harpoon Eddie’s opened at 4:00 p.m. and after a long drive along the lake made it back just as they opened for a quick beer. I really wanted a Negroni and offered to walk the young bartender through making one together but struck out when we discovered they had no Campari (just a lone bottle of Aperol). So I settled for a Peroni. After the Legion Wing Night bust I was tempted to order some of Harpoon Eddie’s famous wings but was too full from lunch. Rick came by to join us for a bit and on our way back to the car I stopped by the Eddie’s take-out window to grab a slice of Pineapple Cream Pie for a midnight snack.
When dinner time came around we were all feeling lazy but I got excited when my sister suggested ordering some Fried Fish Dinners from the nearby Marble Hill Inn but when she called they had already sold out for the night. So instead Vicki grilled some Hoffman Hot Dogs and Hoffman Jalapeño Cheddar Sausages which we had with an excellent pasta salad. My stepfather Gary stopped by for a bit and we stayed in and watched two Leanne Morgan stand-up special on the Netflix. I chased that with my Pineapple Cream Pie and crashed.
It was just what I needed.
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I love how your travels often dovetail with my interests of the moment. I'm currently reading Catherine a history of the assassination of James A. Garfield, the 20th President. He was murdered by a man named lunatic named Charles Guiteau who deluded himself, and no one else, that he got Garfield elected and was deserving of a job which was never offered.
Anyway, Guiteau had an Oneida connection. He joined one of the many utopian religious communities that sprung up in New York State in the middle of the 19th century called the Oneida Community.
You probably know all this, so apologies for taking up the space, Brad! But I'm enthralled by this story!
Anyway, Guiteau's father was a respected member of the Oneida Community, which resided at the sprawling Oneida Community Mansion House, which is still standing, I believe. I'd love to see it.
One of the distinguishing characteristics of the Oneida Community was its practice of "free love."
While Guiteau's father was a prominent member of the Community, the future assassin was not. In fact, in 5 years he spent there, no woman wanted anything to do with him, citing his haughty, exceedingly egotistic nature and his general laziness. The women there typically referred to him as Charles "Gitout."
Anyway, the free love spirit eventually faded as Community members grew embarrassed and turned to other fruitful pursuits, such as making silverware, which proved lucrative.
As for Guiteau, he stumbled around the country as a vagabond after failing as a husband, lawyers, and evangelist, until he finally shot Garfield at Union Station in Washington DC. Guiteau served as his own defense attorney, and claimed that Garfiend's doctors were responsible for his death due to their dismissal of the teachings of Dr. Joseph Lister ("Listerine"), who advised using sterilized operating instruments and frequent hand washing to prevent infections among patients.
"I only shot him!" Guiteau said. The jury didn't buy it. He was hanged five months after Garfield's death.
Anyway, your time in Sherrill and Onieda seems more fun than all that!
*As for the book: "Destiny of the Republic: A Tale of Madness, Medicine & the Murder of a President" by Candice Miller. Highly recommend, though there's nothing much about the booze or food of the period, unfortunately.
Did the Utica Club labels change “recently”? I seem to remember the cans being fairly simple. Gold with just Utica Club. But that would have been a while ago.