May 2016

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FREEas the wind

MAY 20166

The Newest Graft in Wine CountryBlossburg Coal Festival Film DebutRemembering Major Bentley’s Oak

Designer Anna Eide Updates Corning’s Classic 1970s Corelle, Still Made in New York for Markets EverywhereBy Alison Fromme

Ace Serve

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Volume 11 Issue 5

Ace ServeBy Alison FrommeDesigner Anna Eide updates Corning’s classic 1970s Corelle, still made in New York for markets everywhere.

Cover by Tucker Worthington; cover photo courtesy World Kitchen LLC. This page (from top): courtesy World Kitchen LLC; by Melissa Bravo; by Holly Howell.

20Singin’ in the RainBy Don KnausAnd that’s a very happy tune if there’s a spring gobbler in the refrain.

26Coal Festival Film DebutBy Michael CapuzzoThe beloved miner of Arnot and Blossburg

30Mother EarthBy Gayle MorrowLocation, location, location.

32Stepping CarefullyBy Maggie BarnesHappy Mother’s Day to that appendix of parenting: the step-mom.

42A Vegetable by Any Other NameBy Cornelius O’DonnellRhubarb: No longer a nanny food, but a ‘fruit’ for all.

50Back of the MountainBy Linda StagerMay is majestic.

Major Bentley’s OakBy Melissa BravoCenturies old, a record tree guards Tioga’s Evergreen Cemetery.

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Graft Wine + Cider BarBy Holly HowellWhat do you get when you splice local wines, ciders, an produce? A don’t-miss restaurant.

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ABOUT US: Mountain Home is the award-winning regional magazine of PA and NY with more than 100,000 readers. The magazine has been published monthly, since 2005, by Beagle Media, LLC, 25 Main St., 2nd Floor, Wellsboro, Pennsylvania, 16901, and online at www.mountainhomemag.com. Copyright © 2010 Beagle Media, LLC. All rights reserved. E-mail story ideas to [email protected], or call (570) 724-3838.

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E d i t o r s & P u b l i s h E r sTeresa Banik Capuzzo

Michael Capuzzo A s s o c i A t E P u b l i s h E r

George Bochetto, Esq.

o P E r A t i o n s d i r E c t o r Gwen Plank-Button

A d v E r t i s i n g d i r E c t o r Ryan Oswald

A d v E r t i s i n g A s s i s t A n tAmy Packard

d E s i g n & P h o t o g r A P h yTucker Worthington, Cover Design

c o n t r i b u t i n g W r i t E r s Maggie Barnes, Melissa Bravo, Patricia Brown Davis,

Alison Fromme, Carrie Hagen, Holly Howell, Roger Kingsley, Don Knaus, Cindy Davis Meixel, Fred Metarko, David Milano,

Gayle Morrow, Cornelius O’Donnell, Brendan O’Meara, Gregg Rinkus, Linda Roller, Diane Seymour,

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c o n t r i b u t i n g P h o t o g r A P h E r s Mia Lisa Anderson, Melissa Bravo, Bernadette Chiaramonte-

Brown, Bill Crowell, Bruce Dart, James Fitzpatrick, Ann Kamzelski, Jan Keck, Nigel P. Kent, Roger Kingsley, Tim McBride,

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5

Letter From the Publisher A Farmer’s Harvest and

a Fisherman’s Haul

By Michael Capuzzo

For the sixth year in a row, Mountain Home magazine has been honored by the Pennsylvania News Media Association (PNA) with a tractor-

load of journalism prizes, including recognition as one of the two best publications in the state at serving its community. Like your favorite NCAA team, we don’t win the whole tournament every year, but we’re happy with four firsts and two seconds in six years.

Of course my wife Teresa Banik Capuzzo and I, who publish the magazine, will be very grateful when we pick up the prizes with our staff and a case of champagne in Harrisburg later this month. But the PNA got it all wrong. Mountain Home doesn’t serve the community; it is the community. The magazine has 100,000 loyal readers in the gorgeous region from the top of Finger Lakes in New York to the left turn of the Susquehanna River in Pennsylvania—and thousands of loyal advertisers in our region—all because of the extraordinarily talented local farmers, fishermen, hunters, college professors, factory workers, teachers, retirees and others who grace these pages with their wonderful stories and photographs.

How extraordinary talented? Well, along with Second Place for the Best Niche Publication in the state, Mountain Home contributors won eight 2016 PNA Keystone Awards, the most prestigious journalism prize in Pennsylvania, beating the likes of the corporate-owned Philadelphia Business Journal, Philadelphia Weekly, and big Pittsburgh newspapers with offices in skyscrapers.

And the winners are…Brendan O’Meara took top honors in the Business

or Consumer Story category for “For 169 Years, Got Milk!” a feature on Tioga County Commissioner Erick Coolidge’s century dairy farm.

Carrie Hagen won a second place feature story award for “Murder of the Century,” her report on the friendship between Pennsylvania Governor William Stone and his client Pittsburgh millionaire Harry Thaw, who killed famed architect Stanford White in New York City in 1906 in the first celebrity murder case in

See Letter from the Publisher on page 48

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Anne Eide, design director for Corelle.

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Designer Anna Eide Updates Corning’s Classic 1970s Corelle, Still Made in New York for Markets Everywhere

Ace Serve

By Alison Fromme

See Inspirations on page 8

As a girl in the small Norwegian village of Ørland, Anna Eide dreamed of global adventures.

She wrote in her journals about her wishes to leave the windy, flat, big-sky seaside she knew to fly in airplanes, to travel to America. Her writings would eventually end up in the attic of her childhood home. But her dreams took off.

Even as a first grader, she knew she would follow her love of art, and by age ten, she studied with famous painters. Her mother had given her oil paints—never crayons—even though a two-hour boat ride separated them from the nearest art supply shopping center. Anna’s mother was a painter herself, both decorating and reflecting daily life. Not bothering with canvas-es, her mother painted scenes of the kids playing in the backyard onto the

interiors of her kitchen cabinets. Her mother had an eye for detail, setting the table with pressed linens and serv-ing artfully shaved pyramids of butter accented with sprigs of parsley, even at everyday meals.

While Anna grew up, a com-pletely different story was unfolding across the globe at Corning Glass-works. At the forefront of American engineering and manufacturing, Jim Giffen, a high school graduate with a reputation for being a “tenacious bulldog,” dreamed up a mechanical marvel to turn molten ribbons of glass into molded shapes of unparalleled strength, with speed and efficiency. The project evolved over a fifteen-year period, culminating with him wield-ing a $300,000 “electron beam weld-er” to put his “hub machine” together. The machine would turn a specialized

glass called Vitrelle®—originally in-tended for TV screens—into afford-able, nearly unbreakable consumer dishware called Corelle.®

In 1970, Anna was still in school, and had no idea that Corning had in-terviewed 8,000 women about their dishware preferences and learned that they wanted “good-looking, inexpen-sive everyday dishes” and “good strong dishes that don’t weigh a ton.” That year, the first Corelle dishes in “Win-ter Frost White” hit the market, adver-tised in magazines for their strength and durability with statements like, “Corning listened to women’s prob-lems about everyday dishware and did something about it.” A twenty-piece set sold for $19.95.

By 1978, when Corelle sales had grown to about $40 million, people across the country were eating their

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Inspirations continued from page 7

breakfast, lunch, and dinner on Corelle plates. Anna had graduated from Norway’s Bergen Academy of Art and Design, intending to pursue a career in fashion (she and her mother had always sewn their own dresses of the latest fashions). She started her own weaving studio, called Opp en Trapp (Up a Staircase), where she de-signed vests and tunics reminiscent of traditional Norwegian costumes and sold them to boutique customers.

At the same time, she alternated working in the studio with catering on an oil rig in the stark North Sea. She initiated a plan to bring art shows to the bare walls of the rig, where the scenery and work was bleak—and yet money abounded. But in March 1980, disaster struck a different rig: a storm capsized the structure and 123 of the 212 men on board died. Anna quit the same day.

The event shook up Anna’s world, and sent her on a different path. With

the Norwegian Peace Corps, she trav-eled to Kenya to help single women start their own sophisticated cottage industry weaving raw wool and silk to sell. She loved living on the beautiful shoulders of Mount Kenya and shar-ing her textile skills, but, after four years, she knew it was time to move on.

With a Finnish scholarship to at-tend the Fashion Institute of Technol-ogy, she arrived in Manhattan for the first time. “It was just—oh—wonder-ful. To go back to school after work-ing was such a great experience,” Anna says with a slight Norwegian accent. “And then Corning came knocking. Why would they want me?” Anna wondered. She had never considered a career in glass. But she knew patterns. And patterns were key to Corelle.

In 1987, Anna flew to Corning for the interview and accepted the of-fer of Senior Designer. The job was quite the opposite of Anna’s weaving

studio, which was a good thing. She had realized she “didn’t have the soul” to put into each and every thread hand woven with a loom. In Corning, the speed of production, and the chance to be an international jet setter, ap-pealed to her.

Like so many people from afar who find their way to America, Anna brought her specific skills, and also her culture: a Scandinavian ethos of mod-ern, functional design accessible to all budgets. Upon her arrival, she was shown a set of designs and asked which she thought was the bestseller. A grid pattern caught her eye. “I thought it was the coolest thing,” she says laugh-ing, even when she found out it was a test plate used to check for mistakes.

Corelle was the most popular din-nerware in the country at the time, found in 35 percent of households. But The Weekly Home Furnishings Newspaper reported that Corning was frustrated with Corelle’s lack of pres-


Into the fire: in the fire polishing process the rim of the dish is re-heated in order to bring the glass temperature above the melting point so the edge can be reshaped, removing the sharp edge created when the dish is separated from the glass ribbon during the trim process. The fire polish process uses a gas/oxygen mixture to create a very high-temperature flame, which allows for the process to occur quickly, in a continuous flow of operations just after the plate is formed.

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A world of useful design: (clockwise from top left) the original Corelle product was based on interviews with 8,000 women, who wanted “good-looking, inexpensive everyday dishes” that “don’t weigh a ton”; the Winter Frost line was one of the original offerings and remains the most popular to this day; West End, one of the patterns in the newly-launched Market Street New York line, draws its design inspiration from the Baron Steuben building (bottom, left).

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ELMPhiladelphia

St. Petersburg/Clearwater

Atlanta

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Orlando/Sanford

ence in department stores. “We’re in a time lock with buy-

ers…Corelle has taken on a nega-tive cast,” said the vice president general manager of Corning Con-sumer Products at the time. The director of sales added, “Corelle’s strength is only as valid as it is good looking, and it wasn’t good looking enough as time went on.”

Arriving at the Corelle fac-tory at 1 Steuben Street in Corn-ing, Anna was catapulted into the totally different world of American manufacturing. “I loved it. I felt it was something to explore, like the jungle of Kenya and the jungle of New York City. It was another mys-terious place full of opportunity,” she says.

Known as the Pressware Plant, the 1938 corrugated building punctuated with smokestacks had originally produced Pyrex. By the time Anna arrived, the factory was dedicated to Corelle alone—and it was bucking a depressing Ameri-can trend. Since 1978, two million manufacturing jobs had been lost in America, but the Pressware Plant soldiered on with about 500 hourly employees.

At the edge of the Chemung River, the factory roared with the white noise sounds of combustion and ventilation, like a home fur-nace amplified to mammoth pro-portions. Inside, deafening noise and white haze surrounded equip-ment that rose up two stories, with tangles of big tubular ducts suck-ing air in or blowing exhaust away from different machines. Conveyor belts whirred. Steel steps lead up and down the grey-white-black interior as if inside artwork by the Dutch artist M. C. Escher. “It was gigantic. I felt like a little match-stick,” Anna says.

Overlooking a giant vat from a high platform, a thick tube swung in slow circles from the ceiling,

spitting out a sandy mixture

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of sand, feldspar, limestone, and salts—the raw materials that would

soon metamorphose into Corelle dishware now found in 50 percent of American households. Beneath the gritty surface of the twenty-foot-diam-eter vat were 600,000 pounds of mol-ten glass, at 2,500 degrees Fahrenheit. The powdery material on top would slowly sink to join the molten mate-rial below, thanks to the 4,000 volts of power supplied by giant electrodes probing deep into the cauldron.

Below, Giffen’s hub machine wheel jerked and turned with relent-less motion as molten glass poured out of an orifice above, squeezed between steel rollers, and flowed onto the out-side of the wheel. Previously described as a “flaming Ferris wheel,” the ma-chine was about ten feet across and slightly wider than a Corelle plate, and it emitted powerful heat from red-hot glass draping over it.

The ribbon itself was a feat of

engineering, a three-layered sheet composed of an inner core thinly laminated on both sides with a glass of a slightly different formulation. Once cooled, the layers fuse together but do not intermingle. Their differ-ent chemical composition makes them respond differently to stress—like the stress of being dropped onto the kitch-en floor—and actually increasing the material’s strength.

On the outer face of the wheel were molds in the shape of Corelle’s products—a plate, perhaps. As the wheel turned, the ribbon of glass was sucked into the molds by vacuums and the excess was trimmed to be reused, like scrap dough from cutting out bis-cuits. Loud shots of compressed air cooled the plates somewhat, one by one, as mechanical arms transferred them (before they toppled off the edge of the turning wheel) to a conveyor belt. A gauntlet of noisy blowtorches flame-finished the sharp edges before

traveling onward. Eventually pieces made their

way into the decorating room, where twisting robotic arms, spinning tubes of enamel, and vacuums helped trans-fer patterns to dishware, in a process akin to silk screening that filled the air with a faint paint smell. Patterns were limited to six colors, and simpler ma-chines added single bands of color for more minimalist design.

Not long after arriving in Corn-ing, Anna dyed her hair the color of molten glass. She was deep into her design work, traveling the world, re-searching trends, meeting with artists, and shopping. As design director, she and her team decided which trends to follow, which color pallets to pursue, which patterns to develop. She does not draw the designs herself. Instead, she describes her work as that of an ed-itor: creating a vision, finding artwork, and modifying it for production.

“When I had my own boutique, See Inspirations on page 12

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Finishing touches: the Corelle ware enters the kiln, the final stage of the manufacturing process, where the decoration is fired into the glass surface and the glass receives its final heat treatment.

I designed for my own taste and for a few customers. Designing for the masses is much harder,” Anna says, explaining what she loves about the material: it’s compact, strong, light, hygienic. “My taste is not better than your taste. You might like strawberries, I might like cof-fee. It’s fascinating to study trends and try to find a pattern that tugs at the heartstrings of Middle Amer-ica. And that’s different from what works in Korea, or China, or Aus-tralia. Do I have the recipe? No.”

Sometimes, Anna just has a sense of what will work. Once, in Frankfurt Germany, she saw that another designer had brought back an embossed look, and she knew it would work for Corelle. But an-other time, a retail buyer demanded solid colors, and Corelle’s manufac-turing limitations would not allow it. Would she lose this important customer? In an effort to under-


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stand the buyer, Anna flew for an in-person visit and discovered that the retailer wanted bright, cheerful summer colors—which were possible with the current Corelle process and patterns. Anna flew home with a $6 million order.

In 1998, Corning, Inc. sold its eighty-two-year-old consumer house-wares division, including Corelle, because the unit was underperform-ing in comparison to more profitable technical products like fiber optics. World Kitchen became the corporate umbrella for Corelle, Pyrex, and other housewares brands beyond Corning. In 2002, World Kitchen declared bankruptcy, but soon emerged intact. The company continues to collabo-rate with Corning, Inc. on technology development.

Today, Corelle remains the num-ber one dinnerware brand in the U.S., controlling 13 percent of the category. The factory runs twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week and, on nine

different production lines, pumps out as many as 300,000 pieces per day to be distributed to sixty-five countries globally.

Each new pattern introduced represents a big investment by the company: market research, technical feasibility, design details, running tri-als, and more. And yet the company has managed to produce 700 differ-ent patterns launched globally since 1970. Winter Frost White remains the most popular design, and today Splendor is another top seller.

Each new shape introduced rep-resents another technical challenge, says Steve Olesen, a former Navy man who worked his way up from shift manager at the Pressware Plant to senior manager in research and devel-opment. And each shape requires new molds for the “flaming Ferris wheel.” Steve says that each mold is terribly expensive—they are forged from a hy-brid aluminum bronze alloy to with-stand the constant heat and pressure


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Market Street New York: Corelle’s new high-end design line.

of producing one dish every two minutes. Only a handful of foundries in the world can make them, and the process yields about one accurate, us-able mold for every three made. So the company can’t go introducing new shapes willy-nilly.

When square plates became trendy, Steve was onto a big techni-cal challenge: how to create a large square mold that would work with the machinery and the three-layer molten glass formula. It was the first new shape developed since 1998, and the process took about a year and a half. “There was very little process knowledge around how to design and build the tooling required to form the shapes,” Steve says. “When you have a round, symmetrical shape it is eas-ier to predict how the shape changes when you heat it up. As you begin to create more complex asymmetrical shapes it becomes harder to predict.”

“The other problem was fire pol-ishing,” says Steve. For shapes that are not round, a frame must fit around the dish to deliver a fiery blast that will

smooth sharp edges. “Each shape

requires its own unique burner de-sign. At the time, no one in-house had ever designed a new burner before, so we had to learn how to do that.”

Shapes matter. A European soup bowl might look like a pasta bowl to an American. A Korean family is ac-customed to deep noodle bowls, and smaller soup and rice bowls with dis-tinct contours. A Chinese rice bowl must have a ring around the bottom, for easy handling while eating, and a rectangular plate is an ideal fish dish. Anna makes up her own uses for vari-ous shapes. She might store jewelry in small plates on her bureau and serve lunch on a fish plate with soup in a small cup.

The newest Corelle collection, called Market Street New York, will launch this summer. It is a more up-scale, ivory-colored set that the com-pany says “brings to life the historic charm and refined taste of the brand’s birthplace—Corning, NY.”

“We are putting an increased fo-cus on reaching Millennials and are continually investing in innovation to create top-of-the-line products

that not only deliver outstand-ing functionality, but also spark an

emotional connection with consum-ers,” says Kris Malkoski, President Global Business & Chief Commercial Officer at World Kitchen, LLC.

The six new designs are “equal parts inspiring and durable,” according to the company. Steve’s crew overcame challenges to tint the glass its subtle ivory color. Anna’s team drew inspi-ration from Corning’s Market Street, with patterns inspired by ornamental details of the Baron Steuben building and tree-lined streets. Gold and silver tones and coordinating pieces like ca-rafes and wooden serving trays are in-tended to appeal to Millennial brides who opt out of traditional fine china on their registries, but desire a touch of elegance in their homes. “We want-ed to capture the richness of Market Street in this line,” Anna says, “And it could also be any Market Street across the globe.”

Perhaps it was a combination of her mother’s influence and Nor-way’s harsh and wild landscape that spawned Anna’s artistic inclinations. Like many Scandinavian designers, she upholds an aesthetic that prioritiz-es utilitarian beauty, minimalism, and a careful use of color. “The clarity of design, the simplicity speaks to me,” she says. Now, she has fused her love of art with an American product that withstands breakage as well as corpo-rate reorganization, economic ups and downs, a U.S. manufacturing exodus, and technical challenges.

Today, Anna drives down Route 352 and marvels at the upstate New York landscape, sometimes stopping to take photos. On a misty foggy morning, she says, the hills are remi-niscent of the Adirondack pattern in the Market Street New York line.

“I just love it here. There are al-ways challenges, always something new.”

Alison Fromme is an award-winning freelance writer in Ithaca, NY.


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GLASSFEST EVENTS AT A GLANCE

Photos by Cagwin Photography

Thursday, May 26Glass Ribbon Cutting Ceremony 5:30pm (Corning Museum of Glass)2300°: GlassFest 6–8pm (Corning Museum of Glass)

Friday, May 27Scavenger Hunt Business Hours (Participating Merchants)Oral History Project 10am–2pm (Radisson Hotel Boardroom)Outdoor Hot Glass Show 1–9pm (Centerway Square)Finger Lakes Wine & Beer Tasting 5–8pm (Participating Merchants)ROCK THE PARK presented by Simmons-Rockwell Auto Dealerships (Riverfront Park)Live Music – Rob Bellamy 7:15–8:30pmLive Music – The Town Pants 8:45 – 10:15pm

Saturday, May 28GlassFest 8K Race 8:30am (War Memorial Stadium)Scavenger Hunt Business Hours (Participating Merchants)

Street Exhibits, Artists & Vendors 11am–7pm (Market St)Outdoor Hot Glass Show 11am–8pm (Centerway Square)Darren Goodman, Glass Artist 11am, 1pm & 3pm (Centennial Sculpture)Pottery Demonstrations 11am–7pm (Clock Tower Tent)Characters with Character Kids Activities 12–6pm (Market St at Chestnut St)Magic Joe 3pm & 5pm (Market St at Cedar St)Blues, Brews & BBQ 3–7pm (Radisson Hotel Lawn)Live Music – TBA 4–7pm (Radisson Hotel Lawn)ROCK THE PARK presented by Simmons-Rockwell Auto Dealerships (Riverfront Park)Kids Activities 3–8pmLive Music – RUST 6:30–7:45pmDSB (Journey Tribute) 8:15pmFireworks 9:45pm

Sunday, May 29Scavenger Hunt Business Hours (Participating Merchants)Street Exhibits, Artists & Vendors 10am–4pm (Market St)Outdoor Hot Glass Show 11am–5pm (Centerway Square)Pottery Demonstrations 11am–5pm (Clock Tower tent)Characters with Character Kids Activities 11am–4pm (Market St at Chestnut St)Darren Goodman, Glass Artist 12pm & 2pm (Centennial Sculpture)Magic Joe 1pm & 3pm (Market St at Cedar St)ROCK THE PARK presented by Simmons-Rockwell Auto Dealerships (Riverfront Park)Kids Activities 12–4pmLive Music – Rob Bellamy 1–2:15pmMemorial Day Salute 2:30pmLive Music – Mark Wills 3pm

**schedule subject to change – check glassfest.org for updates**

This schedule brought to you by

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It was the year 1815 or there about, in what is now the state of Pennsylvania, when Major

Bentley let stand an oak when he cleared the land along a creek in a forest fifty yards from the Tioga Creek. When he gave his land to the Evergreen Cemetery that same tree was gracefully present.

And it still stands today. The shadow of its crown casts over 2,000 graves, many of them pioneers of yesteryear.

I visited the oak this November past. While a crew of observers watched it sway, its leaves rustling gently in a morning breeze, an arborist named Andrew, son of a Liberty local named Phelps, propelled himself into its crown, some eighty feet above the ground. With grace he pulled himself on high, into the arms of the majestic oak’s embrace.

Then from branch to branch he swung, taking his time, methodical in his approach. He was there to gauge

its pain. The cemetery caretakers had sent out a plea, answered by the Tioga County Woodland Owners Association president, who called his members to gather ’round. A crack had formed, a telltale sign Major Bentley’s oak’s heart was decayed. Yet the oak bore its malady with dignity. Nary a branch had died; just a few leaves were dead. Some twenty tons of solid oak stretched out above Andrew’s head. He spends his days climbing trees, and his assessment was the

Major Bentley’s OakCenturies Old, a Record Tree Guards Tioga’s Evergreen Cemetery

By Melissa Bravo

Photo courtesy Melissa Bravo.

17

mighty oak was worth saving.“It’ll last a few more years, or many more,” he said,

“But we ought to take some weight off…here, and here…a strap or two around its girth…some tethers to stop the twist and turns,” when nature’s winds roar through its crown. Some said, “Why waste your time? It’s old, it’s damaged, it’s past its prime.” But I looked around, and I saw the graves beneath its majestic base, easily a hundred souls lying buried within its reach. Weathered headstones as old as the tree stand next to those of more recent memory. Would all those memories be the same without the oak that has stood resolute for 200 years?

Perhaps I should mention that this oak is very unique. Not only is it thought to have stood now some two hundred years, it is eighty-four feet tall, and the spread of its crown is 109 feet. The Woodland Owners entered her measure in the Big Trees of Pennsylvania Contest that day, and that is a record, I am proud to say. With a score of 306 points in the Big Trees of Pennsylvania Registry, Major Bentley’s oak is now ranked as the second-largest oak in all of Tioga County, Pennsylvania, and the Woodland Owners are hoping to raise $2,800 to cable it up later this year, tethering up its limbs and trimming some twenty tons of excess weight (donations can be made to the Evergreen Cemetery in the name of saving Major Bentley’s oak: Evergreen Cemetery, c/o John LaVancher, Secretary, 15 Wellsboro Street, Tioga, PA).

I went back recently, fearing that the winds of March, come late this year, had toppled Major Bentley’s oak. But the oak stood strong. Nary a twig had fallen to the ground; the gale-force winds that had roared through town had left the oak with leaves still bound. Mesmerized, I stood within its shade, reflecting on the upcoming Memorial Day and the sounds of human hands tending graves and mowing grass, honoring those who were laid to rest, and those who gave their lives in wars long past.

Major Bentley’s oak is not alone; there are evergreens planted near the knoll, and a juniper guards more than one headstone. Arborvitaes are planted near the vault of a family who once walked this earth. And in just a few weeks the flowers will arrive, baskets and plantings of solace and pride. Some for the veterans who served in war after war—and to each of those a flag, a token of our national tribute.

Melissa Bravo, M.S. Agronomy, is a Certified Crop Advisor in Tioga County, PA, and a member of the Tioga County Woodland Owners Association. She is also a freelance agriculture writer and a novelist in training.

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welcome to CORNING’S GAFFER DISTRICT

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Beginner window & lamp classes available.

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63 East Market StreetCorning, NY 14830570-447-3656

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Forty-five years ago, The Pennsylvania Game Commission ushered in the very first spring

gobbler season. I was there. In fact, I was in the woods the very first day of that very first season, the very first minute, and perhaps witnessed the very first bearded bird succumb to a dose of #4 shot. That love-sick turkey

was taken within seconds of the legal starting time, and I would venture to say that he was the very first gobbler shot and tagged during the Keystone State’s first spring hunting opportunity. That’s right. I lay claim to witnessing the very first spring gobbler killed in PA. I didn’t even have a gun; I was just a witness. But I was hooked forever.

The next week I was in the woods with two local farm boys. They appealed to the hunter in me with, “Them turkeys are gobblin’ down in our south sugar bush. Ya oughta come over and hunt ’em.” So I did. For two weeks we were in the woods before daybreak. Every day we heard gobblers respond to my calls, but they

Singin’ In the RainAnd That’s a Very Happy Tune if There’s a Spring Gobbler in the Refrain

By Don Knaus

21

never came close enough to present a shot. I hated the early hour, and I hated leaving the woods by 7:00 a.m. to shower and shave for work. But I was hooked.

Dark-thirty start doesn’t bother me as much since I’ve retired and I rise each day before daybreak anyway. The slow and measured change from dark to light is irresistible…the best part of the day, I think. I love to go on pre-dawn hikes over woodland trails and along the edges of strutting fields. I might hear a deer snort and exit the field, angry that I disturbed its morning chow. In the distance, a coyote howls a plaintive goodbye to the night. He is answered by the yip, yip, yip of pups. I smile and savor the sounds of the first songbirds, waking up and announcing the first trickle of light. A few more sneaking steps and I listen to the first brazen bronze bird almost whisper tentative chirps and clucks. The soft calls slowly build to a crescendo as the sun nears the mountaintops to the east. Bit by bit, daylight slowly drives out the dark night. A hen turkey joins her friend in the concert with a few clucks. Smaller birds are silenced, maybe startled at the deep gobble of the hens’ suitor revealing his location. Every bird is still perched high on a tree limb. It will be a few minutes before full light. A skunk, ending his nocturnal forage, hurries to his den before the sun beats down on the dew-covered grass.

Stationed against a tree, dressed head to toe in camouflage, I call. My turkey vest has all the essentials from pot calls with slate or glass and a variety of strikers, to box calls, to mouth calls, to a gobbler imitator, to decoys. I can stay longer in the woods now, and I like that. Most of my scores have been recorded between 10:00 a.m. and 2:00 p.m. Many toms seem to have “wised

See Singin’ in the Rain on page 22

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up” and sneak in silently. But I still hear the gobble-obble-obble of a tom in search of his harem or a lone hen needing some love. I’ve learned to count the day a success if I hear a talking tom. I’m hooked.

By the second half of the spring turkey season, I no longer try to get in the woods before the turkeys leave the roost. I can be just as successful with a mid-morning start. Know that I fish; I hunt; I recite poetry; I sing; I write and edit in my head. And I do it all in the spring-green forest. But I’m out there, rain or shine.

We had had a week’s worth of rain and the brooks and streams flowed chocolate brown and raged toward flood stage. Fishing was out. It was still raining…hard. There had been some flooding and road erosion. The short respite from rain and the few hours of sunshine between storms hadn’t dried the backyard. The shine had lasted only long enough to give the clouds a second wind. The grass in my lawn had grown to first-hay-cutting height. Besides, it was gobbler season and I hate mowing.

Longfellow once wrote, “The best thing one can do when it’s raining is to let it rain.” I thought not. Maybe I could call a gobbler in the rain. I donned my camouflage pants and shirt. My beagle took notice and hopped off her napping nest in the padded rocking chair. She savored the scent of woods on my pants. Between sniffs she looked up expectantly, tail wagging. When I grabbed my hunting boots, she started to whine and look anxiously at the back door. “No, girl,” I said. “No bunnies today. Dad is going after turkey.” She didn’t understand. I pulled on a rain jacket and headed toward the door. “No, girl, not today.” She lowered her head, disappointed. It damn near broke my heart to close the door and leave my rabbit dog. But then, as good as she was in the fall rabbit season, she would be no help in the spring.

I’d been working on three tom turkeys in a friend’s woodlots. One, the dominant bird, had answered my calls the first morning and had ventured just into range. I could see his red head, a good sign that the bronze bird was a gobbler. I waited to see a beard though, and, every time he turned sideways so I might see his beard, his body was behind a maple trunk, his head and long neck presenting a tantalizing shot. I had been in a hurry in the dark daybreak woods and had neglected to set out a hen decoy. That detail might have drawn him in. But he slowly sidled out of range, then out of sight.

So that day I moved to another woodlot a quarter mile away. I had seen two toms together, both fanning. They were obviously brothers from the same clutch. No luck. I had tried for the twins on three other occasions. Twice I saw them just out of range, but I could draw them no closer. Then, the night before, I had brought them within range, and I could hear their puck, puck, puck, looking

Singin’ in the Rain continued from page 21

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See Singin’ in the Rain on page 46

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BLOSSBURG COAL FESTIVAL JUNE 1— 4

THE 24 ANNUALTH

Celebrating the history and heritage of the mining industry in Blossburg and the surrounding communities.

Island Park, Blossburg, PAIn 1792 coal was discovered in the Blossburg area during the building of the Williamson Road. The coal quickly became a valuable resource that brought people to the area to work in the coal mines, and many of the towns in our area were created because of the mining that took place.

Blossburg was home to William B. Wilson, the first US Secretary of Labor. This man helped shape the United States, advocating eight-hour workdays, strong unions, workers compensation, child labor laws, and workplace safety during his years of labor activism and political influence.

After Wilson’s death in 1934 the family farm was sold to the American Legion Post No. 572 of Blossburg. The Legion Post is still located there today. Although mining no longer takes place in the area, we honor our past with the annual Coal Festival. The first Coal Festival was held Memorial Day weekend in 1993, 201 years after coal was discovered in Blossburg.

The event continues to be held on Memorial Day weekend each year. We invite you, your family, and friends to help us celebrate.

ADMISSIONAll visitors must purchase a $3.00 pin that is good for all four days of the festival and all events held at the Coal Festival in Blossburg. Gates open at 5:30 p.m. except on Saturday when we open at 8 a.m.

• AREA’S LARGEST FIREWORKS DISPLAY -Starting at dusk

For more Information call 570-638-3313 or visit www.blossburgcoalfestival.org

This schedule brought to you by:

ENTERTAINMENT LOCAL PERFORMERS TAKE THE STAGECARNIVAL & COAL MUSEUM FOOD AND FUN FOR ALL!

WEDNESDAY June 16:00 p.m. Coal Museum Opens6:00 p.m. Carnival and Booths Open

THURSDAY June 2WARD/HMAC Family Night6:00 p.m. Coal Museum Opens6:00 p.m. Carnival and Booths Open6:30 p.m. Pat Cole presents: 10-14 yr. old Competition

Friday June 36:00 p.m. Coal Museum Opens6:00 p.m. Carnival and Booths Open6:00 p.m. Royalty Pageant7:00 p.m. Pat Cole presents: 15-18 yr. old Competition

SATURDAY June 49:30 a.m. Car Show Registration & Awards at 3:309:30 a.m. Antique Snowmobile Show9:30 a.m. 11th Annual Coal Run Registration at Bear A Bar11:00 a.m. Parade12:00 p.m. Carnival and Booths Open12:30 p.m. The McNett Band Performs1:00 p.m. to 4:00 p.m. Balloons by Gig Masters2:00 p.m. The McNett Band Performs2:00 p.m. Horseshoe Tournament3:30 p.m. Pat Cole presents FinalsOther Events TBAFireworks at Dusk

25

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BLOSSBURG COAL FESTIVAL JUNE 1— 4

THE 24 ANNUALTH

Celebrating the history and heritage of the mining industry in Blossburg and the surrounding communities.

Island Park, Blossburg, PAIn 1792 coal was discovered in the Blossburg area during the building of the Williamson Road. The coal quickly became a valuable resource that brought people to the area to work in the coal mines, and many of the towns in our area were created because of the mining that took place.

Blossburg was home to William B. Wilson, the first US Secretary of Labor. This man helped shape the United States, advocating eight-hour workdays, strong unions, workers compensation, child labor laws, and workplace safety during his years of labor activism and political influence.

After Wilson’s death in 1934 the family farm was sold to the American Legion Post No. 572 of Blossburg. The Legion Post is still located there today. Although mining no longer takes place in the area, we honor our past with the annual Coal Festival. The first Coal Festival was held Memorial Day weekend in 1993, 201 years after coal was discovered in Blossburg.

The event continues to be held on Memorial Day weekend each year. We invite you, your family, and friends to help us celebrate.

ADMISSIONAll visitors must purchase a $3.00 pin that is good for all four days of the festival and all events held at the Coal Festival in Blossburg. Gates open at 5:30 p.m. except on Saturday when we open at 8 a.m.

• AREA’S LARGEST FIREWORKS DISPLAY -Starting at dusk

For more Information call 570-638-3313 or visit www.blossburgcoalfestival.org

This schedule brought to you by:

ENTERTAINMENT LOCAL PERFORMERS TAKE THE STAGECARNIVAL & COAL MUSEUM FOOD AND FUN FOR ALL!

WEDNESDAY June 16:00 p.m. Coal Museum Opens6:00 p.m. Carnival and Booths Open

THURSDAY June 2WARD/HMAC Family Night6:00 p.m. Coal Museum Opens6:00 p.m. Carnival and Booths Open6:30 p.m. Pat Cole presents: 10-14 yr. old Competition

Friday June 36:00 p.m. Coal Museum Opens6:00 p.m. Carnival and Booths Open6:00 p.m. Royalty Pageant7:00 p.m. Pat Cole presents: 15-18 yr. old Competition

SATURDAY June 49:30 a.m. Car Show Registration & Awards at 3:309:30 a.m. Antique Snowmobile Show9:30 a.m. 11th Annual Coal Run Registration at Bear A Bar11:00 a.m. Parade12:00 p.m. Carnival and Booths Open12:30 p.m. The McNett Band Performs1:00 p.m. to 4:00 p.m. Balloons by Gig Masters2:00 p.m. The McNett Band Performs2:00 p.m. Horseshoe Tournament3:30 p.m. Pat Cole presents FinalsOther Events TBAFireworks at Dusk

26

Coal Festival Film DebutThe Beloved Miner of Arnot and Blossburg

By Michael Capuzzo

As Americans shout their way through the 2016 presidential campaign, Gale Largey, the Mansfield University sociology professor emeritus, couldn’t have

picked a better time to release his tenth documentary of regional Pennsylvania history. The film, William B. Wilson: A Life’s Journey, examines the life of one of the most famous personages from northern Pennsylvania, progressive William B. Wilson of Arnot and Blossburg, the Secretary of Labor under U.S. President Woodrow Wilson from 1913-1921, and a giant of the American labor movement during an even more fractious age than our own—the bloody, strike-littered Gilded Age and Progressive Era.

The two-hour film has double-perfect timing. It will debut at 7 p.m. on Thursday, June 2 at the Victoria Theatre in Blossburg, during the second night of the annual Blossburg State Coal Festival, June 1-4, honoring the borough’s generations of coal miners, of whom Wilson was the most famous. The price is perfect, too: the film is free, or a donation for a local community group. It was in 1870 that William Bauchop Wilson, an impoverished coal miner’s son from Scotland, immigrated to America, and at nine years old began loading coal in the Arnot mines adjoining Blossburg.

To create the “Billy” Wilson story, Largey enlisted the help of Wellsboro filmmaker Ken Vansant to edit his production, and a number of local voices. “All the voices are descendants of miners,” Largey said, including Wellsboro lawyer William Hebe as the voice of William B. Wilson; Daniel Usavage as labor

27

giant Samuel Gompers; Scott Gitchell, president of the Tioga County Historical Society; and two descendants of Billy Wilson himself—Clair Caldwell of Ridgway, Pennsylvania, and Dave Jones of Blossburg. “The film is presented in first person as if Wilson is telling about the experiences of his life,” Largey said.

In 1874, Billy Wilson was only twelve years old “when he organized other boys working in the mines to resist a pay cut by the mine owner,” said Largey. “In response, his boss flogged him and sent him back to work. The incident intensified Billy’s sense of the injustice.”

“Conditions create agitators,” Wilson later said. “Agitators do not create conditions.” Later, as a U.S. Congressman, Wilson introduced legislation to outlaw flogging.

By 1880, mining companies blacklisted Wilson for his organizing efforts, so he worked as a woodsman, bark peeler, and a printer for a local newspaper, then a fireman on the Illinois-Railroad before a near head-on collision with another train inspired him to return to Arnot and agitate to improve railroad safety.

“At age twenty-one, he married, and eventually he and his wife had eleven children, two of whom died in infancy,” Largey said. “Then, with the support of his wife, he became a labor organizer for the Knights of Labor.” In the 1890s he became a leader of the United Mine Workers, a close friend of UMW President John Mitchell and of Mary Harris Jones (Mother Jones), and helped negotiate an eight-hour workday for Pennsylvania miners before it became a national issue.

Wilson led the 1899 coal miner’s strike at Arnot with the help of Mother Jones, and, in gratitude, “for many years afterward the community of Arnot celebrated “Wilson Day,” Largey said. He later served in Congress as “a strong advocate of the rights of

See Coal Festival on page 28

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laborers and worker safety,” Largey said, before he joined President Wilson’s cabinet and mobilized labor during World War I.

“Billy” Wilson died in 1934 on a train in Georgia. He was buried in Arbon Cemetery in Blossburg, and his funeral was attended by over 500 people, including many dignitaries of labor and government. “He was hailed as the beloved miner of Arnot-Blossburg,” Largey said. In 2007, Wilson was inducted into the U.S. Labor Department’s Hall of Fame in Washington, D.C., in a ceremony led by United Mine Workers President Cecil Roberts, for “distinctive contributions to the field of labor” that “enhanced the quality of life of millions yesterday, today, and for generations to come.” Largey traveled to Washington, D.C., to interview Cecil Roberts for his film, during research that included interviews with descendants, more than 1,300 news articles at the Library of Congress, the Arnot Historical Museum, and a visit to the American Legion in Blossburg.

On your way to the film is also the perfect time to drop in on the American Legion building on South Williamson Road for a visit or a meal; you’ll be standing in William B. Wilson’s former home.

Coal Festival continued from page 27

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The

TheatreV I C T O R I A

W W W. V I C T O R I A B L O S S B U R G . C O M

5 7 0 - 6 3 8 - 3 4 5 6 • 2 2 2 M a i n S t r e e t • B l o s s b u r g , PA

Tuesday, May 31st • 7:00 pmLife in a

Coal Mining TownCome celebrate Blossburg’s heritage with

a personal pictorial documentary and conversation about Pennsylvania’s small

coal mining towns ~ By Martin HulaPresented with Blossburg Memorial Library and Friends of the Library

Thursday, June 2 • 7:00 pmWilliam “Billy” Wilson

Beloved Coal Miner of Arnot-Blossburg and First U.S. Secretary of Labor

Documentary based on interviews with descendants and news articles with personal and historical

collections of photos and images.Written and directed by Gale Largey.

Edited by Ken Van Sant

F R E E A D M I S S I O N F O R B O T H S H O W S • C O N C E S S I O N AVA I LA B L E

Photo courtesy Tonya McNamara.

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Location, Location, LocationBy Gayle Morrow

It’s that time in the cycle of life when the little birds are staking out territory, building nests, and

incubating young ones, and so I was reminded of crossing paths late last spring with a pair of robins in the process of raising a family. They had built a lovely home for their clutch of blue eggs; the construction site was not high up in a tree, however, but atop a small woodpile, not three feet off the floor of an unused cabin’s porch. The first time I noticed it I had been sitting on said porch, engrossed in a book, but finally made to look up and around by the incessant and distinctive chirping of an annoyed robin. “What’s your problem?” I asked, and then spied the nest, almost close enough to touch. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.” I relocated to a further corner and tried to be inconspicuous while the robin (mother or father, I

don’t know) swept in, sat on the nest for a moment, then flew off again, scolding me severely. Over the next couple of weeks the parents adjusted somewhat to my occasional presence—enough so that one of them would sit for several minutes on the eggs while I was around, but also enough so they felt comfortable kind of dive bombing me and telling me in no uncertain terms that they didn’t especially care for me being so close. Then came the day I saw the little fluff balls in the nest where eggs had been. Very cool! By my next visit, though, disaster had struck, at least from the robins’ perspective. The nest was gone—not a twig or a pinfeather left. It must have been easy pickin’s for a coon or a fox—I suppose even a bear could have ambled up the porch steps and had a nice snack. Maybe it was this pair’s first foray into parenthood, or perhaps there was another reason. Regardless,

they had not chosen their location well, and the results were deadly. A friend told me she had seen something similar with Baltimore orioles. They had hung their nest on a low branch, giving a hungry raven the proverbial birds-eye view of the goings-on. When the time was right, access was easy. Everybody’s got to eat, right? They say elephants mourn their dead. I don’t know about robins. But they often hatch two batches of little ones in a summer, so it’s possible the couple I was watching learned, if not mourned, from their mistake and enjoyed more success their second time around. At least they did not rebuild on the same woodpile.

Keystone Press Award-winning columnist Gayle Morrow is the former editor of the Wellsboro Gazette.

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32

Stepping CarefullyHappy Mother’s Day to That Appendix of Parenting: The Step-Mom

By Maggie Barnes

“Do you have children?”For the majority of the world this question is

so easy to answer, it is almost a reflex. For me, this query kicks off a fairly sophisticated calculation in my head. Who’s asking? What is my relationship with the asker? How much of this do I want to get into?

Spies are trained to run this same brain path as a safeguard against revealing secret information. My position is only slightly less dangerous.

I’m a stepparent. In the course of a lovely, one-hour

ceremony in a small church I went

from being a single gal with a cat to a wife with three kids, six, ten, and sixteen years old.

My best friend said “I cannot imagine you as a mom.”

I replied, “I’m not going to be a mom. They have a mom. I’m going to be an ancillary adult with no discernible purpose. I’m the appendix of parenting. But more charming.”

It was like starting a book on page 224. I didn’t know any of the characters, I barely knew the setting, and I sure as hell didn’t know the plot.

“Can I go to Pat’s house today?” How would I know? Are Pat’s

parents Ward and June Cleaver? Or people with a chainsaw collection and pets that keep disappearing? Will you end up stealing hubcaps if I let you go? What if they trigger your allergies? Do you have allergies?

I spent the entire first year of my marriage saying, “Ask your father.”

The first holiday season after our wedding, Robert decided I should spend a day alone with the kids to bond with them. As the teenager, Eric was convinced he needed another parent like a pig needs eye shadow and opted out.

That morning we had a couple of See Stepping Carefully on page 37

“A step parent is so much more than just a parent; they made the choice to love when they didn’t have to.” - Unknown

33

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false starts, like when the jelly I gave them for their toast had a touch of mold in it. I tried to tell them it was a hedge against strep. No sale.

Angela and David and I had a good time wandering the mall, ending with chicken fingers and ice cream. But my rising heart nosedived when David announced he needed to use the restroom. All six years of him was adamant that he could use the men’s room unescorted. I was petrified. Is there a firm age on these things? Had the Internet been invented, I would have been Googling the hell out of the issue.

I instructed David to go in, do his thing, and come right back out. Do not speak to anyone. Do not make eye contact with anyone. If you need me, call me. I said this with the earnestness born of fear. He nodded solemnly and headed in.

I stood in front of the bathroom door, glaring at every man in the restaurant, daring them to give in to their bladders. Not on my watch.

After a few minutes of quiet, my watch was shattered by a desperate cry.

“Maggie!” I had never before felt the

combination of panic and adrenaline that flooded my system. I all but took the bathroom door off the hinges, charging into the small space with murderous intent.

I was prepared to confront the gang of kidnappers that everyone knows hangs out in mall restrooms. Instead, I found David, standing at the sink, rocking up on his toes to reach the faucet. He was waving his hands under the motion-activated water, the delight evident on his face.

“Look! I don’t have turn the water on and it comes on!”

As fast as the surge of energy poured through me it drained out, and I slumped against the door, barely able to stand. The red haze cleared my eyes and I managed a smile.

“That’s great, D. Just…great.”There were many more moments

of varying shades of panic in the ensuing years. There was yelling and tears and anger and sweet laughter and times of near perfect family love. I stumbled my way through, complete with lots of wrong decisions and bucket loads of self-doubt. In many ways, the kids and I grew up together.

I became someone I couldn’t even have envisioned for myself. Did I really make a blanket fort out of the living room furniture and crunch my spine lying on the floor to watch a Disney movie? Was that me, yelling myself hoarse and clapping frozen hands on soccer sidelines? Who was that woman, staring at the ceiling at midnight until I heard a key in the door and the reassuring sound of the refrigerator swinging open?

Yet, I never considered myself a parent. I had never given birth, never walked the floors with a fussy baby or been there for first steps and words. Step-parenthood is a gray designation that leaves you with one foot in each of the Mom/Not Mom camps. Thus, the difficulty in responding to a simple question about my parenting status.

When she was about eleven, Angie and I were at the grocery store when the cashier smiled at her and said, “You look just like your Mom.”

She smiled back and said, “Thank you.”

As we went out the door, Angie looked up at me and said, “Sometimes it’s best just to go along, isn’t it Maggie?”

Yes, Sweetie, it is. Happy Mother’s Day to me.

Maggie Barnes works in health care marketing and is a resident of Waverly, New York. She is a two-time recipient of the Keystone Press Award for her columns in Mountain Home.

keukaartsfestival.com

Stepping Carefully continued from page 32

38

Graft Wine + Cider BarWhat Do You Get When You Splice Local Wines, Ciders, and Produce?

A Don’t-Miss Restaurant By Holly Howell

As the Finger Lakes wine industry continues to grow, so do all of the great things

that come along with it. The region has become a world-class destination for wine-loving travelers over the past few decades. With over 100 wineries, breweries, and distilleries to visit during the day, there is plenty to keep you busy.

And when the tasting rooms close up for the day, the quaint villages along the lakes have happily spruced up accommodations for those that are hungry for more. The restaurant scene has exploded, enticing top chefs from

all over the country to set up shop here. On the menu you will find an amazing array of cuisine styles and local specialties that are quickly making the Finger Lakes a culinary destination. Towns like Hammondsport, Seneca Falls, Ithaca, Geneva, and Watkins Glen have become meccas for food lovers.

One eatery in particular has become a favorite hangout for tourists and locals alike. Graft Wine + Cider Bar is located in downtown Watkins Glen. Owned by the Marks family of Atwater Vineyards (a winery on the eastern shore of Seneca Lake), Graft

was formerly known as The Tasting Room when it opened in 2013. It featured not only the wines of Atwater, but a selection of wines and ciders from all over New York State. Their mission was to help promote the region as a whole. And it was an overnight success.

The best part about The Tasting Room was that it stayed open in the evening, after the wineries had closed for the day. So visitors could still continue to sample tasty beverages from the Finger Lakes in one easy-to-find spot. But proprietor Katie Marks soon realized that something very important was missing.

Small plates, great tastes: gifted chef Christina McKeough (above) mans the kitchen at Graft; (facing page, top to bottom) shaved brussels sprout salad in a lemon vinaigrette; fresh Duxbury oysters on the half-shell; chicken liver pâté tartine on Wide Awake Bakery garlic toast topped with house-made spicy mustard and pickled red onions.

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See Graft Wine on page 40

Food!In the Fall of 2015, a brand new and expanded

restaurant opened under the name Graft Wine + Cider Bar. Why Graft? The menu explains, “In horticulture, graft means to unite a shoot or bud with a growing plant to create something new; to join two varieties together to create one. At Graft, we look to connect community in the discovery of local-inspired, seasonal plates with New York Wine + Cider.”

And that connection is evident the minute you walk in the door. Small and cozy, the restaurant has several tables and pillow-stacked benches where guests can gather, and a long bar made of concrete, its edges lined with wells of small polished lake stones. You can almost hear the waves splashing along the lakeshore. The side wall is loaded with bottles of sparkling, white, rosé, and red New York wines for sale, along with some great choices in cider as well. Large chalkboards near the kitchen window announce the specials of the day, with mentions of Wednesday Music Nights and Thursday Industry Nights.

We happened by on a Thursday, and it was like a ticket backstage at the Grammys. But, in this case, the rock stars were the coolest assortment of winemakers, brewmasters, distillers, food writers, and chefs of the region. It was like a Who’s Who of the Finger Lakes. I was totally starstruck, of course, but somehow managed to restrain myself from begging for autographs.

And the decisions that had to be made on what to order! Thank goodness I was with a group of folks who liked to share, and that is exactly what we did to maximize our dining experience. I began with an excellent flight of dry rosé wines ($12 for “four ample samples, side-by-side”) from four different producers—Silver Thread, Atwater, Randolph O’Neill, and Wagner. It was hard to pull myself away from the beautiful array of pink hues and the brilliant reflections from each glass long enough to peruse the food menu.

That menu changes frequently to reflect the season and the availability of fresh ingredients, and the plates (ranging from $5 to $16 on this particular evening) make it possible to have a culinary experience ranging from a bite with a beverage to a multi-course meal. Katie explains that the concept is “Share and pair…or not!” Graft is blessed to have a local chef favorite at the helm: Christina McKeough is a talented Culinary Institute of America graduate and well known to many as the original founder of the Hazelnut Kitchen in Trumansburg. She is dedicated to showcasing Finger Lakes ingredients, and her exciting approach and creative flair are all over the page.

A special of the day was a plate of fresh Duxbury oysters that we could not resist. Accompanied by a tasteful mignonette sauce, they disappeared faster than a

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Nascar race at the Glen. A baba ganoush drizzled with local pumpkin seed oil and served with warm pita bread was perfectly delicious paired with my dry rosé wines, and a favorite of the table.

The regional cheese plate was a unanimous choice for all, and it consisted of three of the state’s best: Chaseholm Farm Camembert (soft and creamy cow’s milk cheese), Vulto Creamery Miranda (an absinthe-washed cow’s milk cheese), and Danascara (a sheep’s milk cheese rubbed in cocoa and olive oil). Beautifully plated with local honeycomb and accompanied by baguette toasts, it was pretty much heaven on earth.

Also high the list of must-trys is the chicken liver pâté tartine on Wide Awake Bakery garlic toast topped with house-made spicy mustard and pickled red onions. Seriously off the charts, and ideal for sharing. I am still dreaming of this dish, and am very happy to say that it is a mainstay on the ever-changing menu.

Other highlights included a yummy grilled cheese Panini on Village Bakery rye with Jake’s smoked gouda and apple chutney; a tasty shaved brussels sprout salad with apples (local, of course), parmesan cheese, and toasted walnuts in a lemon vinaigrette; and an addictive white navy bean dish with anchovy butter and braised escarole. I called it greens and beans on steroids, and it, too, has a near-permanent seat on the menu because of its popularity.

As full as we were, we just couldn’t justify passing on dessert. Before we knew it, a coconut-cardamom panna cotta made its way around an extremely appreciative table (although some were reluctant to pass it on). Thank goodness we also ordered the special house-made pie of the day—a bittersweet chocolate cream pie, which left us speechless and totally satiated.

If you do not imbibe, no problem. Graft has you covered by offering a cool list of “booze-free beverages” like Ginger Bear Ginger Beer (from the Finger Lakes Cider House), Pomegranate Hibiscus Ginger Ale (from Bruce Cost in Brooklyn), and Fuji Apple Juice (from Red Jacket Orchards in Geneva).

During a time when the Finger Lakes is getting so much international recognition for its wines, places like Graft are a welcome addition to the visitor experience. Kudos to Atwater Vineyards for raising the bar!

Graft Wine + Cider Bar is located at 204 North Franklin Street in Watkins Glen. They are open Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday from 4:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m., Friday and Saturday from 2:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m., and are closed on Sunday and Monday.

Holly Howell is a Certified Specialist of Wine (by the Society of Wine Educators) and a Certified Sommelier (by the Master Court of Sommeliers in England).

Graft Wine continued from page 39

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We ❤ New York: (right to left) Chaseholm Farm Camembert, Vulto Creamery Miranda, and Danascara in a cocoa and olive oil rind, interspersed with local honeycomb, are served with baguette toasts for a taste of the region. (Below) Bittersweet chocolate cream pie, an answer to any chocolate-lover’s dream.

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F O O D & D R I N K

A Vegetable by Any Other NameBy Cornelius O’Donnell

Rhubarb: No Longer a Nanny Food, but a ‘Fruit’ For All

Not everyone is a rhubarb fan. Jane Grigson, the acclaimed English food writer, is my

go-to for questions on ingredients, and I read this line, “It’s good for you, dear,” in Jane Grigson’s Book of Fruits (every good cook’s kitchen should have a copy of this as well as Jane Grigson’s Vegetable Book).

Her veddy Engl ish take on

rhubarb: nanny food. Governess food. School-meal-food (cold porridge with rhubarb for breakfast). We didn’t have a nanny or governess, so I was spared rhubarb at home. But late in life I’ve come to enjoy it. As usual in Grigson’s books, you get a historical look at the topic. Seems in the pre-1800-era the roots of the plant had a medicinal use. “Nothing like it, they thought, for a

gentle purge.” But by the nineteenth century this pre-fruit or semi-fruit (Grigson’s words) found its way into pies and tarts as an ingredient.

As for choosing this vegetable that we treat as a fruit, Jane suggests young stalks—pinkish is best—and remove all the leaf (they contain oxalic acid and are toxic, not stomach-worthy) and remove the brown bits near the

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end of the stalk. If they are mature, remove the stringy bits with a peeler. “Young rhubarb does not need peeling and should not have any strings to speak of,” says Jane.

Fast Forward to 2016One of my favorite food writers is Melissa Clark

who writes in the New York Times food section (and also appears frequently on the Times’ video feature online.) I immediately perked up at Melissa’s suggestion about spooning a ginger-rhubarb compote over yogurt for breakfast. (I think it would be great over pancakes, waffles, cake, and ice cream, too.) But, she thought, what else can I do with this creation?

Here’s an offbeat but seasonal recipe to try. (And it includes chives. Mine somehow revived and burst forth in April.) Asparagus and rhubarb doesn’t sound like a good idea, but because both scream Spring! she gave it a whirl and found it good.

I urge you to make it. I’d serve it with zucchini soup, a roasted pork tenderloin, and end with a glorious orange-flavored pound cake.

Melissa’s Roasted Asparagus with Gingered Rhubarb Sauce

1 lb. thick asparagus, ends snapped 1 Tbsp. olive oil Kosher salt or coarse sea salt Freshly ground pepper to taste 2 Tbsp. butter, or more to taste 2 garlic cloves, minced 1 Tbsp. grated ginger (from a ¾-inch chunk) ¼ lb. rhubarb stems, trimmed and thinly sliced 1 to 2 Tbsp. honey, or even more to taste Chopped chives to taste

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F. On a large rimmed baking pan, toss the asparagus with the olive oil, salt, and pepper. Spread the stalks out in an even layer and roast until the tips are a golden brown, 10 to 15 minutes, depending on how thick they are.

Meanwhile, melt the butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat, and let it cook until it turns a deep golden brown and smells nutty, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic, ginger, and a large pinch of salt and pepper and cook until the garlic turns opaque, about a minute. Stir in the rhubarb. Cover the pan and let cook until the rhubarb melts into the sauce, about 5 minutes. Stir in the honey to taste. This will depend on how sour your

See Rhubarb on page 44

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rhubarb is; just keep adding honey and salt until it tastes right. If the sauce is still too intense, you can whisk in in a little more butter to mellow it. It should have a deeply pungent character, but should not veer into bitterness.

Serve the asparagus covered in rhubarb sauce and showered with chives. Use a lot of chives. As Melissa says: “Rhubarb sauce isn’t pretty.” Right on, Melissa. (But, as I can tell from your book’s cover and TV appearances, you and your toddler sure are.) By the way, Melissa’s new cookbook is entitled Cook This Now; 120 Easy and Delectable Dishes You Can’t Wait to Make (Hyperion). It contains two excellent-sounding rhubarb recipes you probably can’t wait to make.

James Beard’s FoolThe Essential James Beard Cookbook, with 450 recipes

“that shaped the tradition of American Cooking” was published a few years ago by St. Martin’s Press. It was edited by Rick Rodgers with John Ferrone (both old friends of mine), and I am delighted to see it. (It’s wonderful reading—and don’t miss the foreword by esteemed writer Betty Fussell, Beard’s introduction [written in 1983], and the notes from the editor. It’s worth your time.) Here, in a paragraph, is Jim’s no-fuss fool, a variation of his strawberry fool. Use it for most any berry you can find:

Cook about 1pound rhubarb, trimmed and cut into ½-inch pieces, with 1 cup sugar in a saucepan over very low heat until it is quite soft, about 15 minutes. Add a drop or two of freshly squeezed lemon juice to accent the flavor. Whip 1 cup of heavy cream in a bowl with an electric mixer until stiff. Fold into the rhubarb puree. Chill until serving.

I Felt Like a Fool, So I Made One……and this one spells S-P-R-I-N-G to me. Why?

Because the main ingredient is the very-seasonal rhubarb. Perhaps you have a stand of this ingredient somewhere out back. Lucky you. Here’s a recipe I’ve been using for years.

Rhubarb Fool 7 c. fresh rhubarb stems cut in 1-inch pieces 1 c. crushed gingersnaps 2/3 c. sugar ½ tsp. powdered cinnamon 3 Tbsp. melted butter Whipped cream or vanilla ice cream Sliced ripe strawberries (optional)

Rhubarb continued from page 43

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Preheat the oven to 350 F. Remove the coarse strings of the rhubarb and then cut into 1-inch pieces. Place in a large saucepan, cover, and cook for about ten minutes over medium-low heat, stirring often until just tender but not mushy. Drain well. Combine the crushed gingersnaps with the sugar and cinnamon. Add the melted butter and mix well.

Lightly grease a 1-quart casserole; add a layer of the drained rhubarb and sprinkle with some of the crumb mixture. Repeat the layering, ending with the crumbs.Bake for 15 minutes. Let cool slightly, but serve warm topped with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream. Add a teaspoon of rum or vanilla to the whipped cream for a jolt of flavor. Yes, you can add layers of sliced strawberries to this fool. It’s delicious.

Chef, teacher, author, and award-winning columnist Cornelius O’Donnell lives in Elmira, New York.

No fool like an old fool: feel free

to add layers of sliced ripe

strawberries to your rhubarb fool.

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for the hen that had called. The black birch, beech, and berry brambles had leafed out and obscured my vision, leaving me with a thirty-yard view at best. No luck on the twins again.

And now I faced lousy weather with the skies spitting a hard rain. I decided to go out anyway. I know more than my fair share of spring turkey hunters, and a number of them had been successful in the rain.

I had been working on the big

gobbler in a small patch of woods. And today, I went for the big boy. I sat down in the rain and called. Song titles trickled through my head between calls. “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head” started the medley followed by “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain.” Halfway through the lyrics of “Have You Ever Seen the Rain” I called again. Nothing. I called again. I had taken the precaution of choosing a spot among the oak and maple that

was open. Visibility was about seventy yards all around. And I had set out a hen decoy, just in case. My shotgun was nestled in my shoulder and pointed toward the big boy’s hangout. I rested my arm on my knee to help support the barrel, but my biceps begged for relief.

Then, to my left, and within range, I spotted a gobbler obviously circling the hen calls. I noted movement below him, but I was zeroed on the bearded bird. When he walked behind a big hemlock trunk, I slowly swung the Remington 870 downhill. When he emerged from behind the tree, I lined up my fluorescent beads and squeezed the trigger. Tight-patterned shot put him down. Then, I noticed his twin fly off. It was the pair from the night before. I must have called them over 600 yards to get that shot.

By the time I tagged the turkey, climbed up the hill, retrieved my decoy, hoisted my prize over my shoulder and hiked out to my truck, I guessed that my gobbler weighed forty pounds. As it turned out, he was a not a particularly braggin’ big bird. His measurements indicated that he weighed nineteen-and-a-half pounds, sported an eleven-and-a-quarter-inch beard, and only one-and-a-quarter-inch spurs. Gasping for breath, I loaded everything into the truck and headed home, humming the Cascades’ “Rhythm of the Rain,” an old 1960s hit, and I wished that I had the body I had in the ’60s. The rain had stopped, and I smiled at the rainbow over the woods.

Retired teacher, principal, coach, and life-long sportsman Don Knaus is an award-winning outdoor writer and author of Of Woods and Wild Things, a collection of short stories on hunting, fishing, and the outdoors.

Singin’ in the Rain continued from page 22

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U.S. history.Maggie Barnes of Waverly took

the top prize in the Column category with her humorous essays about her family’s adjustment to rural life in Southern New York State. One of Maggie’s prize-winning columns recalled the day her fire chief husband Bob accidentally locked himself in the garage, and had trouble getting Maggie to let him out…

Roger Kingsley, a Bradford County farmer, had a full harvest, taking both a first place for photography and a second for Sports/Outdoor Column.

James Fitzpatrick of Wellsboro, a brilliant art photographer and former managing editor of this magazine, won second place for Feature Photo.

Sarah Wagaman, a Wellsboro High School art teacher and long-distance runner who makes art as well

as teachs it, won Honorable Mention for Feature Photo. Sarah made it a clean sweep for Mountain Home in photography prizes.

Don Knaus of Wel l sboro, a retired high school teacher in Blossburg, continues Mountain Home’s tradition—and his own habit—of prize-winning stories on hunting and fishing. His winning columns included “An Ode to Beagles,” which had a special place in our hearts at the magazine, which is published by Beagle Media, LLC, the company my wife and I named for our late Beagle, Cosmo, who sniffed the wind for eighteen years.

Mountain Home, with offices on Main Street, Wellsboro, Pennsylvania, has now won eighty Keystone Press Awards in ten years. The magazine, which is distributed “Free as the

Wind” to more than 300 outlets in the Twin Tiers region, was also admitted to the prestigious International Regional Magazine Association, the first free magazine in America so honored, where it has also won honors competing against magazines like Arizona Highways.

Mountain Home has been widely recognized as the best rural magazine in America, with praise from journalism leaders such as Eugene Roberts, former top editor of The New York Times and The Philadelphia Inquirer and a Pulitzer Prize-winning historian, for what he called “brilliant journalism.” My wife and I are grateful for that, too, but we call it something different: the community telling its own story.

Letter from the Publisher continued from page 5

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May is Majestic

Does this view ever get old? One early morning at Colton Point I was mesmerized by the fog that shrouded the Pine Creek Gorge. A perfect day just waiting for us all to see it.

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May 2016