38th Annual WaterFowl Festival
November 14,15,16 10-6pm

Savor Classic Eastern Shore Seafood
Take in retriever and fly fishing demos and the DockDogs® event
Don’t miss the kids’ activities, family fun & live animals
Shop for handcrafted holiday gifts
Enjoy and purchase world-class wildlife paintings, sculpture, carvings and photos

The Eastern Shores of Maryland and Virginia have long been home to crops like tomatoes, corn, and soybeans, but if you’ve traveled off the main routes lately, you may have noticed a new harvest: grapes. The last eight years have seen three new wineries open in each state (with several more in the works). The majority of these wineries use locally grown grapes and prove that there is good local wine to be had on the Eastern Shore. Stop by the following wineries—one at a time or several on a single trip—and see and taste for yourself.

Tilmon’s Island Winery
Don Tilmon didn’t intend to open a winery. The University of Delaware professor of agricultural economics characterizes his winery as a hobby that “kind of got out of hand.” “This is something that I did for fun,” says Tilmon, who started making wine in 1999, but expanded his hobby into a winery after friends who tasted his wine “hint[ed] about wanting more.”

Tilmon opened his winery in 2004 with a tasting room in the very clean cellar of his cream Cape Cod home, next to the room where he does his woodworking. Prettier is the backyard garden, with a small gazebo and compact vineyard of Concord grapes used to make Dame Judith’s Red Hat Red, a slightly sweet red wine named in honor of his wife, Judy, and her membership in the Red Hat Society. Grapes for the Chambourcin, Merlot, Pinot Grigio, and other wines Tilmon makes are grown locally in Queen Anne’s, Talbot, and Caroline counties.

Be aware, however, that Tilmon’s Island Winery is in Sudlersville in Queen Anne’s County, and not on Tilghman Island. Don Tilmon’s ancestors migrated from Virginia’s Eastern Shore to Yell County, Arkansas in the 1870s, changing the spelling of their name along the way. “I thought I was being so clever calling [the winery] Tilmon’s Island, but people come up to me at festivals and say there’s no winery on Tilghman Island.”

Recommended Sip: 2006 Chester River Merlot, a pretty, easy-drinking Merlot with soft edges and a hint of dusky cocoa. $12.

755 Millington Rd., Sudlersville, Md., 443-480-5021
http://www.tilmonswine.com Hours: Saturdays, noon-5 p.m. Tasting fee: None

Little Ashby Vineyards
As you drive down Ashby Drive to Little Ashby Vineyards, you’re greeted first by healthy rows of Merlot and Cabernet Franc, and then by two enthusiastic canines, Chester and Lola, whose portraits are captured on all of the winery’s labels. Warren Rich, a lean, ruddy-skinned man who radiates intensity, comes last, ambling out of his winery with a seriousness of purpose. “I think this is one of the prettiest vineyards near the water,” he says as the Miles River sparkles behind a collection of mature oaks, pines, and magnolias. Rich and his wife, Lynne, live on the property, and it’s Lynne who will often serve wine at the picnic tables set up next to the vineyard and at intervals close to the river’s banks.

In addition to being a winemaker, Warren Rich is also an environmental lawyer; yet he manages to produce around 400 cases of wine a year from the fruit produced by two vineyards he owns and from another vineyard owned by a friend. His wines are classic in style; his Super Talbot is a nod to wines known as Super Tuscans, high-quality blends of grapes like Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, and Merlot. Rich also has shown his taste for a challenge in growing Pinot Noir, a notoriously fickle and difficult varietal to grow because of its thin skin and susceptibility to rot. His 2007 Pinot Noir is light, he admits, but it’s also fragrant and filled with the delicate spiciness and fresh cherry fruit that characterizes classic Pinot Noir, evidence that Rich is more than up to the challenge of winemaking.

Recommended Sips: 2007 Pinot Noir (see above). $33. 2006 Super Talbot, a rich blend of Cabernet Franc, Merlot, Sangiovese, and Cabernet Sauvignon that’s beefy yet elegant. $30.

27549 Ashby Dr., Easton, Md., 410-819-8850, http://www.littleashbyvineyards.com Hours: By appointment only.  Tasting fee: None

St. Michaels Winery
St. Michaels Winery is hopping. Even on a Monday afternoon, the tasting room is filled with couples (including a pair from Annapolis on a makeshift honeymoon) sipping wine at round tables made from wine barrels or at the winery’s handsome copper-topped bar. Bookshelves boast titles from local authors, a framed flour sack recalls the building’s past life as a mill, and sails from locally made historic log canoes hang from the ceiling. And there are lots of wines to choose from.

The winery made six wines in 2006, its inaugural year. Today they make nineteen different varieties (some from local grapes; others from grapes flown in from California) to produce a total of 10,000 cases per year. The winery’s tasting flights reflect this diversity, as well as acknowledging the preferences of different wine drinkers for dry and sweet wines. (Each flight offers between six and seven one-ounce tastes of wine, plus a souvenir glass; for our favorites, see below.) All of this keeps owner and winemaker Mark Emon busy—and not just making wine. “A lot of people have this romantic idea of what a winery is,” he says with a laugh, “I just finished using a forklift [to move boxes around].”

Still, Emon understands the connection between wine and pleasure. Each year he ages portions of Merlot in a variety of oak barrels that yield different flavors, and when the wine is ready, he invites friends to try the different batches in an event he calls “A Barrel of Fun.” No forklifting is required.

Recommended Sips: 2007 Long Splice White, a juicy blend of Chardonnay and Seyval from a local, twenty-five-year-old Wye Mills vineyard. $14. 2007 Martha Chambourcin, named after the skipjack that delivered these Havre de Grace-grown grapes to the winery. It’s bright and lively with fresh flavors of pie cherries. $34.50.

605 S. Talbot St., St. Michaels, Md. 410-745-0808, http://www.st-michaelswinery.com
Hours: Mon.-Fri.noon-6 p.m.; Sat. noon-7 p.m.; Sun noon-4 p.m.

Open every day year-round. Tasting fee: $6-$7 for 6-7 one-ounce pours, including souvenir glass; crackers and locally made Chapel’s Creamery cheese available.

VIRGINIA

Bloxom Winery
In his past life in New York City, Robert Giardina remodeled kitchens and baths, played in rock bands, and fermented homemade wine made from grapes bought at the Brooklyn Terminal Market. Today, making wine is all Giardina has time for. But now the Casablanca-native is on the northern end of Virginia’s Eastern Shore, and the grapes he uses are all the fruit of his own labor and vineyards.

Of course, wine is the main attraction at Bloxom, but it’s hard to find a prettier place to be drinking it than the winery’s tasting room and outdoor covered patio (both built by Giardina himself). Trailing trumpet vines and hanging pots of geraniums decorate the patio, which also features Giardina’s handmade picnic tables and a wood-burning oven where his wife, Francesca, a pastry chef, bakes her homemade ciabatta bread. (She also makes homemade truffles, available for sale in the tasting room.)

Inside, burnt-orange-colored walls and a warm, wood-planked floor and ceiling invite lingering over a sweet blush or a lightly oaked Chardonnay. If you feel like you’ve been transported to a Mediterranean villa, well, that’s exactly what Giardina hopes.

Recommended Sips: Bloxom’s biggest seller, the 2007 Red Kiss, a blend of Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot, offers what Giardina characterizes as “a little kiss of sweetness.” Yes, it’s sweet, but not cloying, and served chilled, as Giardina recommends, it’s quite refreshing on a warm day. $12.85.

26130 Mason Rd., Bloxom, Va., 757-665-5670, http://www.bloxomwinery.com
Hours: June-December, Fri.-Sun. noon-5 p.m. Tasting fee: $1 for two samples; cheese, crackers, bread, and truffles available for purchase.

Holly Grove Vineyards
Jonathan Bess may make only three wines, but already those wines have won a combined nine medals in state and national competitions. Not bad for a winery that’s been in business for two years.

Bess developed a love for wine while traveling the world as a naval officer. Now retired after twenty-five years of service, he’s devoted his time to growing grapes and making his own high-quality wine. Approximately 2,100 vines of Cabernet Franc, Cabernet Sauvignon, Viognier, and Petite Verdot grow on his property that abuts the lovely Holly Grove Cove leading out to the Bay. (Views from the cove adorn the wines’ labels.) Chardonnay and Merlot come from leased vineyards nearby.

Visitors can sample Bess’s wines in his brand new (and self-built) tasting room. Cedar planks line the small room’s walls, and the top of the bar is made from Brazilian hardwood leftover from Bess’s home on the property. Ever looking forward, Bess is planning a second-story sitting room that will overlook the vineyard.

“I don’t think of [winemaking] as an industry,” muses the lanky Bess, as he examines his vines, his Jack Russell terrier, Bullseye, at his heels. “I think of it as a super hobby.” Looking around his property, he’s all smiles and graciousness: “It’s our little piece of nature.”

Recommended Sip: 2006 Chardonnay. Aged on the lees, this rich, barrel-fermented Chardonnay is bursting with baked apple and ripe pear flavors. $17.

6404 Holly Bluff Dr., Franktown, Va., 757-442-2844, http://www.hollygrovevineyards.com
Hours: By appointment. Tasting fee: None

Chatham Vineyards
Anyone who thinks the making of fine wine is confined to the West Coast needs to try Jon Wehner’s wines at Chatham, the seventeenth-century estate and farm owned by his family in Machipongo, Va. Wehner has been making wine full time for ten years but has been around winemaking all his life; his parents grew grapes and made wine in Fairfax County in 1970, when Wehner was born.

At Chatham, Wehner grows 32,000 vines on just over twenty acres of sandy loam soil. Some of the grapes are sold to other winemakers, but approximately thirty-five tons are used at Chatham to make the 2,200 cases the winery produces per year. Visitors can sample Merlot, Cabernet Franc, two styles of Chardonnay, and a dry rosé at the small bar in the winery’s fermentation building or on the vineyard-facing patio. (Plans to move an old house on the property and connect it with the fermentation building are underway.)

Wehner wants his wines to be “expressive of the site” on which they’re grown, hoping wine lovers will taste “the pure flavors of the vineyard” in his wine. He “dry farms,” which means that he doesn’t irrigate and uses cover crops to lure insects away from the grapes rather than insecticides. And if he is forced to use fungicides, they are green ones that are not harmful to the environment. “You can be a good steward of the land,” says Wehner. “I think we are.”

Although Wehner takes winemaking very seriously, it’s clear that he also finds delight in the process. “Every year is different and Mother Nature rules,” he says, adding that ultimately, everything that goes into a bottle of wine happens in the vineyard. The proof is in the bottle.

Recommended Sips: 2007 Church Creek Chardonnay, Steel. Clean and intense with crisp apple and a little orange rind. $15. 2005 Church Creek Merlot. Dark cherry fruit with good structure and soft finish. $17.

9232 Chatham Rd., Machipongo, Va. 757-678-5588, http://www.chathamvineyards.net.

Hours:Thurs.-Mon. 10 a.m.-5 p.m., Sun. noon-5 p.m.Tasting fee: None

Mary K. Zajac writes from Baltimore.

In 1994, furniture designer Dan Hale built a house in Severna Park that calls to mind a host of adjectives—but “ordinary” isn’t one of them.

Constructing his residence from scratch in the style of a Danish farmhouse, the nationally famed craftsman imbued it with so many signature touches that current owner Linda Cameron says that, ten years after moving in, she’s still discovering the details. Cameron delights in pointing out the “magical treasures” that Hale created: ceramic faces on drawer pulls, ceiling lights made from drinking glasses, plump birds perched atop bookcases with chicken-wire doors. Just as beguiling are his architectural surprises, such as the porthole built into the stairwell wall. “Every child and animal that comes into the house finds that spot,” she says with a laugh.

Outside, a rounded two-story tower adds a fairytale touch, while a bluestone porch provides water views of the Severn River. Inside, Hale’s handcrafted furniture, clocks, and fixtures suffuse the rooms with obvious charm.

Cameron and her husband, Glenn Gilmor, weren’t planning to buy a new home until mutual friends introduced them to Hale in 1998. The artist, who’d spent four years in the house, was looking for just the right successors for his property and invited them to take a look. “It was July, the windows were open, and the kids were running back and forth from the house to the beach,” Cameron recalls. “We literally spent about ten minutes inside before we decided to buy it.”

Reflecting on their previous address—a traditional colonial in a modern development—she grins. “We didn’t have a creative bone in our bodies,” she says. “This place helped us break out of our mold.”

Hale’s house offered an aesthetic that wowed the new owners. The designer used simple materials throughout, principally wood, tile, plaster, and cast concrete, which conjured an atmosphere that is part European cottage, part American folk art. Custom French doors, casement windows, and ten-foot ceilings provide for an abundance of natural light. “I like things that are less polished, and I’m always finding new materials,” explains Hale, who has since relocated to northern California. “But the big thing on this house was the porch and the connection to the outdoors. I wanted to blur that inside/outside line as much as I could.”

Re-using materials was important, too. For one banister leading to the entertainment area, Hale used a sailboat mast; for another, a hand-carved length of fallen poplar. He continued the botanical theme in the study on the first floor of the turret, sculpting a plaster relief of leaves and branches over the walls.

One room in particular won Cameron’s heart: the kitchen. A wide wooden farm table with stools spans the center, and slate counters and stainless appliances flank the alcove that holds the range. Large, hand-painted drawers with inlaid faces offer “amazing storage,” amplified by tall, glass-front cabinets. Overstuffed armchairs next to the table invite repose. “It’s organic and ultra-simple—special without being expensive,” Cameron says.

The challenge the couple faced was making Hale’s unique residence their own. “For the first few years, it still was Dan’s house,” Cameron notes. Eventually, she and Gilmor, with the help of Annapolis’s Belinda McClure of Belinda McClure Interiors, undertook renovations, removing a wall between the kitchen and family room, and adding a second bathroom to the master suite. To gain space, they raised the roof of the turret by crane, making sure to keep Hale’s hand-painted ceiling intact.

Still, Hale’s spirit emerges in droll touches throughout the house. A gondolier poles his lamp-boat over the dining table; tree trunks stand in for columns on the guesthouse porch; rounded doorways recall the arches of a Moorish palace. Living among such whimsy, Cameron says, has been a gift in itself. “We’ve learned that a house can add fun to your life, and remind you not to take things so seriously.”

Carol Denny writes from Arnold, Md.

Fresh figs ripen from June to October in Maryland and are plentiful on the Eastern Shore, but they were originally brought to North America by the Spanish Franciscan missionaries, who settled in southern California. (This is where the California black mission fig originated.)

There are literally hundreds of varieties, ranging in color from almost white to midnight black in color. Unfortunately, one of the few drawbacks to using figs in the kitchen is that they’re extremely perishable and last only two to three days in the refrigerator.

Over the years, I have developed some fun fig recipes that are quick and easy to make. One of my favorites is prepared on the grill and can be used either as an appetizer or as a garnish for a salad. The addition of charred, crispy pancetta in this dish plays well against figs’ natural sweetness. I’ve also created a salad of balsamic vinegar dressing, goat cheese, and figs, which makes for a heavenly threesome atop semi-bitter arugula. For complete indulgence, try the recipe for fried bread, seared foie gras, and an Italian, fig-flavored syrup called vincotto. Probably my favorite fig concoction is a dessert known as a tarte tatin, in which figs are cooked upside down in caramel sauce while the pastry browns on top. Enjoy! 

Grilled Fresh Figs and Pancetta with Honey Glaze

Caramelized Figs with Seared Foie Gras and Fig Vincotto

Fresh Figs, Arugula, and Goat Cheese Salad

Fig Tarte Tatin with Vanilla Bean Ice Cream

Andrew Evans is the owner/chef of Easton’s Thai Ki.

Those fall Sundays in the country were magic.

The crunch of the dried potpourri of oak leaves, thistles, and pine needles marked our progress as we made our way farther into the forest behind our house. Leaping over felled trunks blocking our path, sloshing through soupy mud puddles left over from the morning rain, there was nowhere else we wanted to be other than with each other under the gracefully dying canopy. We were an odd, Disney-esque bunch: me, my grey cat, and my yellow lab. With me in the lead and my four-legged friends trailing behind me, we’d cover hours of hilly ground. Forced every twenty minutes or so to stop and wait for the cat to catch up, we’d stand in silence, my dog’s ears pricked by the sound of deer crashing over the floor of crispy limbs, my eyes fixed on the 3-D sculpture of bent and twisted lines surrounding us. Although out there, we were vulnerable, wonderfully insulated from civilization, it was exciting to feel our way through the foreign stillness. As the sky sprinkled us with leafy notes of reds and yellows, our Sunday fall adventures deepened our history. We’d turn for home after two hours or so, tired, cold, and ready for dinner. That night, huddled by the wood stove, I’d recount aloud what we saw and where we went. And while they were half listening and half sleeping with tails wrapped around cold noses, all was right with the world.

In this issue, make your own fall memories with a hike through Easton’s Pickering Creek Audubon Center, a 400-acre Eden of still waters and turning leaves ("Pick of the Season,” pg. 62). Or take a tour of the Bay’s wineries, which stretch from Sudlersville, Md., to Machipongo, Va., in “Winery Road,” pg. 86. Also, meet five regional law men who share their tales of crime and passion in “Badges of Honor,” pg. 76. Spend a quiet night at Cambridge’s Lodgecliffe on the Choptank B&B (Checking Inn, pg. 55) or a glamorous weekend cruising aboard La Bella Vita (Weekender, pg. 49). And be sure to try your hand with
Chef Andrew Evans fig recipes. 

This fall also brings CL a new editor, Joe Sugarman, who has, for the past seven years, served as senior editor. Starting with the November issue, it’ll be Joe’s face and words greeting you on this page, while I’ll work behind the scenes as his right-hand “man.” Thank you so much for being open and responsive to my letters over the years. And I know Joe is just as excited to share his thoughts with you each issue.

Take care,
Kessler Burnett

There are certain sights you expect to see while traveling along Maryland’s Route 50: geese flying overhead, colorful vegetable stands packed with produce, state troopers stealthily parked by the side of the highway. The sight of people whizzing along on water skis on a manmade lake just north of the Nanticoke River bridge in Dorchester County is not one of them. But there they are, nonetheless, skimming across the water at up to 50 mph while you sit stuck in traffic.

So who are these people and what are they doing here?

They are members of the Vienna Ski Club, a group of competitive water-skiers, who apparently have found the perfect—albeit unique—spot to whip themselves into shape.

Of the several ski clubs in Maryland, this is one of the few with its very own private lake and 880-foot slalom course. The ski club is the love child of Louis “Lou” Alcamo, fifty-four. Today he’s ranked eighth nationally among 800 skiers, age fifty-two to sixty, by USA Water Ski, Inc., the largest governing body in the ski world with 23,000 members. Alcamo came to skiing late in life at twenty-eight, but he still exhibits the passion of a teenager.

To pay for his sport, Alcamo swapped boat rides with his roommate in lieu of rent. It was the early ’80s, and Alcamo was an insurance adjuster, but he didn’t let that interfere with skiing. Often, during lunchtime, he would put on a dry suit (a waterproof coverall that seals at the neck, wrists and ankles) over his business suit and ski. Soon this ski junkie had to have a boat of his own, so he opened Annapolis Master Craft, a boat dealership, so he could buy a boat on the cheap. Then he had to have a lake of his own.

In 1996, Alcamo bought the eighty-six-acre parcel of land for $135,000 and dubbed its centerpiece, the thirty-six-acre body of water, “Lake Lou.” He found ten skiers to pony up $1,000 each for the down payment, picking up the last check on the way to sign the contracts. The Vienna Ski Club was born.

Currently, the club maintains a tight- knit membership of seventeen, only accepting new members when old ones leave. A mere $1,200 a year, plus $650 for boat maintenance and gas, gives each member keys to the gate and the boat. Parking places for their RVs run around $280 for the season.

Not only is this a place for skiers to test their stamina and prowess, but it’s also a gathering place for their families to while away the sultry days of summer. RV’s are parked near one of the lake’s two docks, and lawn and beach chairs are strategically placed so people can plop into them and watch the day’s skiing on weekends. Chefs also cast an eye to their barbecues as they fire them up throughout the day, producing platters of chicken, shrimp, burgers, and the ubiquitous hot dog. (During the week skiers come and go, practicing and competing from April until the first frost of autumn.)

“The skiing lifestyle is all about family,” says Mike Sturdevant, forty-six, a road construction manager who lives in Trappe, who took over the helm from Alcamo last year. Now he’s the one responsible for making sure the grounds are maintained and the boats are in top condition. “It just shows you can be serious about a sport and not exclude your family.”

Sturdevant began skiing with his father at the age of six. He, in turn, introduced his kids to the sport. His wife, Beth, and their sons, Skylar, fifteen, and Brandon, twenty-one, both ski competitively and join dad on the slalom course.

While the Vienna Ski Club is loosely organized, the rules they ski by are strictly adhered to. Different age groups generally ski at speeds ranging from 22 to 36 mph. A skier races until he misses a buoy. After each successful pass of six buoys, the skier shortens the tow rope to make the course more challenging.

At the 2007 Goode Water Ski Championship, Sam Ingram, forty-six, arguably the top skier in Maryland, took first place in the Nationals held in Bakersfield, Calif., clearing 106 buoys using a rope shortened from 75 feet to 39.5 feet. “Everything becomes more intense when the rope is shorter,” says Ingram, a structural design engineer for precision-guided munitions, who lives in Deep Creek, Md. “I lean into the turns so aggressively that my knees actually scrape the water when I go around a buoy. The spray off my skis hits me in the eyes. I’ve had to learn when to close them.”

Rachel McNealey can only dream of becoming a master skier. At age twelve, she is the club’s youngest skier and one of its most promising. She has consistently moved up in the rankings. Now fifth in the Eastern Region and 33rd out of 137 nationally, she made it to the Nationals for the first time in 2007.

“I was so young when my parents took me in the boat that I rode around in a car seat,” said McNealey. “By four, I was double skiing, and began competing in slalom at ten. Someday I’d love to be a semi-pro and maybe teach.”

Her youthful enthusiasm is mirrored by each member of the Vienna Ski Club. Water-skiing is the rope that binds these divergent people together. Plus, they have one other thing in common: really great legs.

The Vienna Ski Club hosts two sanctioned events this year: the Maryland State Championship on July 12 and the Delmarva Crab Fest on September 6. Spectators are invited to watch both competitions. For more information, call Mike Sturdevant at 410-476-4885.

Gail Buchalter writes from Dorchester County. A former New Yorker, she’s not much of a water baby.

I’ve been on beaches from the Caribbean to Cape Town, and I’ve never seen two people who worked harder on their tans than the couple who basically lived on the sands of Bethany.

Every weekend, they’d recline in beach chairs just a few yards from the surf. She was a petite, pony-tailed brunette with a curvy figure; he was a handsome, hulking fellow, with an enormous beer belly, which stretched wider and more taught than that of a woman carrying triplets. They’d gravitate to the same area on the beach that my mother, my Aunt Daphne, and I frequented, tucked against the jetty where noisy families never camped, knowing that their kids climbing on the rocks would attract the lifeguard’s scolding whistle. 

Arriving to find them in their usual spot aroused the same anxious thrill in us as discovering Jaws on the late-night movie. We’d watch them like curious seagulls, not in a mocking manner but rather as a trio of sociologists studying their fellow (obsessively tanned) man. Around us were a host of other regulars whom we also enjoyed studying: the super-fit sixty-something who wore her white socks and tennis shoes, the white-haired gent who always sat alone and smoked cigars, the pasty family of seven who arrived at 4 p.m., unpacked their tons of gear, slathered themselves with sunscreen, and left an hour later. But none were as intriguing as the couple. 

Constantly reading (and rarely talking), they’d soak up the rays from mid-morning to the late hours of the afternoon, rotating from supine to prone position like chickens impaled on a rotisserie. Glistening in the brutal summer sun, they resembled pieces of seventeenth-century furniture buffed with a thick coating of Old English. He, a bulky burr walnut wardrobe; she, a delicate mahogany Queen Anne side chair. They’d infrequently stir, either to eat or swim. And occasionally, one would move in such a way to reveal a section of white skin typically protected by a strap or waist band. The shocking pop of pale against the seared suit of brown would incite gasps among us typically reserved for road kill.

As I’m now fully retired from sunbathing and visit the beach infrequently, I no longer see the terribly tanned twosome. But it’s that time of year when I remember them and often wonder if they’re still there every weekend, if they ever married, and if they ever awakened to the revelation of sunscreen and shade. But that’s what the beach is for: people watching. And, like an airport, there’s no better entertainment than what plays out before you in your beach chair — umbrella covered, of course. 

In this, our annual beach issue, we take you to Bethany, Rehoboth, and Dewey beaches to find out what’s new at the seashore, from pizza eateries to posh interior design stores (pg. 60). We also introduce you to the talented water-skiing fanatics of the Vienna Ski Club, who spend their summers slaloming around “Lake Lou,” just off Route 50 ("Skimming the Surface,” pg. 80). Be sure to book a room at Hotel Rodney, Lewes’s new hip hotel (Checking Inn, pg. 55). And find out if Kindle, Milton’s new restaurant, ignited a fire in our restaurant reviewer’s heart (Traveling Gourmet, pg. 91). We also introduce you to our new columnist, Jim Duffy, a recent resident of the Shore, who writes each issue about small-town life on the eastern side of the Bay (Come Here, pg. 114). 

See you in the fall.
Kessler Burnett

For most people, coconuts inspire images of swaying palm trees and blue water. But even if you can’t visit the Tropics, you can still find coconuts in most local supermarkets.

When ripe, the inner coconut flesh turns from a jelly-like consistency to hard, white flesh, which can then be grated or peeled. Coconut milk is created by grating the flesh, mixing it with water, heating it until foamy, and then straining it through cheesecloth. (Using readily available canned coconut milk saves you the trouble, of course.)

I chose the following four recipes in order to show off the coconut’s versatility. For breakfast, you can whip up the coconut pancakes and pair them with bananas and passionfruit for a tropical punch. Then move onto lunch with a refreshing shaved coconut and crab salad with mint and lime. Coconut cream
adds the richness to sweet soy pork over jasmine rice for dinner. And for dessert, try the refreshing and light coconut tart with crème fraiche. After eating these coconut-infused dishes, you just might be able to fool yourself into believing that you’re on the Caribbean instead of the Chesapeake. 

Crab, Mint, Chili, and Coconut Salad

Sweet Soy Pork over Jasmine Rice

Coconut Pancakes with Bananas & Passionfruit Syrup

Coconut Tart with Pineapple & Crème Fraiche

Andrew Evans is the owner/chef of Easton’s Thai Ki.

In every neighborhood, there’s one house in particular where all the kids want to hang out. And in Bay Ridge, that house belongs to Dale and Melissa Overmyer. Children are everywhere: running around the yard, lazing on the porch, zooming up and down the driveway on bikes. “We allow our kids to run—literally run—around,” says Melissa Overmyer, a graphic designer and mother of four. “We didn’t want to make the house so precious that they and their friends couldn’t have a good time. It’s a really fun atmosphere.”

And with one step inside the Victorian cottage, the attraction is obvious. The Overmyers have created a campy retreat doused in Hawaiiana, where statuettes of hula girls shimmy next to grinning tiki glasses, neon pink fishing lures serve as lamp pulls, and vintage tropical fabrics enliven the laid-back scene. “Everything’s sentimental in here but nothing’s irreplaceable,” says Melissa.

In 2000, when the Overmyers bought the late-nineteenth-century house, it was in near-condemned condition, abandoned for nearly twenty years and taken over by raccoons and encroaching weeds. Perched atop cliffs overlooking the Chesapeake Bay, the home’s location sealed the deal for the couple, who bought the property just hours after their first walk-through. “It was so far gone,” recalls Dale, who runs an architectural firm in Washington, D.C., where the family lives year-round. “It was a delicate, fragile old house, but we knew with just a little extra tenderness, we could bring it back.”

What made it even more intriguing was that the house had an interesting past. In the late 1800s, Bay Ridge was a flourishing family resort, attracting visitors who arrived via steamship and rail from as far away as New York. According to Bay Ridge on the Chesapeake: An Illustrated History, it was known as the “Queen Resort of the Chesapeake,” 387-acres of rolling terrain that featured a 1,600-seat restaurant pavilion, four-story hotel, bandstand, amusement park, horse/bicycle racetrack, riding stables, lawn tennis courts—even a small zoo. The summertime highlight was the five toboggan slides that took guests from the terrain’s towering cliffs into the Bay, where lifeguards watched from lifeboats. In 1915, the resort was destroyed by fire, leaving few buildings intact, including the Overmyers’ house, built in 1893 by British-born George Buffham, a one-time resort manager and photographer.

Now considered one of the area’s most exclusive communities, Bay Ridge is a safe haven where the Overmyer children and their pals can roam free on the quiet, tree-lined streets or on the roughly three miles of beach, just two blocks from their front door. “I really like that the neighborhood is nice and that all the kids can skateboard and swim and jump off the dock,” says thirteen-year-old Lily Overmyer. “We even have a tree fort in the back yard.”

“From our bruised legs and tangled hair, you can tell that we’re outdoor kids,” adds fifteen-year-old Emma. “We like being able to play outside. It’s one of our favorite things.”

It took a year for the Overmyers to complete the restoration, which involved gutting both floors while preserving original architectural details, such as the gingerbread moldings, windows, and wooden flooring.

Throughout, the walls were given a fresh coat of white paint while the floors were painted black and topped with neutral-tone sisal rugs, allowing the accent colors of the boldly patterned floral fabrics to add visual punch. The result is a hybrid style, best defined as shabby-chic Polynesian. “I wanted it to look like your grandmother had gone to Hawaii and gone crazy,” says Melissa, who vacationed with her family regularly in Hawaii as a child. “A true getaway.”

The screen porch is the spot for summertime gatherings. Amid the tangle of bikes and scooters and flip-flops is a vintage glider, hemmed by tin side tables, and a roomy hammock, a house-warming present from a neighbor that’s capable of holding up to six passengers—more if they’re pint-sized. The far corner holds a dining room table, where the family enjoys most of their summertime meals. “In D.C., people take their work very seriously,” says Dale, an avid surfer, who brings the family on his yearly pilgrimages to Oahu’s North Shore. “But here, people take their playtime very seriously. There’s a beach happy hour almost every night. And that turns into a bonfire and that turns into dinner and that turns into s’mores. It’s very laid back.”

But there’s nothing low-key about the tiki parties at the Overmyers’. Melissa explains that guests, sporting leis and Hawaiian shirts and sipping fruity drinks with paper umbrellas, tend to congregate in the living room, an open space filled with natural light that pours through skylights added during the restoration. Here, the focal point is the bark cloth fabric, a vintage swirl of cranes and palm leaves, which covers the bamboo and rattan furniture, bought at the Georgetown Flea Market. And who says paint-by-numbers art is passé? Framed garage sale-found pieces of the 1970s fad hang throughout the house alongside 1940s airbrush art of birds and flowers. Echoing the Hawaiian theme are the scads of tropical-print throw pillows that dramatically cushion the wall-length window seat in the adjoining room. When the sun goes down, the blender gets whirring and the disco ball, Melissa’s whimsical answer to a chandelier, is called into action. “We love to dance,” she says. “Life is always more fun with a disco ball above your head. You never know when you’ll want to boogie.”

Extending the playful Polynesian theme into the bedrooms, Melissa dressed up the Pink Room with a canopy of grass skirts and paper lanterns. Each petite space, outfitted with texture-inducing bead board walls and chenille bed spreads, is defined by its own unique collection: The Green Room displays circa-1940s touristy straw luggage, while the Blue Bird Room is filled with antique blue birds. “If it looks tropical, I love it,” says Melissa. “And if it has bamboo on it, I’m a complete sucker.”

The collectible theme continues in the dining room, where tin trays perch below ’40s and ’50s wedding cake toppers and Frosty the Snowman mugs sit on a sill alongside an array of salt and pepper shakers. Melissa’s all-time favorite item? A surfer girl shaker set found in Hawaii: The brown-skinned beauty is the pepper and her long board, the salt.

The adjoining kitchen is a rudimentary space made functional with recycled materials, from the stainless-steel countertops, red-and-white dishware, and utensils bought for less than $500 from a Chinese restaurant’s going-out-of-business sale. The stove was rescued from one of Dale’s job sites, while the porcelain farmhouse-style sink was discovered in the home’s basement. But the crown jewel is the milkshake maker, a rewired hand-me-down from Melissa’s grandmother, who owned a soda shop in Texas. “Everything’s left over from somewhere,” says Dale.

“Our contractors laughed at us because we kept putting in old things,” adds Melissa.

After the beach bonfires have burned down and the kids have been tucked in, the Overmyers like to kick back and enjoy their beach-house blessings, knowing that next weekend will bring more fun at the beach—and at the Saturday morning flea markets. “Dale says we’re done,” says Melissa. “But I say we’re never done.”

1.Blowing In The Wind

If your tastes tend toward contemporary, there are few more stunning homes on the Bay than Prairie Wind, located just outside of St. Michaels. Designed by Washington architect Suman Sorg and Associates and landscaped by fellow D.C.’er James van Sweden, Prairie Wind looks like a home straight out of last’s month’s Architectural Digest. Three attached wooden buildings house a central living area with funky modern furnishings—chairs and loveseats come in vibrant reds, yellows, and oranges. Views out of the two-story, floor-to-ceiling windows are of tall reed grass and sunsets over the Bay. (Heck, even the view from the bathtub is stunning.) The adjacent buildings house two master bedrooms and full baths. If you can ever tear yourself away, a circular swimming pool surrounded by more reed grass awaits outside, as do several footpaths leading down to a private Bay-side beach.—J.S.

Price tag: $5,000 per week
Book it: 410-745-5255, http://www.tidewater-vacations.com

2. Green Acres

Ah, the pleasures of estate life: just you, the wildlife, and a host of groundsmen, all of whom are charged with maintaining Millwood Manor’s 100 acres. Take a jog along the miles of mowed paths, most of which border the Tred Avon River or stop and smell the roses blooming in the six-acre garden. The three-bedroom, circa-1800 property—complete with a two-bedroom guest cottage, tennis court, and resident pheasants—was occupied by Owen Wilson while filming Wedding Crashers. But it’s anything but high-profile thanks to its mile-and-a-half, tree-lined driveway that keeps the estate wonderfully hidden from the rest of the world.—K.B.

Price tag: $8,000-$10,000 per week
Book it: 410-745-5255, http://www.tidewatervacations.com

3.Lounge Act

Please pass the margaritas—and the sunscreen! Bathing beauties will love the glamorous heated pool at Green Shadow Barn, a nearly one-hundred-year-old Royal Oak property. Converted into a 4,000-square-foot residence some fifty years ago, it’s crisply decorated with white walls and casual Pottery Barn-style furnishings. The four-bedroom’s contemporary-style pool overlooks the Tred Avon River and is landscaped with swaying native grasses and knockout roses. The surrounding stamped concrete patio, which brings the property’s 400 feet of shoreline into view, is the ideal place for a pool-side picnic. Stretch your (tan) legs and take a stroll down the 100-foot-long pier for a romantic view of Oxford, a stone’s thrown across the river.—K.B.

Price tag: $2,184-$5,509 per week
Book it: 410-770-9093, http://www.easternshore-vacations.com

4.Sweet Dreams

Chandeliers, chaises, and 600-thread-count cotton sheets. What more can you ask for in a master bedroom—except, of course, a fireplace, four-poster king-size bed, and plush carpet? Sycamore Landing has these spoiling details—and more. Modern-day princesses (and princes) will also appreciate the suite’s walk-in closet, and great view of the Miles River. The circa-1659, five-bedroom property is one of the oldest estates in the county and is a favorite haunt among Washington, D.C., politicos, who likely prefer the library, complete with grand piano and deep leather sofas. Brandy and cigars before retiring, anyone?—K.B.

Price tag: $5,000-$7,000 per week
Book it: 410-745-5255, http://www.tidewatervacations.com

5. A Slice Of Heaven

When he first saw Heavenly Haven, the owner of a high-end restaurant chain found its layout so heavenly—but not its décor—that he footed the bill for a complete interior makeover. While he only visits five months out of the year, you—and twelve friends—can benefit from his investment. Basically three houses in one, the 4,500-square-foot Colonial mansion incorporates three kitchens, six bedrooms (each with en suite bath), two laundry rooms, pool, playground, and two-bedroom guest cottage. The piece de resistance?  A 1,900-square-foot kitchen/dining room/ living room area, where the entire crew can eat—or play a set of tennis.—K.B.

Price tag: $2,974-$7,629 per week
Book it: 410-770-9093, http://www.easternshorevacations.com

6.Thomas Jefferson (Would’ve) Slept Here

If you’ve ever wanted to stay the night at Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello—but the guards kicked you out at closing time—then book San Sano, located between Easton and St. Michaels. The regal, multicolumned entryway clearly shows T.J.’s influence, and pulling up along the white gravel lane lined with London plane trees and loblolly pines gives guests a reception worthy of a president. (Or someone with pockets just as deep.) The cream and beige five-bedroom interior is decidedly more modern and accented with stone—the enormous dining room marble fireplace looks as if it could burn a sequoia. Spend your days exploring the 146-acre grounds, five of which accommodate a vineyard, which supplies grapes to Little Ashby Winery nearby. The estate’s name is a nod to a small Italian town, and if you try hard enough while sipping Campari and soda by the home’s enormous swimming pool, you just might convince yourself that those Bay breezes are really Mediterranean.—J.S.

Price tag: $8,000 per week
Book it: 410-745-5255, http://www.tidewater-vacations.com

7.Docking Station

You can pull your Bay cruiser right up to the deep-water dock at Kirkland Hall Manor, a sprawling 1920s, white-pillared Georgian estate, located outside of St. Michaels. Unload your baggage at the private boat house and then stroll across the broad lawn (pass by the swimming pool) to the estate, where the nautical décor theme continues. Inside, there are six bedrooms—five of which have their own private baths and sitting rooms—and a dining room table long enough to accommodate nearly everyone on board. If the weather is iffy, relax with a hardback in the library, tickle the ivories on the baby grand piano, or retire to the game room for a gentlemanly poker match.—J.S.

Price tag: $12,000 per week
Book it: 410-745-5255, http://www.tidewatervacations.com

8.To The Manor Born

The first brick house constructed in Talbot County, Hampden is the sort of place Brideshead Revisited’s Lady Marchmain would rent—if she vacationed in Trappe. The 1663 ninety-acre estate on La Trappe Creek is an Anglophile’s paradise, complete with oil portraiture, leather couches, Oriental rugs, and antiques. Apropos of the landed gentry theme, horseback riding is available via the on-site stables, which house five horses, and hunting is permitted on the property. Lords and ladies will appreciate the posh master bedroom suite, with French doors that open to the creek,marble-floored bathroom, walk-in closets, and fireplace. With five bedrooms (each with private bath) in the main house and a three-bedroom guest cottage, there’s ample space for twenty of your nearest and dearest.—K.B.

Price tag: $2,571-$6,228 per week
Book it: 410-770-9093, http://www.easternshorevacations.com

9.Chef’s Choice

Bet the Barefoot Contessa wouldn’t mind padding around this kitchen. Sited on five acres on Peach Blossom Creek, Blue Gates is a chef’s dream house, complete with Wolf cooking range, granite countertops, Sub-Zero fridge, and hand-pounded copper sink with matching fixtures. If you prefer to pass on cooking, Easton’s fabulous restaurants are only minutes away. “What people like about this house is that you feel as though you’re on a French country estate but you’re only two minutes from town,” says Eastern Shore Vacation Rentals co-owner Betsy Greaney. Decorated in soft blues, greens, and yellows, the house sleeps eight and includes a swimming pool and deep-water dock. And keep your eyes peeled for this house on the silver screen: A host of Hollywood producers recently scouted it for an upcoming movie.—K.B.

Price tag: $4,552-$7,052 per week
Book it: 410-770-9093, http://www.easternshorevacations.com

Seven years ago I left Southampton, New York, and a readily available supply of organic produce. As a yoga instructor, I am pretty health conscious and was thrilled to see all the farms and farm stands dotting the roadsides on the Eastern Shore while I was looking for a place to buy in Dorchester County. Only after I moved to Rhodesdale did I discover that these produce purveyors were selling the same non-organic stuff I could buy at the supermarket. Instead, they were more focused on hawking silhouettes of cats and dogs and Victorian garden balls. I traveled up and down the highways from Cambridge to Salisbury and Secretary to Hurlock begging farm stand owners to just try a few organic products. A scratch of the head was the pervading answer.

I realized it was up to me to change the eating habits of Dorchester and Wicomico counties. I would open an organic farm stand.

Things quickly fell into place. A friend told me about an eighteen-foot farm stand for sale near my house, and the farmer who owned it quickly dropped the price just to get the eyesore off his property. I told him I was going to sell organic produce, and he wished me luck and shook his head. He told me he knew a farmer who had property for rent in Linkwood on Route 50. I had driven past the dreamy little red cabin with the white porch and cutesy tin roof. I called him as soon as I got home and jumped on the deal: $150 a month.

The farm stand needed work, and my friends were there to help. We replaced rotted wood and scrubbed and painted. We mounted shelves and baskets bought to hold the produce. The final touch was installing the five green-and-white-striped panels that lifted up on three sides to look like old-time awnings. One friend designed the sign; another painted it. “Gail’s Kale” was born with the stroke of a brush.

By then, I realized I knew nothing about the produce business. But, you must realize, I am also the idiot who moved here not knowing anybody in the area. Challenges, I’ve learned, are simply things you don’t realize are going to be challenges until it’s too late. I spent hours on the phone, calling everybody who, it seems, had ever grown, sold, or eaten an organic tomato. I finally lined up a few local growers and one wholesaler to provide produce that wasn’t in season here. The only problem was, I had to buy nearly $500 worth of produce to insure delivery from New Jersey—and I had no customer base as yet.

I opened my doors on Mother’s Day weekend. Produce overflowed the shelves and plants and flowers surrounded it. It was so pretty. And lo’ and behold, cars stopped! People (almost all beach-goers) were thrilled to see organic produce, including such exotic veggies as tatsoi, pac choi, and Asian greens. Inside the cabin, I sold other organic goodies: dog biscuits, creams, candles, and teas. My landlord was also busy; he was planting corn around Gail’s Kale. Ah, nature at work.

But within five days I was tossing out wilted spinach, brown lettuce, and withered asparagus. Despite all the ice I packed around the produce, its shelf life was way shorter than my line of customers. I bought a second refrigerator. A month went by and so did most of the traffic. The fourth huge delivery was dropped off from New Jersey. I packed the cases of perishables into the refrigerators, congratulating myself on finishing before a violent storm rolled in. I went home and returned the next day to find the cabin flooded and the electricity short-circuited. Most of the produce had spoiled in the steamy refrigerators. My tears joined the continuing downpour.

But I wasn’t done. I pulled up my big girl socks and continued onward.

I worked a deal with the wholesaler so I could buy less produce. Local growers worked with me to keep me afloat. But finding produce was always difficult, especially during what I called the “Squash Wars.” I unwittingly bought from one grower until his crop was depleted. Then I went to another one, who refused to sell to me because he had heard via the organic grapevine that I had bought from his arch enemy. Who knew the veggie biz was so cutthroat?

Then there was the problem of the corn. I watched it grow in my landlord’s field until it dwarfed my farm stand, blocking it from view of passing cars. I solved that problem by putting a sign on the adjacent property announcing “Gail’s Kale Ahead.”

Almost all the neighboring businesses wanted me to succeed and made up the majority of non-beach traffic that supported me. With better signage, more people started stopping. One day, a woman and her five-year-old son stopped on their way back from Ocean City. He scampered out of the car while she checked out my organically homegrown romaine lettuce. I was bagging it when we both turned to look for her son. He was peeing on my landlord’s corn. She was horribly embarrassed; I gave him an apple.

Of course, not everyone warmed to the idea of these pricey products. One sunny afternoon, I, with a disposition to match, walked out to greet a trucker pulling an eighteen-wheeler. He picked up an ear of corn, tore back its silks, and took a bite. He smacked his lips and asked for two dozen ears. I loaded up a couple of bags, handed them to him, and asked for $24. He angrily shoved the bags back at me and wordlessly climbed into his truck. I looked into the bag and saw the teeth marks he had left behind. As he pulled away, I threw the ear of corn after him, grinning as it hit his bumper.

The summer dragged on. I had never worked so hard for so little money. I broke even, but the thrill was gone. Supermarkets were selling packaged organic produce and undercutting my prices. Not enough people cared that my plump heirloom tomatoes and succulent peaches were fresh and local. A few organic growers talked about shutting down their operations because it was so difficult to reap any profits.

Thankfully, the dog days of August gave way to Labor Day, which marked the end of the season. My repeat customers and growers asked me to stay open. Instead, I was counting the dwindling minutes of my final day in business, which gave me a chance to reflect on my summer’s endeavor.

Farm stands started out as a way for farmers to sell their products directly to the public. One of the most frequent questions I was asked was, “Do you grow this yourself?” I would explain I was the middleman, a fairly untenable position I learned over the course of the summer. When I wasn’t selling produce, I was looking for it. My prices weren’t as low as I would have liked them to be. But I took on a totally unknown business and survived. Of course, I had hoped to do more. Yet despite all the negatives, I am glad I did it. I met some lovely people and learned how to solve problems, albeit, most of my own making.

As the sun was setting, some friends arrived with champagne for the wake. I closed the striped awnings on Gail’s Kale for the last time. Then I raised my glass to the heavens and swore, “As God is my witness, I’ll never run a farm stand again.” nCL

Freelance writer Gail Buchalter continues to purchase organic vegetables—but only for herself.

Stratford Hall
483 Great House Rd.
Stratford, Va.
804-493-8038, http://www.stratfordhall.org

Cheek or Astor guesthouse:
singles, $112 per night; doubles $122 per night

True, Stratford is the birthplace of robert E. Lee. But pecuniary setbacks forced his father to transplant the family to Alexandria before he turned four, and, as far as anybody knows, he never darkened its doorstep again.

Stratford better reflects its secondary sobriquet, “Home of the Lees of Virginia,” where four generations of the patrician family dwelled.

Stratford was built circa 1738 by Thomas Lee, a governor of Virginia colony and father of two Declaration of Independence signers. Thomas’s granddaughter Matilda inherited Stratford and married her cousin Major General Henry “Light Horse Harry” Lee III. When she died eight years into the marriage, her will allowed Light Horse Harry to remain at Stratford. He later married Ann Hill Carter, and Robert, born on January 19, 1807, was the fifth of their six children.

Situated on the Potomac side of Virginia’s Northern Neck, the approx-imately 1,600-acre plantation evolved into a self-sufficient “towne in itself,” according to one early visitor, a plantation for tobacco, at first, edible crops when that exhausted the land, and a port-of-call for deep-draft trading ships from England.

Stratford has enough going for it to accommodate two-day sojourns—one to tour the Great House and environs and one to explore its seven nature trails.

I began Day One with the forty-five-minute guided tour of the sixteen-room Great House, beginning in the Great Hall, named as much for its size as its great views of the Potomac to the north and open farmland to the south. High up its walls, above a set of closets that held the library and a mahogany tilt-top tea table owned by one of Thomas’s granddaughters, photographic copies of Thomas, his father, and his grandfather gaze across the room at their respective spouses.

Down East Passage, I peaked into the elegant chamber, where Robert E. Lee was born. The room displays a Thomas Sully portrait of a strikingly contemporary Julia Calvert Stuart, later a bridesmaid at the wedding of Robert and Mary Custis. The adjoining nursery was the setting for the only bona fide Robert-E.-Lee-at-Stratford anecdote. “On the back wall of the fireplace are two angels, one on each side,” says tour guide Rita Wagstaff. “When the family was ready to leave Stratford, they couldn’t find Robert. They finally found him in the nursery, kneeling down in front of the fireplace. He did not want to leave Stratford until he said good-bye to his guardian angels.”

Directly across the passage, the dining room looks like the Lees had just concluded one of their many formal feasts, with Queen Anne chairs around a table set with flat silver with pistol-handled knives. An archway added by Light Horse Harry accesses the Cherry Tree Room, where the family retired for postprandial coffee, tea, and port.

Down West Passage, the parlor (a.k.a. drawing room), where the family entertained, contains a secretary-bookcase owned by the family of Robert’s mother-in-law and a portrait attributed to Gilbert Stuart of Light Horse Harry. Light Horse Harry’s weathered dispatch case and post Revolutionary War battlefield desk grace the library where the men folk gathered to smoke, drink, and gamble.

In the Stetson Reception Center, beside the parking lot, a section called “The Lees of Stratford” provides memorabilia and back story on the Lee clan. The “Preserving Stratford” section details the various stages of the plantation’s renovation, with one case displaying renderings of Robert over the years—drawings, Mathew Brady photographs, and even a lock from the mane of Lee’s storied steed, Traveller.

Next morning, I began my exploration of the grounds along the road to the sheer, yellow cliffs that originally attracted Thomas Lee here in 1717. Rising out of the Potomac, the cliffs consist of compacted sea matter formed during the Miocene era that exists in only three other places in the world (the Los Angeles Basin, Austria, and Belgium). I took the .6-mile Mill Pond Trail along the top of the bluff where a helpful trailside sign identified local trees and shrubs and explained their eighteenth-century uses (e.g., Eastern red cedar: chests, cigar boxes; Sweet bay: beaver bait). It led to the site of the wharf (now a beach) where English ships swapped manufactured goods for tobacco and other crops. Just offshore on the old tobacco rolling road, an eighteenth-century mill rebuilt in 1939 on its original foundation grinds wheat and corn for products sold in the plantation store.

On the way back, I ventured on the .5-mile Silver Beech Trail, a cliff-side path through ravines steep enough to require stairways with rope banisters.
It connects to the more placid .8-mile Little Meadow Trail that ends up at a couple reconstructed spring houses that apparently made a strong impression on a three-year-old Robert E. Lee. Writing in 1861 to a daughter who had just visited Stratford, Lee said, “You did not mention the spring house, one of the objects of my earliest recollections.”

The fifteen-room Cheek House, where I stayed, was built in the 1970s to house participants in annual history teachers’ seminars. My king room (twin doubles are also available) was chain-motel comfortable but a bit characterless—except for the series of drawings “The Four Seasons of the Confederacy” outside the door. Astor House, a more rustic log cabin, has five guest rooms and a living room with an irresistible fireplace.

Stratford’s log cabin dining room serves lunch indoors in a bright space with colonial-style furniture and real-wood fireplace and, during good weather, on a screened porch. The Southern-accented menu features theme sandwiches such as General’s Barbecue (pulled pork)