UPSTATE NEW YORK

UPSTATE NEW YORK - GROTON, “ITHICKA”, AURORA & SKANEATELES

July 2013

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ROLE PLAYING AT THE WILLY WONKA FACTORY OTHERWISE KNOWN AS THE BENN CONGER INN

There is nothing quite like driving at 3 a.m. in a late rush to catch an early morning flight out of SFO and seeing those flashing police lights come out of nowhere behind you, the only car on that stretch of the dark freeway, to ruin all of that “good time” you were making.  Rather than publicly embarrassing myself here, I’ll just say that the very kind policeman actually let me go with a warning to slow down.  The interesting thing is, I actually did slow down – more so than if he gave me a ticket and perhaps ever before in my life.  Personally I think he should get an award for a “job well done” because it worked in terms of me obeying the law, which is the real reason they are there and not just for revenue generation.

If this was one of the limited perks of being a woman, I will take it!  However, I wonder if he assumed my “last minute flight” was for a death of a relative or friend.  In reality it was mostly because I didn’t think I could afford it.  My impromptu Fresno road trip created some serious travel inspiration and, after looking again for flights, this time with mileage, I found a good deal.  I confirmed with Peter and Doug, friends I know from Costa Rica, that their invite to visit them in upstate New York was still open.  Tim and Burt, other friends I know from Costa Rica, were to be there as well, and we decided to surprise them with my visit with some “waitress in training” role playing.  Within a few hours a flight was booked from San Francisco to Ithaca, NY and in 48 hours I was en route. 

Despite going the speed limit most of the way to SFO, I actually made decent time.  I wasn’t sure how getting pulled over set the tone for my last minute flight, but going through the security checkpoint I see a guy wearing a T-shirt that said:

SILENCE IS GOLDEN

DUCK TAPE IS SILVER

I suddenly smiled and, remembering who I was visiting, felt this was going to be a great trip. 

Peter and Doug assisted with procuring a wig for me to aid in my surprising Tim and Burt and are the kind of hosts that are not only picking me up from the airport, but ask if I want anything for the 10 minute ride to the Benn Conger Inn they own in Groton, like a frozen cosmo pop?  Is that possible? I am told they are like the Willy Wonka Factory - making dreams a reality. 

My delayed flight in Newark magically transports me to an Irish Guinness Pub where I have a Johnny Walker to keep with the Irish theme and all.  I leave after one shot only to find out my flight is delayed again.  I go back to the pub and the bartender asks me if I want “the usual” and I can feel all these men staring at me.  I feel obligated to make a public announcement that I was just in there and my flight was delayed again.  Geez, guys!  I end up joking around with the bartender and a few patrons, one an older business man who decides to hit on me.  Luckily my flight is scheduled for take-off and I make my escape from that oddly enticing Southern chivalry I’m pretty sure is twice my age.

The plane from Newark to Ithaca is a small, dual-propeller plane with a good-looking, sarcastic, gay flight attendant that has me and another guy across the aisle cracking up.  His deadpan tone of voice, filled with bored pauses and sarcasm is hilarious for some of us.  We pay more attention than if it was the same type of recital you get on many planes and laugh when he says things like, “open the emergency packet in front of you and pretend to follow along”.  A small crack of a smile makes this flight attendant more endearing. 

I arrive in Ithaca a little intoxicated, a little tired, but thoroughly amused and happy to see my lovely friend Peter, blue eyes sparkling mischief above his smile.  He tells me how many times I have come up in conversation with Tim and Burt, who still have no idea I am coming, and we briefly run down how they are going to sneak me inside.

Before I know it, I am told to kiss carpet in the car with a jacket thrown over my head.  I feel like a strange combination between a movie star and a criminal.  I am ushered into the kitchen and their cosmetologist/waitress fits me with a blonde wig, my customary hair flower and glasses removed to help obscure my identity.  I am given a “mangotini” to sip backstage in wait, an apron, and a pad to take Tim and Burt’s order at dinner.  I follow behind Andrea who takes the lead and introduces herself and “Peggy Sue”, the slightly intoxicated “trainee” with bad blonde hair who can barely see anything without her glasses.

 

I take their drink orders and when Burt orders a glass of red wine, I quickly say in a less than perfect Southern accent, “I’m sorry, we don’t have any red wine.  We only have beer.”  He seems confused and there are exchanged glances and some amusement.  Eventually Burt says something about me looking like Naomi and I am unable to contain the ruse any longer.  Burt confesses his thoughts about my “really bad hair” and we hug our hellos, sharing the first of what will be many laughs throughout our stay at the Benn Conger Inn. 

 

At dinner we were treated to the fantastic creations of guest chef Diego from Costa Rica.  An appetizer of fried olives in a cocktail sauce was delivered in a cocktail glass with elongated crunchy decorations bursting forth.  I had the pork tenderloin with mango chutney accompanied with sweet corn, embellishments on top, the best plantains I’ve ever had, and eggplant.  Every dessert option made my mouth water but I ended up being a good girl and choosing just one – the key lime pie.  

Diego also did some wonderful presentations such as an apple shaped like a swan and a lemon in the shape of a turtle for Karen.  The staff was friendly and the dining experience was intimate and cozy – a reason why Carl and Karen are regulars and come to the Benn Conger Inn on a weekly basis for dinner.

Peter gave me a personal tour of the main house and allowed me to slowly absorb the colours, decorations, trinkets, and history of the house, including a few ghost stories.  These were expanded upon when we all sat in the bar area of the house lounging after the fine meal, much to everyone’s interest including my own.  I must admit I like hearing about ghost and psychic stories - who saw what occurrence and where.   I didn’t realize how much the stories affected me though until one of the last nights I was there and David, who came a couple of days later, left to go back to his room at the other house across the way.  We were absorbed in conversation at the bar and a decent chunk of time had elapsed before David, having forgotten something, wandered back inside with a glass of wine floating in his hand.  I was so startled with my first thought being “ghost” that I let out a little scream, which in turn scared Peter.  My small scream (you don’t want to hear my loud one) was followed by laughter, but that little fright was like a defibrillator strike to my heart paralyzing me for a moment sans the critical “CLEAR!”

My "Ghost" Self-Portrait With Benn Conger

 

My room was also located in the adjacent house and was lovely.  A large Jacuzzi tub is situated inside the room and allows one to watch a movie or TV while enjoying relaxing jets of water.  The bed was very comfortable although when I first saw how high it was I joked about vaulting into it like a gymnast.  I grew to adore this room and the cozy atmosphere of the adjacent house where other guests stay yet it retains a feeling of privacy. 

 

 

 

WATERFALLS AND SICK KITTIES

 

The following day, I woke up late easing into the day with café con leche, and enjoyed walking the grounds taking pictures of squirrels, spiders, mushrooms, and playing with my poi near the picturesque gazebo. Tim, a veterinarian, finished the lectures he was attending at Cornell University early.  Tim and Burt arrived back at the Inn and we decided to go to Fillmore Glenn Park to see one of the waterfalls that makes Ithaca and surrounding areas “gorges”.  We took a beautiful walk for about a couple of miles round trip then, wanting to see a waterfall, drove to another area which had a short walk to water with a mirror reflection of sky and trees and a little waterfall. 

 

The next day I ran errands with Doug in the afternoon and ended up at The Dollar Tree where my inner child came out to play buying stickers, a gag roll of non-tearing toilet paper for some unlucky person, a box of crayons, a colouring book, and other such oddities.  I jokingly asked the clerk for a price check on the items but when she said, “This is a dollar, this is a dollar, this is a dollar,” I couldn’t tell if she had taken me seriously or was just bored by that joke. 

Back at the Inn, I hung out at the bar with Peter and sipped on one of my newest favourite beverages, Crave Chocolate Chili Liqueur. Peter and I coloured two pages of kitties in the colouring book and pretended they had various illnesses for Tim to diagnose (his Cornell lectures were on felines).  We had great fun inventing illnesses, bantering back and forth, and of course laughing.  I was a little disappointed to find we were unable to light a crayon to use as a candle like I had seen in a Facebook posting.  I’m not sure if it was because they were a cheaper version or what, but they only melted, which served our deranged purposes just fine.  Tim later did an amazing job diagnosing the sick kitties much to our amusement.

 

One night, Peter and Doug were working so Burt, Tim and I played and ate while they worked.  It was unfair, I know.  Diego made special “boats” out of pineapple or watermelon for the shrimp tempura that we each had.  The salad was circular; sliced cucumber enclosing greens with tasty vinaigrette.  For dessert we each had the cheesecake but Diego added a unique and special touch for each one.  For mine, he cut up the strawberries in the shape of hearts and drizzled chocolate sauce on them artistically.  “Unfortunately”, mine got covered in gobs of whipped cream before I could take a proper picture of the arrangement, but it was worth it.

 

 

A ROLL IN THE HAY

On Sunday we all did a little touring of the area with Peter and Doug. We did some wine tasting at Hearts and Hands Winery then visited MacKenzie-Childs.  I was concerned I would like something so much I would buy it but escaped unscathed.  While I did very much like some of the pieces, especially the Alice in Wonderland style cups and saucers, the price tags felt more in alignment with the brand name than the actual product and some of the designs all in close proximity looked like they might induce an epileptic seizure.  Peter, Doug and Burt participated in a tour and, upon starting, the tour guide promptly locked everyone else out, including Tim and I.  Luckily I was content to wander around and enjoy the gardens with Tim, which were perhaps my favourite part. 

 

Stopping off at the Aurora Inn for lunch, I had a mimosa and the eggs benedict I had been craving that I missed one morning on Diego’s breakfast menu.  I know - what an idiot I was to have missed that!

 

We also wandered around an antique shop in Aurora before heading towards another winery for another round of wine tasting.  Along the way I see these beautiful fields with rolls of hay in cylindrical shapes scattered across and I suddenly have the irresistible urge to climb on one.  Peter and Doug indulge my haystack fantasies and stop the car so I can play and take photographs.  Here is a short clip of my terrible slow-motion vaulting skills even with Tim’s kind assistance: http://youtu.be/JCm32mzsk3o

 

 

I don’t know if it was the quick roll in the hay with the boys or a progression of my natural silliness, but at the King Ferry Winery I shamelessly flirted with a man named Conner who conducted the tasting, much to everyone’s amusement.  I ended up purchasing some delicious ice wine and, at Peter’s suggestion, left my phone number on the receipt.

 

Back at the Inn, we all lounged in the bar area sipping cocktails and waiting for the arrival of more Costa Rican friends.  David arrived first followed by Thomas and Barry. Doug, an excellent host, ensured a cocktail was ready for Thomas.  I had met David briefly in Costa Rica where we had a nice chat on the rooftop of Gaia, but it was nice to meet him more formally and get to know him better as well as Thomas and Barry.

We all had an amazing and lovely dinner which Peter made for everyone on short notice.  The food was delicious and I was impressed with Peter’s ability to effortlessly put together what would have taken me a week to prepare.  The heartfelt and intimate conversations and shared stories interspersed with laughter made it an evening to remember.  One realizes at such times that simple ingredients such as good friends, food, wine, and laughter are what make life beautiful. 

 

 

HOW MANY DIRTY MARTINIS DOES IT TAKE NAOMI TO TRY ESCARGOT OR SWEETBREADS?

Our final full day with everyone together was spent doing more sightseeing, this time in Skaneateles, or “Skinnyappolis” as I like to call it.  We had some lunch and I couldn’t decide between the clam chowder and the French onion soup so, in true Naomi form, I got both.  We then boarded a boat for a tour of Skaneateles Lake, which means “long lake” in one of the local Iroquoian languages and is one of the cleanest of the Finger Lakes in New York.  The boat tour was pleasant and relaxing, the idyllic journey narrated like an episode of The Rich and Famous, albeit with a slightly mundane, bored voice lacking the enthusiasm and posh accent of the other narrator.  Seeing fancy boathouses larger than most people’s regular homes with stunning houses in the background, often with matching architecture and manicured lawns, was impressive as far as opulence and wealth generally is, although sighting a goose meandering across one of the mansion’s lawns brought things back to idyllic and made me smile. 

 

 

We all wandered around the charming town of Skaneateles doing the kind of slow shopping tourists excel in before heading to an incredible French restaurant called Joelle’s.  We sat outside on the terrace sipping dirty martinis and listening to one of the owners chat until rain ushered everyone inside to a cozy sitting area where we met an adorable dog sporting a sailor outfit and, other than that, seemed to be all made of floppy ears and sweet, wide eyes.  We took our turns praising, petting, and passing doggy around while chatting before heading into the dining room area to be seated.  Later, when Peter was taking me back to the airport I couldn’t remember the dog’s name and said, “Missy something…” to which he replied, “Missy Persons” making me laugh for the millionth time in New York.

 

 

 

This was, yet another, incredible dinner – the French really do know how to cook!  The menu had many mouth-watering options and a few…well…French options, such as escargot and sweetbreads.  Peter asked me if I had ever had sweetbreads before and I said no. The thought of certain foods just make me a little nauseated and in this way, I am not as adventurous as some.  Reviewing the slightly blurry menu, I tried to gauge how many martinis I would need to try either of those things and couldn’t decide, so I “settled” on the pasta with a mushroom sauce.  It was so savory and delicious that I suspect one additional dirty martini would have had me unabashedly licking the plate.  

 

Mid-stream in mushroom euphoria (and yes, it was that exquisite!), Peter says, “Here, try this” across the table from me and reaches a fork over the table in my direction.  In my euphoric state, I lean into the table taking his fork into my mouth, closing my eyes, and taste.  He asks me how I like it and I tell him how wonderful it is.  Then he tells me it is sweetbreads.  I swear I knew he ordered it at one point, but had completely forgotten.  My mind suddenly became like the paradoxical cube, flipping from the thought that the idea of sweetbreads makes me want to puke to the thought that what I just had was hands-down delicious.  Flip flop; puke.  Flip flop; delicious.  I also flip flop between the thought of being angry at being tricked and the thought that I am happy I was duped. It was a very confusing experience!  I mean, how many dirty martinis DOES it take to try sweetbreads or escargot or anything else you might have an aversion to? 

Apparently, the answer is Peter.

***A VERY special thanks to Peter and Doug for opening up The Benn Conger Inn to not only me, but all of these amazing people I feel lucky to have met and know.  They are truly the most gracious hosts, but more importantly, some of the most kind-hearted, funny people I know.  Muchas, muchas, gracias, amigos!  Thank you also to Tim, Burt, David, Thomas, Barry, and Diego for making it such a special experience.  Cynthia, sorry I missed seeing you this go-around.  All, I cannot *wait* for the next visit in Costa Rica!