I feel like I’ve been to all these woodsy mountain regions in the Northeast. You got your Poconos. And your Adirondacks. And now we have these things called The Berkshires. It’s kind of New York, but also Massachusetts. I wasn’t sure what to expect as we rolled up the Hudson, stopping in some towns that just absolutely slapped along the way.
Our first stop was in Beacon, NY. It’s as if someone took Brooklyn, added a bunch of hippies and shook the whole thing up to create the most adorable version of Williamsburg any hipster could have ever dreamt up. We’d been here before to see the incredibly weird Dia: Beacon museum that included such works of art as Completely White Canvas On a Wall and Realtime Stagnate Video Footage of Some Dude’s Basement. It was inspiring, infuriating and perplexing all at the same time. We skipped that show this time. We also did a distillery tour and tasting at Denning’s Point Distillery last time. You can see the very cool bottle of bourbon I bought right here. That was cool, but I’m too old now to swill whiskey and then get in a car to drive for a couple hours down twisty roads. So we just hit up the local Palestinian joint, as one does, for lunch. Ziatun is a tiny cafe in the middle of town. We sat on the sidewalk while I unlearned my haftarah and one quarter of Ms. Hipster reveled in the fact there is literally a soda brand served there called Drink Palestina. And to think how often my mother tells me how bad Coke Zero is for me! That said, my chicken shawarma wrap with za’atar fries was delicious and absolutely way too much food (when also paired with some humus and pita mezze). My salt intake in that meal alone sent me to my non-existent cardiologist to beg forgiveness.
We drove on to another town, Red Hook, NY, that was as filled with as many rainbows as a box of Lucky Charms. A common theme throughout our weekend trip that made it feel distinctly different than our other northeastern mountain visits. Less Punisher, more Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn. Less vaguely Nazi tattoos and Harleys, more blobby sea creatures and Subarus. You get the gist; it felt like home. Speaking of, we stopped for some coffee and a snack at a crunchy coffeehouse type joint called Taste Budd’s Cafe. The coffee was good. The place has probably seen at least 1,000 acoustic guitars murdered playing Joni Mitchell and Brandi Carlile. There was also one of those shops across the street owned by a proper-looking, middle-aged woman reading a book behind a counter that is lovingly adorned with three scarves, different flavors of essential oils and some overpriced journaling accessories. You know the place.
We kept driving until we [barely] crossed over from NY to Mass. Finally arriving at our house in Egremont, MA. Sans Jrs we didn’t need the palatial estate we normally rent on lakes and wooded areas and instead chose a humble little hippie chalet in the woods. It didn’t have a TV, but it had a freestanding sauna in the basement (that you got to through a hatch in the floor). Because, why? It was what Hipster Grandparents would call “funky.” They’re old. Without food, and being in the middle of the woods, we drove to the Big Y World Class Market in Great Barrington to scrounge some grub. I’ve definitely never been to a Big Y before. It actually was pretty big. The Y, though, I have no idea. We wandered the isles and ended up with a gross smorgasbord of cheese, crackers, cookies, chips, hummus, pita chips and some other garbage. It was food. It was dinner. We brought it back to the house and sat my laptop on the table while we grazed watching an episode of somethingorother. Life is stupid without a TV.
The next day we woke up, hung out and drove to get some coffee and breakfast at a joint called Harmony Market about a half mile away. It’s a nice little country market cafe with an owner who loves to chat and serve regulars and weekenders alike. They make breakfast sandwiches and sandwich sandwiches, but we just got a couple pastries and some coffee because it just felt right.
Once we digested and let the caffeine take effect we set out for our big hike. Because we’re in The Berkshires, dammit! And they deserve to be hiked. We found something called Jug End State Reservation and Wildlife Management Area. I can confidently say that there was absolutely no wildlife. Barely even a bird or squirrel. But apparently it’s part of the Appalachian trail, which is very cool. It’s my first time. Ms. Hipster has some app called AllTrails that kinda sorta told us where to go, which was very helpful. I think the trail we took was “moderate.” Which scares the crap out of me because it was not particularly easy. There was some rock hopping and climbing and grappling. Not the terrible Yosemite switch-backs of my youth. It’s actually a really pleasant and quintessential-feeling woodsy hike. And it all makes it worth it when you get to rest at the summit. Pretty sweet.
And what does one do after hiking their faces off? Eat, of course! Well, first you go home and change out of your dumb boots so you don’t look like a yokel. But then you go to lunch. And, honestly, the only populated area in this region of The Berkshires is Great Barrington. We parked and walked by the 27 dispensaries and coffee beaneries that are actually dispensaries and restaurants that only serve shit with THC baked into it… The point is, Massachusetts hippie-adjacent towns take their weed seriously. And they have your usual tourist stores with fourteen different kinds of handmade serving bowls and lovely teak salad scooping spoons. But more than the hemp-hewn bags, the old-school hardware store and the requisite candy shop, there are a bunch of restaurants.
We honestly didn’t do a ton of research, but ran across a smattering of the eateries after settling on GB Eats. It’s a straight-up cafe. The type of joint where you’d definitely get an omelette and coffee with some nice toast. But it was too late in the day (we had a big hike, after all) to do anything other than lunch. Our incredibly upbeat server — young-ish nose-ringed and tattooed just as she should be — answered our dumb questions and led me to a Berkshire melt and Ms. Hipster to a crab cake po boy. And, look, I don’t know if it was the hike or what, but that sandwich was incredible. And because it was merely fresh mozzarella, tomato, avocado, with basil pesto on grilled Berkshire Mountain Bakery Sourdough, I could pretend to every hipster in there that I was a vegetarian. I totally ruined that at dinner, but for the moment, I was soooo cool. Ms. Hipster enjoyed her sandwich as well.
We did a little more walking until we found ourselves at The Emporium. Because adults alone for a weekend of a certain age cannot resist antiquing. We’re cliches. But we’re also looking for a large antique mirror for our kitchen. This joint, like others we visited, had more old LPs than I possibly had the patience to search through. Box after box, some sorted some not. I just couldn’t do it, so I walked away. But there were a ton of frames that could work for us. So, the nice brothers, whom I assume own/run the place, kind of looked at each other when we asked what things cost and they basically pulled the prices out of their asses. Or, in some cases, just basically said they didn’t know. Not exactly the best sales practice. Don’t put shit out on the floor that you’re not ready to sell. But, again, they were nice dudes. Anyhow, we walked out with something, so I suppose they’re sneaky good at sales. Especially to rubes like us who will love to tell people who come to our place the story behind the giant mirror we bought on our weekend excursion to The Berkshires. We’re such middle-aged white people. So white that we actually got back in the car and drove to another antique store weirdly named Antiques Center and All That Jazz. Once again, sooo many records. This is one of those booth places where each booth is owned by a different dealer, but I kept seeing the same records by the same bands in different stalls. I don’t think it’s because everyone in Massachusetts listens to the same shitty 70s and 80s music. Or maybe they do. I think Ms. Hipster bought a ceramic chicken. But otherwise we spent a long time walking around, killing time before our next meal.
But in order to kill more time, we stopped to drink. Yeah, man, we can’t go on one of these trips and not go to a distillery. So, we headed over to Berkshire Mountain Distillers. A pleasant farm-like experience, we chose some whiskeys to taste and took a seat outside. The tasting was inexpensive and the folks working there are super pleasant. They apparently make a lot of gin, however, which you couldn’t pay me enough to try. They also do these funky craft brewery cross-promotional whiskies. I think they’re whiskey made from beer somehow? Like they have a Sam Adams Boston Lager whiskey. We tried a stout one. It was… interesting. Otherwise we tried their variety of bourbons and one rum. It was a nice hang, and we came home with their lovely Smoke and Peet bourbon.
Time to head back to the cottage to sleep off the booze before the anniversary dinner at a joint called Cafe Adam in Great Barrington. Aside from the fact that name is somewhat meaningful to me, their menu read “fancy,” or at least more fancy than some of the other places in the region. It turned out to be a great mix of casual and gourmet. There were people on dates on either side of us. One of them ended in the woman sneakily paying the bill (in a good way) to surprise her date. Or something. And the other, on my right, ended in tears. It went from two ladies talking about school politics and ended in awkward, tear-filled silence. Good food and drama! Anyhow, I went with some fried Roman artichokes with aioli and pecorino for a starter. I had no idea what I was in for, but them little shits is good! It’s like earthy, but vegetarian, calamari fritti. Good stuff. I did a baby clam linguine for my main, which was simple and tasty. The whole vibe was good. And then they dropped the “happy anniversary” dessert, which was some insane thing called a banana Napoleon. Which is exactly what it sounds like, but is like a filo, whipped cream, banana and caramel stack of craziness. Totally up my alley. A nice night to finish off a short weekend getaway.
We woke up the next morning, hit up Harmony Market again and got on the road home. Because, you know, there’s football to watch and a couch to sit on.
