19 minute read
Peters Valley booth guide
Simple Life–Simple Food
What is it about going home that rekindles the soul and stirs up places in the heart that exist, for the most part, in quiet slumber? This is the proverbial question that presents itself each time I drive to my hometown, Milford, PA.
What awakens these dormant recollections? Well, for starters, family, old friends, and mini-breaks to the still-standing, still-flourishing outposts of childhood, places that have stood their own tests of time—businesses, special landmarks, recreational areas—progressing through times of change and yet holding fast to the formula that made them great since they began. No easy task.
I grew up in the pre-fast food era, where mom-and-pop shops flourished, personal service was at its height (the customer really was “king”), and locally produced, seasonal food was the norm. Among the multitude of quaint shops lining the two main streets of Milford, as well as a few in the neighboring towns of Matamoras and Port Jervis, NY, were a sprinkling of food establishments that had been operating since I was a child, over 60 years ago. Although most of these, for instance, Elmer’s Coffee Shop on Broad Street, where my brother and I could get a full dinner on Friday nights for under $5, today only exist on the pages of several subsequently-published county historical “gems of” books, the few that remain are worth mentioning. This article will focus on just one establishment I’ve had the pleasure of revisiting dozens of times more recently: Len & Jo’s Pizzeria. This restaurant was, and still is, a one-of-a-kind pizza house that has rightfully drawn a loyal following of die-hard beer-crust eating, rectangularshaped pizza lovers, stretching back to the early 1960s. Its reputation has survived, spanning later generations, due to its unique and consistently delicious pizza pies, becoming locally known for familiar, simple, one-of-akind comfort food.
Rumor has it that the success of Len & Jo’s pizza lays in its secrets, well, in this case, just one secret: its pizza dough recipe. Their unique rectangular-shaped pies consist of a signature marinara sauce poured sparingly over a mysteriously concocted, homemade beer-infused dough. Sounds simple enough? Anyone could do it at home? The answer is that many have tried.
When the do-it-yourself at-home chefs realized the elusiveness of the secret, it propelled them into a frenzied endeavor to master this mysterious blend of beer, flour, salt, and oil. Whatever was their motive? I wonder. To make it at home and save themselves the trip, to open up their own Len & Jo’s under a pseudonym, or just because they thought they could? Continued on next page
Photo by Keaton Sheehan
As a child, I listened intently while my parents and their friends debated ingredients and argued production methods over drinks and canapes on a summer’s day, stimulating culinary exchanges between would-be alchemists and weekend gourmet warriors alike. Shoutouts such as, “It’s the beer in the dough!” “No, it’s the brand of tomatoes!” rang out. If all else failed, then, “Well, it’s probably just the rectangularshaped pans, Peg,” would be the last concession.
For decades, multitudes of amateur cooks had their go at it, but in the end, the best level the most persistent imitators could hope to acquire would be something painfully “close” to the original taste, never fully hitting the mark. (Close, but no cigar.) Even my own mom, a seasoned cook herself, had to bow to the humble ranks of those forever in awe of this unconquerable recipe. (And thus, a forever customer.)
So, when my sister and I visited Len & Jo's one weekday last summer, at exactly opening time, it was with the expectation of something grand awaiting us inside.
We had just come off the Delaware River from a day of kayaking and had our appetites in tow. Entering at the front put us smack in the bar, a room we’d never been allowed to enter through growing up. But here we were 50 years later in the forbidden bar, and not without a tinge of nostalgic naughtiness, I’ll admit. (Even as an adult, standing in a bar at 4 in the afternoon still carries a similar tinge for me.)
Whatever our faded memories were, we soon realized that this old-time bar and restaurant didn’t seem to have received a single upgrade in the past 50 years. But instead of being put off by that, quite the contrary, we found it charming in a way that watching a classic movie in a comfortable living room would be. The initial sense of being an outsider gave way to a familiarity from all those years of coming here with my family and friends, all the smells and memories bundled up into one single treasure.
“Shall we have a beer at the bar while we wait for our pie to be ready?” I asked my sister. I could see the daring challenge in her eyes—that we would partake of an alcoholic beverage on a Tuesday afternoon in a previously off-limits bar before dusk. Suddenly, we were underage teenagers, trying to sneak a drink where we weren’t supposed to. “Sure!” she easily replied.
We ordered our respective beers and with each sip could feel the place’s history drawing us back to our past. We observed our surroundings as the locals came and went— an older couple stopping by to collect their steaming hot pie, a sprinkling of blue-collar workers popping in for a quick draft before heading home for the evening, just like in the old days.
“People still have time for that here?” I questioned my sister. “I thought these types of saloons had fallen out of fashion, replaced by modern, impersonal joints where bartenders and customers remain anonymous, no connections made.”
Here, on the contrary, customers were on a first-name basis, enjoying the offering of familiarity and belonging. These customers were people living and working in this neighborhood most of their lives. They’d breeze in and out like it was a second home and the bartender a relative or good friend.
They could count on being greeted warmly, and he knew what they like to drink, how they drink it, how much they’ll drink, and most likely just about everything about their personal lives. (What they don’t tell him, gossip will!)
My sister and I reminisced about our many outings here, going back to before we were teenagers. As we peered into the restaurant area from our bar stools, we could see the eating area, unchanged from 50 years ago: the same wood-paneled walls; the same small windows with pleated, country curtains above the same vinyl booths; the same opening in the wall for waitresses to yell drink orders to the bartender. The only visible change was an addition in the rear of the restaurant to accommodate more customers, and the old jukebox had been replaced. Even the neon “OPEN” sign in the window at the bar entrance seemed to be the original.
From our viewpoint, we could see the very tables that my family had once occupied with our friends. There would be eight of us, including my mom’s friend Annette and her two sons, who would descend on the food like a pair of hungry wolverines, diving into the pizza before anyone else had a turn and scarfing up any remaining pieces without asking. No big deal, boys, except everyone else wanted those last pieces! Good times. The recollection continued of biting into the steaming hot rectangular slices when the flavors of the dough, sauce, and cheese melded together, shocking and satisfying the taste buds at the same sudden moment. It is a deliciousness that goes through the mouth straight to the heart, before you can say, “Ouch, that was hot!”
We all drank sodas with our pizza then, the old sort: cream, orange, ginger ale, or cherry coke, with free refills. The place had quite an extensive Italian menu, but I don’t believe we ever paid it much attention, for to visit Len & Jo’s without ordering our usual pizza was, well, an impiety.
As my sister and I sipped our beers and chatted, we connected the present with the precious years of childhood. A eureka moment flashed by: So, in this microcosmic corner of the world in Port Jervis, NY, a place seemingly frozen in time, has this lifestyle been moseying on uninterrupted over the past 50+ years? Has this little movie been playing on the whole time with no commercial interruptions? And, indeed, the feeling of being here was very much like watching a classic film, if one is lucky enough to find a place to be revisited, rewatched, and enjoyed again and again.
Now that is simply delicious.
Woodturning: A Craft that Transforms
The Water Gap Woodturners
Consider an old tree stump along the side of the road. At best, it is home-heating fuel. At worst, a nuisance to dispose of. But put that stump in the hands of a skilled craftsman and something beautiful emerges.
The world of woodturning is similar to woodworking without power tools, but with a twist, invoking images of the craft makers in remote European villages or exotic big city art installations.
Woodturning centers around a chunk of wood spinning rapidly on a lathe. As it spins, strategically applied hand tools effortlessly carve, grind, and shape the wood into a work of art. Some creations are decorative. Others are functional and useful: bowls, pepper grinders, platters, ice-cream scoopers.
It’s impossible to take these everyday items for granted when they are lovingly crafted out of a beautiful piece of wood. Even the most basic items are elevated into cherished works of art when they are turned by a skilled hand.
Not only can the end result be amazing, but the woodturning process itself is relaxing. Inspiring. Some might say transformative. The magic lies in the difference between woodworking and woodturning. Where woodworking involves power tools, accurate measurements, and precision cutting, woodturning is less about precision, more about feel. Enter Water Gap Woodturners. That’s the local chapter of the American Association of Woodturners and an affiliate club of Peters Valley.
Woodturning veteran and long-standing member of the club, Rick Wortman explains, “Unlike woodworking, there is no need to constantly check measurements and make one piece fit into another. Woodturning is much more of a meditative process. You don’t have to think about what you are doing. It’s about seeing the curves and the form of what you are turning. I find that an immersive experience.”
Water Gap Woodturners president Mike Peacock adds, “After downsizing to a smaller house, I looked to woodturning because it has a smaller footprint to make things. All you need is a lathe and a little bit of space.”
For artist and club member Patty Jennings, it is where art and woodturning intersect that inspires her creativity: “I like the natural aspect of wood—the grain, the color. Each piece is unique. You don’t know what you’ll get until you start working with it. Put a hunk of wood on a lathe, and in a couple of hours, you have an interesting piece. It’s fascinating.”
Jennings likes to use found wood that friends give her—trees that were removed or fell on their property due to natural causes. She has been given exotic woods from overseas, but actually prefers using local woods. Continued on next page
She encourages everybody to “Give it a shot! You will be surprised by what you can do. Results come quickly, because it moves so fast. But the challenge of woodturning is worth it.”
After attending a women-in-woodturning class at Peters Valley, Jennings was hooked. “I’ve always been into the arts. I like to incorporate other arts into my woodturning. I’ve brought painting, carving, even wood burning, into my projects,” she says. “With my art background, I can visualize better than most what a piece of wood can be. It gives me an advantage over other woodturners.”
The Water Gap Woodturners began at Peters Valley School of Craft about 20 years ago. While teaching woodshop, the director of the Peters Valley program sensed there was something missing in their woodcraft offerings. Chairs need legs, after all. With no woodturning equipment at their disposal, some early Peters Valley members donated funds to purchase lathes. Courses were formed around woodturning, and Water Gap Woodturners was established.
This close relationship between Peters Valley and Water Gap Woodturners endures to this day. Mike Peacock celebrates this connection. “Peters Valley hosts us and allows us to use their wood studio for our meetings. We have a strong connection. Through Peters Valley, our group has grown and changed over the years. Water Gap Woodturners is education-minded. We share what we know with each other. We learn from and guide other members through our experiences. Mentorship is a big part of our group.
“New members can arrange to meet with a more experienced turner in the club to have a two-hour, one-on-one session where you can pick up a new skill or refine the skills you have,” says Peacock.
“Water Gap Woodturners enables you to bring in your work, show it to others, and be motivated by what others are doing,” notes Rick Wortman. “We also bring in outside presenters who are experts in certain areas. It opens up a world of possibilities.” This is an invaluable way to learn by doing, with a more experienced woodturner leading the way. Many members continue taking woodturning classes at Peters Valley, as well as learning other crafts that enhance their woodturning projects. Woodworking, painting, drawing, and carving all bring something fresh and unique to wood-turned projects.
Members of all levels support each other as they learn woodturning at their own pace. Monthly meetings include live demos from an expert turner and “show and tell” time where members share a finished piece and explain how they created it. New members enjoy the support and wisdom of long-time turners, while experienced turners appreciate the creativity and fresh energy brought by new members, as they have an opportunity to learn a new skill. Everyone benefits, everyone learns in this supportive, dynamic environment.
“We have members who are age 80 and above. The quality of their work is not limited by their age,” says Wortman. “When you see what others have achieved, it broadens your scope of what is possible.”
There’s a camaraderie that comes with woodturning. A shared language and skill set that sets turners apart and brings them together. Believing that one good turn deserves another, each December, members participate in the Project Self-Sufficiency Toy Drive, producing woodturned toys for local children in need. It’s a project that brings the group together, sharing what they love while benefiting the community.
Water Gap Woodturners will be turning wood at the Peters Valley Fall Craft Fair on September 24th–25th. .................................................................................. Water Gap Woodturners meetings are held the first Wednesday of every month at Peters Valley School of Craft through the season. In winter, meetings are held Saturdays at member homes. For more information, visit www.watergapwoodturners.Word press.com.
Jim Cerra Patty Jennings
Digging Deeper at Peters Valley The Photo Story
Some of the challenges involved in taking a Photo Story Workshop are finding a subject and completing the project in a limited amount of time. This sharpens one’s skills and focus. It is also an opportunity to explore. Simply put, as in most workshops, one gets out of it what one puts in.
I’m happy to say that my students in this year’s workshop at Peters Valley, “The Photo Story: Digging Deeper into the Visual Subject,” created work that is not only informative, thoughtful, and visually pleasing, but also gives insight into their own thinking and that of their subjects.
In addition to creating the following stories, we attended the Sussex County Farm and Horse Show to exercise our photo eyes and camera skills. Photographer Richard Schnurr planned his story of artist Jessica Corujo days in advance. He delved deep into how the artist goes about her work, what inspires her, and how she completes her pieces.
Nelson Davis, who hails from Texas, found himself attracted to the historical aspect of the area, specifically the Van Campen House and other landmark sites nearby.
High school student Alenys Ceballos took on the challenge of what one can feel when leaving the city life behind and splashing into the fresh waters of Hackers Falls, PA.
Growing up, Jessica’s mom would often volunteer for good causes, and Jessica would help along with her mom. The volunteer gene has continued with Jessica, most recently when she volunteered to help set up the NJ State Fair Art Show and work at the information table. This allowed her to speak with other artists and those who appreciate art. Jessica’s father, Dan Corujo, owns a custom automotive shop in Hackettstown, NJ, where Jessica spent a lot of time growing up. Her father very proudly told me, “I still have my daughter’s doodles hanging in my store, and people often compliment them. I tell them my daughter drew those when she worked here at age 11.”
The Devil’s Footprint in Hopatcong is a favorite place for Jessica to go to clear her mind, get inspired, or just think about saving the world. She knows all of the local outof-the-way places where she can go to be with herself and nature. As a child, Jessica took wilderness survival books out of the library and built her own campsite in the woods. Worried neighbors considered calling the police to complain about squatters in the woods before they discovered it was just Jessica. She is never without at least one of her sketchbooks, always prepared to draw. One day I imagine her opening a closet and hundreds of sketchbooks fall out, knocking her over.
Jessica works many part-time jobs and barters her services in return for rent and utilities in her upper garage apartment that also serves as her studio. The jobs are often art related and allow her to learn new things as she works. She is very inquisitive, regularly posting things she just learned. A themed series of posts, “Today’s Job Is,” shows the wide variety of tasks she is asked to work on. Her jobs are flexible so she can schedule time for working on her art projects.
Nelson Davis, Photographer Subject: Van Campen Inn and the Old Mine Road
The Van Campen Inn was built on the Old Mine Road in the 1750s. As time passed, threats to settlers lessened when the frontier moved west, and fortifications were abandoned, being reclaimed by the forest. Builders of the house and commanders of the militia stationed there remain in
Alenys Celballos, Photographer Subject: Hackers Falls, PA
City life, while vibrant, beautiful, and energetic, has the downside of sometimes being overwhelming, chaotic, and downright tiring. My cousin Kiara decides a break is desperately needed and drives away from it all, only to come across the answer to her question, “What would help her take her mind off it all?”
Jose Angel Ruano, Photographer Subject: Foundations
Foundations are vital when trying to build anything in life. I’ve definitely learned that recently. Wanting the title of “artist” comes with a lot of hardship sometimes, and one of those is starting from the ground up and seeing where you’re going to end. My photo story explains that incredibly necessary hardship.
I asked my friends to let me borrow works of theirs: ones they felt did not reach their expectations, ones they felt content with, and finally, ones they’re incredibly proud of. I took pictures of the underwhelming work with a cheap and old smartphone of mine in the basement of the house we’re staying in, then moved up to the living room, where I used my iPhone to take pictures of the works they felt were decent. Finally, I used my DSLR camera to take pictures of the work they were proud of, on the highest floor of the house.
