Summer is passion and action and youth:
Of the seasons it screams LIFE the loudest.
But there is LIFE in autumn too. Forgotten though it may be.
The chill returns aches to knees
And depth to memory.
We have been here before
The soft jacket soothes,
And then we will be again.
Trade sandals for notebooks and pens, my friend.
LIFE whispers to you through the wind, my friend,
“Again. Again. Again.”
You know what our area has an abundance of? I mean, besides rickety barns and poultry
plants? History! Lots of history here in the Shenandoah
Valley. And I don’t know about you, but visiting
historical buildings and sites gives me that glorious feeling of childhood
wonder and expansive possibility that I can’t quite drum up in a sleek urban
setting. I got a shimmer of that feeling
today when my sister Bekah took me to The Cracked Pillar Pub.
I drove to Bridgewater Virginia to visit my sister’s
house. We had planned on going paddle-boarding
(not waterboarding), but September decided it would bring winter this year, so
that idea was out the window. We talked
about putt-putt but the rain was discouraging us from participating in anything
at all really. What to do, what to
do? What’s something nice to get into on
a dreary day? Oh yeah! Try a new restaurant! So that’s what we did.
The town of Bridgewater is only a few miles South of
Harrisonburg, on Route 42, and is known for its quality education at
Bridgewater College. The feel of the town
seems inconsistent to me, but I know little about the subject. There seem to be some old parts and some new
parts. Like any place, I guess. We got lunch in an old part.
The Cracked Pillar Pub is a revitalized historical building
on the main drag in town. The front
porch is supported by three huge white pillars, seemingly sturdy and I didn’t
think the cracks were even noticeable.
Now doesn’t that remind you of being a kid at your
grandma’s house? Nostalgia was in the
air and I think fall might be the best time for old-fashioned sites and
eateries.
I adore new businesses in old buildings, and the atmosphere
here was wonderful. The word quaint seems too diminutive, historical too boring and cool just too empty. But this restaurant was all three
nonetheless.
Entering the building gave the deep impression of going home
somehow, almost past-life level. Who
doesn’t want to be served in a house?
This is the staircase from the front door:
The ceiling was redone in imprinted copper and the wall was
boarded by diagonal striped lengths of wood in different stains. All of this with the updated antique fixtures
gave the restaurant a clean down-home feel.
Bekah and I ordered food.
I asked the waiter if he knew anything about the history of the building
and he returned to me with a whole binder!
That kept me occupied for a bit!
I learned that the building has been called the Barbee House for some time and was built somewhere between 1818 and 1840 by a Coronel Barbee. It has served the area in many ways including
as a hotel and inn, a tavern and a private school for girls. Col. Barbee had his fingers in a lot of soups
around here. He served as the mayor of
Bridgewater, the creator and editor of the Bridgewater Journal and an artisan
cane carver.
Our appetizer of Jalapeno Bites arrived and I continued to
read the history of the Barbee House.
They were sliced and breaded jalapenos served with a creamy chipotle
sauce. I’d never had anything quite like
that, like spicy fried okra. The sauce
cut the heat and the little guys were quite enjoyable.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” my sister asked me.
I shook my head, “No, what?”
“No napkins.”
True! There were no
napkins in sight! We might be Irish but
we’re not that Irish! (No offence, that
statement has no meaning.) Our server
brought us some after we asked.
And then our food showed up.
Bekah got a Classic BLT.
Here they are, pictured together:
And a close-up for all you bacon freaks:
As you can see, the BLT was served club sandwich style and apparently
was tasty and satisfying. (Aside: last week I accidently ingested a small piece
of bacon and since I’ve been avoiding meat, my whole body reacted saying, “yeeesssss,
this is life. This is GOOD. This is looove.” I told it to shut up.)
I ordered their only completely vegetarian entrée, the Son
of a Bun black bean burger.
Before I tell you about the burger, let me mention the
fries. They were broad and crispy. Pub-style.
I enjoyed them.
So, about the burger.
The bun was the best part. It was
toasted, probably with butter, on the insides only, leaving a soft outside and two nice twin crunches. It was
downhill from there, though. There was
no flavor to be found. This was Bland
City and I was a hostage. I added hot
sauce and mustard which didn’t help much, but they were the only options. I will say that the patty stayed in one piece,
which isn’t always the case with bean burgers.
The pickle was pleasantly crisp but I felt a little gypped on size.
I asked Bekah what she thought and she replied,
“This is definitely hangover food, greasy and carb-y.”
I continued reading the history binder. To me, the most interesting person mentioned
was Lucy Hite. She was somehow related
to the home and she was the first Native American given audience in a US Court
where she argued common law Indian marriage, won herself a divorce and got what
she deserved out of her ex-husband.
Inspiring women of the past, we call on you, empower us!
I could certainly imagine being here, at this same table,
200 years ago. And that’s a special
feeling. More valuable than a good
burger in my book.
I guess The Cracked Pillar is known more for being a tavern and they have
whiskeys from all around the world.
Maybe one day I’ll go back and sip on one while I pen my great American novel.
Out back, there was a huge patio that seemed especially
Southern and would be a great venue for live music at night.
What an experience! I
really loved the Atmosphere of the Cracked Pillar Pub and will be back because
of its power. Thank you, Bekah, for
sharing with me a little piece of your town! This place is perfect for an autumn afternoon in Bridgewater.
Amanda out!
