Seven places I love in Pennsylvania
Mostly restaurants and a farm.
This is an exercise in not being precious with my ideas. This is doubly an exercise in not taking this newsletter too seriously. My problem is I think I need to wait until I have the hottest reservation or try the trendiest dish to write any sort of list, when in reality I’ve been to a lot of cool places in the past three decades and the knowledge is already ripe.
Note that this is not a ‘best of’ list. These are just places I love, in no particular order. I chose seven because it’s my favorite number, and maybe also because Taylor Swift references Pennsylvania in folkore’s third best song, “seven”. See? Not being serious, it’s fun!
Butterscotch Pastry Shop - Chester Springs
The name sold me, are you surprised? Driving to Butterscotch Pastry Shop is the personification of Over the river and through the woods, To grandmother's house we go. Nestled across the street from its sister, the high-end French restaurant Birchrunville Store Cafe, you feel like you’re stepping into a romance movie set in a charming small town where it’s always slightly drizzling and Gregory Alan Isakov is playing in the background. Everyone knows everyone and lattes most definitely have not surpassed $5 in this madeup world. Go for the pastry assortment, stay for the fantasy.
Cabalar - Lancaster
I don’t have any pictures of this place because I’m always too hungry to do the whole ‘phone eats first’ thing. But stalk their IG for a good time.
One of my best friends lives in Lancaster, which is great for me because every time I visit I make us go to Cabalar. Self-declared on their website as the “happiest place on earth”, after one bite of a sandwich, I’d say it’s definitely top 50. I love when good branding matches good quality food (see: Middle Child). Cabalar nails the whole outcast-turned-culinary-superstar energy, and the burger is saucy and topping-forward without losing its focus on the meat. As someone who doesn’t actively seek out burger places, I love everything about this legendary eatery.
Blooming Glen Farm - Perkasie
There were a lot of character-building elements to last year, ones I have yet to look back on fondly, and ones I do, like the 15 hours I spent at Blooming Glen Farm right before summer gave way to fall. You don’t know the depth of your physical and mental strength until your mind is screaming at you as your muscles fill with lead, and you’re left standing in the literal mud with two choices: keep going or quit. Quitting is OK sometimes, but then there are times where if it affects other people’s ability to do their job well because you’re all one of one, and the pain is temporary, and you should just dig a little deeper and deal with the bruises tomorrow. Long story short, signing up to be day-of staff for a pop-up dinner party on a farm is the least glamorous thing imaginable and you should probably read the fine print before deciding to work an event based on vibes during a period of weak mental fortitude.1
If all of this sounds negative so far and you’re like, isn’t this a ‘places you love’ list, well I have since found appreciation, maybe even love, for this day, and it’s because of Blooming Glen. There were the rare few moments of reprieve I was able to just look around at the beauty of the homegrown flowers, the rainbow over the horizon after it rained, the human connection forming between strangers, the sky as it went from hues of pink to a deep indigo, and feel the warmth of the message at the center of it all. How lucky, to be able to step outside of yourself for a whole day, in nature, in the rain, in the middle of nowhere; learning, growing, feeling.
Estrella (closed) - Downingtown
Technically, I never said this was a recommendation list, so I can get away with writing about a place that has permanently closed. Estrella saw me in every phase from 23 to 30—literally. This is not a newsletter about phases, luckily for you! They opened not long after I graduated college, and it soon became the go-to meeting place for midweek dinners after work because early twenties breakdowns are something you’re never taught in school, so coping turns into spicy margs over guac and tacos reallll fast. My obsession with ranch water also originated here (iykyk).
I didn’t know they were just a couple months shy of closing at the time, but this is also where I decided to host my 30th birthday back in December. I chose Estrella because, quite frankly, 30 felt overwhelming enough without tacking on planning a rager with everyone I’ve ever locked eyes with. Plus, I did that for my 29th and I didn’t feel like trying to recreate a top-tier playlist, or the magic of that night so soon again. So I chose tacos, immediate family, and a red sequins dress on sale instead. No notes, best way to bow out. It was the restaurant of my twenties!!!! May we all have one<3
Fiorella - South Philly
Why did “FE!N” come on shuffle just as I started writing this section…
Fiorella, now owned by Vetri, was once a sausage storefront frequented often by my grandparents. Their South Philly days were pre my time, but I was lucky enough to tag along on their weekday morning errand runs back to the motherland from the burbs when they babysat me as a kid. The sausage store, as I knew it, was always my favorite stop (Claudio’s close second). I think it was mostly because of the brass cash register. The first time I went there post-Vetri/restaurant transformation, it was clear that its history and my memory had been preserved. We ordered the whole menu.
Cry Baby Pasta - Queen Village
Another pasta place, sue me!!! If Fiorella is the dining experience I recommend the most, Cry Baby is probably second. The people are great, the portions are on the smaller side so you never feel like you’re uncomfortably dying, and the ambiance is cool but not too much. You can also always get a reservation. Meet me at the bar??? Split the linguine and broccolini??? Save room for the butterscotch budino!!!
The Whip - Coatesville
Me and The Whip go wayyyyyy back. Some might say my proclivity for the restaurant scene started with my obsession with this off-the-beaten-track tavern. Which is a very anti-The Whip sentiment, really. You get absolutely no cell service and might hit a deer or two with your car on the way there. This was around the time I was planning my escape to the UK (study abroad), in the hopes I’d experience a real British pub and never come home. That plan is still somewhat on the table.
I started going here before they took reservations and it was a nightmare. In Philly it’s annoying but doable because you get over it and go next door, but The Whip is the destination. It’s at least twenty five minutes from anywhere worth your time, and again, the deer! This British-inspired pub is modest, charming, and casual. It serves the best Welsh rarebit you’ll ever have and for 2 hours, you might just find yourself enjoying beer.
Reach out to me here and follow me here! Now I’m craving the rigatoni from Cry Baby and thinking about a part two…
mUst bE ablE to liFt 50 pOunDs actually means like, 100, lol.
Scranton left lifeless.
estrella: “one gasp and then, how did it end?”