A peach of a time at Nashoba Winery

Beach days on Cape Cod; lounging by a lake in Maine; hiking the White Mountains of New Hampshire; the crack of the bat at Fenway Park – these are the well-known signs of Summer in New England. But Nashoba Valley Winery in Bolton is adding another iconic summer symbol: peaches.

Locally known for its fruit-inspired wines, Nashoba Valley Winery is also a favorite destination each Fall for apple picking. Guests can combine a day in the orchard with a snack and a bottle of vino out on the porch. The grounds are also home to a restaurant, brewery, distillery and wedding venue.

But in the summer, Nashoba Valley Winery becomes a peach paradise.

Tucked behind the winery’s expansive apple orchards is a section devoted to the sweet summer fruit. They have numerous varieties of peaches, picking a different set as they ripen throughout the summer. Like apple picking, peach picking is a great activity to involve the kids and also like apple picking, you’re usually left with an abundance of fruit. Unlike apples, though, peaches are typically picked while somewhat hard, and then let to ripen off the tree. So after immediately indulging in the sweetness of a few softer peaches, bring home a bag to cook and bake with.

My family enjoyed our pick-your-own-peach experience this past summer, bringing a bag home but only after taking a few back to the winery’s main building to snack on. Inside the wooden lodge-like building is a library of Nashoba’s many varieties of wine and spirits, for sale and for tasting in their tasting room. One of my favorite Nashoba offerings is their Northern Comfort, a tasty maple–esque spirit that flows like cognac and warms the body on chilly autumn nights.

But this time around after peach picking, the sun was out and the temperature in the mid 80s, so we chose our beverage accordingly. We decided that fresh peaches would pair well with another of Nashoba’s peach treats, their peach dessert wine. Nashoba has a vast catalogue of fruit-inspired wines, from apple to blueberry to peach, and more. Their peach dessert wine is sweet, as intended, and the peach flavor bursts through with a tart finish. It pairs well with Asian-inspired dishes, but also was a great compliment to our afternoon snack.

A day at Nashoba is more than just picking and drinking. Bring your own picnic meal or enjoy what Nashoba has to offer, besides the fruit. There are snacks inside from New England sources, some small and some well-known like Stonewall Kitchen. The winery also instituted Food Truck Fridays, which feature different food trucks each Friday during the summer from 5:00pm to 7:30pm.

Regardless of what you nosh, do it outside amongst Nashoba’s stunning grounds. The main building has an expansive deck, starting at the main door that wraps around like a farmers porch. To the side is a trellis-covered patio filled with tables. It all overlooks a beautiful New England landscape, perfect scenery for relaxing with a glass of local wine and an afternoon snack. On one side are two small ponds, surrounded by Adirondack chairs, small trees and an adjacent gazebo. Stretching from the back of the building is a rolling green lawn stretching down to the sloping apple orchards. Picnic benches run the length of the grass, providing ample seating space.

It’s not uncommon to see large groups of adults unloading coolers of food around a plethora of uncorked Nashoba Valley wine bottles. Quite or loud, Nashoba gives groups everything they need for a relaxing or raucous outing.

But mom and dad need not fear, Nashoba Valley Winery is an exceptional spot for families. Every time I’ve visited, couples with babies are perched under the covered patio, newborn sleeping peacefully in the stroller while mom and dad take a few sips and a well-deserved timeout. Other parents nab a picnic table or two and set up shop with friends while the kids play games on the lawn or in the gazebo or head off to pick fruit.

My wife and I have visited with a baby, then a toddler and now this summer with a four year old and a new infant. And each visit is a welcome respite, providing an opportunity for our family to spend time together outside, sip some delicious wine and soak in a symbol of New England summer - or Fall or whatever season it happens to be.

####

Culinary Kennebunkport

This story appeared on Northshore Magazine - August 17, 2016

Our entire evening was a culinary whirlwind of trendy modern and classic New England.

The Brussels sprouts were candied, the lobster was whole fried and the haddock was a luscious pillow. Candy boutiques mingled with local olive oil artisans. After popping into a gourmet ice creamery, we relaxed around a stylish wine bar’s communal bonfire, sipping hard-to-find Syrah. All of this within comfortable earshot of the ocean waves. 

Such are the culinary delectations that have become standard throughout Portland, Maine’s, thriving, well-deserving food scene.

But we weren’t in Portland.

Thirty minutes south, here in Kennebunkport, similar culinary creativity is regularly on display, with an added sprinkle of year-round, small town charm. Portland may be Maine’s most popular contribution to New England’s fashionable food scene, but when you come to Kennebunkport you better come hungry.

Kennebunkport has been on the tourist map for some time, of course, as home to fishermen and former Presidents. The village stands as a go-to destination for weddings and weekend getaways, while its annual Christmas Prelude is a town-wide, off-season celebration that regularly draws visitors from all over. Because of this, many establishments remain open into December to catch the Prelude crowd, making Fall a less-crowded and exceedingly enjoyable time to visit.

But regardless of season, the food scene here is reason enough to come.

Downtown, comprised essentially of one road bridging Kennebunk and Kennebunkport, is dotted with eateries serving waterfront fare variations. However, sailing a bit off course will bring you to Kennebunkport’s real treasures.

We navigated past downtown to Cape Porpoise, where the traffic dissolved and the food options materialized at a small intersection.

There, The Wayfarer restaurant stands out as much for its versatility as for its reliability. Every dish was fresh and unique, including the aforementioned Brussels sprouts and fried lobster. Lobster mac n cheese bubbled over with flavor, claws and tail meat. But the surprise was the bacon-wrapped meatloaf, a far cry from anything mom used to make. The meat was spiced Italian-style, offset by bacon and a sweet brown sugar glaze, as if a southern barbecue pitmaster decided to smoke up some meatballs. In a welcome break from the high-priced cocktail menus downtown, the Wayfarer is BYOB, which made our wine bottle and dinner all the more personal.

 Personal seems to be the only way they do things around here – personal and local. Farm + Table owners Liz and Bruce Andrews know how to do both. They assist Farm + Table customers with welcoming conversation and by organizing this artisanal food store geographically, with little placards identifying an item’s home state. The shop, located near the Wayfarer, is in its second season, housed in an old red barn and chock full of eclectic offerings, like a wall of Maine jams or a shelf of South Carolina cocktail bitters.

“Would you like to try some?” Bruce asked, as I perused jars of Maine-made bloody mary mix. I left with a jar.  

Back across the street, right next to the Wayfarer, Cape Porpoise Kitchen doles out fresh-baked pastries, baskets of moist blueberry muffins and prepared foods for those looking to cast away for the afternoon.

Cape Porpoise is not the only epicurean enclave in Kennebunkport.

Down Ocean Avenue, Mabel’s Lobster Claw takes Maine seafood to a new level. They specialize in lobster, of course, but special is an understatement – their variations of baked stuffed lobster are the stuff of legend. The Lobster Savannah is a massive crustacean split and swollen with scallops, shrimp, mushrooms and Newburg sauce, topped with provolone and broiled golden brown. The result is as overwhelmingly delicious as it is artistic.

Other notables include the hyper-locally sourced al fresco dining at Earth at Hidden Pond (two onsite gardens make sure of that); and the creatively spun selections at Salt & Honey, like the juicy chicken biscuit sandwich and a zesty bloody mary.   

Wherever you eat, be sure to stick around after dinner.

Rococo Ice Cream’s rotating selection of adventurous flavors keeps things interesting, like an exotically sweet Amarula Pecan and the Blueberry Chipotle, with a mild but noticeable heat on the backend of each lick. Our scooper encouraged us to try his own cocktail-based concoction, Dark and Stormy. A refreshing ginger/lime combo, we made sure to vote for it in Rococo’s summer staff contest for best original flavor.

We capped our night across the bridge at Old Vines Wine Bar. We lounged around their outdoor fire pit, wine glasses lazily swaying in our fingers, and tried unsuccessfully to recall something more satisfying than Kennebunkport’s culinary experience.

 Read the story here: http://www.nshoremag.com/culinary-kennebunkport/ 

Towering over Tuscany

San Gimignano, Tuscany

There was a moment, about three quarters of the way up, as the steps became steeper and the railing a little flimsier, when I considered the ascent a bad idea. My two year old daughter clung to me like unripe grapes to the vine, and in turn I clutched her with one arm so that my other was free to hold the railings.

The steps we had already conquered swirled around the inside wall of a centuries-old stone tower. We had reached a landing, looked down the center abyss to the ground far below, and then up at the remaining climb up an old wooden ladder. It was stifling hot and the air inside the medieval fortification pressed heavy on the body. It didn’t help that I had hoisted an extra 30 pounds up the stairs.

As my daughter and I slowly, carefully slid up the almost vertical ladder – the final lunge up the tower – my hands ached from gripping the worn rungs and her little body. The excitement I had felt with the first step down below was now hard to conjure.

We reached the last ladder rung. Simultaneously my daughter’s little head and my big one poked up through the hatch and into the glaring Italian sunlight. We emerged from the ladder onto the crown of San Gimignano’s tallest tower, the Torre Grossa. I was exhausted, hot and my knees were trembling.

Was the climb worth it? My eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight and as the whole expanse of Tuscany came into focus, hills and vineyard and cypress trees sprawled in every direction, the answer was instantly and profoundly obvious: yes it is.  

Every direction was a postcard panorama. Leaning over one side of the Torre Grossa, I pointed out to my daughter the hills, green and gold in midsummer splendor, rolling and cresting like waves to the horizon. Over on the other side, vineyards pockmarked the slopes, not yet heavy with fruit but close to providing fodder for the region’s local chianti and vernaccia wine. Still in another direction, the rooftops of San Gimignano jutted up and down, every once in a while broken by a medieval tower, like stepping stones leading the way to the walled fortress on the edge of town. My daughter pointed out the piazzas buzzing with activity underneath us.

Since we stood atop the tallest tower in San Gimignano, we had the benefit of looking down on the town’s other towers. Only eleven stone towers still stand out of more than 70 that once dominated the town in its medieval heyday, each a physical manifestation of power, built by the wealthy to show off (and to sometimes drop hot oil on potential intruders).

Every Tuscan hilltown has a unique trait, whether it is a landmark or local cuisine or artisan craft. Because of this, visiting a Tuscan hilltown is an intimate affair, like getting to know a new member of the same family. They are all distinctly Tuscan but also memorable for their own distinct reason. 

The towers are San Gimignano’s calling card, giving visitors a sight unseen anywhere else in the world – Tuscany’s version of a downtown skyline.

Because of this novelty, and the porcupine-like city photos it generates, San Gimignano is frequently a stop on many tour bus routes, making it a crowded place during the high season. But that doesn’t mean it is not worth visiting. Even with crowds, this small Tuscan hilltown has plenty to explore, from its churches, to the great views at the aforementioned fortress, to the small workshop off the main drag that has a full miniature model of the entire town.

As with most every small village or big city in Italy, San Gimignano is most Italian (and therefore most enjoyable), when experienced unscripted. Getting lost among the steep cobbled walkways off the main thoroughfare and sticking around in the evening hours after the tour buses have gone, will allow your eyes to feast on a relaxed San Gimignano. The whole town exhales as the tour buses clatter away.

I was lucky to be staying at a villa within a ten minute drive of San Gimignano, so experiencing it in both ways was easy. The difference was literally night and day.    

We spent several evenings strolling the streets alongside locals and other lucky overnight tourists. Peaceful, small town calm settled over the cafés and piazzas, save for the handful of children running around the central stone well in Piazza de la Cisterna. But who could blame them, with Gelateria Dondoli, one of the world’s premier gelato shops mere steps away. Award-winning in every way, my entire family indulged in Sergio’s frozen master craft on numerous occasions, sampling traditional flavors and the more obscure, like berry rosemary and eggnog vin santo (sweet white wine).

Dinners were unrushed and unforgettable, as most are in Tuscan hamlets. We ate at a restaurant situated in a garden high atop the town, had some quick pizza at a café off Piazza Cisterna, and snagged some wild boar sausage at a small shop.

On our last night, we indulged at La Mangiatoia Ristorante. My fork cut right through a local venison medallion glazed with fig sauce and in-season mushrooms, the savory meat bursting with flavor. Simple pasta dishes, like wild boar ragu and homemade pesto, thoroughly pleased the entire family. In all, the meal was a highlight during a week of culinary excellence in Tuscany. And of course, even with dessert and after-dinner drinks at La Mangiatoia, we had to end the evening at Dondoli.      

To consume the food here takes little effort, even though to consume the views requires a bit of leg work. Nevertheless, San Gimignano fulfills in both regards.

Back on top of Torre Grossa, before we descended, my daughter spotted some bright purple flowers growing out of the tower’s rampart. I picked one and gave it to her. She clutched it tightly, and I clutched her, as we prepared to back down the ladder to the landing and down the staircase. 

“It’s so beautiful,” she said.

I smiled at her, and then we both soaked in one more glance of the striking Tuscan vista before ducking down through the ladder hatch. My response to her was instantly and profoundly obvious: “Yes, it is.”

####

Key West Comes Home

Something about Key West stays with you long after the sounds of ocean waves and

rollicking tiki bars dissipate into everyday hustle and bustle.

It’s a feeling, a state of mind that you absorb like rays of sunshine – osmosis for the soul.

If you’re lucky it dawdles deep into post-vacation, which is appropriate because nothing

and no one in Key West moves quickly.

The lingering effects of the Conch Republic are also tangible. I don’t mean souvenirs,

although I’ve brought home some extraordinary tropic wines from the Key West Winery,

white vintages from the Keys flavored with pineapple and mango. I mean the kind of

thing you look at every day, or invite people to enjoy with you so that they, too, can

indulge in the relaxation and rejuvenation that come so readily in the Florida Keys.

My love of Key West began in 2006 when my then-girlfriend (now wife) Danielle and I

made our first visit. We didn’t know what to expect, other than the stories from friends

who swore by the romance and fun that awaited us at the end of Route 1.

Falling in love was easy. We both were infatuated from the start. It began with our hotel,

Southernmost, which sits at the southern end of Duval Street, Key West’s main drag. The

opposite end of Duval Street, packed with bars and bands, can get rowdy and loud, but

Southernmost was far enough away with a private beach and tiki bar, to let the relaxation

seep in; but close enough that a quick walk put you mid-excitement.

On that first trip we explored the island tip to tail: we ate conch fritters and key lime pie;

absorbed the famous sunsets; drank with Captain Tony, God rest his ebullient soul; and

held hands atop the Key West Lighthouse, my single favorite spot in the world.

Key West became a part of us, a part of our relationship, which I later galvanized.

In 2008, we made a return trip, joined by my cousin, Ryan and his then-girlfriend (now

wife), Amanda. I had more than vacation in mind that weekend, and only Amanda and

Ryan were in on the secret – after all, I needed someone to carry the engagement ring so

Danielle didn’t find it in my suitcase.

My cousin took his job seriously, but it is worth noting that one should always ensure

they’re following TSA guidelines while carrying an engagement ring. He was stopped

and his bags searched because he had an oversized bottle of mouthwash in his carry on. I

give him credit, he talked his way out of that one by whispering that he had an

engagement ring, but it was close.

Our first day was a Saturday, and only in the background did we hear the warnings about

Tropical Storm Fay bearing down on the region.

That evening we were going to walk to the far end of Duval Street to our favorite

restaurant, Hot Tin Roof. Ryan and Amanda, per previous arrangement, ran late so

Danielle and I conveniently had to kill time by taking a stroll.

We accidentally-on-purpose happened by the Key West Lighthouse, which was closing

for the evening. Bob the lighthouse keeper was sweeping up at the front gate. In the

months prior, I had worked with The Key West Historical Society, proprietor of the Key

West Lighthouse, to set a secret plan in motion, complete with a secret code word.

Bob very nicely explained that the lighthouse was closed, but he’d let us take a walk up

while he finished cleaning.

I trembled climbing the stairs. Danielle was ahead of me and burst out onto the

observation deck before me.

At the top of the lighthouse, as the whole island sunk into a deep red sunset, I knelt and

asked her to marry me (she said yes).

Ryan and Amanda arrived shortly thereafter and joined us atop the lighthouse to soak in

the unforgettable view.

The next morning, with Tropical Storm Fay biting at our heels, we evacuated the Keys

after an abbreviated stay. But Key West, and the special memories we shared, have

remained with all of us since. Sharing a life milestone with family made Danielle and I’s

engagement that much more poignant, and the four of us frequently talk about a return

trip.

Return has not yet materialized, but I know the flavor of Key West took deep root in

Ryan and Amanda. Ryan’s love for the Keys has manifested in a building project. Over

the summer he began renovating his family’s backyard shed, turning it from lawn mower

storage into Key West tiki bar. His vision, he says, is straight out of the Conch Republic.

Once it’s finished, the story of our trip to Key West and Tropical Storm Fay will

undoubtedly be recounted numerous times.

In his song, “Magic” musician Kenny Chesney sings, “I believe there is magic here.”

Key West’s allure is otherworldly. It is intoxicating and everlasting. Once you’re there,

you never really leave. It could only be supernatural.

My wife and I made sure “Magic” was played during our wedding reception.

####

Don't pity the gargoyles

This article appeared in the wicked local weeklies in December, 2014

Dusk atop the Notre Dame bell tower and the river Seine makes her presence known. On the horizon she begins the charge, a silver glimmer ducking around towers and teapot domes, hidden at one curve, brazenly obvious around another.

From this vantage point, the river’s importance is obvious. It has been Paris' greatest soldier and liberating cleanser. It has been a demarcation line between left and right, Bourgeoisie and Bohemian, and a friendly landmark for many a wandering visitor. Its current is near impossible to judge, ebbing and flowing in modern times with tourism barges and Gendarmerie police boats.

In so many ways, the river is the source of the City of Light. All walks of life gather near it, over it, on it and all Parisian monuments sit back at a respectable distance. Its proletariat power is unmatched in the city limits.

And yet the Seine, filled to the banks with history, splits in deference to the island housing Paris’ most enigmatic, manmade creation – the cathedral of Notre Dame.

High atop the majestic cathedral, I stepped to the wall to gaze upon the river and the Eiffel Tower in the distance. All of Paris was spread out before me. At every angle the nooks and notches of this famous place of worship held a mysterious vibe, quirky and gothic all at once. It took me a moment to realize that the bit of macabre whimsy was emanating from the motionless figures perched out over oblivion.

The gargoyle hanging out next to me had a permanent, toothy smirk and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was laughing at how great his view was, or perhaps that the great river Seine had to bow to him and his brethren, a bunch of water-gurgling stone monkeys. I assumed it was probably a bit of both.

There was no denying that Quasimodo and his immobile buddies had themselves a prime piece of Parisian real estate. Atop the bell tower at Notre Dame, there is a jaw-dropping panorama in all directions. No matter which way you look, there exists a place, a person, or an experience that leaves you in awe.

I began to think of the string of unforgettable moments I had during my time in Paris. There were, of course, the landmarks: Eiffel Tower, The Louvre, Arc du Triomph, the list goes on.

There was, of course, the food. To this day, there has been no taste quite like munching on a fresh crepe sucre or crepe Nutella that was made in front of me by a street vendor.

And there was, of course, the history. The old paper musk that filled the Shakespeare & Company bookstore lingered, in a good way. That old bookstore was graced by the likes of Walt Whitman and countless other writers over the years. There’s even a small bed, desk, sink and typewrite upstairs free for any upstart/struggling writer to utilize. Few purchases in my life have given me the same amount of chills as the book I bought there – a copy of Shakespeare’s “Othello & Cymbeline” from the year 1900.

But for my money, nothing in Paris tops Notre Dame. 

The previous day, I went into the cathedral and toured its depths while the priest conducted a Mass in French. His voice, echoing through the hollow stone, brought such warmth that he made this massive structure feel intimate. In my gratitude, I lit a prayer candle and became part of the congregation in my own tiny, flickering way.

But it wasn’t until I spent 30 minutes in line to climb 300 stairs that I truly appreciated Notre Dame and by extension, Paris.

At the top, the best moment came when my camera battery ran out. All I could do was enjoy the view through my own eyes – unimpeded by a lens.

Victor Hugo might have wanted us to pity his humble hunchback, but me, I envy him. Not just because of the view, but because he’ll forever be in the pages of Paris. I had to leave the City of Lights six hours later on a high-speed train.

But you won’t hear any complaints out of me. I've heard the squawking paparazzi around the Mona Lisa; I’ve eaten escargot at a street café; I've smelled fresh-baked baguettes; I’ve read a book on the lawn under the Eiffel Tower.

Up on top of the Notre Dame bell tower, I've seen a gargoyle smile at the setting sun. And if it’s good enough for the gargoyles, it’s good enough for me.

2013 Photos of the Year

Americana filled my lens in 2013, from a Presidential inauguration to the historical sites from which the roots of democracy sprung. I was lucky enough to capture some stunning moments and surreal scenes that, besides having weighty significance, looked good too.

Along the same lines, but on a different continent, my trip to Italy provided a far more ancient historical perspective, but one nonetheless beautiful. 

Here are my favorite photos from the year 2013.

Drummers - Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia

You lookin' at me? - Rome, Italy

Gravesites watched over by Capt. John Smith - Jamestown, Virginia

Muffins - Maine Diner, Wells, ME

Sunset atop the Duomo - Florence, Italy

Watching history - Inauguration of President Obama, Washington, D.C.

Sunset & a bottle of wine - Wades Point Inn, St. Michaels, MD

Snowy day in Parma - Parma, Italy

View from a gondola - Venice, Italy

Wall of proscuitto - Parma, Italy

Halfway Between Cape Cod and Key West

The following appeared in the January 2014 issue of Destinations Travel Magazine

St. Michaels, Maryland is just about halfway between Cape Cod, Massachusetts and Key West, Florida, in every possible way.

This waterfront vacation town situated on the Eastern Shore of the Chesapeake Bay mingles the Florida Keys’ laid back vibe with the Cape’s sailboats and seersucker shorts. Art galleries, wine shops and boutique restaurants lounge beside souvenir stores and old-time ice cream parlors. Tiki bar bartenders sling fruity rum cocktails to partying tourists, while at the same time a couple exchanges vows in a quaint, waterfront wedding ceremony at the upscale resort across the harbor. 

Located about an hour and a half drive from either Baltimore or Washington, D.C., St. Michaels is a go-to destination for regional vacationers. The look and feel resembles a tropical version of a New England coastal town, seamlessly melding together aspects of both locales into a mid-Atlantic waterfront respite.

For Cape and Keys frequenters, the similarities begin before you even arrive. Weekend summer traffic on the Chesapeake Bay Bridge would make anyone who has ever crossed onto Cape Cod – or any other beach destination – shudder. The sheer size of the bridge makes it as much a modern engineering marvel as the Seven Mile Bridge the traverses the Florida Keys.

In culinary terms, Maryland is known for crabs in the same way that New England is for lobster and the Florida Keys are for fresh fish. There is no better way to get a flare for the Eastern Shore than to partake in a crab feast along the water, and there is no shortage of quality establishments. For years St. Michaels Crab Claw restaurant and St. Michaels Crab and Steak House – located directly across the harbor from one another – have been serving up local seafood and the hallmark Maryland blue crabs.

For the uninitiated, a crab feast is similar to a lobster bake in that work is involved. One typically begins with a table wrapped in paper, which is promptly covered with the cooked crustaceans. Steamed and covered in mounds of Old Bay seasoning, they are simply prepared. A small mallet, paring knife and placemat instructions will get you to the best bits. The sweet, familiar shellfish flavor skews unique with the abundance of salty seasoning.

The culinary delights don’t necessarily require waterfront dining. Tasty wood-fired pizzas sizzle when dropped on your table at Ava’s. You’ll find perfectly executed entrees, from local seafood to twists on comfort food classics at 208 Talbot. Both of these spots are located right on the town’s main thoroughfare, Talbot Street, which is home to everything a seaside village might need – restaurants, cafes, ice cream parlors, art galleries, souvenir and antique shops and even a brewery.

For a taste of the Eastern Shore that requires much less work than shelling a crab, visit St. Michaels Winery (www.st-michaels-winery.com). The tasting room, located right on Talbot Street, is an informal chance to sip some unique wines, like the Chocolate Zin, a luscious and tasty dessert wine. As with many of the mid-Atlantic vineyards, St. Michaels makes excellent, crisp and dry whites, perfectly paired with a seafood dinner or better yet, a sunset.

Where St. Michaels hovers in between its northern and southern cousins, it ascertains one aspect of seaside living that sets it apart from anywhere else – its sunsets.

Perching along the right Massachusetts inlet or cove will provide a spectacular view of the setting sun. In Key West there is an entire pavilion at the end of the town’s famed Duval Street dedicated to street performers celebrating the stunning sunset view each night. St. Michaels may just outdo them both.

A few minutes out of the town center, Wades Point Inn on the Bay (www.wadespoint.com) guards the elbow of this L-shaped peninsula. A tree-lined gravel road opens into a sprawling green lawn stretching in almost all directions to the water’s edge. At the center stands a grand, whimsical 1819 Georgian-style manor house wrapped in multi-level porches. The main house offers three floors of quaint, bed and breakfast rooms while an adjacent building constructed in the 1990s has more family-friendly accommodations.

Waking up at Wades Point means homemade breakfast made from local ingredients, like scrapple or eggs from down the road. But day’s end is the Inn’s best selling point, and one of St. Michael’s best treasures.

The savvy visitor will have filled a hammock, staked out a lawn chair or a spot on the dock well before dusk, perhaps with a bottle of wine from the St. Michael’s Winery. Wades Point staff will happily provide wine glasses and a corkscrew.

Any spot affords a breathtaking panorama of the bay. The sun sets straight on, sinking down behind a wisp of land across the Chesapeake just large enough to mark the split between sea and sky. It washes the entire yard in surreal colors: orange, pink and purple light, reflecting off the water and the manor house’s white exterior. Serenity and scenery are one in the same.

St. Michael’s may resemble the best of the Cape and the tropics, but it certainly has a charm all its own.