Catching Up on My June Adventures ...

When I traveled home last month for my sister’s annual dance recital, I did not expect to experience a gastronomic tour of culinary curiosities in the area of the Delaware/Maryland border. All I had anticipated from this relaxing weekend away from the city was visiting my family, catching up on sleep, watching crappy TV, eating my grandfather's food, and taking in a little ballet. But when my mother declared while driving on I-95 (after picking me up from the Fung-Wah bus drop-off in Wilmington) that she didn’t really know where she was driving, I should have expected we’d end up somewhere wholly unexpected.

With some time to kill before a party at my aunt’s that evening, and being near Newark (Delaware, that is—not to be confused with its notorious New Jersey cousin), we stopped by its lauded Main Street for some lunch. Renowned for its stores, restaurants, and proximity to the local university, the options along Main Street overwhelmed my mother, sister, and I. Fortunately, my aunt/roommate had recommended a bakery she had frequented when she’d lived in the area. Famous both for the variety and quality of its baked goods, Bing’s Bakery was bustling that afternoon, even after 60 years of being in business. Again, the options initially overwhelmed us. My sister, predictably, selected a sprinkle-topped cupcake, while my mother and I chose cinnamon-streusel coffee cakes. 

Walking back to the car (parked all the way at the other end of Main Street!), my mother announced our next destination: the Terrapin Station Winery. For several years I have been drinking wine produced from grapes grown in Maryland soil. Not only does the wine produced near Elkton, MD embrace the terroir, but the owners dedicate themselves to using pragmatic wine packaging (cubed boxes that hold the equivalent of two bottles), practicing sensible farming techniques, and even donating a portion of their wine sales to protecting the diamondback terrapin—an endangered animal synonymous with Maryland and the Chesapeake Bay, and the beloved mascot of my alma mater. But I’m getting ahead of myself—the winery would have to wait until we made a brief pit-stop.

On our way to the winery, what should we see along the road but a sandwich-board sign bearing three brake-screeching words: CRAB BISQUE TODAY. My mother quickly pulled into the roadside shop’s small parking lot. She turned to me: “You want some, right? This is Nutter’s—you want some.” Of course I agreed, although I didn’t know what “Nutter’s” meant. But, oh, how my ignorance was soon corrected. Apparently, my aunt and uncle swear that this bisque is the best on the planet and that, if the sign is out, you must get it. And that’s exactly what we did. My mother bolted from the car and returned just as quickly with a cup of bisque from me and one for my grandfather—a fellow gourmand. I really wish I had gone in personally, since (as my mother informed me) the interior of Nutter’s is a small room with space enough for just a sandwich counter, tchochkes on the walls, and some jumping jazz music. Small roadside dives reeking with character and down-to-earth authenticity are just my kind of place.

Later (after the winery), I finally opened the lid to my bisque and beheld the crabby brew within: butter pools and a hearty dash of Old Bay floating on the surface. Spices wafted up from the creamy soup, prompting me to dig in, without even a glance at the oyster crackers (or a bite offered to anyone else in the room.) And as far as taste goes, though Nutter’s may be a stone’s throw over the Delaware line, their bisque is purely Maryland in flavor, a concoction straight out the Chesapeake, a pure elixir of the Bay. The photograph does it no justice, obviously, but even though you can’t feel the soft crab chunks melt on your tongue, you can see what I mean by the Old Bay swirling like a galaxy amid golden pools of buttery decadence. All bowls of soup (or all food, really) should be this satisfying, this soul-reviving. And if you ever think there’s no care for craft or authenticity left in the world, get the bisque from Nutter’s. I will, every time I see the sign.

Finally, my mother pulled off the road north of Elkton, taking us down a typical farm lane. Except that, to our left, rows of grape vines grew along the hillside. For years, I never thought Cecil County could be home to anything cool, but then I heard about this winery from my aunt. We’ve been enjoying its products ever since, but I had never visited for the $5 tasting, with complimentary glass. But now I was there, with both time and the best winery tour companions I could have (sorry Walter and Gail). We found the tasting room/storefront in a converted garage. Passing displays of boxed wine, we approached the hospitable staff at the tasting counter. A couple in the midst of enjoying the tasting claimed the room’s only set of chairs, but three more appeared in time to accommodate us as I sampled my first wine. I had selected five wines from the nine offered, with a sixth provided gratis. I must admit, I’ve never been to a proper wine tasting. (But an open-barrel, afternoon-into-evening tasting event at a local winemaking co-op? Yes, that I’ve done.) But I have a rough idea of how to examine a wine sample, and actually, when it comes to wine (but nothing else), I know what I like and what I don’t. With each successive sample, the three of us followed a certain pattern: we would smell the wine, and if my mother liked it, she would taste a sip, then I would finish the sample. After this, my sister (who had in the meantime been munching on the complimentary palate-cleansing crackers) would rinse my glass with distilled water—swirling it around not once, not twice, but thrice. Only after she’d finished her routine would I proceed to the counter for my next wine.

To provide a succinct overview, allow me to transcribe my brief notes from that afternoon:

~2010 Traminette Reserve (a semi-dry white with spice and floral notes): “very dry, cleansing”  

~Cayuga White (light semi-sweet wine with tropical fruit flavors; a great summer wine): “sweet, drinkable”

~2009 Vidal Blanc (crisp dry wine with hints of pineapple, tangy fruit, and a slight oak finish): “nice, spicy”

~Five Rivers Rose (old-style rose, with tart fruitiness balanced with a semi-sweet tanginess): “light, drinkable”

~2008 Cabernet Franc (Bold dry wine with notes of raspberry, pepper and cassis): “dry and complex”

~Merlot (Robust, dry wine with firm tannins and dark fruit flavors): “lame”

The merlot, which I fortunately came to last, was so undrinkable that I … didn’t drink it. Think of that—me refusing wine! I left with a glass in hand (and just slightly tipsy), took some obligatory photos, and capped off the afternoon by eating delicious baked treats while overlooking the rolling hills and winding vines.