The British Are Coming…
Lady Liz and Sir Tom Pratt, disrobed, arrive from England for a Pot Pie Throwdown and a wild goose chase
Two years ago, I visited England for the first time and received a royal welcome from the Pratts. This year, they visited Central PA, and I was able to return their kindness—with help from my friends.
They dropped in very lightly. Their two brand-new American Tourister suitcases didn’t make it. What ensued was a battle of wills with British Airways and Fed Ex that flummoxed us for a few days.
But it didn’t stop us from partying. The first night, after picking Liz and Tom up from the Flix bus stop at the State College airport, we drove immediately to TJMaxx for a knickers run. They bought some necessities, and afterwards we relaxed over a light supper of penne with local asparagus, ramps, and walnuts. Sweet Italian sausage, Roma tomatoes, and eggplant—all roasted separately—added some color to the pasta dish. Because I know that Tom, in particular, loves a pudding (that’s what they call dessert), I made a Rhubarb Delight with some rhubarb from neighbor BJ’s patch—with current resident granddaughter Laura’s approval. BJ was smiling down from heaven, seeing rhubarb served with Meyer’s Dairy ice cream.
The Pratt’s arrived at JFK on Friday night to a soft landing with Carolyn and Jeff in Forest Hills. That is, after the big bump on arrival, when they found out their bags were missing. The whole plane-load of people were missing their bags. The plane had departed Heathrow with no luggage at all. The immensity of the problem became evident at the empty baggage claim carousel when the beleaguered BA rep announced to the waiting crowd that no luggage was to be collected. Liz and Tom described how the crowd quietly queued up to file claims. Had that plane landed in Texas with a load of cowboys, the announcement may have triggered a far different response from the crowd.
On Sunday morning, we commenced with phone calls to track the bags. Tom was assured that they would be delivered shortly. Since our State College address was nine miles beyond the 250 mile delivery limit, we gave the address of friends and seasoned travelers in Rebersburg, 239 miles from JFK. We had to drive east to pick them up on Tuesday, but had planned to ride down Penns Valley anyway. It was all still good.
So, we started the next morning with Strata on the deck, serenaded by chirping song birds.
We went to the Penn State Palmer Museum and to the Arboretum, but the line was too long at the Creamery to get an ice cream. Instead, we drove to Bellefonte for Americanos and Affogatos at My Café Buzz in Bellefonte.
The Bellefonte Art Museum proved a pleasant stop, and we viewed the current exhibits, the permanent Underground Railroad installation, and the kids’ creative corner with interesting twig sculptures.
Dinner that night was the first round of the Pennsylvania Pot Pie Throwdown. A contest between the southeastern PA Crusted Chicken Pot Pie in Gravy and the southwestern PA Ham and Noodle Pot Pie in a savory broth. Since our oven decided to conk out on Sunday night, quite randomly, we opted for the Ham Pot Pie that could be heated on the stovetop. Served with delicious boiled green beans and a crisp cabbage slaw, the Ham Pot Pie was a new dish for them, and they both enjoyed the shortcut version made with Grandma’s Frozen Egg Noodles.
Monday morning I got up early and made scones, completely forgetting that the oven had conked out—but it worked! We went to Shingletown and visited Sam and Nina for their garden tour, toting scones. We missed seeing the snake in their yard, and Liz was glad about that.
Next, we packed a lunch for a picnic at Black Moshannon after a tour of Jeanne’s farmhouse on Rattlesnake Pike. We met up at the park, our own “riviera” in use on the hot day. Sitting under the white pines, we snacked on sandwiches, delicious fruit, and chips. We walked near the bridge, the site of the ghost town of Antes, a thriving lumber village in the mid-1800’s. On the way down the mountain, we filled up a gallon jug at the spring near a plaque commemorating the Rattlesnake Hotel, a hotspot in those lumbering years.
Once down in Bald Eagle Valley we stopped at the Soaring Eagle Wetland and enjoyed the wildlife. Ducks in the pond, cedar waxwings overhead, and snakes in the stream where the local kids splashed in a swimming hole. Liz got out of her comfort zone and stood on rocks in the stream observing some local water snakes while John sat in the stream to cool off.
There was no need for dinner on Monday after our late picnic, but we sat on the deck listening to the evening birds. We focused on the luggage arriving at noon in Rebersburg, so we planned our day around that momentous event. Missing clothes were not so much at issue as missing medication and some whiskey gifts; we were all eager to be reunited with the bags.
Penns Valley was in early-summer glory that morning, and we drove to see Penns Creek near Coburn, with fishermen knee-deep in several spots. Our hoped-for tour of Woodward Camp was a bust. We couldn’t talk our way into seeing where their grandson Thomas had spent a week a few years ago at the skateboard camp. We drove on to Main Street in Rebersburg for our noon date with the luggage.
Only—no luggage arrived. We drove over to Kinfork, an Amish café near Madisonburg, and had a delicious lunch, and then circled back to find that FedEx agents who promised delivery were wrong. We spent the next few hours in a limbo of calls to a central FedEx center that repeatedly gave wrong information, and speeding up and down the ridges and valleys of Central PA, tracking Dollar Stores that are designated FedEx drop-off points. Like Dorothy on her quest to see the wizard, we met many quirky characters, but they all gave directions like the scarecrow.
Verklempt, we went home and had dinner—the other Pot Pie. A flaky pastry crust with peas, carrots, and potatoes in a golden Chicken Veloute Sauce made from boiling the chicken. Liz picked up a jar of pickled vegetables at Kinfork, though Amishly sweet, they were crisp and a good foil to the rich chicken in gravy. We fortified for further arguments with Fed Ex.
Which we had, until I finally lost all decorum and shouted: “May I speak to your supervisor!” Then we got somewhere. We were assured, again, that the bags—which had traveled way beyond the 250-mile “limit”-- would be held in Duncansville the next day, and we could pick them up on our way to Frederick. Dare we believe it?
We took a quick hike up to the vista at Oak Hall Park to bid goodbye to Happy Valley and to await confirmation that the bags were indeed in the FedEx depot.
Lo and behold--they were!
Which Pot Pie won the challenge? The Chicken Pot Pie in Pastry. Though Liz preferred the rich flavor of the ham. I need to experiment with a Ham Pot Pie in Pastry next time they come, with carry-on luggage.