Two weeks ago, at the very last minute we cancelled our gorgeously-planned trip to Italy, Florence and northwest Tuscany to be exact. Instead, we landed in Spring Lake, New Jersey, a posh enclave among the Jersey shore’s beaches, the very day we were to have been picked up at the Pisa airport by a man named Luca and whisked to the Hotel Kraft in Firenze, a hotel I stayed in when I was 19. Only blocks from the Ponte Vecchio, with a rooftop restaurant looking onto the Arno River, it was where I first fell in love with the food of Tuscany and the hotel’s handsome assistant manager, Pepe Regoli. And so we pretended.
The memories flooded me as did the torrential rains of Hurricane Henri that would barely escape us as we checked into, alas, not the Hotel Kraft mind you, but into Spring Lake’s pristine Chateau Inn & Suites. Italy would have to wait (for better, post-Covid times). As everyone hunkered down for the impending storm we crazily headed straight to what is considered the most elegant of the Jersey shore towns. Despite the rain and gray skies, the sun found us anyway, long enough to enjoy the beach (and our daily game of scrabble), brunch at Breakers on the Ocean, and a surprisingly very Italian inspired meal, sitting outside under a full moon with pots of blooming hibiscus, a starry night, stone walls, a credible pasta alla vodka, scallops with basil, and a waiter named Tony, at Arugula. Before dinner began, we ran to our car to retrieve one of the wine bottles stored in the trunk – these places are all BYOB, which makes eating incredibly reasonable. A bottle of Sambuca came with the excellent espresso at the end of the night. Earlier that day there were salmon cakes and crab cakes and great clams on the half shell at Spring Lake Café. Was I imagining, but did some of this – deep blue ocean, ancient white sand, long walks, lush greenery, Italianate-villas, and a church fashioned after the Sistine Chapel, feel a bit like…
Next stop: The Inn at Whitewing Farm in the Brandywine Valley, run by the extraordinary owners Lance and Sandy Shortt. For decades we have wanted to visit Longwood Gardens and Winterthur, the magnificent estate of the DuPont family, and the equally impressive Nemours Estate and Gardens owned by another of the DuPont family clan. We first heard about Winterthur, now a museum of American decorative art, from a friend who became a high-end furniture restorer. His adoration of the displays in the 175 rooms of the mansion, viewed by many who took decorative arts and American craftsmanship seriously, was infectious. Due to Covid, however, we were limited to a dozen or so rooms but the visit was well worth it. The grounds are extraordinary, the trees more majestic than most any we’ve seen anywhere, and the adjacent galleries were notable (including a permanent soup tureen exhibit funded by Campbells – but we preferred the simplicity of the tureens we had at home!) The Inn at Whitewing Farm is a gem. There is a beautiful pool, sumptuous home-cooked breakfasts, tennis court, wide expanses of huge, lush greenery, and Adirondack chairs for simply gazing into a gushing geyser in the pond, one that refracts sunlight to allow a rainbow of colors to settle on the water. We stared. We relaxed. We swam and pretended we were in Italy. It wasn’t difficult at all. There were the Italian fountains at Longwood Gardens; outdoor dining behind an old stone barn where we sipped pinot grigio with our burrata and fried green tomatoes, and Montelpuciano with our steamed mussels and semolina bread at The Gables at Chadds Ford.
Before heading off to the wonderful Brandywine River Museum and a tour of N.C. Wyeth’s home and studio, we enjoyed an al fresco breakfast of spinach frittatas, fresh figs and espresso at the Inn. Not quite Italy, but…
Here’s how to do it: Two nights at the Chateau Inn & Suites in Spring Lake (or the Ocean House); dinner at Arugula, breakfast at Breakers on the Ocean, lunch at Spring Lake Café. Two nights at the Inn at Whitewing Farm in West Chester, PA; visits to Longwood Gardens, Winterthur, Nemours Mansion & Gardens, the Brandywine River Museum, dinner at The Gables in Chadds Ford.
But the most unexpected part of this “pretend-Italy” happened today in Northport, Long Island, where we landed at a Tuscan-inspired winery called Del Vino Vineyards, sitting in a vast vine-laden garden, eating truffle ravioli filled with spinach and ricotta, and burrata with arugula, to be washed down by few glasses of a really good super Tuscan red wine ~ “the family’s proprietary blend.” Just didn’t see that coming. Not quite Italy, but…
