Photo by Colin Coleman @ The Quadrant Book Mart and Coffee House
The natural light filled the living room and I was struck by the beautiful simplicity of this space. It was a Saturday morning in December and I’d lived in downtown Easton for one week. From the sofa, my view looks like colorful architecture, sharp church steeples and a sky of cerulean blue. The view from my bedroom looks like New Jersey.
I’ve been a Lehigh Valley resident since I moved to Allentown to attend Cedar Crest College in 2001, and over the years resided in four different apartments in scattered Bethlehem neighborhoods. I remember the first time I traveled to Minnesota by bus to visit a friend (note: don’t travel to Minnesota by bus) and when the driver asked, “Where are you from?” I was silenced by my inability to articulate the correct answer. Allentown? Bethlehem? Wilkes-Barre? Eastern Pennsylvania in general?
Leaving Bethlehem wasn’t a particularly hard decision—thankfully, all points in the Lehigh Valley lead to each other with a few miles of travel and the guidance of Route 22, if it can’t be avoided—but I had become so familiar with the landscape and my favorite places and the way I could see whatever fireworks they were shooting off at SteelStacks from my window and feel them shake the floors. To arrive somewhere new, whether ten or a 100 miles away, means finding a new path literally and figuratively. I find the aisles I need in the supermarkets I’ve never been to. I find the best coffee shop for atmosphere and flavor. The newness of the streets forces me to look up and see the faded letters that spell out “FURNITURE” on a weather-worn brick store facade, a reminder that so many people have called this place home long before I did.
Photo by Alison Conklin
Re:find
The walking tour
On my first free Saturday in Easton I obtained a library card and spent an hour running my fingers along the spines of books about Pennsylvania history and “How to Survive Being Single in Your 30s”-type books, which is actually a topic many, many people have opinions on (and was a joke to myself, to be sure).
I visited Re:find, formerly Home & Planet and also a Bethlehem transplant, and marveled at the colorful sleek sofas, the graphic art and picked up a new plant as a housewarming gift to myself. I rediscovered The Quadrant Book Mart and Coffee House, several floors of tomes and paperbacks and what they lack in order they make up for in sheer volume and presence.
The flag on Third Street advertising “BOOKS” is so charming, and you can add avocado to any breakfast or lunch food. The scent of old books married with the scent of breakfast potatoes may be what Heaven is made of.
While standing outside I almost ran into a pedestrian who happened to be an old friend I hadn’t seen in years. “Come with me,” she said, so I did, and we ended up a few blocks away at a DIY art show inside a small loft apartment on a side street. Everything about that moment felt right and good. I was so happy things like that existed steps away from my new address.
The idea that we can find someone after months or years of not seeing them, trust them enough to follow them into an alley and discover a new family of community artists and makers has a beauty and genuineness to it that was not, and is not, lost on me.
Photo by Colin Coleman
Mercantile Home
In Mercantile Home I found scent-disorienting hand-poured candles and the most sincere smiles (the smiles are free).
The Easton Farmers’ Market opened their indoor winter market that day, a true moment of serendipity, and I walked in wide-eyed at the newly lacquered wooden floor, the bustle and hum of what had to be hundreds of shoppers selectively choosing bread loaves and winter squash. I could say the Market alone makes it worth moving to Easton and not be exaggerating.
You can get vanilla-lavender bath fizzies, hickory-smoked sriracha and have your kitchen knife sharpened within 20 square feet. And that’s just one corner.
If you do it right, you’ll bring two dollars for a hot cup of freshly roasted coffee and wear loose clothes to easier hang out with all your friends and neighbors, which is inevitable and will happen over and over. It’s grocery shopping and a social event.
That evening, after an art show at Connexions Gallery, I walked with friends to the Lafayette Bar, which becomes a jazz club every other Saturday. Respected musicians from all over the Eastern seaboard come to play and it’s a mix of saxophones and cheap beers. And they serve what I can say is, without any dramatics, one of the most delicious things I’ve ever eaten: thyme popcorn. For one dollar you can purchase a brown paper bag rolled at the top and stapled, full of warm popcorn smothered in thyme + olive oil + salt. You will be angry at yourself for not knowing about it sooner. I came home exhausted, but happy.
One week later I returned to my (old) Bethlehem apartment to pick up more of my things, and the physical feeling of knowing it was no longer my home was palpable. It felt like when you return to your hometown to visit your parents, and your hands instinctively know which drawer in the kitchen holds the forks, but you can’t remember how to work that old microwave. It was familiar, but no longer mine.
For the last year I’ve thought a lot about what makes a home, as surely it’s more than the sum of our record collections and the contents of our refrigerators. It is and is not the people we share our lives with, because when those people are gone we are still grounded to something, even in moments we don’t feel like we are.
T. S. Eliot said:
“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.”
The Lehigh Valley has been my home for over a decade but there are still so many parts I’ve never seen. There is endless promise in that: the faded familiar and the clean bright new. As our cities continue to come alive with a pulse of new restaurants and shops and modern lofts, and our old favorites continue to remain hubs of catching up with one another face-to-face and stand as something to rely on, I feel so lucky to live here. We have the best of everything and we are constantly encouraged to seek and create more.
Even now, every time I’m out and I introduce myself to someone I’ve never met before as a new resident of Easton, I am warmed by the many times they have replied, “Welcome home.”
In the spirit of home, warmth and familiarity, I’m sharing a simple recipe for one of my favorite breakfast comfort foods. The thick, toasty bread slathered in creamy avocado goes perfectly with a mug of coffee (or four) and a Sunday afternoon nap.
Avocado Toast with Smoked Sea Salt
(vegan. *gluten-free. soy-free.)
fresh bakery bread, sliced in 1/2” slices (no eggs or milk; *can use gluten-free bread)
olive oil or cooking spray
1 handful grape tomatoes, cut in half
1 avocado
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
1 garlic clove, crushed
smoked sea salt
Spray a small pan with cooking oil spray. When hot, add halved grape tomatoes. Cook on medium high heat, tossing occasionally until the tomatoes start to turn brown. Set them aside in a bowl.
Put the pan back on medium-high heat. Spray one side of bread slices with cooking spray (or brush lightly with olive oil). Add oiled side down to hot pan to toast the bread. Turn, spray, and toast the other side.
In a bowl, use a fork to mash together the avocado flesh, lemon juice and garlic.
Spread avocado mixture on the toasted bread. Top with tomatoes and smoked sea salt.
For your viewing pleasure
Fresh Perspectives is about seeing the Lehigh Valley with new eyes and discovering places and things of beauty. Instagram as a medium can be so much more than selfies and grainy photos of dinner plates. It can be a small, well-curated personal photo gallery that is free and accessible to anyone with Internet access. It puts power in the hands of those who choose to use it for more than just social media.
Each column I’ll highlight some of my favorite Lehigh Valley-based Instagram accounts, many of which have forced me to a double-take and see something familiar for the first time, in a new light. I hope you’ll appreciate them as much as I do.
@hills_stills
Name:
Dave Hill
Location:
Easton
Camera:
iPhone, Nikon D3100
Day Job:
Inventory Manager at a Car Dealership
Passion Project:
“I’ve been obsessed with traveling for a while, so I’m in the process of trying to drive through all the lower 48 states. Still got five to go.”
Where do you find inspiration?
“Lately, I’ve been really into photographing wild animals, and really just getting out to see them in their natural habitats,” says Hill. “A lot of my inspiration has been coming from those experiences, and I also look at a lot of nature and wildlife photography to find places I’d like to visit. And sad songs. Always sad songs.”
Favorite thing about living in the Lehigh Valley?
“I really love how accessible everything is around here. Pretty much anything I ever need is within walking distance of my house. It’s pretty crazy how many natural areas are within easy reach of this area, too. There are tons of places to go hike and find wild animals just a short drive away, and I always appreciate that.”
Jaime Karpovich hosts Save the Kales! vegan TV show which airs on RCN Cable and is available online, and writes a blog of the same name. She resides in Easton with her dog, cat and clawfoot bathtub. She likes to use social media for good and can be found @savethekales.
Find more of Jaime’s favorite local Instragramers >>
