The Saturday after Thanksgiving—this is taking place back in my native Northeastern Pennsylvania, FYI—my brother, friend Jacki, and I traditionally drive across the New York Border (only about 40 minutes from where we all grew up) and bop around several small Catskill towns, checking out their restaurants, breweries, bars, and bookstores. It’s one of my favorite days of the year, and this year was very cozy, a word I personally think gets overused but one that’s a great descriptor of certain parts of upstate New York in the colder seasons, particularly the Catkills and Adirondacks.
This year, Shawn, Jacki, and I sat on picnic tables in an old-school canvas tent outside the Catskill Brewery in Livingston Manor, New York, eating poutine as a woodfire stove burned. Across town at Upward Brewing, we sat on a deep leather couch in a room that resembled a ski lodge as a bonfire burned outside. In Roscoe, New York, we ate hot sandwiches under a heat lamp at Do Good Spirits, and in Cochecton, we had a melted cheeseboard in the Cochecton Fire Station (also accompanied by a roaring fire). In almost every locale we were surrounded by lots of hardwood, throws, plaid, and dining options that included melted cheese. I loved it.
The thing is, though, that as cozy as the Catskills is, there’s always an element of cringe because it’s an exceptionally curated cozy. I remember the first time I stopped in Livingston Manor—years ago when I was in my mid-20s and didn’t properly understand the term gentrification, nor realized yet that it could occur in rural areas just as much as cities—and my cousin and I went to the Kaatskeller, a woodfired pizza joint boasting $18.00 meatballs, an oat milk gelato cart outside, and the general vibe of people who assume everyone gets Allison Roman’s Substack. At the end of the bar was a couple dressed in matching oversized fair-isle sweaters, shiny L.L. Bean duck boots, and comically pompom-ed winter hats. I remember laughing at them, assuming—I’d be money on correctly—that this couple was more concerned about looking cozy than actually feeling cozy. That’s the general vibe of the modern Catskills: it’s all brand new winter boots purchased to look outdoorsy, cocktails that “warrant” their prices because they include hand-burnt sage from a local herbalist, and Carhartt purchased at a Brooklyn boutique for insane prices. In other words, the Catskills are very Asheville.
Editor’s Note: Can one culturally appropriate a farmer? I’m genuinely asking because it’s the reason I cannot bring myself to purchase anything Carhartt. Well, if I’m honest, it is more a sense of shame than cultural appropriation fears, but let me elaborate. I grew up in a school district that had a decent population of kids living on farms. You know who wore Carhartt to school? Those kids. And my friends who hunted. It was, contrary to what I’m sure many living in West Ashville believe, not a brand created for people who have a favorite kind of hop but a real blue-collar brand that you could still buy at Ace Hardware for reasonable if your favorite Haywood Road boutique pretending to be a consignment shop doesn’t have there at inflated prices. I’d feel like a fucking poser wearing Carhartt and be embarrassed if anyone I went to high school with saw me prancing about a brewery with my hazy IPA and a Carhartt beanie atop my head.
Two things can be true at once, right? You could roll your eyes at something and thoroughly enjoy it (that’s essentially the thesis of this entire blog…). It’s how I feel about both Asheville and the Catskills. I dig cozy, in whatever form, and unfortunately, many of the actual cozy places are closing and being replaced by curated cozy—beggars can’t be choosers (except, honestly, in Lake Placid, which hasn’t been completely hipsterized yet). I returned to Asheville the Sunday after Thanksgiving (and the day after our outing) excited about the cold weather, breaking out my sweater weather, and trying to find a cozy atmosphere here in town.
Asheville does have a lack of both fireplaces and woodstoves—which honestly, makes sense this far below the Mason Dixon where typically I want to spend the bulk of my time outdoors—so I was delighted to stumble upon the Wrong Way River Lodge and Cabin’s canteen in the West Asheville side of the River Arts just across Amboy Road from the French Broad. I’ve passed it many times on summer kayaking trips and follow them on Instagram, and so I have been wanting to check out their canteen where Instagram says locals can also come gather for drinks.
The canteen…was the exact coziness I craved. It was all hardwood. I sat in a camping-style chair by a woodstove, drinking a HiWire winter IPA with a flannel pattern on the can. A canoe hung on the wall! There are pastries and chai lattes for sale! It feels like the perfect place to walk to and hunker down during one of the snow storms Asheville will allegedly be beset by this year (people have been loving referencing the farmer’s almanac this year?). And, when I was having a drink there, nothing made me roll my eyes. The other patrons seemed to wear clothes not specifically purchased to cosplay apres skiers! The beer is super affordable (especially for West Asheville)! I didn’t hear anyone utter the word “authentic!”
I left stoked, thinking I found my new winter hang. Then, when attempting to describe the place to a friend, I checked their Instagram, thinking a screengrab would be easier. That’s when I saw that…they describe their rustic, cozy style as…Scandallachian. Readers…I CRINGED.
Now, I won’t hold that against Wrong Way’s Canteen. I still think it’s the cozy atmosphere I crave during this time. And, it’s not the cringiest spot in Asheville by any means—as for the headline up there? Well, hyperbole just drives clicks, and we bloggers can’t afford to be immune to clickbait in this time of inflation—but it needed to be noted.
I’m not going to hold it against them, and I thoroughly enjoyed my cozy afternoon…but Scandallachian is bad. Both could be true 🙂.
AshevilleExplorer 