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The
River'd Inn
About the best thing that could happen to you during a visit to the River’d Inn would be a flash flood. For when that happens, the waters of the North Branch of the Shenandoah River submerge the low-level concrete bridge that connects this marvelous hideaway in the upper Shenandoah Valley with the outside world. And guests, and nearby residents, thus are said to be "river’d" in. Should that happen, you would be forced to spend an extra day or two eating the delicious concoctions of chef Randolph Wyche, relaxing in the lounge or your oversized room and, if it’s not too wet, strolling the 25-acre property and trolling for bass in its swollen streams. But even if the only water you encounter is in your bathroom, a trip to the River’d Inn is worth the drive (about three hours from Richmond). The inn’s youthful owner, 32-year-old Diana Lurey, already is a veteran of the joys and sorrows of running a small business. Diana bought the inn in the fall of 1994, when she was 26. Her first hire was a hard-working dishwasher, Dan Fauver, who quickly worked his way up, first to caretaker and, in August of this year, to husband. On Feb. 10, 1996, just 16 months after she bought the inn, it was destroyed by fire, the result of an electrical short in the kitchen. Diana, her chef and four guests were safely evacuated, but she was out of business for nearly two years. The good news was that, with adequate insurance and nearly a year and one-half experience of what guests liked and didn’t like, Diana was able to design a rebuilt inn that retained the warmth and façade of the original 1895 farmhouse and additions put on in the 60s and 70s. Diana calls herself a corporate dropout. She began searching for an inn to buy a few years after graduating from the University of North Carolina at Greensboro with a degree in business. She had landed what she thought was a "dream job," working for an advertising agency, but she soon discovered she wanted to work for herself. So for two and one-half years, she and various real estate agents trudged up and down mountains and valley from southernmost North Carolina to northernmost Virginia. The search ended when she visited the Shenandoah Valley. She was struck not only by the beauty of the place but, good businesswoman that she is, by its proximity to the Washington metropolitan area, about 90 minutes away. Her first attempt to buy an inn foundered when five banks refused to loan the necessary money to the 26-year-old, whose down payment consisted of the proceeds of a small trust fund from her grandmother and a few year’s savings.
Shortly after Diana concluded the purchase, a representative of one of the banks that had rejected her loan application showed up, trying to get her business. "I threw him out," she said, exhibiting the spunk that helped her survive the disastrous fire. After rebuilding, the inn had nearly doubled in size, to 16,780 square feet. Although the number of guest rooms remained the same, at eight, everything else was expanded. The additions included a spacious lobby that can be used for cocktail parties, a separate dining room for smokers (and for private events), a full-service bar, an elevator, wrap-around porch, hot-tub and pool. Diana and Dan live in a basement apartment. Each of the redesigned rooms has a gas-log fireplace, a queen-sized bed and whirlpool tub or shower. The smallest room, where we stayed, is wheelchair accessible, and includes a shower-for-two with a seat, and two oversized chairs. A special touch are an eclectic selection of up-to-date magazines, ranging from Bon Appetite to The American Motorcyclist. The fanciest accommodation is the Rose Suite (each room has a name). It has a vaulted ceiling, crystal chandeliers, brass bed and a see-through fireplace flanked by double French doors that lead to a huge bathroom that overlooks the rear yard. But it is in the kitchen that the River’d Inn is most accomplished. After the fire, Diana tried to convince the French chef to add American touches to the menu, which then was built around a pre fixe six-course dinner, but she had only limited success. She urged the chef to buy locally grown products, but a language barrier contributed to misunderstandings and antagonisms with the farmers. So about a year ago, by mutual agreement, the Frenchman departed and was replaced by Wyche, who Diana hired away from the Maryland Club in Baltimore. The 38-year-old Wyche, who learned about cooking in his mother’s restaurant in Pennsylvania, trained at Le Cordon Bleu in London, and worked at a resort in the Bahamas and at the Wyndom Bristol Hotel in D. C. before moving to Baltimore.
Another French touch is a complimentary amuses bouche (mouth amusements) that begins the meal. Ours was a bite-sized pastry filled with blue cheese and trimmed with red raspberries. For an appetizer, I chose a smoked salmon tart, layered in a walnut pastry with Swiss chard and melted buffalo mozzarella, surrounded by gingered beets, baby lettuces, and horseradish vinaigrette, which is a delectable combination. My wife began with a savory, creamy soup made with fresh sweet corn, littleneck clams and crisp, house-smoked bacon. Other appetizers, ranging from $6 to $8.50, may be Chesapeake oysters dipped in a cornmeal batter, a hot smoked breast of duck on a bun with hoisin barbecue sauce, homemade rabbit sausage, or a potato and goat cheese custard baked in a walnut pastry. Soups and salads, $6 to $8.50, include a rich consommé with poached chicken, small diced vegetables and alphabet pasta, or a salad of baby spinach and radicchio garnished with roasted golden apples (locally grown, as are many fruits and vegetables now), toasted walnuts and bleu cheese vinaigrette. Most entrees are priced in the teens, with a garlic-roasted chicken breast $16 and twin filet mignons $23. Seafood possibilities include pan-seared Atlantic salmon, a parmesan-crusted cod fillet and orange molasses-glazed jumbo shrimps. Meat eaters can choose among sautéed calves liver, pepper-crusted rib-eye steak and the bison and pork loin. On our recent visit, I chose the nightly special, crusted tuna sitting atop black-eyed peas with snow peas and mashed potatoes, with sprig of rosemary. Unfortunately, I didn’t specify how I wanted it cook, thinking it would come rare, and Bill, our distinguished-looking waiter—a retired Lutheran minister—didn’t ask, so it arrived cooked medium, although still quite good. The highlight of our evening--and proof that Wyche’s time in Baltimore was put to best advantage—were the lightly broiled, twin jumbo crab cakes ordered by my wife. An inveterate crab connoisseur (honed during our 14 years in Maryland) she said she had never found more lump crab than in those cakes. And if that didn’t sate her appetite for crab, ample sections of lump crab were heaped on accompanying cole slaw. At $25, the crab was the priciest entrée on the menu, but well worth it. Other ways to enjoy crab here are in an appetizer called a jumbo lump crab martini, so named because it is served in a giant martini class, with the crab sitting on a bed of lettuce and topped with lemon-garlic aioli, and in frosted crab soup, which is a tomato soup finished with Old Bay seasoning and topped with lump crab meat. For dessert, we shared a slice of homemade key lime pie with graham cracker crust topped with whipped cream. At this time of year the desserts, which run about $6, feature home-grown Shenandoah apple cake, dusted with powdered sugar and served with a warm vanilla sauce; spiced pumpkin cheesecake with milk chocolate caramel and cinnamon-flavored sweetened cream; a bourbon pecan tart with chocolate or vanilla bean ice cream, and a frozen white chocolate mousse with warm Godiva chocolate and macaroons. A selection of domestic and imported artisan cheeses also is available. The inn has an adequate selection of American and French wines, many in the $20 to $30 range. We chose a Linden Chardonnay from Virginia, for $27. I first ordered a Chardonnay from nearby Shenandoah Winery, which we had visited after checking in, but it was out of stock. The atmosphere in adjoining main dining rooms, separated by a fireplace, is comfortable rather than elegant. Tables, with fresh flowers and a candle, are covered with navy blue table cloths over white. The chairs are oak. After dinner, guests sometimes linger in the large lobby, or stop for a nightcap in the full-service bar, especially when they are river’d in. It didn’t take long for Diana to discover that being "river’d in" was more than legend. "That first year," she recalled, "water covered the bridge every other day for six weeks." During a hurricane four years ago, the bridge was under 48 feet of water. By contrast, despite this year’s wet weather, the inn has not been river’d in once. Even if the bridge is blocked, there is an emergency route out, thanks to an adjoining property owner who has access to high bridge. But I don’t want to know about escape plans. I’m looking forward to returning when the water is high or the snow is deep, and experience being "river’d in," or at least snowed in. This review originally appeared in 64 magazine in November, 2000. |
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But
then her real estate agent found the River’d Inn, whose owners were
willing to provide financing. The sprawling white-framed structure had
first welcomed guests in 1982, as Schlisselsmith’s Bed and Breakfast.
When that family returned to their native Germany in 1989, the new owner
christened the place the River’d Inn, and in 1992 added a restaurant
that featured classic French cuisine, complete with a French chef and
menus printed in French.
There
are still French touches on the menu, such as truffle-roasted chicken
and a classic crème broule for dessert, but most of the offerings are
contemporary regional American cuisine, such as a Nantucket bay scallop
salad, pan-seared Chesapeake rockfish, Shenandoah cut pork T-bone loin
chop and grilled Madison County (Va.) bison.