The Red Lion Inn, Stockbrige Mass
It is like walking into an Edith Wharton Novel, old but lovely. Perfect service and meals, and the town is like a Norman Rockwell painting because it is; it is where he lived and painted. (His wife was treated for psychiatric disorder in the near by hospital.) The music’s in the hills - a short drive away to Tanglewood where you can hear contemporary and classic music.
I don’t know how we first discovered this place, it must have been during our wanderings around New England. Maybe on the way to Boston or as a side trip from Saratoga Springs. Anyway it felt just right, as an old shoe, or grandma’s house. We loved the old place from the first. The old rickety old elevator, the squeaky floors and the food to die for. It had a great bar, and an underground club with a feel of authenticity (people like James Taylor had played there).
The previous owners ran a curtain company and they liked to keep the place looking ‘homey’, chintzy curtains and all. The place looked like it could be a photoshoot for Look magazine. The decoration was eclectic; the paintings were terrible to sublime. The rooms were wonderfully old feeling, yet clean. Once we staid on the upper floor and found that we had a rope next to the window in case of a fire. We changed rooms. The front porche was so old school, as if it was a stoop where you could meet anyone. The summer terrace was a wonderful place to eat. And what food. I mean the breakfast was wonderful, I would order a blueberry muffin and coffee, with a side of freshly squeezed orange juice. The service was impeccable, usually students in the summer. Always smiling and pleasant.
The place reeks of history, they have a table that belonged to Lincoln along with other relics of historical visitors. Yet it isn’t an antique store; in fact they build a swimming pool and hot tube which is wonderful to soak in.
And then there is the village. Just around the corner is the “Alice’s Restaurant” that Arlo Gunthrie sang of, now under new ownership. Shops and stores that recall a bygone age, and a local drugstore that has a counter where you can play at being a personage in a Norman Rockwell painting, or you can go see the real thing at his museum down the road. The Berkshire hills are home to grand old dame houses including the Mount, the home of Edith Wharton.
I may sound like a tourist brochure but I am not trying to be one. I just love this old place with its gracious ways nestled in the hills. It feels like home to me.
