Ten! Years!
Nothing says celebrating your anniversary like adding 20 minutes onto a drive so you're not enveloped by the cacophony that is I-44. If my angelic wife were to have a fault, it would be hailing from the St. Louis area. Every holiday, birthday, anniversary, birth, death, etc., I'm on that hellscape of a highway. Not this time. She, crafty Magellan that she is, navigated us to an idyllic, calm drive to an adorable little Hallmark movie-esque town—Hermann, Missouri.
Ellena has been to Hermann multiple times in her college days. Turns out they've got a ton of wineries up there, and they throw big shindigs every weekend to celebrate Oktoberfest. The way we came into town was via bridge, and the whole vibe of the downtown area was awesome as hell. Stunning architecture and a walkable downtown are my peanut butter and chocolate, and this place was hella delivering!
We got checked into our hotel, the Vinchester Inn, and aside from the flight of stairs we had to traverse (yes, I can be a fan of old-school architecture and still not want to climb stairs), it was great. What made it outstanding were fridges stocked with Diet Coke that I just had to Venmo to cover. We made it to Wings-A-Blazin for dinner, which served damn good wings and deep-fried corn. If you're ever blessed enough to enter an establishment that serves this delicacy, ORDER IT!
Of course, after dinner there was a mandatory stop at The Chocolate Box for "supplies." In her deadpan delivery, Ellena had the quote of the trip:
As you could imagine, we went back to the hotel, where we made an excellent discovery: this hotel had a deliciously comfortable bed! We're both spoiled assholes when it comes to sleep, so this was like a whole other little vacation on top of our current weekend trip.
We slept in like proper middle-aged people—7:45 a.m. However, that was for the best, because there was an hour wait for breakfast at Ainslee's. We were able to kill some time wandering around a few local shops that were open and persistently checking our weather apps, because a colossal storm was on the horizon. We made it in and were seated at a table just as the skies opened up... thank the gods. Ainslee's was incredible. It had an awesome small-town diner vibe, and the food was actually cooked—not a frozen pallet of "mid" from Sysco.
Once we were sure we couldn't hold any more breakfast, we left like the proper warriors we are to catch a trolley. The town does it up right, man—like six trolleys running people to umpteen different wineries from 9 a.m. till... well, it didn't matter because we were sure as hell gonna be done by whatever time it stopped. In my days at the Branson Chamber of Commerce, I always saw ads for Stone Hill Winery and decided that was our destination.
Turns out when it's a persistent downpour, no one wants to be outside... which meant Stone Hill was PACKED. We got registered for the tour and were the last ones admitted for two hours. The tour was pretty fascinating—a lot of interesting history, like how during Prohibition they pivoted to growing mushrooms. Moments like this truly illustrate my age. It was dank and creepy as hell in those rooms. Seventeen-year-old me would've been so stoked to take band photos there.
Once the tour ended, we were circling the drain as well. We hopped back on a trolley to head downtown for some lunch and maybe check out another winery. Sadly, by this time everyone was awake and out, and our idyllic little town was becoming an incubator for college regret. So we skipped a winery and found another awesome little diner that, sadly, I can't remember the name of.
There were so many people out that we were afraid to both go up and order lunch because we'd lose our seats. This is when being me pays off. So long as something doesn't have sour cream on it, there's a 98.2% chance I'll eat it and not complain at all. Ellena, on the other hand, has such complex orders that those ladies in Hidden Figures couldn't figure it out. Therefore, she had to order our lunch and I remained seated like a proper gentleman! It was a damn fine old-school burger and fries.
The early wake-up was starting to catch up to us, and the only thing either of us could think to do was get back to our hotel ASAP to collapse onto that bed. It was a beautiful nap—possible top five all-time naps. We woke up roughly three... THREE HOURS LATER! Much like deep-sea divers, you can't just jump right up and grab dinner; you've gotta go through proper decompression! Thankfully, the last episode of the outstanding Nobody Wants This was waiting for us. After finishing that, we made our way to a stunning dinner.
We walked around the block to 4th Street Pizza, where the wait was 45 minutes. Considering we were both still kinda waking up, and the rain had subsided, we didn't mind waiting and watching those who'd powered through the allure of a late-afternoon nap and just kept drinking. Once we got to our table, the vibe was identical to everywhere else we ate: legit cooked food in a chill small-town atmosphere. Sadly, with food comes a longer wait, but mother of god, it was hands down the best cheese bread and pizza I've ever had. Metaphors and adjectives would only diminish the religious experience I had in this establishment. Like the deep-fried corn, if you're lucky enough to come across this place, stop and order a meal, hungry or not.
We walked back for our final night in Hermann, realizing we'd only done about three things the whole day, and I can't think of a finer way to celebrate 10 years. We passed out and decided that we had to go back to Ainslee's for breakfast. Nostalgia, however, had other plans.
I don't know how, but somehow we both slept till 9! We knew the chances of getting a table would be slim to none, but we didn't know for sure, and that's why you play the game. We played, and we lost... an hour-and-a-half wait. Far too long. We both had to work the next day, and knowing a three-hour drive was in front of us—no matter how peaceful—was something we wanted to get over with sooner rather than later.
On our way out of Hermann, Ellena remembered seeing a Perkins on the way in and demanded we have breakfast there. Perkins was her favorite breakfast spot, mostly because their muffins are the size of small cakes. Oddly enough, the Perkins in Springfield closed, which, considering their muffins, baffles me. Unfortunately, Ellena's memories tasted much better than the reality sitting in front of us. Gone were the small-town vibes and delicious fresh food... Sysco was back. It was fine, but after the weekend, it was a swift kick back to reality. However, not all was lost. When I used Apple Pay on my watch, the hostess looked at me like I was Tony Stark... it's the little things.
