Being an adult sucks sometimes. You have to pay bills, do taxes and handle other boring responsibilities, like putting pants on each day. And even though it’s “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year,” things always seem to get more stressful and hectic as everyone prepares to break for the holidays.
What’s funny is that, when I was younger, I was that insufferable woo girl who wanted to live, work and play right in the middle of the busiest cities. Now, I just laugh and laugh and laugh at that ridiculous, misguided notion. After close to a decade of city-living, I’m now almost two years into living outside of Washington, D.C., in Annapolis, and I spend most of my days not missing it, while craving peace and quiet and a house in the middle of nowhere.
Admittedly this dream may be a result of watching way too much Barefoot Contessa, but I don’t care. I still wish I could wake up one morning and say, “Fuck it, it’s Tuesday. It’s time for an impromptu 100-person canape party in my Williams-Sonoma furnished barn.” Don’t you? Sigh. I want that life.
So when I came around the bend on Timmons Road in Mount Airy, Maryland, I actually pulled my car over to the side of the road, got out of my car and stared out over the rolling hills. It was sunny and chilly – but not too chilly – and I couldn’t hear anything but the breeze. I was still about a mile out from my destination of Milkhouse Brewery at Stillpoint Farm, and I already felt relaxed.
Then I realized I was the dope in the Prius standing on the side of the road looking lost, so I got back in my car and headed up the hill to what ended up being a perfect afternoon spent with great beer and a group of amazing, awesome and hilarious chaps.
At Milkhouse, you can sit outside, in their taproom or right in the middle of their brewhouse, among the tanks. We chose the latter, because it was the obvious choice on such a cold day. Plus, how often do you get the drink the afternoon away right next to the very vessels that brought you the happiness and joy within your glass? The beer selection was simple and classic, with their porter, English-style bitter and farmhouse being the clear favorites for me. Seriously, when was the last time a porter and a bitter were the rockstar selections at a brewery? I need more of that in this over-saturated quadruple, barrel-aged world.
By the time I got home, I realized we may still be a couple of years away from having a secluded palatial Food Network-inspired estate to call our very own. But for now, it’s comforting to know that a measly hour and 10 minutes away is a quiet little beer getaway.
Oh, and the best part? They invite volunteers for their yearly hop harvest in September – consider my calendar marked.