Hey friend, climb on in the backseat and ride along with us; we're going somewhere unique. At the edge of the town of Crossnore, NC, tucked into one of those tight mountain curves that scares the heebie-jeebies out of the outlanders, sits Jennifer Pinter's specialty dessert shop.
"When we opened the shop twenty years ago, all the locals laughed at us," said Jennifer. "Nothing had ever made a go of it in this curve, but I think that curve was a blessing for this place."
I can't argue. That curve becomes so sharp so quick that drivers find themselves almost at a stop. That's the first time you find yourself wondering if you went through a time tunnel, because sitting directly in front of you is the Linville River Mercantile and Bakery, and it just beckons you to pull over.
Now, friends, I must confess: the first time I was in Jennifer's parking lot, it was on a foggy afternoon, and when I walked through her doors, I was spooked. It looked like 1929, and I half expected Rod Serling to walk out of the back and say, "Welcome to the Twilight Zone." But the smell of Jennifer's freshly baked goods sent those thoughts scampering away.
Jennifer isn't just a baker, though. She's a designer, a collector, and a woman who's spent thirty-some years cultivating her sources. The whole place is intended to make you forget the constraints that today's lifestyle puts on us. If you love history and antiques, you'll want to pitch a tent and camp out in her store.
When I sat right down at the turn-of-the-century round oak ice cream table that rested four feet from a 1920s soda counter and saw a stack of fluted ice cream sundae dishes, my mouth started watering. I was about to make my order when I noticed a short hall that ended with a wall of mirrors. Pointing at it, I asked Jennifer, "Anybody ever think the hall is twice as long and run into themselves?"
Jennifer grinned. "One day a woman went down that hall and politely excused herself to the oncoming lady. When she got no answer, she came back and told me she'd just met the rudest woman in Avery County. The whole store was snickering, so I had to break the news to her."
But let's get to the reason we came: the baked goods. When she first opened the mercantile, the cooking was a side venture, and before she knew it, she had a full-fledged bakery. "Everything is made in that kitchen, every single day, and sells out by the end of the day," said Jennifer. And yes, you guessed it — this is the only place you can get her goods.
Cheesecake, key lime pie, coconut custard pie, pecan pie, and that's just on the top shelf. Look one shelf lower and you'll see a mouth-watering plantation pie, a sweet cream custard with chocolate, coconut, and pecans. Don't you dare reach for that cast iron skillet pineapple upside-down cake, or there's going to be a fight. Every day there's a cobbler, and the day we visited it was mountain berry — strawberry, blueberry, blackberry, and raspberry all together. Let me sum up the dessert case this way: Granny Smith, who's your mommy now?
Jennifer's clerk and friend followed us outside to tell us about the peanut butter tort. "This one is serious business," she said. "Chocolate cookie crumb on the bottom, a light peanut butter mousse with a little cream cheese worked in, and chocolate ganache over the top. It sells quick, so if you want one, you'd best come first thing in the morning."
My response was, "I'm not touching the stuff. It sounds like it could be illegal."
Before we headed back to the car, we stopped by Henry and Gloria's table. The Mercantile was their last stop before heading home to Florida. Jason asked Gloria to rate the place on a scale of one to ten; she looked him straight in the eye and said a twelve. His follow-up question — "What's your favorite part of the store?" — was answered with no hesitation. "Jennifer," she said. "She is the kindest, sweetest person and the best baker we've ever known." When somebody keeps coming from Florida to your place of business, year after year, you don't need my recommendation.
"The shop was gathering dust for a while after my husband died this past December," said Jennifer. "But I am ready to get back to our dream."
It's a dream that's been unfolding in that curve for twenty-plus years, so the next time you find yourself easing around that curve in Crossnore, pull in and sit at the ice cream table — or get the peanut butter tort — and tell her the ride-about guys sent you.
Click here to ride along with us and meet Jennifer at the Linville River Mercantile.
