We had seen the last house of the day, or so we thought.  Exhausted and discouraged and on the third day of a driving, ceaseless rain that didn’t help our mood or the cosmetic appeal of the economically depressed (and therefore affordable) area of upstate New York we had honed in on, we headed back to where our car was parked. En route, my husband suddenly held up the print-out of a listing (complete with flattering photo) of a Victorian farmhouse featuring a
wrap-around porch and a suspiciously low price tag, and asked, “What about this one?”  All afternoon, he had been reiterating that he wanted a house with a porch. For me, a porch was a given. As an apartment dweller in Manhattan, what could possibly be the point of owning a house outside of the city if a porch was not part of the deal? 

Almost reluctantly, Tanya, our real estate agent, made the turn onto the road that would take us, for better or for worse, to our destiny. Two and half miles down that road, we turned into our driveway. Indeed, there was the wrap-around porch, along with a rusted chain link fence that ran the length of the property, a bay window that barely clung to the main structure and a conspicuous lack of 20th Century updates. This was Amityville.  Standing on the porch, peering into the
dining room, I remember saying, “It’s not so bad,” even as I took in the fact that what should be a wooden floor beneath my feet had long-since been replaced by a cement foundation. But it was a porch nonetheless and the posts and spindles were original.  The rest of the house was literally falling down (and the porch wasn’t faring too well either). But never mind, it was a porch with glorious potential and we were sold. 

Beginning with the ancient Greek portico, porch-like structures have always served the practical purposes of keeping the inside of the structure cool, creating shade outside, and, of course, providing a decorative façade.  But it wasn’t until the 1840’s that the feature really came into its own in this country when it became almost de rigueur in new construction. The Industrial Age (beginning in the mid-nineteenth century) had created a whole new class of Americans who found themselves with leisure time on their hands and they needed, apparently, an outpost that could publicly display their upward mobility while allowing them to enjoy their free time relaxing and communing with nature and neighbors. From the rustic outpost of a Rocky Mountain cabin to the warm and welcoming shelter of otherwise austere New England farmhouses to the refined and romantic graciousness of plantations in the South, the American porch is iconic. But much
more than architectural embellishment or functional shelter from the elements, porches are really about the nature and quality of the time that is spent there.  Conversation and storytelling, pea shelling and needlepoint, deer watching and a quiet smoke after dinner, folk songs and porch swing courtships; so much of Americana has played out under the eaves.

Tucked just outside the Colorado mountain town of Indian Hills, once a summer campground of the Ute Indians, sits a humble cabin constructed of hand-hewn timbers pulled from a nearby abandoned gold-miner’s cabin. Built in 1919 by a Denver doctor wishing to escape with his family from the sweltering city heat, it was at first intended to be a garage that would belong to a main house to be constructed atop the hill behind it.  The story goes that the Doctor and his family loved the “garage” location so much that they simply added a kitchen and a porch to the structure, instantly transforming the small building into the vacation home of their dreams. Funny, how a porch can do that.  

Little did the doctor know that he had created the perfect viewing station for what would become the biggest annual event in Indian Hills: the volunteer Fire Department’s Fourth of July parade. Aside from that one day of excitement each year, the place is quiet and still feels remote. Now owned by my sister-in-law’s family, her parents love to tell the story of how it once rained at one end of the 15-foot-long porch while the other end was bathed in bright sunshine. Only the oddities of Colorado weather make this phenomenon possible but without a porch, the magical
moment may have been missed altogether.

With family roots in both the West and the South, I’m inevitably drawn from the humble cabin to the grand porticos of plantation houses, one of the lasting icons of the Old South.  The town of Natchez, Mississippi, an easy day trip to the north of Baton Rouge, has a colorful history steeped in Native Indian lore, European colonialism, plantation life and the Great War and its aftermath. Altogether, the town boasts the best preserved slice of the Old South in the country, an extraordinary collection of mansions perched atop the bluff overlooking the “Big River.” Along with some of the old haunts of the river riff raff, a large number of these historic homes have been meticulously kept in their original condition and can be viewed during bi-annual tour series called “Pilgrimages.” 

The typical plantation portico is a conspicuous feature of the classic Greek revival style, characteristic of most of these homes. The grandeur comes from the imposing columns that provide the vertical supports, often extending high enough to create a second, upper floor porch directly above. In the wilting heat of southern summers, this “sleeping porch” provided access to welcome breezes off the river. On the lower, main porch, the expansive veranda was where one could relax with a satisfying view of one’s considerable property while elegantly sipping a Mint Julep and breathing in the perfume of magnolias in bloom.   

It is a romantic and tranquil image rising out of a turbulent time in history. Green Leaves, a home like many others on
the Pilgrimage tour has been in continuous family ownership since the antebellum era, exhibits a small bullet hole in the glass transom above the front door.  The current occupant’s great, great grandfather survived the Great War, only to be shot at by a carpetbagger as he stood on his front porch. 

Indeed, porches seem to reveal a lot about this country’s social history. The popularity of the American front porch had a good run–about a hundred years. But by the 1940’s, with the dawning of air conditioning and television and an increasing number of cars on the road, indoors was a more appealing, if less social, place to relax. 

Today, porches are again proliferating as developers return to traditional architecture and the sense of community
that is encouraged by simply adding a front porch. While mostly still furnished with traditional wicker furniture and wooden rockers, some porch activities have been updated.  Now, they are a favorite location for elegant dinner parties or Sunday brunch. 

My Victorian farmhouse in the Catskills once belonged to a mobster’s girlfriend. Fannie, as she is named in the deed, was
apparently causing some trouble for him in the city, so he got her out of town by setting her up in a large house in the country.  It must have been lonely there for her at times, but we’re told by an aging neighbor who remembers her, that she would stand on the porch and give candy to curious children. 

Ironically, it wasn’t until my husband and I had spent nearly a year working obsessively and myopically on our old house did we realize that we’d never really spent any time on the porch that had lured us into this madness in the first place. The arrival of two huge oak rocking chairs finally compelled us to allow our porch to change our lives. From that day on, there has been a mandatory quittin’ time.

Armed with a light repast, games and books, we retire to the porch at around 4:30 in the afternoon and share food and
conversation, in other words, “Porch Time.”

In an age and culture in which we routinely work until 9 p.m., only to collapse and do it all over again the next day, couldn’t we all use a bit of Porch Time? •

Jennifer Wollerman is a writer and producer living in New York City and, whenever
possible, on her porch in the Catskills.

The Grilling Wars

CHARCOAL

Pros

Good old-fashioned charcoal grilling guarantees that good old-fashioned smoky flavor, arguably the whole point of grilling.

Charcoal grills are smaller, so if space is an issue, this may be a decisive factor.  Even if yours is only a sliver of a balcony
it can usually accommodate a small charcoal grill.

While elaborate and high-end models can be had, the least expensive models are more affordable than the cheapest gas grills. 

Cons

No doubt about it, the preliminaries are a consideration—stacking the coals, lighting them and waiting for them to ripen to readiness requires your undivided attention. Using the “chimney” method, preferred by many charcoal grillers to get the coals going, eliminates the need for lighter fluid and its unpleasant odor.  So far there are no cures for the messy clean-up. 

Controlling the heat is tricky. Even professional chefs can over-sear chicken, subsequently wrestling with unsticking
it from the rack with moderate success.
Be warned that you may be accused of being a snob or of keeping guests waiting too long to eat—that is until they take the  first bite.

GAS

Pros

Fans of gas grilling love the clean burning, fast starting and easy clean-up convenience.

Dial controls allow for easier regulation of heat–essential for control. 

From the simple to the obscenely complex, features and accessories can include a natural gas option, side burners, cutting and work surfaces, smoke boxes, thermometers, lights for after-dark grilling and rotisserie attachments. 

Cons

The major drawback is the undeniable lack of that smoky flavor that can only be derived from a charcoal grill. Remedy this with a “flavor box” or “smoke box.” Loaded with your choice of wood product and placed on the ceramic briquettes, the smoke escapes through holes and flavors the food.

Plan ahead, because a last-minute canister of propane is often not as easy to come by as a bag of charcoal. And you can’t be squeamish about switching the tanks.

by Jennifer Wollerman