Bentley’s Bakery and Café Opens its Doors

Nancy and Jeff Frampton, a successful opening.

By Sharon Lakey

Going out for “a little something” just got better in Danville. Bentley’s Bakery and Café (named for the owners’ first dog) has finally opened on Hill Street.  Since 2008, when contractor Mark Greaves’ truck began appearing in front of the empty hardware store, word buzzed around town. A bakery and coffee shop sounded great, but until recently, when a white hand-lettered sign hung in the front window announcing “April 7” appeared, there was question about it becoming a reality.

“The economy did delay the café for a year,” said Jeff Frampton, who owns Bentley’s with his wife Nancy. But the wait was worth it. In the first week of business, customers poured through the door and tasted the wares that proved to be eye-candy as well as tasty. Local pastry chef Tarah Faulkner presented some remarkable looking creations in the two glass cases from which customers peruse and order.

The Framptons value Tarah’s expertise with pastry. She graduated from the New England Culinary Institute in 2008 with an Associate Degree in baking and pastry. Her internships helped hone her skills at the Woodstock Inn in Vermont and at the Biltmore Estate in Ashville, North Carolina. Now living in West Danville with her 19-month-old daughter, Aubrey, and fiancé, Brad Fontaine, she thankfully hasn’t far to go when she meets Nancy in the early morning hours to bake the pastry for the day.

   

Besides the smell of good food, the space is filled with light from the large front windows, and morning sunshine pouring into the kitchen from the east. The Framptons’ design allows customers to see into the kitchen, making the connection between bakers and diners a communal event. Their original hope was to receive a historical renovation grant for the building. Though the grant didn’t come through, by the time they had gone through the preliminaries, they felt a commitment to keep the historical feel of the building. “It was the first downtown building rebuilt after the 1895 fire,” said Jeff. This attention to historical detail has provided a theme for the interior that is homey and comforting. “It’s totally up to code, now,” said Jeff, “top to bottom.” It’s green, too, an energy efficient older building that proves it can be done. Jeff relied on the expertise of Efficiency Vermont and Mark Greaves to help in this area.

 

The Frampton’s, who live on Maple Lane in Danville, originally came from Montreal, so the connection with French pastry is strong (croissant is a specialty item). After the first three days, Nancy reports the biggest lunch seller had been the quiche. “The pastries are fresh every day,” said Nancy, as she rolled croissant that would be baked the next morning. She explained how a croissant is made and to demonstrate turned on a mechanical wonder, called a “sheeter,” that sits in the kitchen. “This is really Tarah’s machine,” she explained. It is used to incorporate butter into the dough, a labor-saving device that is a critical time-saver for the chefs.

“The menu will change to keep things new,” said Nancy. In the mornings, there are pastries and coffee from the espresso bar or tea. The lunch menu is light, featuring soup, salads, quiche, ham and cheese croissants and Panini sandwiches.  Local man, Tim Ide, tried out both ends of the day on Friday with a chocolate croissant in the morning and Panini at noon. He appeared quite happy with the results. Specialty pastry orders, including wedding cakes, can be taken as long as they are given in advance. “We use as many Vermont products as possible as well as local contractors,” said Jeff. “We realize value of keeping Vermont viable.”

 

In planning the menu, the couple wanted to fill a niche that they felt wasn’t being covered by other food establishments in town. “We talked with the other owners before we came up with out plans. We didn’t want to compete with their business; we wanted to work with them.” One of the things that they heard often was the need to be open on Sunday, and the have complied. Bentley’s hours are Wednesday through Friday, 6:30 to 1:30 and Saturdays and Sundays, 8:00 to 1:00.

     

The only kitchen disaster on opening day was related to getting used to the new equipment. “In a panic, I called the man who had installed our coffee machine, explaining the coffee was cold,” said Jeff. “He calmly told me to flip two toggle switches in the back that allowed the water to heat.” They had worked into the night the day before opening day. So busy was Jeff with last minute details, he didn’t have time to change into his Bentley’s shirt until the first customers had enjoyed a breakfast.

The happiest surprise for the Frampton’s has been the overwhelming support they have felt from the village. For that, they are most thankful. The community is thankful, too, for another way to celebrate coming together over a delightful delicacy in a pleasant setting.

To see the complete photo album click here.

This article first appeared in the May, 2010 issue of the North Star Monthly.

Balls of Fire!

Archie Blackadar, Ambassador of Racing

By Dorothy Larrabee and Sharon Lakey

Pete and Archie Blackadar were registering racers at a track when a sheepish-looking man approached the window.  “I wonder,” he said, “if I might have two of those driver pins for my children who are with me.” Archie, field manager and nice guy, agreed and Pete handed him the two pins. The man started to turn away, but hesitantly turned back. “You wouldn’t be able to give me one for all my children, would you?”

“Well, how many children do you have?” asked Archie.

“Eight.”

“Balls of fire!” exclaimed Archie. And everyone laughed. “Take all you want,” he said.

“That was one of Archie’s expressions,” explained Pete.  “He took his job seriously, but he never lost the joy of being part of the racing community.”  Archie’s been gone now since 1993, but in 2010, he was inducted into New England Antique Racers Hall of Fame.

Archie Blackadar grew up for most of his life in West Danville, graduating from Danville High School in 1922. He went to the Boston area to work where he was bitten by the racing bug. He drove “midgets,” a small-sized high-powered class of racing cars. “I didn’t win much,” said Archie in a newspaper interview. “I couldn’t afford to build my own, so I raced clunkers.” When WWII broke out, he enlisted in the Navy in 1942. In 1944 he became Chief Petty Officer on the USS Alhena, serving in the South Pacific.

After eight years in the Navy, in 1950, Archie retuned to West Danville to care for his ailing mother and began work at Ralston Purina in St. Johnsbury, where he worked until he turned 65 in 1968. His job at Purina didn’t slow the racer in him, though, and he took a job as flagger at the Waterford, VT, racetrack.  The racing community would soon enjoy the acrobatic starter that was his trademark.  In 1961, after attending the NASCAR Officials School in Daytona Beach, he became a licensed NASCAR chief steward. A chief steward has full charge of the officials, and the responsibility of the races rests on his shoulders.

 Three years later, he met a widowed waitress named Pete working at Brickett’s Diner in St. Johnsbury. What attracted Archie to her was her insistence on NOT having anything to do with racing. “I’d been to a race before and it just didn’t appeal to me, “said Pete. “Women threw beer bottles around and were cursing and things like that,” she said with disgust. It really bothered Archie that someone didn’t like racing, and he just didn’t give up trying to change her mind.

One day, when he had to flag a race in Groveton, he called her to ask her to accompany him. Since she was tired of him pestering her, she grudgingly said yes. That’s all it took. After that race, they were inseparable, although they didn’t marry for another 8 ½ years. “Just good friends, “said Pete.  For nearly thirty years, though, they worked “desk by desk,” as she puts it.

Over that lengthy period of time, Archie moved from flagger to chief steward to track owner /partner, to field manager.  The track they owned was in partnership with broadcaster Ken Squier—Catamount Speedway in Milton, VT, from 1965 to 1977. When they sold that, Archie became the East Coast field manager for NASCAR. He worked 48 tracks in the U.S. and Canada. Pete worked 38 of them. Every February, the two of them found themselves at the Daytona racetrack where they worked in registration, which consisted of selling NASCAR memberships and making sure all the drivers, owners, sponsors, and wives, etc., had signed insurance releases for admittance to the pit area.

“Every winter Archie would say he might like to stay in Florida,” said Pete. “I told him, ‘Anytime you want to do that, just put the sign out there in front of the house in West Danville.’” He never asked for the sign and when their big chance came for the couple to work the prestigious Winston Cup circuit registration, he listened to the pleas of Lin Kuhlor (Executive Vice President of NASCAR), who begged him to stay as chief steward in the north. “Archie was a man who felt a deep sense of duty,” said Pete.

Pete tells us the life of a NASCAR official isn’t as glamorous as some might think. “It’s a lot of work,” she said. For example, the pickup truck they owned and drove to the races was loaded with Purple K (a special track fire extinguisher) for the entire season, along with the Jaws of Life apparatus and scales. “We parked that in the garage and let our cars sit out,” she said. They would arrive at the tracks early before each race and set up registration.  And as chief steward, Archie would walk and inspect the track before every race to check for debris. After the races, they had to pay the boys and close up shop, sometimes getting out as late as midnight.  If there was a post-race inspection, it might be 3:00 or 5:00 a.m.

There was a little glamour, though. Pete remembers when she met Dale Earnhardt. “The first time he came to Daytona, he was driving just a little pickup truck pulling an open trailer with his race car on it.” The last time she saw him, he was late for a race in New Hampshire and came into the registration booth, put his arm around her and said, “Sign me in, Pete, will you?” The other racers didn’t seem to mind. “That’s as close as we’ll get to him today,” she remembers them saying.

“We were privileged to have Marty Robbins and his band entertain us at two of our Daytona banquets; he also drove the Winston Cup.” Archie tried to get Paul Newman’s western style shirt from him when he was signing in. They also signed in the Carradine brothers: David, Keith and Bobby.  

There were tragedies, too. They were there when Richie Evans died at Martinsville, VA, and Don McTavish in Daytona. “That’s racing, though,” she said with a sigh. She was in Egypt with a church group when she heard of the death of Dale Earnhardt in 2001. “That’s racing, though,” she said with a sigh.

Archie was diagnosed with leukemia in 1991. Still, you couldn’t stop him from his duty. On August 22, 1993, they worked registration at Loudon Speedway in New Hampshire; he died September 6 at the age of 89. Pete created an award in his honor that was given every year at Thunder Road for the top rookie finisher—the Jiffy Lube 150 NASCAR Busch North Grand National Race.

When asked if she misses racing, Pete shrugged and said, “I miss the people. Archie loved racing, and I loved Archie.”


This article was published in the May edition of The North Star Monthly.
To see a photo album related to this article, click

Playin' Wuff

By Dwyane Langmaid

A photograph from the Cary Maple Sugar film that was used at Maple Grove in St. Johnsbury. Cary originally used oxen teams to gather the sap for his huge sugaring operations. Many of the houses were in North Danville.

The four Peck boys grew up on a hardscrabble farm over in the Tampico area and became men about the time George Cary's sugaring operations bloomed in North Danville. The Pecks were probably no different than any of the other local farm kids, but they were noted as being extremely rugged and very competitive. In fact, it was said that if you could somehow yoke them, a span of Peck boys could likely pull Cary's prize oxen through a knothole.

The locals would often gather on the Old North Church road in Waterman's field for a picnic and a Sunday afternoon game of baseball. Sometimes an equally ragtag team from another town could be enticed to participate. Ora Peck often pitched. He could throw it long on speed and maybe a little short on control. It was well known that if he happened to hit a bull in the head with one of those pitches, you might as well break out the knives and forks.

First time up, the opposing star belted it to hell. Gone out into the hay. Next time up, the obvious solution was to throw it even harder. The pitch got away, the star got beaned and dropped for the count. A lively discussion resulted. After a few bumps and bruises, the game resumed. A severely sprained ankle ("Naw, it ain't broke) and chore time ended the fun. 

Someone remarked to Ora's brother Freedom. "Little rough, wasn't it?"

"Naw, not bad wuff, jus good wuff."

In his late years, Freedom was helping a newcomer with some farm-type chores. It was suggested that if Freedom saw the newcomer doing something wrong to please bring it to his attention. Freedom's reply, "I really ain't used to talkin' all that much."

Come springtime in one of George Cary's big sugar houses up on the Sprague farm, the Peck boys were boiling and a bunch of the other baseball team members were gathering. The sap had been running nonstop for three days and showed no sign of letting up. The buckets were all running over; everyone was working hammer and tong and getting sick of it. 

That's when the boilers questioned the gatherers as to their manliness, their worth, and why they couldn't keep up. Something else started to boil then, but everyone was too tired to do much about it, so off the gatherers went for another sled-load of sap. As they went down into what is now Hickey's sugar woods, they passed the big spring there and stopped to water themselves and the horses. Someone miraculously found a big jug under a rock, and it got passed around a couple of times while the horses got their fill. 

The pump log from the spring came right to the top of the gathering tank and jug wisdom intervened. Many loads of water later, it was hard to tell if it was sweat or steam coming out of the sugar house vent as the Peck boys doggedly tried to make Cary maple syrup with a little sap and a lot of pure spring water.

Jus some good wuff fun! 

This article was first published in the North Star Monthly's April issue.