Three times makes it a winner
Ken, his parents, and his brother and his wife and I all (and Gardner!) all spent a few days in Lake Junaluska, NC this past week. Beautiful, sunny, cooler weather held the entire visit; it was wonderful.
Ken and I, like with every destination we explore, set out one afternoon in search of a notable coffee shop. We walked past several on the main street of Waynesville, but then I spotted a map with paid advertisers for tourists to try out. One of the shops was called Panacea, and it noted that it had its own roastery. Yep, that's the one.
Our adrenaline rushing, we walked quickly toward the area where we hoped it'd be. It was off the beaten path....right next to a Giles Chemical plant, actually....but that didn't deter us or set us back. Right away we were impressed with their signage. And then we stepped inside.
Oh, my. Imagine a hollowed-out 80-year-old warehouse with artisan-textured cement floors, original brick walls, an eclectic (yet non-thrift-store-looking) assemblage of chairs and couches, and streaming jazz music pumped everywhere.
Well, that's all great, but what about their coffee? I could not neglect my deep love for a cup of brewed chai tea, so that was my choice. Yet Ken paid for his 93-cent (yes, 93-cent!) cup of dark roast, and his eyes were like saucers. This was possibly the best coffee he'd ever tasted. Really.
We ended up coming back that night after dinner. And the next day for lunch. Their laid-back service, complete with little selling points such as a chocolate-covered coffee bean atop your stirring spoon, made us applaud with glee. Their sandwiches and soups were the utmost in health-appeal....fresh, local (probably organic) produce, fresh herbs, a spring onion on the side in place of inedible parsley.
If you are ever in this area, do check out this little gem on Commerce Street. It is well worth the hunt....and the drive. I looked it up, and Panacea literally means "an elixir, a cure-all for what ails." They are right. It cures summertime boredom, heat exhaustion, and the lack of inspiration due to the mundane, unending, uninventive cafes that are popping up everywhere. This one'll stick.
Ken and I, like with every destination we explore, set out one afternoon in search of a notable coffee shop. We walked past several on the main street of Waynesville, but then I spotted a map with paid advertisers for tourists to try out. One of the shops was called Panacea, and it noted that it had its own roastery. Yep, that's the one.
Our adrenaline rushing, we walked quickly toward the area where we hoped it'd be. It was off the beaten path....right next to a Giles Chemical plant, actually....but that didn't deter us or set us back. Right away we were impressed with their signage. And then we stepped inside.
Oh, my. Imagine a hollowed-out 80-year-old warehouse with artisan-textured cement floors, original brick walls, an eclectic (yet non-thrift-store-looking) assemblage of chairs and couches, and streaming jazz music pumped everywhere.
Well, that's all great, but what about their coffee? I could not neglect my deep love for a cup of brewed chai tea, so that was my choice. Yet Ken paid for his 93-cent (yes, 93-cent!) cup of dark roast, and his eyes were like saucers. This was possibly the best coffee he'd ever tasted. Really.
We ended up coming back that night after dinner. And the next day for lunch. Their laid-back service, complete with little selling points such as a chocolate-covered coffee bean atop your stirring spoon, made us applaud with glee. Their sandwiches and soups were the utmost in health-appeal....fresh, local (probably organic) produce, fresh herbs, a spring onion on the side in place of inedible parsley.
If you are ever in this area, do check out this little gem on Commerce Street. It is well worth the hunt....and the drive. I looked it up, and Panacea literally means "an elixir, a cure-all for what ails." They are right. It cures summertime boredom, heat exhaustion, and the lack of inspiration due to the mundane, unending, uninventive cafes that are popping up everywhere. This one'll stick.
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