See, because it's known for it's horse races you know. So there must be many, many horses. Not just the one. Oh nevermind.
I love, love, love this place. It is one of those clutch-your-hands-to-your-cheek-with-glee towns, and should be immediately commissioned for a snow globe. My camera is not good for nighttime photos, but please picture (if you will) a Broadway Avenue (which is really not at all broad - it's just two-lanes) with all the main stuff you'd want to find in a town, which is why it should be Main Street. Saratoga does have a Main Street, but it's not the main street. Anyway, Broadway is flanked by clouded-glass street lamps, and lively shops and restaurants with colorful awnings and Christmas lights.
On my genealogical quest for ancestral amazingness I dragged myself far out of my way in order to suss out a few ancient gravestones, in inconvenient, microscopic cemeteries that are not on the map. Not my map, not Google maps, not any maps. The harried ladies at the gas station hadn't even heard of the road I was looking for. I drove three hours in the wrong direction of Saratoga Springs (my eventual destination for today), only to find that the teensy cemetery (located off the mysterious County Route 7 in Montour Falls, New York) must have grown hungry, out there in the middle of nowhere, and eaten my ancestors' gravestones. I could only see very tip-tops of most of them, and the engravings had worn away. Sad Gretchen.
The resulting extra-long drive to Saratoga Springs left me a little fussy and a lot hungry, but I was rewarded with the adorableness of the town, and as I dramatically threw my belongings on the bed of my B&B I wailed to the empty room, "PLEASE have a wine bar! I'm sure they have a wine bar. I really need a wine bar."
There was even a projection of the bar's name onto the sidewalk in lights. Two blocks down the street from my charming, cozy B&B, which was charming and cozy in both real estate-speak, and regular-speak:
The Saratoga Arms is just like Granny's house, if Granny had an endearing fixation on horse racing, and smelled like Irish Spring. These are both things I enjoy.
Other things I enjoy:
And I totally earned the pear and cashew crisp for dessert. That road trip was exhausting. It was like I was a horse in a big, long race.
See what I did there?