One early Sunday afternoon my friend Heather and I found ourselves on the path to a place meant for celebrating something special. After crossing over two bridges on the one lane gravel road that was our path, we thought we were destined to happen upon a long lost relative raising dairy cows living at the base of Massanutten. There was a third bridge that was simply a concrete path that Heather and I imagined would flood something fierce when the rains came. We didn’t see anyone we recognized, but we did happen upon a great brunch.

River’d Inn is a restaurant and Bed & Breakfast located outside the town of Woodstock, about 20 minutes off the I-81 North exit. I invited my friend Heather to accompany me last Sunday. We almost didn’t make it, thanks to my poor planning, but that was remedied by Heather’s driving. The restaurant stops taking reservations after 1:15 because they close at 2 p.m.

When we arrived we immediately felt too young, and underdressed, as we stood in the big foyer complete with chandelier and imported rug. We were surrounded by 50 and 60 year-olds dressed for church; but we decided not to let this silly matter deter us from enjoying our visit.

Our host led us by the buffet line and through a long hallway to a quiet room with burgundy walls. Heather noticed a table next to ours that had been converted from an old antique sewing table. "Look, it even has a foot pedal," she said, to my feigned interest. I’ll leave the antique road show in her hands.

Sunday brunch at River’d Inn consists of a fair division between breakfast and lunch choices. The options were pretty numerous, and as Heather and I sampled most of them, we labeled each with a check, check minus, or check plus-. Let’s get the bad out of the way first: hash browns. They were overdone or maybe just dried out. Or maybe I just like them the “country dinner” way. Heather gave a check plus to the eggs benedict, and although I have yet to try this particular dish, I opted instead for a made-to-order omelet with cheddar cheese, mushrooms, tomatoes, and a few onions.

My yummy egg dish was made by a woman that graduated from the New England Culinary Institute. Marsha Hyatt works at the Inn as a Sous chef; before that she owned a small catering business. The executive chef for River’d Inn is Randolph Wyche. He graduated from Le Cordon Bleu, in London. I know next to nothing about cooking schools, (except that there’s one in Ireland I’d love to attend) but the fact that I knew how to spell it made me think I’ve read about it before.

I took seconds of two items: the homemade sticky buns and the mixed greens salad. The salad had shitake mushrooms, lots of shredded carrots and spinach too. Heather and I both liked the beef brisket; it was marinated and tender. There were lots of other interesting dishes, including chicken salad with pecans and mandarin oranges, and some sort of cous cous salad.

Dessert took a whole separate trip to the buffet line. Heather chose some sort of soft chocolate shell tied up with a thin piece of strawberry licorice and filled with a sweet whipped cream. My plate was for sharing; it consisted of fresh fruit, chocolate chip angel food cake and a chocolate chip cookie. About this time Ms. Hyatt visited our table with three samples of sorbet: mixed berry, strawberry champagne and blackberry port wine. The table beside us (celebrating a birthday) jokingly wondered where their ice cream was. Later, the birthday girl was presented with a slice of cheesecake, complete with one of those trick candles that refuse to blow out.

Four years ago a fire destroyed River’d Inn. The rebuilt structure now sits almost mansion-like inside a white fence on 25 acres. It’s the type of place that is more like a destination than just a place to eat. It’s about an hour from Harrisonburg, and a bit over that to the first Metro stop outside of Washington, D.C.

We left River'd Inn with smiles on our faces, at least until our bellies started to hurt a little, and we realized our purses were $12.95 each (plus tip) lighter. We have hopes of returning for dinner sometime. The prices seem comparable to Harrisonburg’s Joshua Wilton House, so maybe I’ll do a fine-dining comparison. On the drive home, we stopped and took silly pictures of Heather’s car on the crazy concrete bridge. Then we took turns posing as if we were about to dive into the river. Road trips are fun, even short ones, as long as there’s a good meal involved along the way.