As you approach the final stretch of Long Island, New York, the land mass splits into twin forks, as equally beautiful as they are distinct in culture and reputation. At the apex of that split is a town called Riverhead, sitting, as its name suggests, at the mouth of the Peconic River. It is the gateway to the splendor of the island’s East End: to the family farms, open markets, and wineries of the North Fork and to the mansions of the Hamptons on the South Fork.
I found myself at this juncture near Christmas. I was visiting family on the island, where I grew up and where I’ve lived in several of its towns. One of them was Riverhead. It is a place of strange duality. Here you’ll find beauty and decay, charm and vulgarity, modern commerce and good old-fashioned poverty, thronging crowds and desolation. I lived here for over a decade and never figured the place out. A recent trip to its quaint downtown reminded me of this. Pour yourself a cup of tea and let me show you around.
