DANBURY, N.H. -- The innkeepers call room No. 10 in the Inn at Danbury the ``love nest," thanks in no small part to the king-size bed and freestanding gas fireplace.
Sure enough, as we perused the comments book left on a low dresser, it became clear that many previous guests had gravitated to this room for a honeymoon, romantic escape, or anniversary getaway.
One couple, marking 35 years (and four children) together, even passed along a cryptic hint for marital longevity. ``Husbands: Can I give you some advice?" they wrote. ``Pay attention! That's it, that's the advice: Pay attention!"
We were disappointed that another couple -- this one celebrating a 44th anniversary -- didn't offer any wisdom, but we had only to look to innkeepers Bob and Alexandra Graf for a model of hard-working harmony.
He's a former ski instructor and general contractor and she is a Dutch-born former flight attendant and Mrs. Salt Lake City. With their four kids in tow, they left Utah to take over the inn in 2002.
The structure began life as a country farmhouse in 1850, and in typical New England fashion, it kept growing as new sections were added to the back. It now consists of two wings reached by front and rear staircases and a spacious restaurant. The red ``barn" at the rear houses a 20- by - 40-foot heated swimming pool.
Despite the size and amenities, ``this is a real mom-and-pop operation," Alex told us. ``It's definitely homey, with all my knick knacks. The worst part is dusting."
The beer steins, nutcrackers, tea pots, crockery, and figurative ceramics contribute to a gemütchlich warmth that seems less calculated than accreted.
The bright breakfast room features a wall of cookbooks and a non operational wood-burning kitchen stove . In the entry hall, a multiple-burner, double-oven gas stove dating from between the World Wars serves as the tourism literature center.
The small library at the front of the house has a welcoming leather club chair, though we found the lounge even better suited to relaxing . A soft armchair and hassock extend in front of the stone fireplace, and a plaid couch covered with pillows faces a big television. What makes the inn feel most homey, however, are the aromas wafting from the kitchen, where Bob makes breakfast and soon thereafter launches into baking bread for the evening diners in the inn's restaurant.
When we visited in mid-September, the couple was setting up for their annual Oktoberfest, which they hold a month early in hopes of warm weather. But the Alphorn Bistro gives the inn a Bavarian feeling in all seasons.
The room has a large stone fireplace, oak parquet floor, beamed ceiling, and blue and white checked tablecloths. An old sled and beer steins hang from the ceiling and a cuckoo clock chimes the hour five minutes late. A cheery full-service bar sits just outside the kitchen door. Not surprisingly, the background music leans toward Johann Strauss . Dressed in a blue-and-white dirndl, our waitress looked for all the world like the St. Pauli Girl .
Bob Graf draws on his grandmother's recipes for German comfort food. The menu offers many variations on sausages and schnitzels, sauerkraut, sweet red cabbage, boiled potatoes, and spätzle. We opted for sauerbraten (only offered as a special because it takes five days to marinate the beef) and a mixed plate of wurst and schnitzel.
The hearty dishes proved absolutely authentic, right down to the mild spicing. Beer choices are broad, and the wine list is strong on German wines, including dry reds made mostly from Spätburgunder (pinot noir). We guessed that desserts would be luscious, and neither the apple strudel nor the chocolate Bavarian cream disappointed.
The Grafs encourage guests to take dessert back to their rooms, so we climbed a flight of stairs to the ``love nest." Located at the front of the inn, the simply furnished, L-shaped room has a step-out balcony, a low dresser and a highboy, two comfortable wing-back chairs flanking the fireplace, and small tables beside the iron-frame king-size bed. An overhead fan kept the room from getting stuffy (though it rattled too much to leave it on overnight). Curtains and black-out blinds covered most of the windows, though we were glad for late sunrises, since the glass doors to the balcony are covered only with sheers.
We knew it was time for breakfast when the aroma of bacon wafted up the stairs. Bob was at the stove again, ready to prepare pancakes or eggs any way we wanted them as Alex chatted with the guests. She expressed excitement at visiting the Eastern States Expo in Springfield to give a cooking demonstration.
``Sometimes," she said, ``it is good to get away, just the two of you."
Bob stood in the doorway with plates of pancakes.
And he was paying attention.
Contact Patricia Harris and David Lyon, freelance writers from Cambridge, at harris.lyon@verizon.net. 
