There's nothing like getting out of the craziness of the city, even if it's for just an evening. This weekend, armed with my new camera and a fellow foodie/chef, I hopped on metro north to visit
Blue Hill at Stone Barns.
Easily accessible, just 45 minutes outside of the city, Blue Hill at Stone Barns is known as one of the best restaurants in the country. It's helmed by renowned executive chef/co-owner Dan Barber, Dan's brother David and David's wife Laureen. Foodies can expect an ever changing menu that takes the farm-to-table to a new level.
Before dinner, we walked around the huge greenhouses on the property and "sampled" the many rows of seasonal vegetables that would be used in that night's dinner.
Chickens, cows, pigs and sheep are all raised on the farm.
This huge sheep dog took his job very seriously, but eventually warmed up to us...
One of the more innovative farming techniques included mobile chicken coops that regularly relocate around the farm.
Once inside, the food to say the least was amazing. While I didn't capture everything (too busy eating), here were a few of my favorites....
The vegetables on the fence were beautifully displayed with a simplicity and goodness not often found off the farm.
This course included a trio of fresh carrot juice, radishes and turnips, whimsically displayed in a bed of soil. (Off to the right is a shot of scented geranium infused vodka).
The gardener in me delighted in the fresh pea shoots that were pruned table side. I've made my dinner companion promise that he'd help me recreate the lemon vinaigrette. I had to stop myself from licking it off the plate.
One of the best meat dishes was a compilation of pig parts (heart, snout and cheeks) served with ramps and broccoli rabe. The bottom of the plate was a mixture of shaved lardo and immature egg. Paired with a Roja this dish was INCREDIBLE!
After almost 12 dishes, we walked out feeling completely satisfied and happy, but not overly full. If you get the chance, definitely worth the trip. I know I'll be back again soon...
