Know Thy Farmer

After a few failed attempts over the years, I finally made it to Blue Hill at Stone Barns for dinner. To say that it was a memorable dining experience is a glib understatement. It's culinary Gestalt...a locavore's master class. Nestled in New York farmland just north of Sleepy Hollow, Blue Hill is an eco-gastronomic temple.

Opened in 2004 at the renovated Stone Barns Center for Food & Agriculture, Blue Hill is the brainchild of David and Dan Barber. The entire compound is a working farm and non-profit institution located in Pocantico Hills' Rockefeller State Park, with a mission to teach and advance community-based agriculture.

It started out like any other Saturday. J. and I had planned to check out the Live in HD performance of Les Contes d'Hoffmann, but neither of us would commit to the 4-hour running time. Besides, the worst snow storm in ten years was due to hit at any moment. I was listening to the live opera broadcast on the radio -- the clouds rapidly forming outside -- when L. called to say he had canceled his flight home to Chicago. Alone in the city, he offered to treat both J. and me to dinner at Blue Hill...if he could get a table (it normally takes months of planning).

L. is a man who knows a lot of people. In what seems like another lifetime, we lived together in a storefront loft in Williamsburg. I met him years ago when he was just mapping his way toward success -- a fresh-faced graduate student with two passions: music and money. Following a lucrative career on Wall Street, he now lives and works in the Windy City. Last fall, L. put me in touch with J., another transplant who had recently relocated to Cold Spring.

By noon that day we had a 5 o'clock reservation. By 3 o'clock, I was on the train. By 4 o'clock, with J. and I making our way down Route 9 toward Tarrytown, the snow began to fall.

The gates at Blue Hill at Stone Barns resemble the entrance to a health spa or spiritual retreat, the first indication that we would eventually leave not only sated but enlightened. The restaurant itself lies within a cluster of stone buildings inside the square-shaped compound. Upon being seated inside the ambient-perfect dining hall, we were greeted by what I then called our tour guide (but now I think of him more as our professor), because his role is to prepare diners for the experience directly ahead of them and to explain Chef Dan Barber's philosophy and techniques.

For example: one does not order a la carte from a traditional menu, one is presented with a list of seasonal provisions and chooses between a 6-course or 8-course presentation (4 or 6 savory; 2 sweet). I should note that we were given some options. When I informed them I would not eat lamb's neck, they served the brain instead -- lovingly sauteed with miniature spinach ravioli. The wine list is exempt from the local rule so I enjoyed a nice glass of Finger Lakes Riesling followed by a healthy pour of Burgundy red.

Equipped with props like an over-sized "egg shell" made of bread cracked open to reveal the baked rutabaga inside (bringing to mind more than a few science-fiction films), the professor -- flanked by several able servers -- explained the preparation process for each course. I particularly admired the three-dimensional clear glass bird's nest, lined with real hay.

For three hours, as the snow piled up outside and the wind blew new flakes across the Christmas lights in our window, we indulged in the most exquisite, painstakingly prepared cuisine: dehydrated kale flash-fried with salt, beet sliders, fresh runny eggs with lentils and curry, big eye tuna sushi, marrow with caviar, face bacon, Hudson Valley venison, homemade ice-cream, and chocolates. Oh, and don't forget the little lamb. Even the coffee was exceptional.

Throughout the meal, we marveled at the complexity of Blue Hill. It is more of a social experiment than it is a restaurant. A holistic joining of food, design, science, culture, and the earth itself. I don't think I've ever had a dining experience like this when food tasted exactly the way it should -- the way you imagine it will when it's laid out in raw form in front of you.

But the convergence of old and new friends is what made this evening as remarkable as it was. An unexpected, totally impromptu event precipitated by one very generous man. Three people connected by the past and present, sharing an unforgettable meal on a cold winter's night. I can't think of a better way to share the holiday spirit.

For more information on community-based farming and slow food, Anne Dailey writes about agrarian culture for a variety of publications. Edible Communities publishes a network of local food magazines nationwide.