Anticipation is a tough act to follow. After all, imagination only works with the finest raw materials. Reality is routinely stuck with...well, reality, and in the grand scheme of things, reality is often, to put it frankly, not so good. So it is that I found myself approaching this evening with no small measure of reticence. After all, I had invested a great deal of anticipatory energy and imagination in the vision for this experience since at least last October when I was scurrying to put the finishing touches on the grant application that would -- hypothetically at that point -- pay for the fulfillment of it. When, beyond my wildest imagination, the grant came through, I began to make actual inquiries about such a visit.
The "visit" would be to Stone Barns Farm in Tarrytown, NY, and the associated Blue Hill Restaurant operated by Chef Dan Barber. I had never heard of it or him prior to listening to a podcast of a panel discussion in which Barber took part last summer that spoke of sustainable agricultural practices supporting local food expressions. I know, it sounds complicated. But the conversation was compelling enough to stimulate further research, and it wasn't long before I knew that this was a place I had to visit. And so for months I have been savoring the anticipation. Since February I have been communicating with Robert the restaurant concierge, who helpfully connected us with other opportunities in the area. I made the arrangements. We bought our plane tickets. And then we waited.
Waited, all the while knowing that imagination is always -- virtually always -- better than reality. And so we arrived at Stone Barns tonight trusting that it would be a delightful experience, but hardly daring to believe that it would be anything more.
But a funny thing happened. Reality, in one of those rare, almost mystical inversions, exceeded imagination. Perhaps it was the farm tour that created the perfect frame of reference. Perhaps it was the almost timid server who proudly showed us the greens that he, himself, had harvested that morning that were to find their way into the next course's salad. Perhaps it was Bri, our server, who mentioned that she had helped to harvest one of the other greens that afternoon that found its way onto our table -- siblings of the greens that we had been shown growing just minutes before. Perhaps it was the culinary imagination that turned egg into art, or the simplicity of a grilled asparagus whose proud flavors were allowed to shine without adornment. Perhaps it was the mini-tutorial of the bio-char made from pig bones over which the vegetables had been grilled -- yet another way to prevent anything from going to waste.
Or, I don't know, perhaps it was simply because it tasted like nothing I had ever had in my mouth before. Whatever, it was an extraordinary night -- all five hours of the dinner, beginning with the appetite enhancing "bits" that we naively mistook for opening courses and continuing straight through to the haute cuisine Twix bars for dessert, not to mention the honeycomb thrown in as a kind of dessert after dessert.
We agreed that we would not likely have need for breakfast. As for learnings that we will take away, those will have to mature. They are there, but right now the intellectual is having difficulty getting much of an audience. The rest of my senses are still talking too loudly to hear much of anything else. And I am loathe to interrupt.
No comments:
Post a Comment