More on Blue Hill

I have a moment now to speak a little more freely on Blue Hill, so some further tasting notes.

I'm not sure one can approach Blue Hill without conceding the centrality of its location. Of course, the farm is the source of much (though clearly not all) of the food you're going to eat. But there is something special, to my mind, in driving to a place with the sole intention of eating, and luxuriating in the experience. Perhaps a stroll before the meal, perhaps a melancholy wander afterwards, as you realize the meal is over. When I lived in Scotland, I had the same fundamental feeling about the Peat Inn, a similar countryside oasis, though I doubt I had pinpointed what exactly I found so alluring. Even were Blue Hill to serve middling food, the fact that it is on a farm, with geese, and butter, and eggs, and nature would make it worth a quick trip.

Thankfully, however, Blue Hill's food is hard to describe as middling. Lacking a lot of the technological sizzle of a WD-50 (although Dan Barber, Blue Hill's chef, is said to admire Ferran Adria), or the pork sodden, sometimes flailing, virtuosity of Momofuku Ko, this is Chez Panisse for the east coast, food coaxed gently from the landscape. It is rhubarb season here, and hence, a rhubarb jus surrounding a light, delicate island of Maine Crab. Asparagus is fresh, and it is that fresh asparagus that is nestled next to the delightfully runny egg, breaded and deep fried to a crusty, golden, crunch. It's spring, and there's spring lamb, cooked to a boggling tenderness, sitting delicately atop literally nothing but the freshest possible carrots wading in their own clever "butter". One detects only a few notes of dissonance - the (nonetheless delicious) chocolate bread pudding rather than something fruity, while wonderful looking strawberry layer cakes streamed by to some other tables (why chocolate at all? The season demands clafouti). The fact that our table was graced with the beet burger amuse bouche (masterful), but not, oddly, the light herby spritzer others received in addition. And, above all, the dainty portions, which are perfect for my taste, but probably stand right on the precipice of seeming like a bit of a mockery to others (we thought, laughing, of what exactly our respective parents would say, or do, with the plates of food we were presented).

But these are quibbles. The meal was well priced. It was delicious. The settings were a relaxing escape from the concrete canyon of New York city. Blue Hill should continue to be a success.