Escape to upstate New York for a weekend of sheep shearing and serious eating.
I’m standing by the side of a country road, facing a herd of one hundred enthusiastic sheep. And they’re coming for me. “Fill in the gaps!” cries a volunteer, prompting me to abandon my picture-taking and race to stand next to her, arms out-stretched, as the animals start to pass us.
I shoo one away from my straw hat, left foolishly close to the road, and a childish glee fills me from the boots up. I’m herding… sheep! And I’m not the only one.
A couple hundred young families are here at Stone Barns Center for Food & Agriculture today for their annual Sheep Shearing Festival, a sold-out event that lets city dwellers gawk at real-life farmers removing their charges’ dirty fleeces, before we all help move the animals from their indoor winter dwelling out to pasture.
Prior to this, my girlfriend and I have made dream catchers, said hello to the pigs, and noshed on pastries made from the farm’s haul. Springtime has come to New York.
Located 30 miles north of the city – just under an hour from our Williamsburg apartment – Stone Barns is a working farm, an educational centre and a fine-dining restaurant, all rolled into one. Our weekend upstate is built around a birthday celebration at the latter: Stone Barn’s restaurant Blue Hill offers an expansive ‘Grazing, Pecking, Rooting’ degustation of food grown on the farm, and other local producers.
From all reports, it’s meant to be a life-changing experience. I’m curious if this is the case… and if the $198 price tag per person will be worth it.
Having found the local hotel options a little wanting, we’re staying at an AirBandB in nearby Tarrytown. Maria’s ‘designer home’ is perfectly appointed in a West Elm sort of way – thick Moroccan rugs line the hardwood floors that lead up to our guest bedroom that boasts a comfortable queen and white-tiled ensuite. The tub leaks a bit, forgoing the plan for long hot soak, and our window looks out onto various neighbors’ properties, forgoing the chance to prance about naked, but apart from that, our accommodation is comfortable, clean and perfectly located.
On our host’s recommendation dinner on the first night is at Sweet Grass Grill, a Main street mainstay offering farm-to-table fare from no less than six local farms, including Stone Barns. The atmosphere is casual and unpretentious; two silent television screens on the exposed brick walls knock points off for me, which are quickly added back on when the food arrives.
On our waiter’s recommendation we’ve ordered the scrummy Kale Waldorf Salad ($11), but the Vegan Shepherd’s Pie ($15) is something else entirely: who knew roasted jack fruit would pair so well with the simple cohorts of lentil, carrot, and mushroom? We can’t believe the mashed potato top is vegan, but the fact so is the velvety, rich Chocolate Mousse ($7) is genuinely jaw-dropping. (The secret? Cashew cream).
In order to prepare for what we’re told is a silly amount of food, our plan for Sunday is a light brunch and then nothing till dinner. Coffee and a few pieces of Maria’s cranberry sourdough does the trick (AirBnB encourages hosts to leave guests a simple breakfast, fulfilling the BnB promise of the name).
We spend the afternoon biking around Storm King, an outdoor sculpture museum located in the lower Hudson Valley. Giant industrial sculptures rise improbably from the 500 acres, surreal against a moody sky.
While size matters (some of the larger sculptures are 50 feet high), one of the standout pieces is the clever and accessible Mirror Fence, by Alyson Shots. The 130-foot fence constructed from (you guessed it) mirror offers a whimsical optical illusion, blending in almost seamlessly to its surroundings, until your reflection becomes a part of the artwork.
But the main event beckons. As the sun makes an undramatic exit under a cover of clouds, we’re making slightly more effort with our entrance into Blue Hill.
The dress code is ‘elegant’ which means my one pair of heels is enjoying their annual outing. With rumbling tummies, we’re seated in a plush, oversized booth in the honey-lit dining hall, where rustic charm makes a fine bedfellow with fine dining.
A sommelier helps us choose an Austrian Sauvignon Blanc, described as French meets New World, which proves to be crisp, grassy, and infinitely drinkable (a surprisingly affordable $45). We’re ready.
To start, one of what will be many waiters (our Head Waiter?) gives us an overview of the restaurant’s mission and ethos: the chefs work with what the farmer’s provide, not the other way round. Everything seasonal and sustainable. No menu. Got it.
A cheery young woman delivers our first bite: “Vegetables from the garden”. French radish, baby carrots, and curls of lettuce, slick with a citrus-sweet dressing. “Mmm!” We agree. It will become our refrain for the night.
Next up, two diced-shaped squares, announced as Spring Onion Vichyssoise, reduced, and crusted with quinoa. The soft, tiny bites pack a surprising flavor punch. “Mmm!!”
Over the next 3.5 hours, a dazzling array of food is delivered to our table, portions slowly increasing in size. Playful finger foods (Celery Root Jerky, toy-sized Beet Burgers, Weeds with Charcoal Mayonnaise) give way to Duck’s Egg Pasta, Farm Cheese with Smoked Apple, and Eight-Row Corn Cob Polenta.
After a dozen-odd sample plates, I think my stamina is doing well. “How far in are we I asks our Head Waiter, as he resets our cutlery for the umpteenth time. “You’re almost halfway,” he replies. We both have to laugh. Nervously. We’re pretty much full.
And still, the food keeps coming. Our ‘steak’ is presented to us as a two-foot parsnip, expanding in size over the long winter. The (thankfully) small pieces are served with a Greens Marmalade and Beet Ketchup.
The Sheep’s-Milk Ricotta, strained at our table, comes with Potato & Onion Bread and fresh butter, pig’s lard and carrot salt. It’s fantastic, but it’s a lot, and I’m starting to feel positively starry-eyed. But the meal must go on.
Our desert courses (plural) begin with us being discreetly whisked away to a private dining room – whether everyone gets this special treatment or just a select few, we weren’t certain, but it sure made us feel like royalty. On a long wooden table decorated with wildflowers, we’re served Knotwood with Quinoa Crunch and Vanilla Ice Cream and a small slice of Honey Barley Cake with a single candle.
I’m almost too sated to sing the required refrain. Back in the main room, and we’re only three more courses away from the finish line. Our waiter suggests a Japanese tea to help with digestion, and we’re only too happy to take him up on the recommendation. After I sign the bill, $580 including tax and tip, our jackets and valet await with a magician’s grace.
The next day my girlfriend wants to go hiking but my stomach has other ideas: the food wasn’t rich – in fact, there was comparatively little dairy and almost no sugar – but the extent of the menu made the last days of the Roman Empire seem positively stingy. It’s not until we’re back in Williamsburg that afternoon that I’m able to stomach a Tom Yum soup from our local Thai joint, ordered via Seamless and delivered to our door. We’ve pledged to remain connected to our food, and join the local CSA… but for the time being, convenience trumps our ideals.