The Food Issue No. 7

DVE IGHT S U M M E R 2 0 17 I S S U E 7

THE FOOD ISSUE

PEDRO BOREGAARD 101 MAIN STREET, NARROWSBURG, NY 12764 (845) 252-3833 PBOREGAARD@BOREGAARD.COM

B O R E G A A R D. C O M

THE FOOD ISSUE

EDITOR’S NOTE

Sara Mae Elbert wearing shirt by American Eagle, photographed at Brushland Eating House, Bovina, NY by Harold Julian.

See our Style feature page 26

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DVE IGHT ISSUE 7

Editor in Chief NHI MUNDY

Executive Editor MICHAEL MUNDY Design Director STEPHEN MALE Style Director JOHN PAUL TRAN Senior Editor MIMI VU Market Editor MANDY COON Contributing Photo Editor HALI FREIHLING Contributors ALEXANDRA MARVAR BETTE BLAU BRYAN GARDNER EDDIE BRANNAN HAROLD JULIAN ISE WHITE JILLIAN SCHEINFELD LAURA SILVERMAN LAWRENCE BRAUN LINH NGUYEN MATT NOVAK MOANI LEE NOAH KALINA SANDY SOOHOO STEVEN RANDAZZO Advertising Executive ESTHER DE JONG Editorial Assistants CAELUM ROGERS ISAAC LEE ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Delaware Valley 8 Issue 7 © 2017 Delaware Valley 8 See the magazine online at dveightmag.com Reproduction in whole or in part without written permission is prohibited.

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The evening after Hurricane Sandy, the electricity was out, there was no heat and outside was completely black and eerily quiet. It felt like the end of the world and yet, there we were, in the Financial District.

During the aftermath, my husband, our kids, our neighbor Richard, our super Joe and I huddled around a small table, candles lit, wine and whiskey in hand, just grateful to be alive. We shared plates of Chinese BBQ pork (a dish I had recently mastered) and other food prepared meticulously in the dark with a working gas stove. Joe exclaimed, “Nhi, you should own a restaurant.” I just smiled—happy to be of service. Our bellies were full and our hearts warm. We talked for hours and bonded, becoming fond friends seemingly overnight.

To this day, I can still taste the sweetness of those ribs and see the hope and relief on each of those faces. That evening was one of the most memorable and impactful experiences of my life.

I thought a lot about what food means while producing this issue. It occurred to me that it can mean anything and is everything. It’s universal. It’s powerful. Food connects us, nurtures us and gives us hope. It creates memories that remain with us forever, allowing us to travel back in time and molding us to become who we are today. Food can help rebuild communities, reinforce our dreams and even lead us to our spiritual calling.

We often take food for granted, losing sight of its source or the person making it. So I hope that this issue

please email nhi@dveightmag.com or write us at P.O. Box 41, Jeffersonville, NY 12748

happening right now upstate and in the surrounding areas.

NHI MUNDY Editor in Chief 3

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FLAVOR

THE FOOD ISSUE

For some cooks, a dish is truly their own because of a magic technique, a secret ingredient, or a novel twist they bring to it. But for others, a personal recipe is rooted in something more basic and primal. As two lauded chefs tell it, their most beloved foods are deeply embedded in memories—of childhood, of family, of life-altering travel. These treasured recipes were born of transformation and revelation—an “aha!” realization.

For PAUL NANNI of The Heron in Narrowsburg, a delicious meal of braised rabbit will forever be a link back to the lessons of his grandfather. And for Fish & Game’s ZAK PELACCIO, a chance stop at a street-food stall in Thailand turned his understanding of “salad” upside-down.

Photography BRYAN GARDNER

“OPENING THE HERON HAS BEENA DREAM OF MINE SINCE I CAN REMEMBER” As a kid, I spent my summers at my grandparents’ house, not because I had to but

mix with water in buckets to ferment and soften,” he would tell me. For years, I thought

because I wanted to. There was a routine, a structure to my childhood—everyday life

the only reason he had all of these rabbits was, well, for their shit.

that I cherished. Waking early, breakfast, tending to the garden, a farmer’s lunch, and

Then one evening, when it was just the two of us, he told me to stay in the kitchen.

then back to the yard and the rabbits that my grandpa had in cages among the fruit

He went outside and came back in with a limp, naked rabbit. He prepared that into one

trees and vegetables.

of the most delicious meals I can remember.

Funny story: He always spoke so highly of the rabbits and their “shit.” Almost

So that’s where the story of my connection to the rabbit really begins. This dish is

like it was a magic potion that explained why his tomatoes fruited more than other

a reflection of my childhood, my heritage, and my connection to the land—everything

people’s, and why his grass was always greener. He taught me how to not put straight

coming full circle. That, and also the realization I had years later…that rabbits are

rabbit shit on the plants because it was too strong and would “burn them up.” “Always

more than just “shit machines.”

PAUL NANNI’S Braised Rabbit 2 farm-raised rabbits (4-5 pounds each, butchered into parts) 1 T salt 1 T black pepper 1 T white pepper 1/2 T nutmeg 1/2 T smoked paprika 1 cup Tuscan olive oil 6 cloves garlic, coarse, Microplaned 2 oz. homemade guanciale or lardo, cubed 3 onions, diced 1/2 celery bunch, diced 2 large carrots, diced 3 thyme sprigs 3 rosemary sprigs 3 sage sprigs 1 glass of white wine 1 lemon, juiced 2 qt. chicken stock 1 handful parsley, chopped 1 handful peas Season the rabbit with the salt, pepper, nutmeg, and smoked paprika.

Heat ½ cup of the olive oil on medium and lightly brown rabbit on both sides.

Remove the rabbit, add guanciale, garlic, onions, carrots, and celery.

Sautée until brown.

Add thyme, rosemary, and sage and lightly brown.

Deglaze with white wine and lemon juice.

Add chicken stock and put rabbit back in.

Simmer 2 hours until tender.

Stir in peas, parsley, and remaining olive oil.

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FLAVOR

THE FOOD ISSUE

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“I EAT SALAD WITH MY HANDS. MOST OF THE TIME” Well, I should say, I eat salads consisting of leafy greens with my hands. Salad, as a

young girl smiled; she had a wide mouth and high cheekbones, and nothing pleased

dish, complemented family dinner every night I sat down with my folks. So for like,

me more at the moment. “Tom Tuah,” she spoke, and I raised my finger, indicating

18 years, I understood salad as a blend of leafy greens, almost exclusively.

I’d like one.

Think about it: Eating leafy salad with one’s hands is superior to using a utensil,

I watched as the girl threw some small cloves of garlic and a couple little scud

as you can ball up the greens to get a dense, flavorful bite and you avoid the metallic

chilies into her mortar and began pounding them, making a paste. Next she added

contrast of typical stainless flatware and, even better, you benefit from being able to

a small handful of tiny dried shrimp and continued to pound as she prepared a

lick your fingers, a bonus when the vinaigrette is good. Really, why would one want

spoonful of palm sugar and shook some fish sauce from a plastic bottle. Then she

to use something so hard, impersonal, and awkward to place delicate lettuce, green

paused, dipped her spoon in the mortar, and tasted her paste. Her smile faded. She

and bright, into one’s mouth? Shit, the first vision that comes to mind when I think

was considering, working in the moment. She sliced six or so strands of long beans

of eating young, tender greens with a fork is the sad bruising of the leaves, an act

and cut cheeks of a lime. Squeezing lime into the mortar, she swirled the pestle and

analogous to much of the violence in nature. So I ate, I do eat, leafy salads with my

tasted again. Satisfied, she tossed the cut beans into the mortar and pounded away,

hands. I even wrote a book called Eat with Your Hands.

quite vigorously for a few seconds. And then she grabbed a small metal bowl filled

Don’t bruise beauty, I always thought, until I walked into a food stall in eastern

with chopped tomato and tipped it into the mortar. There was mint and some sawtooth

Thailand and discovered Tom Tuah. I had been traveling for weeks, mostly by motorcycle and mostly in the hills between Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai. Drained of

She spooned the bruised salad onto a cheap metal camp plate, tomato juice

energy and with a dried-out throat and dusty lungs, I inelegantly stumbled off my

sloshing about, bits of tiny shrimp and chili clinging to beans that were busted at the

bike, in need of beer. A beautiful girl, old enough to be admired, stood smiling behind

seams. She beckoned to me to sit. I did. She placed the plate in front of me and handed

a large clay mortar. An older woman with features indicating blood relation was

me a fork and spoon wrapped in a thin napkin. The woman (her mother, I assumed)

chattering while working a wok over a single flame.

slid a bowl of fried pork and basil, chili, and garlic onto the table and disappeared.

I pulled a Leo beer from the cooler next to the few low plastic stools and tables, preparing to drink my way out of my dusty daze. I pointed to the clay mortar, and the

ZAK PELACCIO’S Tom Tuah

Serves 2

2 handfuls of fresh snap peas (peel the strings of the sides of the peas) 3 cloves fresh garlic 1 sprig nice basil (any kind you can get will do) 1 sprig mint (any kind you can get will do) 1 T fish sauce 1 T Lady Jayne’s Alchemy red wine vinegar (or lemon juice/lime juice or other highquality vinegar) 2 tsp. of NY State maple syrup 1-2 Thai Bird chilies (to taste) 1/4 cup halved Sungold tomatoes...or other cherry tomatoes...or 1/4 cup tomato concasse (large tomatoes, blanched and peeled, seeded and diced) 1 small, fresh white onion, sliced thin Borage flowers, chive flowers Salt to taste In a mortar, toss in garlic, chili, and a sprinkle of salt. Pound into a paste while adding half the fish sauce, vinegar, and maple and half the herbs.

Toss in peas (or beans) and pound just hard enough to break apart and expose the interior of the pod to the paste...pound and stir and pound and stir.

Once well coated, add the remaining liquid and the onions. Continue to pound gently for 10 seconds or so, then toss in the tomatoes and remaining herbs and pound just to extract a bit of juice.

Stir the salad with a spoon and taste the vinaigrette and a pea. If satisfied, spoon onto plates or bowls. If not, adjust seasoning and gently pound and stir until you’ve achieved the balance you’re looking for...it’s a long road.

Garnish with borage flowers and chive flowers (or nasturtium flowers, arugula flowers, tangerine marigold, woad flowers, mustard flowers...you name it...color is fun!).

Eat with a grilled or poached fish, roasted chicken, a bowl of rice, or simply on its own.

Note: If the snap peas or beans are not super-tasty raw, blanch for 30 seconds in salted, boiling water and shock in an ice bath before making the recipe.

I looked up and the girl was, once again, stationed behind her clay mortar. I ate everything and drank at least two more beers. I ate my bean salad with a spoon.

MEET YOUR MAKER

THE FOOD ISSUE

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FREDRIK BERSELIUS Interview and Photography MIC HAEL MUNDY

For FREDRIK BERSELIUS years in the making. Here, the Swedish chef talks about how he integrates his love of design, architecture, and the wilderness around his Masonville, NY, property (where he sources many

MM: Fredrik, your work is so comprehensive. It’s beautiful to look at. It must smell

but eventually I did take a kitchen job because of my sister… I was also studying

amazing. The touch must be incredible, and then the taste. What led you to this

economics in high school, and after high school I took a six-month break, worked a

path? Or let’s start more simply. What brought you into food?

little as a bike messenger in Stockholm, and a few evenings a week I would

FB: I don’t know when I first became interested in food, but as a kid, I liked trying

study interior design.

different flavors—even when I was very young. I remember I fell in love with Japanese cooking at a very young age.

MM: Really?

FB: On a very basic level—the fundamentals. One of our first assignments was

MM: How old were you?

to design a chair.

FB: Six years old. There was one Japanese grocery store in Stockholm. I had one of my first friends—a Swedish boy. He grew up in Japan and then moved to Sweden.

MM: That pushed you into thinking about design.

They had a rice cooker at home, and every day he or his older brother would come

FB: Yeah, I mean, I always liked design. My grandfather was a big inspiration to

home from school and grab some rice from the rice cooker. I was fascinated by this

me, a sort of role model who also liked nature. He was the first one to tell me

different culture. Them eating seaweed fascinated me. So I would make my mom

a little bit about nature here and there—what you could eat or not, and how to

take me to this Japanese store where we would buy Japanese rice and seaweed.

navigate through the woods. He was also very handy. He built our summer house

I’d never been to a Japanese restaurant, so I didn’t really know how to use it.

and was good at basic woodwork. All these little things made me interested in

I knew you rolled rice in it. I would fill it with all kinds of weird stuff.

design. How things feel in your hand. How a doorknob feels. How a chair feels when you sit in it. The texture of something. The sound of the texture of something.

MM: You started early.

So then I started graphic design. I thought maybe I wanted to be an architect, so I

FB: I didn’t think much of it. There were foods that I didn’t like, and there were foods

went back to school and did a bit of that.

that I liked. My mom was a good home cook. We would always have dinner at 6 o’clock at the table. In the summer, we would pick berries and mushrooms and

MM: You just sort of absorbed everything.

serve it if we had a bountiful year. If a neighbor had lots of apples that year, they

FB: I’ve always been this way. Before I even knew how to really cook, I wanted

would bring over a basket of apples and my mom would preserve them. We always

to write my own recipes rather than looking at other people’s recipes… When I

had preserves kicking around in the cellar or in the drawers. There were times in

wanted to play music, I didn’t want to play someone else’s music.

school when I didn’t like the school lunch, and I would run off the school premises, run home and make something to eat, and run back. I was maybe 10 years old.

Cooking had all these elements of being creative. So when I decided to give it a

I also remember always going for long walks in the woods. All these little things just

shot, I sort of took a step back from all the things I thought I liked or wanted to

planted seeds in my mind. I didn’t know anything about the restaurant industry.

study… I just tried to find the best restaurants that I could work in New York to learn

I never imagined to ever want to be a chef.

as much as possible. I knew early on that I wanted to open my own restaurant, because I wanted to create my own little universe.

MM: So what ultimately led you here?

FB: My sister worked in the hospitality industry. She went to study hotel

MM: So for you it was more than just the food.

management, and on the weekends she would work in kitchens or serve and prep

FB: Yes, but I didn’t know that either. I knew I wanted to open restaurants and serve

food. I would go see her once in a while—she’s a few years older. That gave me

food a certain way.

a glimpse into the hospitality world. I would hear about chefs and famous chefs— sort of all the drama in the kitchen. I never really grew up eating in restaurants,

MM: And what was that certain way?

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MEET YOUR MAKER

THE FOOD ISSUE

FB: It’s a dying format, but that’s how we’re serving food today. We serve in

whom I’ve worked with for a very long time. We know how the other thinks. It is a

multiple courses to tell a story with food. It’s a more nuanced idea of the whole

super-personal restaurant, and that’s why it’s also so small. We don’t tend tables

picture of an idea. Instead of serving one course where you eat the same thing for

and only seat guests once an evening. I often see many of the guests help serving

half an hour and then you’re done, you serve all these different courses to give you

the food.

a bigger picture of an idea of cooking, or an idea of food and eating.

MM: How long does a meal take?

[When I opened] Aska (the first version), [it] was open for a year and a half…

FB: Normally three and a half hours. But it doesn’t feel like it. I remember having

We were very limited with our space and the people we worked with, and I wanted

guests coming in and being worried. We had to change the meal for these guests,

something more. I wanted to keep pushing it, to elevate what we were doing. So we

because they told us there was no chance they would stay for so long, and then they

closed down. It took two and a half years in total before we finally found the space

still ended up sitting there for two hours after the meal was done.

where we are currently. I love the space. It’s an old building from the 1860s.

It was the first time where everything in my mind has all come together: the food,

MM: Your work affects people on so many levels, from the visual, the smell, the

the servers, the style of food, the style of servers, the furniture, the lighting, the

taste, the touch. It’s such a complete experience. We actually ingest it and we take it

music, everything.

with us, so it becomes a part of us physically. This may be a silly question, but why do you do this?

MM: What brought you to where you are now, where you could take a plate and fill

FB: I think that, at the end of the day, what we do is still serve guests. It’s hospitality.

it with something so beautiful?

People come to the restaurant to have a good time, or a nice evening out. And I

FB: I wanted the food to tell a story. I wanted to keep my relationship with where

feel like you can’t just do one thing: only serve good food, or only serve nice wine,

I’m from and where I live and to sort of find similarities and pull them to create the

or only have good service. They all have to go together. The hardest thing, of

type of food that we’re serving. It’s all connected, where we are in Brooklyn and the

course, is consistency. To do the same thing every single day that we’re open.

inspiration we find up here.

MM: Is that possible for someone like you? Doesn’t your food change from day MM: What are you saying about upstate with your food? What are you trying

to day?

to convey?

FB: That is the hardest part. We still want to set a bar for everything that we do.

FB: To respect nature and all these sort of flavors and scents that you get in nature

We’re supposed to do the same thing every day, and guests expect that we do the

and moments in nature, like sitting here now looking at that field. If you inhale

same thing every day. So yeah, that’s the hardest for me.

deeply, you can smell that sweet grass. So how can you serve that? Can you serve this moment? Can you serve that field? To get that feeling on a plate, it’s not

MM: It sounds like you keep things constantly fresh by following the seasons,

that easy.

following the cycle of nature, so things have got to be constantly changing for you.

FB: So that’s the thing, the menu doesn’t change entirely. It evolves, like neurons

MM: But that’s what you’re going for.

change. And they change in the season. There might be elements that change in

FB: We pick a lot of ingredients from around here. I want the guests in the

dishes, and there might be entire dishes that change. So of course, in February, this

restaurant to be able to step away from that New York life and showcase a bit of

place is just dead. There’s nothing growing. So there’s not many fresh ingredients in

this and tell them a little about the world outside of Manhattan or Brooklyn, and try

February.

and capture these moments somehow with food. That’s the goal. But then I think with restaurants, there is so much more, too. That’s where everything else comes in:

MM: Is that where the preserves come in?

design, furniture, how something feels.

FB: That’s where a lot of the preserves come in. So the hardest thing is to think of what you want to serve in six months. In the winter, we search for other flavors.

MM: Economics.

Like how do you serve a cold winter on a plate without it being a pile of snow?

FB: Economics [laughs], yeah, but how something feels in your hand, how

Things smell different in the winter, in the spring, in the summer. Can you capture

something feels in your head or your mood.

those scents?

MM: Your mood is sort of like a moment of creation. Tell me what it’s like when you

MM: So you’re really focused on what is going on in nature and bringing that to

put a plate together. What’s going through your mind? How are you seeing things,

the restaurant.

and what are you hoping for?

FB: Right, we do. But then, of course, we preserve a lot of things. Everything—in

FB: Sometimes it can be touching something or eating something and you’re

different ways. Some of them we even excel. Like they take on more flavor, they

like, “Whoa.” For example, that tree, there is this resin among the branches that

change, they become super-interesting. You go into sort of wine territory, where

we collected last year, and we are using it on desserts now. That resin smells so

flavors develop and then they can really hit different sensors in your brain.

delicious in my mind, but it also smells like—you know, it’s funny, it also smells like my grandfather, like hanging out around his summer house. And so it really brings

MM: I have to ask you one last question, because I’m personally just dying to know

me somewhere, and then I want to use it to transport someone else somewhere.

this. I read about a dish you did that was sprinkled with the ash of lamb’s heart.

How the hell does somebody get to that point?

MM: Food can often be sort of like time travel, and it sounds like you’re trying to

FB: [Laughs] So I love coming up here. I was blown away by how, after hitting that

pull people back and forth between where they are at the moment and where they

two-and-a-half-hour mark from the city, you start seeing all those rolling hills and

may have been at one time in their lives.

you start seeing the way the sun starts going down there and it blows up.

FB: Very much so, but I try to not be too in your face about it. But it’s interesting, our

I remember you can see those lambs, sheep, up on the hills. That was always in the

guests have sort of a relationship with certain ingredients that they didn’t know of.

back of my head. We had lamb hearts that we had cured and dried, and we had all of these bedstraw. So we ended up toasting the lamb heart and covering it in this

MM: It sounds like they come back to a very personal level, because you’re drawing

grass from the bedstraw and burning all of it so it became this black powder.

on your memories and your experiences with food, and people often have a

It picked up this interesting flavor that was both grassy and lamby. It was sort of

similar experience.

like, “How can we capture these hills, this bedstraw in the sunset, the lamb, and the

FB: Right, I think it is a very personal thing. I’m very fortunate that I have people

fiery moment?” We set it on fire.

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FREE RANGE

THE FOOD ISSUE

THE RADICAL HOMEMAKER/ SHANNON HAYES Interview and Photography MIC HAEL MUNDY

In 2010, SHANNON HAYES, a writer, farmer, and social activist in West Fulton, NY, published Radical Homemakers: Reclaiming Domesticity from a Consumer Culture, in which she laid out a powerful argument for reviving the long-neglected household arts as a feminist and political act. It was a modest self-published volume, but it would become a defining manifesto for a new generation of eco-conscious, anti-corporate activists seeking to make a social impact by returning to self-sufficiency. In the years since, Hayes has published cookbooks and opened a café to serve her community. Here, she discusses why change must always begin in the home.

MM: Let’s start with the radical homemaker. Is that

describing that would afford our meat. We’ve learned

because the chicken made them sick that they bought

something you identify yourself as, or is that something

to watch for jewelry—the more expensive jewelry

in the grocery store. We’d get new customers for

that you are speaking about, an overall movement?

customers are wearing, the higher the likelihood they

simple reasons like, “It doesn’t taste like I remember.”

SH: It’s funny, I never hung the sign over my head that I

will not be interested in paying for our product. If you

But there’s a connection that’s lost once you lose

was a radical homemaker. I was actually observing my

see somebody coming in who is either just as gritty

your general store—you lose your local community

own customer base when it started. I was a farm girl,

as we are, or more gritty than we are, or at least

outlet. Yes, you’re selling meat, but you’re also selling

and I was in the position of trying to market my family’s

unadorned, those people would be the ones who

community. I saw very quickly that this was our job,

food, and in order to do that I was coming at it from

would pay, and they often would be artists, manual

and I think that’s why I was so drawn to it. Our job

a food perspective and less of a farming perspective,

laborers, or parents of children. The one thing that

was to rebuild the community, and we were building it

because I felt like that’s where the gaps were in making

they all had in common was that they weren’t wealthy,

around good food. People needed human connection.

the connections between my family and the customers

and they knew how to cook. They had domestic skills

Bob and I started saying, “Well, we’re not really selling

we needed. As I did that, I started on this journey of

and understood the value of good food and made

meat. We’re dinner consultants.” You’re eating love,

learning how to work with meat really well, and on

that a priority in their lives. That’s when I realized that

conviviality, community, and spirit. All of those things are

that path I was getting asked to speak publicly about

that’s where the radical homemaker movement came

going into a meal, and that is the crux of what we do.

the grass-fed movement and why it was so expensive,

from. It was when I recognized that there was a class of

how it’s viewed, why it wouldn’t go away, and how

people who understood the value of paying someone

MM: You’re a writer, and writers are notoriously

would I expect people to be able to afford it. When

fairly and understood the value of good food. And by

solitary creatures, but you keep talking about food and

I had to answer those questions, I had to look back

having domestic skills, they were able to make ends

nourishing people. Where did that start for you? When

at my own customer base and juxtapose that against

meet. These people were making a choice to spend

did you realize that’s something that was important to

what I was hearing the consulting experts and the farm

more money on food because it was important to them.

you?

conferences telling us. They were telling us to go into the

Treating people fairly was important to them, and

SH: I grew up two miles up the road. My parents were

communities where the income range was the highest

treating the environment correctly and feeding their

both working professionals, and that was during the

and set up, because that’s how you’re going to sell your

family as well—these were their priorities.

’80s. You know, everyone’s career defined them, and

meat—you have an expensive product. That ate at me

to be a workaholic was sort of a badge of honor.

for a couple of reasons. How was it expensive if my

MM: You’ve mentioned your customers several times.

My mother was coming out on the second wave of

family could barely live on the income, and why did I

What are they buying from you exactly, and what are

feminism, and so food had an idea of being old-

never see this intuitively?

you selling in general?

fashioned. We actually, for several years, didn’t even

SH: Some of them are just buying chicken, and some

have a kitchen table in our house. We just ate on the

MM: There was a disconnect.

of them are just buying steaks. Bob and I recognized

couch, grabbed meals—we weren’t even sitting. We had

SH: Yes. I knew there was a gap, because my customers

a long time ago that our communities were becoming

just moved here and started the farm. There was an old

didn’t look like the profile that the “experts” were

spiritually bereft. We had people coming to us initially

Appalachian farm a mile up the road from our house

12

owned by this old woman. Then we just started talking

so conscious of this rhythm of life. Everything you

about food, and it became a conversation that went on

do centers around people and sustenance and the

until the day she died, between her and me. She was

good things about living on this planet. That’s kind of

This is privilege. I see how embattled his world can

like a surrogate grandmother to me. I realized when she

wonderful. You know, sitting here talking to you, it really

become. My brother is employed for the government,

was cooking—and this was not high cuisine, this was

becomes apparent that food is what brought people

with an administration that denies climate change, and I

down-home-style stuff—she and I had this relationship

together probably since the beginning of mankind. I

get to work in a world where, when people come to me,

around food.

think that’s the only reason they really got together!

they’re making changes; they’re making changes to take

SH: If you got the seeds and I got the meat, we’d have a

care of family, they’re making changes to take care of

much nicer meal!

the Earth, they’re making changes to take care of their

MM: Is there anything in particular this woman passed on that stayed with you? Was there any sort of big pearl

making change, which is the privileged position?

community. This is a privileged position. It’s not just the

of wisdom she laid on you?

MM: Right, or let’s go kill a big animal and we’ll all eat.

loveliness of food, but it’s the loveliness of seeing. I get

SH: Everyone wants pie. Everyone. Wants. Pie.

SH: [Laughing] That’s right.

to see a world changing and a world becoming kinder,

[laughing]

softer, more forgiving, more adaptable—yet both of MM: So it is this incredibly important thing to us,

us are dealing with climate change. When he earns six

MM: That’s a good one.

whether we let go of that awareness or not. We’ll never

figures and I pull in $21,000 a year, I still know I’ve got

SH: I was good company for her, but I guess what she

escape that. It’s a wonderful thing, and you’re privileged

the privileged position.

did was, she just always had me talking about food. It

to be on the level that you are, where you raise the

was the only place in my life where I had that.

animals, you sell the animals, you eat the animals. Your

MM: Wow. That’s wonderful. You’re just so keenly aware

whole industry, even what you write about, is food.

of your existence. Everything you do reflects that, and

MM: So food in your teenage years became primary.

SH: It’s more privileged than that. I have a brother who

that’s a highly spiritual way of being. It’s really just

Food is this common thread then. It connects you to

is a marine biologist, and he’s heading up the Woods

that—a spiritual way of being.

people, and it connects you to the earth, right? You raise

Hole marine lab. He deals with climate change, and I

SH: I don’t think you can live this life without being in a

a lot of animals. It seems to permeate every part of your

deal with climate change. In my brother’s world, he’s

constant state of prayer. I don’t want to get all religious

existence. You write about it, you sell it, you live it.

dealing with the rising temperatures of the oceans, with

on you, because I don’t subscribe to one religion or

SH: Food is a way I can comfortably connect with the

overfishing. In my world, I’m dealing with adaptation

another. Bob [Hooper, Hayes’s husband] and I have a

world around me. Because, as a writer, I can’t always do

to climate change. When I go to a farmers’ market

running joke where he believes in nothing and I believe

that. You know, my personality doesn’t allow me to. If I

or I walk into this café, I am meeting people who are

in everything [laughter]. Maybe that’s why being able to

stand up and speak in front of a lot of people, it takes a

choosing to adapt to climate change. In my brother’s

feed everybody, at least once a week, means so much

lot. But I’m not ashamed to hand them a piece of pie.

world, every day he’s facing a battle where he is trying

to me. My day starts with gratitude and it ends with

to stop it. When you get up every day and you are

gratitude, and I can’t hide that. This work and everything

facing nature defeated, or you’re facing people who are

about my day feels like a spiritual calling.

MM: I guess the point I’m trying to make is that you’re

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THE FOOD ISSUE

THE FUTURIST FARMER. HOW MORTEN SOHLBERG STAYS AHEAD EDDIE BRANN AN Photography MATT N OVAK

Some people are simply born to be pioneers. In the case of Morten Sohlberg, one could say his entire professional life has been lived a few paces ahead of the curve.

“It was the non-compete,” he says with a laugh. “We sold most of our shares in Sessions to the investors in 2003, and the non-compete agreement was comprehensive—70 pages or so.” Design was out, education was out. Sohlberg jokes that the two things that weren’t

downtown Manhattan and Blenheim Hill Farm in the Catskills, about 20 years ago. At the

precluded by the non-compete were “hospitality and funeral agencies,” so he and Ye chose

time, he was chairman and CEO of sessions.edu, an online design school that he’d started.

the former and decided to become restaurateurs—oh, and while they were at it, farmers, too.

Now he is a restaurateur, chef, farmer, and frequent lecturer on sustainable and responsible

After working with numbers and data for so many years, Sohlberg and Ye felt that they had become removed from anything “real,” so in 2003 they bought a small farm located

then the Norwegian Sohlberg is an unusual—and unusually capable—guy.

In the late 1990s, Sohlberg was often met with surprise when he told people what

in Jefferson, NY. At the same time, they were starting what Sohlberg refers to as “our little empire of hospitality,” and had opened a restaurant, Smörgås Chef, where Sohlberg, ever-

he did. The idea that people could be taught design (or anything, for that matter) via the

capable, ever-evolving, taught himself to cook. But he quickly realized that they could not

Internet seemed dubious. He remembers one New York Post article about his school that

trust the source of the produce and meat they bought for their restaurant. He had heard hor-

was openly mocking of the idea. But he wasn’t crazy; he was simply ahead of his time, and

ror stories about organic pork that turned out to be repackaged factory meat, and cage-free

20 years later Sessions is teaching 1,500 students each year. Sohlberg is no longer involved,

duck farms that, when visited, had nowhere near the number of animals needed to support

though, and in fact, it was his getting bought out that set him on his new and equally

the numbers they supplied. So he decided to, as he puts it, “vertically integrate” his farm

forward-looking path.

and use it to supply the food served on his restaurants’ tables. Nowadays, the term farm-

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IN PERSON

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to-table is commonplace, generic even, but 14 years ago, it was still a niche concept. Once again Sohlberg and Ye were ahead of the curve.

Their now-expanded property, Blenheim Hill Farm, occupies 150 acres in Schoharie County, with its Michelin-recommended companion restaurant well-ensconced in the West Village. Sohlberg and Ye took the name from the founding name of Jefferson, a colonial British settlement. The farm itself was built in the 1700s by an English family, the Peaslees, and sits amid rolling hills in a picturesque setting 2,000 feet up in the Catskill mountains that would have looked much like home to its immigrant founders.

The Sohlbergs raise herbs in natural, meadow-like settings; wild thyme and chamomile grow naturally along paths and in hedgerows. Asparagus, garlic, and carrots are grown in shared beds. They raise heritage pigs—crossbred Mangalitsa and Berkshire breeds—in a section of forest naturally fenced between trees. There are ducks, chickens, and sheep, and a black horse that escaped and was found ten miles away—in other words, not much the original that would cause the Peaslees’ jaws to drop. In a gleaming curvilinear structure, seemingly endless pristine racks of 8-foot-long white “planks” hold circulating water and growing medium.

restaurant makes a central feature of each of its beautiful platings are grown.

The property also features a large English-style barn that was constructed by its original owners. This is now used for weddings, a business that has become a core of the upstate commercial kitchen and now host fully catered wedding parties every weekend of summer.

Back in the city, I joined Sohlberg and Ye for dinner at Bleinheim. It’s a charming spot located on a pretty corner of the city’s most photogenic neighborhood, and inside it’s light and airy, with midcentury-modern furniture and a planked wooden wall feature designed

by Sohlberg that subtly suggests his Scandinavian roots. The food, too, has a Nordic feel.

Though meat is present on the menu, there is little reliance on it, and the plating, as previously mentioned, is a picture. A broken vinaigrette of vivid green basil oil and balsamic is scattered stuffed with ricotta nestles in the center. The “Blenheim Salad” is simply a mélange of the farm’s wonderful lettuces and salad greens. A pork dish—two sample-size pieces of different cuts—is as much about the bed of farro, fava beans, and broccoli rabe as it is about the meat.

“The vertically integrated farm is the future,” says Sohlberg as we eat. “But this way of eating—sourcing your own products by harvesting or foraging—is as old as the hills.” And then he offers the ultimate raison d’être for his latest foray into tomorrow. “And it gives you beautiful ingredients.”

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STYLE

SARA MAE ELBERT/ FROM BROOKLYN TO BOVINA JILLIAN SC HEINFELD Photography HAROLD JULIAN

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PREVIOUS PAGE Blue striped linen dress by Theory THIS PAGE Blue cotton shirt by Aerie Scarf by American Eagle, jeans by Rag and Bone OPPOSITE Striped skirt by Banana Republic by Olivia Palermo Shirt available at Scotch and Soda outlets

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The sun was at its peak when I pulled into the eerily quiet town of Bovina and drove up to

want to open up a wedding venue or a restaurant. Where should we do this?’ But we just

Brushland Eating House on Main Street. The town itself, which boasts a scant population

thought, ‘Let’s make this area have a business so we can stay here.’ ”

of 600, felt like an empty movie set patterned with antiquated charms. Nineteenth-century porches seemingly created for lazing on slow, muggy afternoons were uninhabited but

about the area and to source inspiration. “We decided to call it an eating house because we

well-maintained. The only sound to be heard was a ladder tapping against a tin roof, the

wanted to feed people, but our aim was to be a place where people could congregate and use

occasional swing of a screen door, the chirps and hums of the birds and the bees—that is,

our space,” Sara explained. As for the restaurant’s name, it’s a mannerly nod to the town’s beginnings: Before it was Bovina, it was Brushland, founded by early colonizer Alexander

and muddy white Converse. Her pouty lips, green eyes, and golden hair hoisted in a tight bun contrasted faultlessly with a swift city-paced walk, exuding the aura of someone who means business.

Brush.

Sitting amidst the lush rolling greenery, I couldn’t help but state the obvious: A cool, trailblazing Brooklyn couple comes to a remote town in the Catskills and hones an Instagram aesthetic that looks like they lounge around in the tall grass all day and then dust

Frankies 457 Spuntino—relocated to Bovina three years ago following a wanderlust trip

off their aprons at night. She laughed. “If you stage the right photo, we would totally be

to the Catskills. They were coming off of a starry-eyed year on Martha’s Vineyard, where and realize it could be anywhere—including in the city—because it’s just nonstop.” She wanted to open a business and knew it wasn’t sustainable on Martha’s Vineyard. Then

continued: “The other side of that is that it feels really good to be cast in that light, to have

we took a trip up here and saw this building was for sale.” They were captivated by this

become a destination place for people…because we are living the life that we want.”

desolate country town and developed a sort of “if we build it, they will come” approach.

Luckily, they were right.

“We fell in love with Bovina, but were aware that if it didn’t work out, then we would

Day-to-day, that destination life is split 50/50 between Sara’s and Sohail’s innate talents.

Sara has always had a predisposition for hospitality. She knows all of her customers’ names, what garnishes they prefer, how they take their drinks. She serves patrons, maintains the

be building it purely for ourselves,” she remarked as we sat in the bucolic garden behind

two Airbnb apartments above the restaurant, and manages the staff. Sohail, meanwhile, is

the restaurant. “Yes, we could have been in Hudson or even Narrowsburg, if we were out to

something of a culinary and design wunderkind.

make money fast. So many people do that. They come up, suss out the area, and say, ‘We

The restaurant’s demeanor is industrial yet cozy—no easy feat. Behind the open kitchen, 21

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STYLE

Sohail was fastidiously placing slabs of dough on a cement-colored tray. “We wanted dark wood, handsome, and masculine,” he said. “Our aim was to be different from all the cute

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them to get a burger and beer.”

I followed Sara into the restaurant for an espresso to go as she grabbed a cluster of

country places upstate, and at the same time, we didn’t want it to feel like a dining room in

candles and began cracking out the wax in preparation for the night’s illumination. That

Manhattan or Brooklyn. The goal was to mix in a lot of old with the new.”

day’s menu included shrimp cocktail, braised rabbit, guinea hen, and pan-roasted pork

Ultimately, the secret behind the couple’s success is their dedication to the community.

chops. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, but what people imagine is being able to relax in the forest and drink rosé out on their porch every day, and the truth is no one runs this

They are full-timers, completely immersed in every aspect of small-town living—and that’s

business but us,” she said. “Sometimes, when I hear people say they want to come open a

impossible for locals to ignore. “I think it’s really important for the community of true

restaurant here, I think, ‘Uh-oh, we’re making this look too easy.’” And maybe they are—

locals that we’re doing something that’s for everyone, all the time,” she said. “We’re here in February on a Wednesday when we have four people come into the restaurant because there’s a snowstorm. But for those four people who live close by, there is nowhere else for 22

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GIMME SHELTER

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THE KAATSKELLER OF LIVINGSTON MANOR ALEXANDRA MARVAR Photography L AWR E N C E B R AU N

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GIMME SHELTER

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It’s 6:30 p.m. in a quiet village in Sullivan County. The light is golden and it’s t-shirt weather. Just off Main Street, a garden is bustling with families and weekenders, and CHRISTOPHER TIERNEY is standing between two Adirondack chairs at the fire circle, eating a slice of honey chevre, lemon thyme, wild blueberry pizza.

In Manhattan, designer-restaurateur Christopher Tierney may be best known for his absinthe

with whitewashed wall paneling and grids of dark wood trim. Matching cane accent walls

den-inspired cocktail lounge Apotheke, or its Doyers Street neighbor Pulqueria, a chic Mexico City homage. But as his attention shifted north to Livingston Manor, where he’s split his time since 2014, he saw great opportunity in simple, classic, quality dinner service

“It’s the laws of attraction: I just gather anything that feels right to me.” The attic lounge is

made with local ingredients, and joined forces with partners who saw the same. Now, from

a warm, bright palette of yellows, golds, and Kaatskeller’s token dark green which I’m told is called “salamander.” The mahogany and marble bar was resurrected after past lives in

the open-air kitchen behind us. Kaatskeller, he tells me, is a portmanteau in which German

three now-defunct local resorts, and the corner table is paired with a reclaimed Brunswick

rathskeller meets the original Dutch spelling of Catskills. But it’s clear his concept here has

Bowling banquette, but there’s no faux weathering or over-wrought celebration of the rustic

always tended less toward biergarten and more toward a hybrid of the Hamptons’ Sunset Beach and the Catskills resorts’ outdoor spaces of yore: picnic tables, bocce court, “gelato

speaker faces, even the linen cylindrical pendant lights, straight from an old resort brochure, are crisp, new construction with the Borscht Belt’s design legacy in mind. The croon and

the center of the garden. Indoors and out, the Kaatskeller is a meld of Mid-Century artifacts – Italian wall sconces and ruby-hued, beveled glass door knobs – alongside salvaged Borscht

a tall glass is served. While notes of time travel are in the air, Tierney’s pledge of loyalty to

Belt ephemera in a newly renovated garden and two-story carriage house done with the

a vintage Catskills aesthetic isn’t about going back to something old: at the Kaatskeller,

splendor of the region’s late tourism empire in mind. Inside the carriage house, cane and

brilliant moments of a past era are commemorated in something refreshingly new.

chrome Marcel Breuer Cesca chairs accompany tables in an airy downstairs dining area

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FREE RANGE

Clockwise from top right: preserved lemon labne (on kale salad), salsa macha (on steamed cauliflower), tahini & carob molasses (on roasted plums), salted caramel sauce (on shortbread), salsa 2 6 verde (on roasted garnet yam)

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FREE RANGE

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HIT THE SAUCE

L AU R A S I LV E R M A N Images S T E V E N R A N DA Z Z O & B E T T E B L AU

Julia Child often referred to sauces as the splendor and glory of cooking.

No doubt she was referring to the five foundational sauces of French grande cuisine, the basic formulas from which hundreds of variations are derived. There was a time when no restaurant worth its salt failed to nap its fillets and gratins with a béchamel, velouté or demi-glace.

But today’s ingredients are so fresh and flavorful, our dishes so bold and bright, that those rich and complicated enhancements can seem utterly superfluous. Yet what dish isn’t improved by a bright swoosh of complementary flavor?

And who doesn’t love a delicious, drippy sauce? Whether sweet or savory, the right sauce can elevate and underscore texture, flavor and visual appeal. A brilliant green salsa verde—a fresh slurry of herbs, lemon, capers and olive oil—makes a roasted yam sing. Labne, a thick and creamy yogurt, combined with garlic, preserved lemon and walnut oil, cloaks a kale salad and is the perfect counterpoint to a grilled lamb chop.

Smoky, nutty salsa macha, an addictive chile-based sauce from Veracruz, is the kind of all-purpose condiment that transforms a slice of bread or a whole roasted cauliflower. Buttery tahini swirled with carob molasses is a revelation on roasted plums but would also enrich a bowl of basmati rice.

A classic caramel sauce spiked with smoked salt can be drizzled over virtually any dessert to remarkable effect. Try it on ice cream, shortbread or Eton mess. These sauces can be whipped up in minutes—most without much actual cooking. And all but the salsa verde keep well in the refrigerator, ready to be spooned over the day’s catch or harvest.

It’s summertime, and the living is easy.

SALSA MACHA Makes about 3 cups 2 ounces dried chipotles (a combination of morita and meco), stemmed, seeded and torn into pieces 2 1/2 cups olive oil 1/3 cup raw unsalted peanuts (or pecans or almonds) 4 cloves garlic 2 tablespoons sesame seeds 1 teaspoon sea salt or to taste 2 tablespoons dark brown sugar 3 tablespoons cider vinegar Set a large heavy skillet over medium heat and add the oil.

Once the oil is hot, but not smoking, add the garlic cloves.

Stir and fry for about one minute, until they start to gain color.

Add the chiles and nuts and fry, stirring, for about two minutes.

Add the sesame seeds and continue to cook for another minute.

Remove from heat.

Scrape skillet contents into a blender and cool for about 10 minutes.

Add the salt, sugar and vinegar. Process until smooth, starting low and building up to high speed.

Transfer to a storage container, cool and then refrigerate if not serving that day. Bring salsa to room temperature before serving.

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RANDON

is a resident of Livingston Manor, NY, and he works at Main Street Farm, a provisions store, as well as Somewhere in Time Farm in Parksville. He does various other odd jobs like bicycle repair, yard cleanups, and handyman work. He showed up for his interview on his bicycle, with a clean haircut and a neatly ironed

Words and Photography L AWR E N C E B R AU N

with people. There are so many great people to meet You seem like a pretty busy guy.

here. I know I want to have a business someday, and

[Smiles and looks away] Yeah, I’m trying to be.

I want to help the community. I might try to go to business school for a little while and then come back

How old are you?

here and open something up. I love being outdoors,

I’m 15.

so maybe I’ll start my own farm in the region.

Wow, I suppose you look 15, but the way you’re involved

Tell me about your farming journey. You work at both

in so many things and working all the time, it seems as

Main Street Farm and Somewhere in Time Farm.

What’s that like?

Is that accurate?

I love it. Jon from Main Street and Justin from

I’ve just been so excited to get my working papers.

Somewhere in Time are doing great things. They’re both

All I’ve wanted to do is work and get started on building

really helping the community. American agriculture is in

something good for myself. Right now, I’m saving for a

a horrible spot right now, and it’s ruining our health and

truck so that I can drive as soon as I get my license.

our environment. I think they both want to help change that, and that’s why I love working for them.

Was it frustrating before you got your working papers?

Were you itching to get out in the world and work?

What’s the best piece of advice you’ve gotten?

I’m just happy that I’m settled now, so I’ve been itching

Don’t worry about what people say or think about you.

just to move forward. I moved around a lot and had different homes growing up so far. But now I live with

That’s a good start.

my aunt and uncle full-time. I’m just so happy that it’s a

I don’t follow any crowds, because I know better than to

home that feels more permanent. Now I can work, start

get caught hanging out with some of the groups of kids here. I don’t want to fall into any traps, so I just do my own thing.

What do you want to do?

I just want to be happy. I don’t know exactly yet, but I love Livingston Manor. I think I want to have a business

leave. What does it mean to be rich?

here, because Livingston Manor is a town that’s really

People get so caught up in making money that they become poor in their spirit. I want to be rich from the

and I want to be here for that.

simple things like people and the earth.

Ah, how poetic, I like that.

What do you like to do when you’re not busy hustling around working at all these jobs?

Like?

I love Abraham Lincoln’s quote: “The only way to

in the woods. Before Regents [exams], I took a long

predict the future is to create it.”

bike ride and went out in the woods and sat near a tree and just closed my eyes. Everything started to leave my

So based on that, in order to predict what you might do

body. I felt like everything had emptied out of me, and

here, you’ll have to go out and create it.

I was totally free.

Yes, exactly. So I’ll need to make lots of connections 28

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ANDY BRENNAN

is a woodsman, a writer, and the mastermind behind AARON BURR CIDERY in Wurtsboro.

Along with his wife, Polly, Andy crafts a vast array of ciders—with wild apples, along with fruits such as elderberry and choke pear—which can be imbibed from Del Posto and Eleven Madison Park in

Interview JILLIAN S C HEINFELD Photography N OA H K A L I N A When did you move to the Catskills, and what brought you to

Saying I have a favorite cider is like saying I have a favorite

about 150 years ago. Wine, though, about 40 years ago, got

child or a favorite painting. I can tell you with great ease what I don’t like about “industrial ciders” (what Europeans call

We moved to Wurtsboro in 2006 from New York City. The

the tradition with big farming, modern economics, and the government’s involvement. Cider is only now beginning to

shack in Maryland that I rented from an old farmer. I was

opposite (traditional cider) is hard. One thing I can say is that

do the same. But whether or not un-contrived cider can come

never able to stomach the city without also long stretches in

common to all natural ciders is a lack of sweetness. What

back has all to do with the general population’s embrace for

the country, but the farmer I rented from died in 2003, so I had

makes the ciders from wild Sullivan County trees superior is

real, local food and their involvement in agriculture. How

that they are heavy in tannin and malic acid. Both properties

many people grow their own wine grapes or cider apples?

for its cheap land and proximity to the train, which was our

contribute to the longevity in the bottle, which is important

umbilical cord. We’d never been here before, we didn’t know

because well-structured ciders only get better as the years

How much does your state of mind differ when you’re in the

of any reason to travel here, and we didn’t know a soul even

progress. The nose, the mouth, and lingering notes of the

city, as opposed to when you’re in the country?

remotely close by—we just gave it a shot.

drink become symphonic as the components come together

To think about “here” in relationship to “there,” I can honestly

with age. Younger ciders are not necessarily bad either—they

say that I’m no different—my character, that is. I’m still a

do have lots of vitality—but their notes are disjointed with

neurotic, I’m still a workaholic, and I’m still determined with

awkward starts and stops, much like the work of younger

my future. But there is an interesting difference. Here I can

artists.

only blame myself for all my failures and shortcomings. It

What’s a summer Saturday here look like for you? Contrast that with a Monday.

-

takes all of three minutes to lose my shit in New York City.

ends. I inherited agoraphobia, and it kicks in just thinking about summer Saturdays. But the nature of my work relies

Is there a barter system among your community of friends and

Before I even make it to the other side of the GWB, I’m al-

on the community and the seasonal commerce, which is

fellow makers up here?

inseparably part of the tradition of cider. Lower in alcohol,

Yes. In fact, we want your apples, Delaware Valley! We rely

streets, I’ll avoid eye contact with strangers as I desperately

bright and clean, cider is the perfect warm-weather drink. If

on the community to introduce us to apple trees, and we, of

plow through the day assuming something is just about to go

it weren’t for the social anxiety, I wouldn’t say there’s a dif-

course, need permission to pick the fruit. Our ciders represent

wrong. But here, I can only blame myself for my unhappiness.

ference between Saturday and Monday. I primarily adjust for

a multitude of terrains and geologic conditions affecting the

I think that’s wonderful, though. The country brings me this

the weather and seasons. With cider there is a harvest season,

growth of apple trees (and all vegetation), so it’s important for

soul accountability.

-

a fermentation season, a bottling season, and a market season (the summer). The human culture revolves around the apple,

amoras to Margaretville, Cragsmoor to Callicoon, and East

Describe your current mood.

not the other way around. So this time of year, Polly focuses

Branch to Otisville. If you don’t spray your trees, and if the

My mood these days? Post-orgasmic. Summer is to spring.

on the markets, while I engage more with the trees—both on

trees are old and neglected, chances are the fruit is superior

my land and on other people’s properties. Apple trees enjoy

for cider. I encourage everyone to make your own booze, but

human company, and it feels like a one-night stand just taking

if you want us to make it for you, we’ll exchange bottles for

their apples on a once-a-year visit.

bushels. We also pay for apples, but regardless, we need to

The journey or the destination? area and then come up with a two-dimensional language for what you’ve found. You must intentionally lose yourself and

What would be the title of your memoir?

do that—so don’t just call us October 1 and expect us to take

then trust your instincts and creative abilities to describe what

I am actually writing a book about the apple trees that make

the fruit. We are too small to accept everything.

you’ve discovered. I suppose that is the destination, but (1)

so there is undoubtedly my history in the story as well. Both

Why has cider taken such a backseat to wine and beer?

always more areas to explore.

the trees and myself have fallen away from a routine cultiva-

Cider is a wine. And it happens to be the local wine (or

tion, and although most people assume that’s a bad thing, I

traditional table wine) to this region and the whole of the

Are you a morning or night person? Do you have any notable

our cider. I relate to them largely in anthropomorphic terms,

Northeast. This is because apples grow best in these soils,

rituals?

what makes us unique, how to use our voice, and how we can

climates, and terrain. We live in one of the world’s premier

My brain is mush after 8 p.m. I’m 100% a morning person.

devote ourselves for the better. Perhaps the memoir will be

cider regions.

Sometimes my brain can’t wait until morning either, and I’ll

But traditional cider and wine suffered when America began

road, so silence that time of day is wonderful. And during this

called Picking Up the Drops. shifting from an agrarian to industrial (or modern) society 30

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ROAD TRIP

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CALLICOON

Callicoon Movie House, an institution; Ollie Grey’s.

Words and photography SA N DY S O OH OO

The one thing Cafe Adella Dori, on Main Street, is serious about is recycling.

Other than that, says owner Eva Barnett, “We like to have fun.” Named after her mother and grandmother, respectively, the bright, spacious cafe is furnished with antique chairs from Lee Hartwell Antiques next door and a church pew that Ms. Barnett found and refinished herself. On Sundays, they bring gifts of coffee and snacks to the hardworking people at the farmer’s market and Andy Hahn of Hilly Acres brings them their eggs, bacon and brisket for the Sunday menu. Ms. Barnett gives me a colorful summer salad and, looking at it, says, “I could tell you where every one of those vegetables is from. But I won’t bore you with those details.” It’s the picture of summer: fresh lettuce, shaved carrots, crisp cucumbers and radishes dressed in a good olive oil with salt and pepper. Simple, but delicious, and exactly what happens when a whole community revolves around creating, growing and 32

supporting each other.

Callicoon was once called the “restaurant capital” of Sullivan County.

“This was always where everyone came to eat,” says Matthew Lanes, head chef and owner of Matthew’s on Main. For a while this distinction was owed to the few diners and Italian spots that served the area, offering typical American fare and little else. But, for Mr. Lanes, bringing food to the local residents of Callicoon and the surrounding areas was something else entirely. “Nothing comes in here unless it’s an ingredient,” Dominique Jenkins, co-owner and front of house manager of Matthew’s on Main says, “it’s what’s known in the business as a scratch-house: we make everything from scratch.” This goes for everything from their burgers and sauces and soup stocks to their cakes and ice creams and sorbets. Having run Matthew’s on Main since coming to Callicoon full-time in 2003, this

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Hosanna of Nene River Road; salad at Cafe Adela Dori; Sunny’s Pop-Up Shop.

is both a success story and a love story. Mr. Lanes and Ms. Jenkins are also high school sweethearts who have been married for 28 years. The menu is a mix of high and low- yummy, everyday comfort foods—including the best burger in town—and fare that’s a little fancier, like the cornish hen or sesame crusted salmon, all inspired by what’s available seasonally at the farmer’s market and influenced by Mr. Lanes’ many years of cooking in upscale New York City kitchens.

There is a difference between food as fuel and food as nourishment and the community of Callicoon is very familiar with this distinction. As I make my way through town, I realize there’s a common thread among many of the business owners’ stories—which is that they were living in the city and making it work by working really hard and escaping to Callicoon on the weekends for years and years. Eventually, the benefits of upstate life began

to outweigh the benefits (and costs) of city living. The town is full of people who were able to make the jump from weekender to resident as their lives shifted to become more family oriented, connected and creative.

Susan Mendoza of Lazy Fox on Upper Main Street described her life as a voice-over actor with two kids in Park Slope as hectic and full of logistics and scheduling that left little time for creative work or family activities.

She and her husband had been bringing their kids to the area for years before finally realizing that Callicoon was where they needed to be. They made the jump two years ago to a spot in Narrowsburg and never looked back.

“Once the kids were on board with the move, it was pretty straightforward,” Ms. Mendoza says. Her shop is full of lush fabrics: artisan loungewear, ecodyed t-shirts, sweet sweatshirts that have characters from the Fantastic Mr. Fox embroidered onto them. In addition to clothing, Ms. Mendoza’s shop 33

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Clockwise from top: Susan Mendoza of Lazy Fox; Cornish Hen at Mathew’s on Main; Karkula; refreshment at The Western.

also offers tinctures, teas and skincare products made by artisans in the Hudson Valley as well as New York City.

Familiar with providing food for various appetites, DVEIGHT’s own Nhi Mundy opened her renowned Vietnamese take-out shop Ba & Me several years ago after moving upstate with her family in 2012 after Hurricane Sandy. For lunch, I eat the five-spice chicken with salad over vermicelli and the summer rolls—full of crisp pickled carrots and sweet hoisin-flavored pork. It’s the best meal to eat on a hot summer day: bright with vinegar dressing and spicy with Sriracha. The meal is followed by a traditional Vietnamese coffee—which I butcher by failing to mix the sweetened condensed milk with the hot coffee before pouring the whole thing over ice—Nhi watches this and cringes: “The milk is going to freeze!” I manage to salvage it by stirring furiously: it’s still the best thing I’ve ever tasted—the 34

perfect remedy for the crash of a sweltering afternoon.

When I first arrived in Callicoon it was a monsoon—thunder, lightning, heavy rain. I couldn’t find my oasis at Nine River Road—a fantastic spot right on the Delaware River run by the owners of The Arnold House and the North Branch Inn—as my GPS was sending me three miles down the road to a campsite. I thought the town was intimidating for some reason—partly because I didn’t have cell phone service, so nothing could save me from being alone in the world. I did find Nine River Road—obviously, sitting right on the edge of town next to the post office. Understated and elegant—I assumed it was just someone’s lovely upstate abode. When I finally got inside, Hosanna, the innkeeper, boiled water for my tea while her sweet pup Jackson laid down on my feet and I was able to wander from room to cozy room, wondering where they got all their artful furnishings.

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Clockwise from top: Five-spice chicken lunch at Ba & Me; Tannis and Greg of Willow Wisp Farm; Callicoon Wine Merchant.w

The longer I stayed in Callicoon—the harder it was to leave—as I met one person after another who was enthusiastic about their community and the things they bring into the world. John Erik Karkula describes his three months in Callicoon as a long time coming—though his business is mostly web-based, making the move has allowed him to focus on his own product design in addition to offering high-end furnishings and curated products for the home in his shop—Karkula, also on Upper Main Street.

For those of you who, like me, might miss the legendary farmer’s market on Sunday’s from 11 - 2 in the park on the river—fear not, because the good people Greg Swartz and Tannis Kowalchuk of Willow Wisp Organic Farms have finally opened a store front on Lower Main Street that will be open on Fridays and Saturdays—full of their colorful flowers and beautiful produce from their new farm, a mile and a half down the road. While they

supply many of the restaurants in Callicoon with fresh organic ingredients for their menus, Willow Wisp also has a stand at the Brooklyn Farmer’s Market at Grand Army Plaza and in Union Square during the week.

Before I leave—for real this time—Mike Roberto, master bartender of the historic Western Bar, Inn and Supper Club makes me a Milkglass Mojito: some delectable concoction of rum, lime, honey, orgeat and mint.

Of course, the sweet almond orgeat is homemade and the mint is from their organic garden in the backyard. But by that point I wasn’t surprised.

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THE CATSKILL PINES, MOUNT TREMPER, NY The newly opened Catskill Pines features an eclectic menu that celebrates the roots of owner Jeremy Bernstein (Eastern European Jewish), chef Liz DeSiena (Italian), and Bernstein’s partner, Stacia Bolina (Mexican). The bar features local artists and musicians, as well as regional brews, wines, and spirits.

5327 Route 212, Mt. Tremper; catskillpines.com Photo by Matt Long GAIL GARCIA BOWL The perfect addition to any dinner party, this hand-painted, brushed, and splattered bowl stands out on its own. shopburkelman.com

to stay. From a handmade cutting board to a rustic, revitalized motel, our market editor MANDY COON—who is a forerunner of upstate sophistication and poise—selects 8 of her favorite destinations and items that can only be found in the Catskills.

RED ROSE MOTEL, ROSCOE, NY Before it was bought last June, the Red Rose Motel sat empty for more than ten years. Now refurbished and opening as a bar in late July, its aesthetic is a nod to the golden days of the motel, with vintage and antique decor that embraces the heritage of the space. The bar will feature many local wines, craft beers, and ciders from Catskill Brewery, Roscoe Beer Company, Eminence Wine, Wayside Cider, and Graft.

Beers to look out for include Equilibrium, Peekskill, Sloop, and Other Half.

21677 Old Route 17, Roscoe; theredrosemotel.com WESTWIND ORCHARD AMBROSIA MAPLE CUTTING BOARD This gorgeous handmade piece will inspire you to cook more, and will be a centerpiece of your kitchen decor.

Road, Accord; westwindorchard.com SAVOR: RUSTIC RECIPES INSPIRED BY FOREST, FIELD, AND FARM A stunning collection of recipes by Ilona Oppenheim, this book will invite you to embrace the abundance of your surroundings and connect with nature.

PA; facebook.com/MilkweedHonesdale/ COLD SPRING APOTHECARY BLACK PEPPER AND TOBACCO LTD CANDLE This scent is one of Cold Spring Apothecary’s best-sellers, and makes any space inviting. With notes of tobacco, amber, and black pepper, it is crisp and warm and woodsy—perfect for entertaining and dinner parties. All-natural, 100% soy wax, hand-mixed, with a burn time of 60 hours. $35, available at Cold Spring Apothecary, 75 Main Street, Cold Spring; coldspringapothecary.com RAQUEL ALLEGRA SHORTS SET This chic set is what we want to wear to try the exquisite tasting menu at the brand-new DeBruce restaurant.

Available at MayerWasner, 55 Main Street, Narrowsburg; mayerwasner.com

UNCLEBROTHER, HANCOCK, NY Conceptual artist Rirkrit Tiravanija and gallerist Gavin Brown’s restaurant–slash–exhibition venue and performance space, housed in a former garage. Serving Thai-inspired dishes made with seasonal ingredients from local farms, with Tiravanija’s signature free curry. The gallery is currently Mackler, and Bruce Sherman. Open weekends all summer (drinks extra). Gallery, free admission.

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