After talking with Chef at this years JB awards, the already inevitable tasting at Blue Hill was undeniably more attractive...
The fog, scented with fall, hung heavy in the crisp fall night, when, a few months ago, simplicity and decadence inextricably met beneath the rafters in Chef's immaculate space nestled in the beautiful Stone Barns acres...there were moments in which, as the Som primed each sancerre-reminiscenct tulip of Larmandier-Bernier's blanc de blanc, 'Terre de Vertus' 1er Cru, the gods of locale must certainly have been undone at its quiet perfection...yes, it was not a Dr. Frank's Celebre...there should have been at least the slightest drop of remorse on our parts at the break from taste of place at one of its most hallowed temples...yet with each stunning course after another (veal bone with rich marrow and osetra caviar, house-made speck-wrapped raw butter-griddled golden kombocha squash, Berkshire jowl and belly with house smoked sweet potato, lemony just-picked baby heirlooms displayed on a mounting of stainless and wood, etc etc etc) it must have been the immortals that, instead, wept...
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