Blue Hill - New York City

Tomato Terroir - New York City entry #3

Ten years ago a dining companion and I shared a memorable evening at Simpson’s on the Strand, that quintessential British restaurant in the heart of London’s West End. I rank the evening:

1) Yorkshire Pudding (very delicious)
2) Dining Companion (very beautiful)
3) Service (very British)

Much of the charm of Simpson’s is its sense of place: to dine is to bathe with British aristocracy. The food was ideally paired with our cultural imagination.

Some restaurants attempt to capture an idea: a place, a time. Among current New York restaurants, Blue Hill is one that strives for the truth of terroir. And, so, after the span of a decade, D.C. and I selected Blue Hill for a post-S.o.t.S. meal.

I will gain few admirers by a modest proposal to ban anyone under thirty from public spaces, but Thomas Hobbes had a point when he critiqued social life as a “buzzing, booming confusion.” Blue Hill started life as a West Village speakeasy, and much of this busy bustle remains. As the evening progressed and the restaurant emptied, the space became increasingly soothing. We could finally appreciate the place. Blue Hill indicates that they have fifty-five seats, but sounds echoed.

Blue Hill’s claim to culinary fame is their stated commitment to local, seasonal food and to sustainable agriculture. Many of their vegetables are grown on Executive Chef Dan Barber’s farmstead in Great Barrington, Massachusetts, what they described as “nature at its best.” One admires the commitment to quality that results from raising one’s own produce, but I reject the ardent claim that a salad will be more conjugal if my mixed greens once shared the same bed.

I came to feel that Blue Hill wanted to proclaim their virtue by including too many herbs, greens, and vegetables in each dish as if to suggest: look at our cornucopia. What a plot of land! Still, aside from self-satisfaction, Blue Hill is a superior restaurant and a worthy addition to New York dining.

Our amuse bouche was a simple glass of cool pureed corn soup. It was silky smooth, showcasing the essence of corn. It was very pleasant, indeed, although perhaps not sufficiently savory as to be a perfect amuse. It lulled the senses, not awakened them. The dominant taste was the liquid purity of the corn itself. I am somewhat embarrassed to relate that in its one note, it reminded me of Moto’s infamous Doughnut Soup. The selection was also peculiar in that Blue Hill serves a more robust Chilled Corn Soup as an appetizer. Given that my D.C. ordered that Corn Soup, why serve a second corn soup as an amuse? All corn, all the time.

The appetizer soup (“Chilled Corn Soup, Preserved Tomatoes, Marinated and Pickled [Enoki?] Mushrooms) was exceptionally delicious, and the most memorable course of the evening. The soup was flecked with caviar and the pickled mushrooms provided an unexpected but welcome tang. The signature of Chef Cuevas’s cuisine [Juan Cuevas is chef at the Greenwich Village Blue Hill] is a willingness to experiment with unexpected tastes - herbal, pungent, and candied. These dishes are designed to surprise and inspire, while remaining within the canons of contemporary dining.

I selected “Maine Crabmeat Salad, Green Tomato Marmalade, Preserved Tomatoes, Basil, White Eggplant Confit, Chilled Tomato Consomme.” As the ingredient list suggests, this is a dish that creates honeyed memories. Each bite of tomato marmalade, each taste of summery basil transformed the sweet crabmeat into a confection. Less successful was the pool of consomme that surrounded the cylinder of crab salad. Consomme may now be the preferred term for “vegetable water.” The water had strong notes of cucumber and zucchini, and perhaps the diluted liquid was intended as a naturopath’s gazpacho. The effect was to create a culinary bog at the waterline. Crab surely has enough moisture without such misguided assistance.

“Poached Hudson Valley Duck, Stew of Organic Carrots Cooked in Their Own Juices with Toasted Spices and Portobello Mushrooms” was a signal success in its refusal to embrace the cliches of duck preparation. The sliced duck breast was robed by a rich carrot jus (perhaps Blue Hill has now perfected carrots with butter in their veins, but I suspect the carrots were goosed by the chef). The sauce was flavored with chives and fennel, which along with the mushrooms, gave the duck a welcome touch of bitterness, undercutting the common treatment of duck as dessert.

Our second entree was less successful (“Wild Striped Bass, Pistou of Summer Vegetables and Pureed Basil”). A pistou is a vegetable stew that demands the chef thoughtfully consider which produce belongs together. I felt that the choice of vegetables were selected to show off Blue Hill’s farm, rather than for aesthetic reasons. The problem was less the taste than the texture (the slab of bass was fresh and properly cooked). Any chef who combines lima beans, broccoli, yellow squash, and field peas plays a dangerous game. Well-cooked lima beans have a delightful snap, but they can’t avoid the slightly grainy texture that make children and gourmets intensely suspicious. With a soft vegetable like squash, the odd edges of broccoli, and firm peas, the stew might have been vegan leftovers.

Our shared dessert was also texturally challenged. I am always amused when a menu places quotation marks around a dish, preparing diners for a full serving of irony. Here was “‘Strawberries and Cream,’ Ice, Jam and Puree, Lemon Cake and Crunchy Almonds.” Ice? Jam? Crunchy Almonds? We ordered it, and so caveat emptor. The play of tastes was compelling, but next time 86 the ice.

No wine tonight, but a smooth, yet tangy, sake: “Yuki No Bosha Junmai Ginjo Sake, ‘Limited Release,’ Akita, Japan.” Sake is today’s Sauvignon Blanc. When not ordering a bottle of wine, I often select a fine sake, which I find, when well made, enhances most foods.

Blue Hill is a restaurant that demands to be taken seriously. As a mid-priced restaurant ($115/two), it delivers creativity that one might expect with a steeper tag. The chef may be too taken with the idea of displaying local produce for its own sake, but there are far more foolish claims that believing that the land speaks through the response of our senses.

Blue Hill Restaurant
75 Washington Place
New York, NY 10011
212-539-1776

Forgive me, I think I should have been following Blue Hill more, but I have not...

It is easy (very) as I have pointed out on my blog in the Eat Local Challenge to eat local at the height of the season, but what about off-season. How does Blue Hill do it from, say November to April. Do they give in and ship in food?

Rob

Gary, your post prompted me to look a bit more into Blue Hill. Wow, really seems like my kinda place. Do you think there is anything close to this in Chicago. I mean in New York there is also Craft. Why is there nothing close in Chicago!!??!!

Rob

The restaurant in Chicago of which Blue Hill reminds me most is Green Zebra (only, in part, I guess because of the parallels in nomenclature). I mean this both in the positive and negative sense. They each seem to have a similar clientele, are more bustling than they should be, are in similar kinds of neighborhoods (although nothing in Chicago is quite like the West Village), and they both take the "purity" of their food seriously, which when it works, it works.

I wouldn't be surprised if Shawn McClain were influenced by Blue Hill.

GAF wrote:
I wouldn't be surprised if Shawn McClain were influenced by Blue Hill.

Gary,

You have only been in New York for a short time and already you are exhibiting that annoying New York "everything else is a copy of what we have here" hubris. I think more accurately the statement should be, "I wouldn't be surprised if Blue Hill was influenced by Shawn McClain", since Blue Hill has only been open since April 2001.

Spring has only been open since summer of 2001, and green zebra for just 18 months or so.

Frankly I don't think either was particularly influenced by the other. It's not really a novel concept, at least lately, to go uber-local. Blue Hill and McClain may be pioneers in New York and Chicago, but why don't we just call them Alice Waters imposters?

gleam wrote:Blue Hill and McClain may be pioneers in New York and Chicago, but why don't we just call them Alice Waters imposters?

Quite right, Ed.

And, Steve, I come by my New York annoyingness naturally. I was born and raised here. My Chicago sweetness is just an act. But Blue Hill did come before Green Zebra, although Panisse came before both of them. Perhaps I will get to C.P. and do the annoying New Yorker review that it thoroughly deserves.

GAF wrote:

gleam wrote:Blue Hill and McClain may be pioneers in New York and Chicago, but why don't we just call them Alice Waters imposters?

Quite right, Ed.

And, Steve, I come by my New York annoyingness naturally. I was born and raised here. My Chicago sweetness is just an act. But Blue Hill did come before Green Zebra, although Panisse came before both of them. Perhaps I will get to C.P. and do the annoying New Yorker review that it thoroughly deserves.

Still...

I have no been to Craft, Spring, Green Zebra OR Blue Hill, but based on my reading (and looking at pictures), Spring and Green Zebra do not seem that similar to Craft or Blue Hill. Perhaps this is all just grass is always greener stuff, but Spring and GZ seem way more affected, way more chef-centric, way more artifical if I may, in a sense that they are reaching to other cuisines (Asian) and influences; whereas Craft, and Blue Hill especially, seem more grounded, as Gary notes, in a sense or terroir.

And speaking of dates, how long has Craft been around? Why is there no restaurant in Chicago that really approaches its cooking like Craft. I get pissed just from reading his books. Again, maybe it's me, but I just do not see anything local that approaches these stellar eating experiences.*

Rob

*Oddly enough, Frontera Grill might be an exception.

Guys, Let's Put on a Meal New York City Entry #108 Blue Hill at Stone Barns/Blue Hill

The first serious meal that I ate in New York this year was at Blue Hill. So to provide symmetry my friend and I decided to return, but now to Blue Hill at Stone Barns. We dutifully made a commitment and assured the reservationist that nothing could prevent us from showing up at the appointed time. And so we fought our way through Grand Central. Upon alighting in Tarrytown with plenty of time in the gray, thick, heated air, we hailed a cab to be told that a storm had blown through and traffic was slow. Yet, our cabbie was a roadmaster and we arrived at Stone Barns at precisely 5:30, just as promised.

Stop the presses! Tarrytown had just experienced what in New York passes for a tornado, not an Oklahoma Supercell, but what my friends in Tulsa call "a bit of wind." The storm knocked out local electricity. And after our long trek, we were informed by a staffette that the kitchen was closed.

Say it ain't so, Dan. At most restaurants this might be a problem, but Blue Hill should treat it as a challenge. This is a restaurant that prides itself on its ingredients. No heat? OK, let's picnic. At 5:30, there were daylight hours left and a few candles were to be had.

This was an opportunity for Dan Barber to demonstrate that cojones are not just to slice and fry. Here is where we separate the chef from the sheep. A stream of hungry diners appeared, each turned away with an apology and a smile. We were informed that the staff didn't want to enter the coolers because the food would spoil! Sheesh! An opportunity squandered!

Use that luscious asparagus, luxurious berries, oysters, clams, apples, beans, mint, lettuce, nuts, and guanciale. Whip up some Hollandaise. Who needs a blender? Pour oil and vinegar. Open some wine. Start a campfire for S'mores. Have the staff at Blue Hill downtown form a caravan. Show the customers your stuff and show it gratis.

If Chef Barber was unwilling to turn lemons into lemonade, we weren't. Returning to New York, we plotted to visit the Blue Hill farmstead in the Village. And we were welcomed by Franco, the Blue Hill manager and his congenial staff. Yes, Blue Hill had electricity, but somehow the power never satisfied the air conditioner. Blue Hill was a steaming meadow until the restaurant emptied out, and as Blue Hill is a tight restaurant with low ceilings, and absence of a cool breeze was noticeable.

Still, the meal was noticeably superior to my first meal on the Hill. Hoping to capture the Barns oeuvre, we selected the Farmer's Feast, and began with a pungent, elegant and herbal Garden Green Gazpacho. It was a nicely chilled blend of vegetables, perhaps peppers, parsley, green tomatoes, and garlic. The amuse was paired with an olive oil financier, a cake that satisfied through its subtlety and being paired with the more potent soup.

Summer Bean and Herb Salad with Pistachios and Stone Barns Lardo, another cold dish (get the point!) was the high point of the meal. This is the cuisine that Blue Hill is known for. Profound and evocative ingredients, transformed but without being gussied up. The wax and green beans were luxurious, even the parsley - not one of my beloved foodstuffs - was as bright as a garden morning. This was a delightful opening for an agricultural repast.



The Lightly Smoked Lobster with Creamless Corn Chowder, Guanciale (cured pig's jowl) and Clams was another sublime dish. Granted Lobsters are not to be found up the Hudson, but they had a freshness that compared with any local fish camp. The dish was airy, and with bright summer corn was a candidate for the ideal summer dinner. Splendid.



The Blue Hill Farm Pastured Chicken with Roasted Nugget Potatoes, Local Chanterelles and Black Trumpet Mushrooms was as fine a piece of chicken placed before me since I was last at Jean's in Mount Vernon, Kentucky for their pan-fried poultry. Here was a tender, moist, flavorful bird, succulent and sensuous. If the potatoes and mushrooms didn't improve the meat, they didn't need to.



Both desserts were a letdown. The Cherry Soup with Mint Sorbet was a mismatch. Not only was the sorbet grainy and harsh, but it clashed with the sweetness of the soup. Few sorbets are unpleasant, but this was not a dish to reprise.



Steamed Cheesecake with Marinated Blueberries was served in a mason jar. Aside from the idiosyncrasy of its presentation, it was ordinary and could benefitted from a more generous helping of the marinated berries. At a moment at which exquisite low-bush blueberries are taking flight on the hillsides of Maine, these berries were pedestrian.



Blue Hill is ingredient-driven, as evident in our appetizers and entrees. And had our intended destination been the steamy streets of Washington Square Park, we would have been well-pleased. But for this night we wished to be gourmets eating on the land, and no cyclone should have upended our fantasy. Dan, you're not in Oz anymore.

Blue Hill at Stone Barns
630 Bedford Road
Pocantico Hills, New York
914-366-9600

Blue Hill
75 Washington Place (at 6th Avenue)
Manhattan (Greenwich Village)
212-539-1776

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