Vermont post II
On Saturday night (still this past weekend), I ventured forth from Stowe and arrived at Hen of the Wood restaurant in Waterbury, VT. I’ve read many reviews about this place and heard quite a lot about it from my friend Hughes. All reviews were good and some were even great so it was time for me to eat here.
The restaurant itself is situated in an old mill barn that sits against a waterfall of a nearby stream. The sound of the falls during dinner lend an equisite touch to the mood. One that is near impossible to replicate in NYC.
The restaurant was packed when I got there. I was smart enough to make a reservation in advance. Lots of times, when I’m dining outside New York City, I hardly think I’ll need a reservation but this has gotten me in trouble more times than I care to recall. I made a rez. Twas very smart of me.
What I really loved about this restaurant was that EVERY SINGLE DISH on the menu was sourced from a local farm, a local fromagerie, a local baker, or the nearest fishmonger. Each of the sources was identified by name. It’s little details like this which not only create a regional cuisine but also create a pathway to my heart. This was Northern New England cuisine at it’s finest. And it’s proudest.
I took some low rez pix sans flash as I don’t like bothering other diners with a constant exploding light out of my camera.
Notice all the sources of the menu items.
Pork cheeks over a maple mustard and creme fraiche sauce. Holy moly. They disappeared as if I was David Copperfield.
The signature dish: hen of the woods mushrooms with grilled Vermont bacon covered with a poached egg. What can I say? Eggs are the new black. Me likey this dish very much. The earthy flavors from all the ingredients combined for a pow pow pow taste in my mouth. The soft egg yolk turned my frown into a smile. Who am I kidding? I didn’t have a frown. I’m just running out of adjectives and ways to describe this magical food I eat.
Labelle’s grilled duck breast. I like duck and I like putting duck into my mouth. Does that make me a gay duck? I don’t know. Kanye West is a gay fish. Maybe I’m a gay duck.
Check out all them local cheeses. So much goodness comes out of cow milk.
And finally, the stream and falls just behind the restaurant.
If you’re ever in this part of Vermont, you’d be doing yourself and your palate a great service by eating here.
