nose to tail

cosmos in my garden“Oh! There’s my ear!” proclaimed a diner at the Fair Hill Inn last Friday. I glanced over my shoulder to see her fork with speared, fried pig ear disappear into her mouth. Her dinner companions rushed to fork in their own pieces, plate noise somewhat subduing the crunch emanating from the first eater’s jaw. I quickly followed suit.

Who amongst us could concoct a meal using an entire lamb or pig, nose to tail? Many could, very few do. Not only do the rarest types attempt this at home, restaurant menus consisting of liver, kidney and heart dishes in addition to roasts and ribs flit in and out of culinary history incognito. Relished by their creators and some diners, such meals create ‘an experience’ for most eaters, something they can chew somewhat fearfully and live to tell the tale about around the office cubicles.

If you think you are more adventurous than my reductionist evaluation of the eating public, then you still don’t get it. Eating the whole animal is using (some would say ‘honoring’) the fella to its utmost, an act both practical and magical. There is adventure and creativity, but it’s also about eliminating waste and most importantly – satiating oneself in entirety. I’ve enjoyed a lamb and a pig prepared from nose to tail over the last couple of weeks, both cooked by Chefs Brian and Phil of the Fair Hill Inn. Lacking an office cubicle and co-workers for a proper drooling audience, you internet readers may feel free to imagine my facial gymnastics and pleased moans as you read the following highlights.

How did they prepare the heads? No apple in snout for piggie, nor split cranium of lamb was set upon our tables. Rather, for both evenings the chefs boiled the heads to obtain material for a terrine. Pressed and chilled, sliced into triangles and set upon frisee salad from their garden, accented by pickled green beans and the house-made mustard (a stone-ground, jazzed version of Dijon). The pig dinner terrine dish also bore the fried pig ear crunch, which clearly amused guests and lightened the dining room mood.

Both dinners contained sausage, grilled cuts of meat and braised ones as well. All were succulent and full of robust flavor despite the equally magnificently concocted sauces and sides also awaiting notice on the plates. I don’t know if the menus are planned to slowly but surely stimulate one’s sensorial awareness, but the last-served braised lamb (with a demi-glace) made me consider slaughtering our remaining lambs immediately. Likewise with the pork ribs; I was ready to buy a piglet and get to work.

Priced at $55 for each meal (which includes 5 courses and 5 different wines but does not include tax and gratuity), I found these unusual menus to be a financial steal. The portions may seem small, but you realize as the courses keep coming that these foods are truly satisfying and by the time you sign your bill, you wonder how you fit it all in. Check on the Inn’s web site for up-to-date info on such special offers. They are regularly open for dinner Wednesdays through Sundays, closed Monday and Tuesday.

The lamb was one of ours, and the pig came from Trebs Thompson of Whimisical Farm, just down the road in the other direction, who has been exceptionally kind to me with advice and visits. Using meat grown 2 miles away and their own vegetables, the two chefs are making it all as local as possible. Don’t know how to find food, animal or vegetable, nearby you? Look on LocalHarvest.org. You just might come home from your next errands trip with a half a cow! As for me, the ducklings grow exponentially and daily, plans are in the make for a December beak to tail extravaganza. Anybody hungry?

farm-to-table dinners

Michael enjoys a bulging biteWell of course your dinner comes from farm to table. I just happen to really appreciate dining out on food delivered by the farmer directly to the chef, who prepares it deliciously for that day’s dinner. Yes, that day. At this time of writing, I am working off the delirium enduced by such a meal, held last night at the Stone Balloon Winehouse on Main street in Newark, Delaware.  I’ll note the dishes I enjoyed in this post so that the cooks amongst you may take second-hand inspiration from the creations of chef Jason Dietterick.

First, how did I find this particular evening’s meal? A petite flyer lay on the registers at the Newark Coop. Slow Food insignia enticed me to pick it up, and mention of heritage breed meats to be included in the meal intrigued me . For more information on what such meat is, take a look at the Ark of Taste project. And to find restaurants in your area putting on farm-to-table dinners, or sellers of foods listed in the Ark project, look at the Local Harvest web page.

On to the good stuff then, eh? Designed a-la carte style, the dishes were sized and priced quite reasonably ($7-14 for good-sized small plates; $16-29 for large entree plates). Choosing between lamb-stuffed sweet peppers and smoked squash soups proved difficult. Thus, I branched out into head cheese. Freshman farmer Andy Roddick, of Blackbird Heritage Farm, sat down for a quality chat as we ate this dish. Not quite as solid as I expected, Roddick explained that he had delivered the animal to the chef during the morning, and it was so fresh it had not set up yet. Not a problem! With some dishes in life, the differences are good based upon the story making them just so.

In fact, Roddick had delivered all of his items on the menu (comprising the vast majority of dishes offered) that morning. Chef Jason had a day’s notice about what would likely arrive, and quickly drew up a menu to print accordingly. No less than 23 from a different eve, accompanied yet again by stellar vinodistinct dishes were ready for diners. It was clear from conversation with the chef that he enjoyed the challenge (most restaurants have their menus scheduled and food stuffs ordered weeks if not months in advance). But further, Chef Jason clearly values fresh food and the ability to deliver an extraordinary experience to eaters. I’ll add my name to the restaurant mailing list to find out about farm dinners scheduled for  upcoming months (these events happen at the farms themselves).

The next dishes: As Roddick recounted tales of his first-year of farming, Michael and I dipped into sweet corn and thyme johnny cakes. Served over a black lentil salad and with a sweet pepper jam, this dish surprised me. The cake edges perfectly crispy, and the lentils a subtle backdrop, seasonings came out to play. Like all of his vegetables, the sweet corn in this dish was an heirloom variety. Typically hardier to disease and weather, heirlooms are nevertheless not grown all that often. Most seed varieties grown on large-scale farms these days are genetically engineered and/or treated throughout their lives with chemicals to obtain good performance levels. Small farmers like Roddick employ their own variety of business advantage by selecting heirloom varieties, establishing a unique quality and flavor for their foods.

En suite, a pork chop served atop pureed potatoes (definitely sweetened by the secret spice of chefs – sugar), large white runner beans and thin slices of roasted Kubocha squash. This last being naturally sweet, and with a dab of molasses?/maple syrup? in the beans, the pork pairings mimmicked more typical fruit compliments. Instead of apples and raisins, the fall beans and squash were extremely well suited; the pork proved succulent and just done, a tinge of fat invigorating each bite.

Two ’small’ and one ‘large’ plate into our bellies, alongside a bottle of pinot, Michael and I slapped the napkins on the table and settled back into our plush seats. It was time for a breather before, eek, driving home. Spirited talk reviewing the multiple local food dining experiences we’ve enjoyed of late accompanied the water now decking our table. We have often pondered what brings an awareness into one’s life regarding food, the enjoyment thereof and the accompanying decisions.

I am thrilled that Chef Jason has demonstrated the feasibility of bringing local, sustainably produced ingredients into a restaurant setting; declaring it just as economical in many regards as contracts with his other suppliers, the chef also realizes he is cooking in the ‘it’ moment. Offering local foodstuffs to one’s clientele is hip; major kudos to this chef who truly puts his knife where his words are, and employs staff who engage the public with the story.