Guest blogger Assistant Editor Jes Watson recently dined at Eigensinn Farm near Collingwood,Ontario - and now she's dishing about the dishes...
Most of what I know about farms comes from Charlotte's Web.
I'm not proud of this fact, but I do admit that in my 27 years I've had very little contact with the rural way of life. Give me a subway system and a stretch of skyscrapers, and I'll take like a duck to water. But ask me to identify lovage from a thicket of weeds and well, I'm at a loss.
So when my boyfriend and I decided to head to Michael Stadtländer's Eigensinn Farm for our anniversary dinner, I jumped at the chance to not only feast on farm-to-farm-table fresh food, but also to get a little peek into farming life itself.
We arrived at the farm and found acres of loping farm land, green as green can be. But this was not the farm I had imagined from the books of my childhood: the herb garden was flanked by upside-down wine bottles, there was a ramshackle school bus parked in the field, and the ducks ambled by a shack that read Le Palais Du Canard -- their own private "palace".
The dinner gong rang (yes, really!) and we were lead into the farm house. From a huge branch in the kitchen dangled cooking utensils and pots and pans over the flurry of chefs in full prep mode.
The dining room was another testament to the fantastic. A motley crew of knick knacks and paintings were offset by a surreal, sculptural ceiling and a huge stone fireplace. Windows overlooking the farmland completed the atmosphere, and I felt honoured to be sitting with the ten other guests in such a cozy and eccentric place for one of the last meals served there (The Stadtlander's are closing the farm restaurant to open a bigger place in Singhampton).
Nine courses is nothing to balk at, and from the sourdough bread (made with a century old starter) to the petits fours, the dinner - like any good adventure - was all about pacing.
A plate of amuses bouches arrived on a horseshoe shaped potted plate -- brined clams plated alongside home-smoked ham, oysters and anchovies. Then came a light, springy chicken consommé, with confetti cut chives picked probably only hours earlier. Any unfamiliar ingredient or herb we came up against, our servers were quick to explain: they had all worked on the farm all day, and were happy to tell us where something grew or how it was prepared.
A duo of bacon wrapped fish was followed by a sinful plate of foie gras dressed with asparagus and pork belly - each course a rich testament to the best of locally caught and raised land and sea.
After the berry sorbet, we were invited to take a dusk-lit stroll along the grounds (a much needed intermission). We wandered the gardens as our server's suddenly became tour guides, offering to show us where the herbs we just enjoyed grew or where the pigs normally would be (they were sleeping by that time). The outdoor fireplace that had smoked the bacon was still glowing with red hot embers.
When we returned, we were promptly served the pièce de résistance: Ontario Lamb with bulbous, chive-liked Egyptian onion and confit of wild leeks. It's hard to adequately describe a plate that was so earthy and yet so ethereal -- but perhaps it's telling that I had to hold myself back from licking the plate.
After an expertly curated selection of cheeses, we moved on to a showstopping trio of desserts. Unusual herbs once again made an appearance, most notably in spruce shoot and maple ice cream -- the brightness of the spruce was an unexpected favourite.
We said our goodbyes after the petit fours and made our way along the starlit country roads, feeling full yet completely sated.
The topic of discussion for our entire trip back to the city the next day was how we, mere city dwellers, could incorporate such amazingly fresh produce into our every day cooking -- or did we need to buy a farm?
We opted for a small herb garden planter to tide us over. But who knows? In a few years, we might be living the farm-fresh dream...
-Jes
Thought that was sweet? You'll Enjoy: