blue hill - west village

blue hill... doesn’t that name just conjure up visions of purple cows resting on a bucolic lawn, nomming on blades of grass as melodious birds sing madrigals?

or maybe that's just me. in any case, i had very little idea of what blue hill would actually be like until i arrived at its secretive, slightly subterranean door just off washington square park. i hadn’t yet heard that the obamas chose it for their date night in 2009, during which the entire block was roped off, or that it was michelin-starred, or that this city location is but the offshoot of an upstate new york farm/restaurant for which reservations must be made at least a month in advance.

all i knew was that i had briefly peeked at its menu online, and (don’t be offended) was slightly dismayed to find it very green and leafy-looking and holier-than-thou. there was a slew of nauseating buzzwords and phrases: local, seasonal, know thy farmer, bounty, celebration, mission, farm fresh, first of the season, yadda yadda, which, for some, might be a draw, but for me was a red flag. firstly, i have a few issues with locavorism, which i won't delve into here. secondly, after pure food and wine, i was afraid of another establishment where the concepts are ambitious but the taste is lacking, where the mission to educate and elevate leaves one’s mind engorged but hunger unfulfilled.

up close, however, blue hill wasn't that type of banjo-strumming carrot stick wielding hippie-esque place at all. sure, there were bouquets of sunflowers everywhere (probably locally-grown by a farmer named fred, or something), and waiters who have a borderline creepy encyclopedic knowledge of who fed and watered every single ingredient in each dish, but that was all in terms of the locavore side of the restaurant.

many might choose to dine at this restaurant for its philosophical underpinnings. for those who don’t really care (me), just the food is enough reason to come. putting all else aside, blue hill plain serves up delicious fare.

it started with the bread, little fresh-baked mini-baguettes. unlike restaurants that might wow with four types of butter infused with herbs (coughdelposto) blue hill just had one simple round pat. but my gosh it was delicious. this is a lofty statement, but i mean it:

this was the best bread i’ve eaten in new york city—warm and crusty (but not sore jaw-inducingly so).

just perfect.

and then came the amuse-bouche: cute little burgers made with tomato, ricotta, and almond flour patties.

HOLY CRAP THIS WAS SO GOOD.

the combination left my tongue thinking, "?!!?!" the sweetness of the "bun"--almost like cornbread--the piquant tomato, the soft ricotta; my mouth was definitely amused by this explosion of flavour. unbearably cute presentation, gorgeous flavours, impressive creativity.

we ordered the most boringly named appetizer on the menu: early summer vegetables and fruits, which was exactly what it sounds like: a plate of cucumber, peaches, radishes, turnips and tomatoes, served with a dollop of cream.

it was so simple and fresh, and the grilled peaches, in particular, were so, so good, despite the fact that they were, you know, just peaches.

anyone who has lived outside of the u.s. for a while has probably noticed that american produce is lacking in flavour, perhaps because everything is harvested super early and nothing is grown with love. but these veggies were different. eating this reminded me of visiting my grandmother's house in rural china, where--whenever we felt peckish--we would just go into a field, pluck a cucumber or tomato off the vine, rinse it in a clear stream and eat it on the spot, the taste of nature and the sweetness and the warmth of the sun palpable on our tongues.


for my main i ordered the wild striped bass with summer squash, zucchini, pine nuts and 'bio-char' eggplant (i still don't really understand what that means). this was good but not stunning--well prepared, perhaps ever so slightly overcooked.



my friend got the poetically named "klaas martens' emmer and quinoa in the style of primavera." (i'm guessing klaas martens is the name of a farmer, how quaint.) this was sort of like a quinoa risotto, very pretty and very unique. quite good, although it felt a bit strange to be eating a soupy plate full of quinoa, corn, peas, and veggies.




for dessert, strawberries with spice cake and rose ice cream. for the longest time we couldn't pin down what the flavour of the ice cream was, and asked a waiter who incorrectly told us it was "strawberry sorbet." don't you love it when they try to make stuff up that's obviously not true? in any case, this was good, which made up for that little service slip-up.



complimentary petit fours: a flourless chocolate cake in the foreground that was so soft and cloudlike, and a raspberry gelee-topped bite size cake of some sort, which was amazing. the raspberry gelee reminded me of the hawthorn jelly my mother used to buy at grocery stores in china: sweet, tart, and a lovely end to a beautiful meal.