A Hill Worth Climbing

January 27, 2009 10:43 am

So, when a fancy friend asked me a few months ago, "Have you been to Blue Hill yet?" I replied, "What is Blue Hill?" I interpreted her question as, "If you've been missing out on this huge, swanky culinary trend, what have you been doing?" I tried not to take offense. Where do you go when you need to know? Google.com. So, I read up and immediately made a reservation for two.

Of course, my dinner date was a fairly critical globetrotter and yoga queen who was sure to point out anything about our dining experience that I shall miss. The restaurant was dim, noisy and packed; I rated it 4 out of 5 for ambience. The patrons seemed drowsed in rich wine and full flavors, and the servers, well-postured and prompt. All signals GO thus far.

We checked our coats and were seated at 8:30 on a Wednesday night. I was behind schedule on wine-time. It was slotted earlier in the day with Daylight Savings and all, but that's an entirely different conversation. I requested the server to bring me something red and robust from the bar as I perused the menu. He sulked and retorted, "There are many options by the glass." I resorted to the arduous task of reading the menu. That kind of abrupt service makes me SAD!

I slouched in my chair for a moment. "Let me give this place another chance," I thought. My friend and I ordered our San Giuliano, Barbera d' Alba, 'Fiore di Marcorino' 2006 and retreated to interesting conversation. A block of fresh seasoned veggies arrived with no mention. Crisp and farm-fresh--salty, but totally delicious. The whole farm aspect of the restaurant came to mind. My taste buds testified: fresh makes a huge difference.

Seconds later, when I turned around, the wait staff was armed with our appetizers. I'd prefer a bit of a respite. Instead, I took a deep breath, committing myself to my fork.

My fifteen dollar Braised and Roasted Fennel arrived, succulent and crisp -- just tooooooo tiny. All the dishes tasted over-seasoned. Taking a big, big sip of my smooth and silky wine, I secretly hoped my second course would have a bit more meat on her. Stuffed nicely, the sweet potato ravioli were a hit, leaving me in a tussle: should I order another? Five quarter-sized pieces over honey-crisp apples was not enough to satisfy my hunger pangs.

I perhaps made the mistake of ordering two appetizers. With portions this small, one had to commit to a dish, even those of us watching the calorie counter. The meal culminated in nibbles on a lovely chocolate chestnut dessert not worth a headline, but certainly a nice change from the chocolate fondant.

All in all, the 20-minute cab ride was worth the sophisticated ambience and flavors. I had promised myself in early January not to let those 19-degree nights zap my social life. I am not sure if I'll make the trip up to the farm, but a two-hour table on Washington Place was an exhilarating outing.

Blue Hill
75 Washington Place (Near 6th Avenue)
New York, NY 10011
(212) 539-1776