FOUR AND TWENTY TABLES ALL STREWN WITH BOLINAS • EAT YOUR LABOR

‘The dust is rising, spreading out like a great wing of smoke and all is hidden.
We now are gone, one here, one there. 
And Troy is gone forever. 
Farewell, dear city.
Farewell, my country, where my children lived. 
There below, the Greek ships wait.’

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SUNDAY SEPTEMBER 3rd from 5 till 9

Feast informally beside the Bloomville Aegean

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Table on Ten

presents

THE TROJAN WOMEN’S SMALLS

with

Bar Bolinas
Four and Twenty Blackbirds

featuring

CORN ON THE COB grilled with yogurt tahini, smoked paprika, feta cheese

TOMATO SALAD ground cherries, plums, mint, basil, feta, cava vinegar, arugula

EGGPLANT & ZUCCHINI cherry tomatoes, spices

PEPPERS & CUCUMBER cilantro, parsley, tahini yogurt, garlic chives

SUMAC CHICKEN basmati rice, spring onion, mint, tahini yogurt

FLATBREAD zhoug, tahini yogurt, red harissa

STONE FRUIT CRUMBLE strained yogurt oregano flowers

LEMON PIE

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no formal reservations, no set dinner, come and go as you please

let us know if there are loads of you – info@tableonten.com

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(Contributors: Star Route Farm, Berry Brook Farm, Greenane Farm, Hanselman Farm, Cowbella, Hellers Farm, High Meadows Farm)

 

 

 

DIGNITY OF LABOR • SECRETS FROM THE TRAINING CAMP

Oiling up in the Catskills for the second annual Labor Day Sunday Evening Greco-Roman Smackdown, Team Bolinas decamped from Brooklyn to rustic Cherry Valley, facilitating a time-homoured slow-food training regime; extreme privacy, punctuated by forays at dawn through empty valleys for raw milk and poblano peppers. Why take two days to make dinner when you can idle away three weeks? Meeting Four and Twenty Blackbirds in Kingston for a dose of Grizzly Bear provides the perfect backdrop for discussing stone-fruit. And what better forum for a corn-on-the-cob symposium than an evening ushering in the Apocalypse at the Demolition Derby, embroidered by the massed flocks of downstate photographers getting their backwoods Joel Sternfeld on?

And as we lollop up the final furlong like a harras of sleepy unicorns, indulge us in sharing a few snaps, a gauzy commonplace of our Month in the Country.

Details of the dinner – which we’re eager for you be part of – will follow shortly. But in the meantime …

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

AUTOGRILL SHIRT • STOPPING BY RAMAPO ON A SUNDAY EVENING

Flicking through Penelope Brandage’s recent biography of Robert Frost (‘Frost on the Lobelias’, Random House, 2017) was surprised to discover the seminal poem ‘Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening’, previously considered ‘finished’ in 1922 (and published in the volume New Hampshire1923), was actually the product of an earlier draft composed during a visit to Woodchuck Lodgethe summer residence of John Burroughs, shortly before the conservationist’s death in 1921.

 

 

Exhaustive research by Ms Brandage within the archives of the Burroughs Foundation has turned up a previously unrecorded letter from the poet to Burroughs’ young wife Clara Barrus, composed shortly after his stay at their Catskills home. Whilst primarily focussed on a number of rambles undertaken together in the hills above Roxbury, during which Robert and Clara ‘delved headwaters of the Beaverkill, through slavering crack and crevice furred’the latter portion reflects upon the arduous journey Frost was compelled to endure following his weekend sojourn; to New York City, and a reading by the Dymock Poets (Ezra Pound, Edward Thomas, T.E. Hulme) at The Town Hall on 43rd Street. The deflating effect of several hours on the road stands in stark contrast to the poet’s eulogizing of his hostess’s ‘dumpling bosom, fresh briar-baked’, and the letter finishes with a short poem in postscript, clearly a draft of Frost’s later masterpiece. Once again, it seems, the life of the Catskill Mountains reveals itself to be the wellspring of creative genius.

•••

Whose Subaru is this, we sing,
Parked up here by the Burger King?
He will not see us stopping here
For Whopper Meal and Poland Spring.

We’re driving with some prancing queer
From Williamsburg or somewhere near
Who didn’t want to take the bus
And drank our farmhouse dry of beer.

The dog found something in the grass
Which now is belching from its ass.
The kids are bored to fucking tears
Of Sarah Vowell and Ira Glass.

The car smells like a cheese fondue.
But I have loads of shit to do,
And miles to go before I poo,
And miles to go before I poo.

•••

 

 

The new Table on Ten Autogrill t-shirt. Designed by Mark Ohe, made by Val Dudley. On pre-washed Hanes ComfortSoft in four sizes. $20 while stocks last.

 

Open | Closed | Open | Closed | Closed | Open

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It’s that time of year. And it came like some an arctic lemur, with a scalpel of ice in its tail.

Hours for the holiday season are as follows:

•••

Thursday 22nd – 9 to 3 

Friday 23rd – 9 to 3 and 6 to 9 (pizza night)

Saturday 24th (Christmas Eve) – 9 to 3 but NO PIZZA NIGHT

Sunday 25th (Christmas Day) – CLOSED

Monday 26th to Wednesday 28th – closed as usual

Thursday 29th – 9 to 3

Friday 30th – 9 to 3 and 6 to 9 (final pizza night of 2016)

Saturday 31st (New Year’s Eve) – 9 to 3 but NO PIZZA NIGHT

•••

From 1st January 2017 till March 2nd, Table on Ten will be closed while the staff scour the cosmos for good stuff and inspiration. We’ll be back for show-and-tell at the first hint of thaw, tails quivering like bunnies.

Brrr. Put a second pair of socks on.  And The Clash’s Sandinista! or Wire’s Pink Flag. That’ll do it.

•••

Life Preservers Available | Whole Pies for the Holidays | 4 and | 20

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Hand-made by Gowanus Elves

•••

• salted caramel apple

• black bottom pumpkin

• buttermilk chess

• chocolate pecan

• salty honey

• black bottom oat

•••

$35

•••

607 832 4538 or inez@tableonten.com to reserve

We”ll be open specially from 6 to 7 on Wednesday evening (23rd) for pickup of reserved pies and maybe a glass of wine.

•••

Nate Smith | Emily Elsen | Sophie Kamin | Inez Valk | Burning Down the House

English polemicist Hobbes,
Took to bigamy in between jobs,
“I’d do less perspiring
And much more inspiring
If I had me four balls and two knobs.”

We’ve reached that bloodshot, coke-addled point in the political polemic when the Carnival of Assholes has become functionally unbearable. Last night the hours between 2.30 and 4.15 were spent gazing at the ceiling like Munch’s The Scream, sleeplessly contemplating the horror of being governed by a giant, bloated incubus muppet: whatever happened to the old chestnuts of financial destitution, lovelessness, cancer, infant mortality and the bomb?

We all need a break.

Friday night we register our protest at #peakdrivel by running screaming from our houses in pantyhose and fishermen’s cable-knits, wrapping the entire interior of the Table on Ten in newspaper and inviting Nate Smith and Sophie Kamin (from Bar Bolinas and Allswell) and Emily Elsen (from Four and Twenty Blackbirds) to man the existential barricades alongside Inez in a steadfast one-night cookathon which will employ every last scrap of vegetation remaining in Delaware County. Star Route, Berry Brook, Burnetts and Hellers will be rendered desolate wastelands. Further supplies will be pillaged from Key Training Farm, Cowbella, Bovina Valley, Greenane and Marguerite, along with the rude knobbly bits from fridges, shelves, sides of the road, Ollie’s matted flanks and the trunk of the Subaru. Scorched earth harvesting. What’ll remain when we’re done is rocks, stumps and grubby-handled toddler’s pull-toys, each missing a wheel.

No tickets, no invitations, tastings or pairings. No french linen sheets repurposed as tablecloths or backwoods banjo-string-quartets. You don’t have to simper like a poodle or prance like a dressage-pony.

No need to hashtag, like, follow, lie, cheat, namaste or lol. Neither to choreograph kittens or petals, crush persimmons, nor scatter ground-cherries onto beds of milkweed fluff. Leave your prohibition-era assless chaps, pomade and rolled-up cap-sleeves at home, there’ll be no biblical ram-slaughter. Hell, you could even contrive to forget your iPhone.

Call us up to tell us you’re coming, then come. Or swing by. Like any other pizza night.

The only difference is the whole damn menu.

And no pizza.

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Chewin’ the Cud with Nate, Emily, Sophie and Inez

Friday 4th November, Table on Ten, 6 to 9

Menu will Quite Probably Include 

SOFT BOILED EGG –  $5
spruce aioli, garlic chives, tarragon

URSULA KALE AND APPLE SALAD – $12
Alderney cheese, armagnac prunes

WINTER CHOPPED SALAD – $10
beets, cabbage, celeriac, cumin koji maple dressing, cilantro, mint

CAST IRON SOURDOUGH WITH PRESERVED TOMATOES – $10

ROASTED VEGETABLES WITH RED MOLE (the sauce, not the insectivore) – $12
potatoes, cardoons, turnips

SPICED LENTILS AND NETTLES – $10
tomatoes, yogurt, mint

ROASTED BROCCOLI RABE – $12
almonds, Cotija

TAMARIND PORK – $18
Cortland onions, pickled peppers

SALTED CARAMEL APPLE MINI-PIES – $7
maple syrup, fresh frozen yogurt, bee pollen

•••

wine

beer

prayer

•••

bring your own children and cigarettes

Lyme Workshop at Table | Latest Frontier in the War on Terror

A tiny squid from Pellestrina: deer ticks are uglier
A tiny squid from Pellestrina: deer ticks are uglier

Sunday 23rd of October, 1 till 3 at Table on Ten

UPDATE ON LYME with MARGUERITE UHLMANN-BOWER

PREPARE FOR NEXT YEAR

HOW ABOUT THIS WINTER?

$10 Donation

•••

The following questions may or may not be addressed;

• what is it?

• why’s it here?

• as if I didn’t have enough to worry about?

• I feel like an over-caffeinated zombie, blundering through life embalmed in kleenex wearing oven-mitts. I can hardly form words. Have I got it?

• or is that just Delaware County on a Tuesday afternoon?

• if I’ve got it, what can I do about it?

• if I haven’t got it, what can I do to keep not having it?

• if I have a fear of not missing out, what can I do to get it?

• my dog looks like an over-caffeinated zombie and she’s wearing oven-mitts. Has she got it?

• same with my kids.

• does it look good on Instagram?

• was it dropped by the government to eat the flies that ate the tent caterpillars?

• what the fuck?

• is it just some upstate Brooklyn badge-of-honor thing, like looking maybe to build a cabin on some land?

• or burying a pig?

• if I found it crawling in my butt-crack, which friend would I call to come take it out?

• if I drink colloidal silver will I be able to join Blue Man Group?

• is it married?

• is it one of the 207 Greatest Insects in the World?

• is it allergic to cheap brandy in large quantities?

• can I use this as a defense against a DUI?

• can it be pickled to garnish a salad of shiso-fermented turnip greens?

• would it help if my pants were tighter? I’m not sure that’s possible, just asking.

• did the immigrants do it?

• I haven’t seen my genitals in half a decade, how am I supposed to spot a comma crawling across the folds of my back under six layers of Spanx?

• if we opened on a Sunday night, would it come and eat pizza?

• is this the first time it’s been kind of useful that I’m bald?

• will it make America great again?

• if I set up a long table in a field on an evening with candles and wine and crucified sheep, would everybody who attends get it?

• there’s an insect in Africa whose life-cycle involves burrowing into the eyes of children and blinding them by eating its way out. Explain this in terms of a benign, omniscient God.

• is it allergic to pomade?

• did you just fart?

• Jesus, at the dinner table?

•••