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 …












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


Hand-made by Gowanus Elves


• salted caramel apple

• black bottom pumpkin

• buttermilk chess

• chocolate pecan

• salty honey

• black bottom oat




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.


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

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

Menu will Quite Probably Include 

spruce aioli, garlic chives, tarragon

Alderney cheese, armagnac prunes

beets, cabbage, celeriac, cumin koji maple dressing, cilantro, mint


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

tomatoes, yogurt, mint

almonds, Cotija

Cortland onions, pickled peppers

maple syrup, fresh frozen yogurt, bee pollen






bring your own children and cigarettes

Delco Bell | Making America Mexico Again

Never let it be said that Table on Ten doesn’t shred the gnarlacious curl of the zeitgeist.

Pickled beet stems and caper buds. Cold brew, bacon, PG Tips, wine in mason jars, artisanal sriracha, bone broth, foraged this, foraged that. So much shredded kale you started to look like a brassica. Ramps. Kimchee workshop. Ironic Ass Beer.

Pull out your sauvecito pomade and your Mayan sun print bikini. We’re going mondo Mexican.

And in case you think we’re just another bunch of hipster Juanny-come-latelies, plundering some flavour-of-the-month food fetish, whereby stuff everybody’s been tossing on the BBQ for decades is now serious eats because we’re pronouncing it in Yucatan dialect and cooking it with flame … well, we want you to know we were at Coqui Coqui when it was just us, Heidi Klum and some campesinos raking seaweed off the beach. And while the Tuluminati were perfecting their Bharadvajasana at Bikini Boot Camp, we were blazing pioneer trails through the jungle in a 4-Runner with really shoddy a/c. An hour-and-a-bit to Valladolid, past poorly signposted cenotes and cut-throat snorkel traders, elbowing aside Instagram zombies to score Spiderman underpants from authentic artisans. Hey, we climbed that pyramid at Chichen Itza too, and Caleb lost his sarong! And barely made it back in time for whole-animal Grouper Ceviche de Wahoo and Dash Berlin’s set at Gitano. ‘La Pura Vida, muchacha!’ Wait, was that Costa Rica?

The 'Real' Mexico
The ‘Real’ Mexico

Saturday 6th of August  – 12 till 3 and 6 till 9 

Table on Ten and The Pines present:


Featuring – 

La Pared Hermosa (Carne Asada) – Greenane Farm flank steak, chilis, garlic, lime

El Donaldo (Cochinita Pibil) – slow-cooked Home Grown Farmstead pork, sour oranges, garlic

Las Pequeñas Manos (Pollo en Mole) – blind mole on a stick. Or Key Farm chicken in mole sauce

La Melania (Vegetariano) – roasted Star Route cauliflower, beans, Bovina Valley cotija


Tortillas de Asesino – hand-made with masa from Trevor Wilson’s local yellow heirloom corn


Elotes del Extranjero Indocumentado – charred local first corn with butter, cotija and lime

Ensalada de Siete Cárteles – black lentils, avocado, pickled peas, arugula, honey, cotija


Salsa Verde

Salsa Rojo

Salsa de Soplete Esteban – Burnett’s gizzard-searing smoked maple tomatillo sorcery


Torta de Cuatro y Veinte – chocolate chili from Brooklyn with Table dulce de leche ice cream 


Cervezas Mexicanas

Vino Francés e Italiano


And there you have it! Grab your sombrero, your crossed ammunition belts and assless chaps, head over to La Casa de la Risa in downtown Pueblo Floración. The oil-tank grill will be roaring, there’ll be plastic party banners in the trees and mariachi in the air. But get there quick, before the Albondigas have turned to Pho and the mezcal back to bourbon.


Saturday 6th of August 12 till 3 and 6 till 9 


607 CSA | Workers Control the Means of Production

In the pit of La Scala, Puccini,
Conducted Boheme with zucchini,
“Believe it or not,
I did Turandot
With bananas, two leeks and my weenie.”

Joining a CSA does not make you a Communist. It helps farmers. More importantly, it burnishes your upstate foodie-hipster credentials. Three weeks of picking up your own mibuna and you’ll be painting your cabin Farrow & Ball Off Black, drinking half-wild cider from a wine glass and calling meat protein. Communists are welcome.


The 607 CSA is a collaboration between the twin pillars of Table on Ten’s vegetable underbelly – Star Route and Berry Brook Farms. Basically, instead of us all meandering round in our Subarus week in, week out, burning up Saudi oil, abetting terrorists and crucifiers in the name of vegetables for our respective tables … we commit to either a Summer Full or Summer Half share in the seasonal bounty of these two local farms. Once a week our waxed boxes will await us at one of six convenient locations. There’ll be all sorts of stuff poking out, most of which we’ll know what to do with. The bits we don’t will serve as springboards for our culinary imaginations and French tempered steel skillets. Then there’s pesto. One stop shopping and the Big Door Prize every week. It’s not Communism: but there’s enough of a whiff of Socialist Realist lady-biceps about it to make us feel momentarily less effete. And it really helps with what’s going on.

Furthermore. If you’re not exclusively herbivorous there are all sorts of modular add-ons available to supplement the basic weekly ration; from the likes of Bovina Valley, Stony Creek, Painted Goat, L’ouvriere, Stone & Thistle, Township Valley, Lucky Dog, Farmhand Flowers, Mauer’s Mountain, Greenane, Nectar Hills, Tay Tea, Kitchen Garden, Cowbella, Flaca Vaca, Treadlight, Big Ash. Meat, poultry, milk, cheese, yogurt, flowers, honey, herbs. Even candles. If you’ve got shelter, matches, cigarettes and tequila, you’re basically set.

Table on Ten is one of six locations you can swing by and grab your share. Pickup time is cannily scheduled between 6 and 9 pm on a Friday evening. Ring any bells? That’s also when we’re open, serving pizza. You can hit-and-run or cool your heels, have a bite to eat, glass of wine. See what we did with the same stuff that’s in your box. Other locations are strategically situated around Delaware County so as to undermine the ‘oh, but that’s miles from where I live’ defence.

Bloomville | Table on Ten  | FRIDAY | 6-10pm
Bovina | Brushland Eating  | FRIDAY | 6-10pm
Charlotteville | Star Route Farm | FRIDAY & SATURDAY | 1-5pm
Delhi | Delhi Farmer’s Market | WEDNESDAY | 9am-2pm
Hobart |  Flaca Vaca | SATURDAY | 10am-4pm
Oneonta b side ballroom | FRIDAY | 6-10

The deal? It’s vulgar to talk money in public. It’s good though.

Knotweed | Marguerite Walks | Eats Shoots & Leaves

‘I don’t see it so much as erotic. I see it more full of obscenity. I see fornication and asphyxiation and choking and fighting for survival and growing and rotting away. It is the harmony of overwhelming and collective murder. And we in comparison to that enormous articulation – we only sound and look like badly pronounced and half-finished sentences out of a stupid suburban novel. A cheap novel. We have to become humble in front of this overwhelming growth and overwhelming lack of order. We have to get acquainted to this idea that there is no real harmony as we have conceived it. But when I say this, I say this all full of admiration. It is not that I hate it, I love it. I love it very much. But I love it against my better judgment.’ – Werner Herzog (on Knotweed)


Japanese Knotweed, Curse o’ the Catskills. Vast thickets of bambooish vegetation that clog the banks of the Little Delaware like something from Apocalypse Now. We tried everything to tame it. First couple of years we waded into the obscenity with scythe and thick gloves, slicing, ripping, arms flailing, teeth gnashing. Days later a single stand was reduced to ribbons. Little did we know this only girded its loins. Stand by the garage at midnight. You can hear the groans of its roots fornicating. Poison? It throws back its hoary head like Falstaff calling for another flagon of sack. Burning is an afternoon at the spa with a coarse loofah, fiery exfoliation promoting yet more pornographic growth. Prayer is futile (God loves knotweed).

It grows by every means imaginable. Late-summer flowers are pendulous fronds of a billion seeds, each with its own wings, parachute and entrenching tool. The breeze caused by a passing bicycle sends them vortexing across the landscape in a fog, seeking innocent earth to pillage. Birds love ’em. Redwings criss-cross the firmament, a hundred of Noah’s doves, each stalk-in-beak. Deer, raccoon, skunk, bear, chicken, possum are unwitting foot-soldiers in its army. Sparky the Dog is a Centurion.

But not content to litter the skies with its corruption, knotweed also reproduces by stealth. Its shallow root system wriggles beneath the soil, a Medusa of rhizomes, bursting upwards every few inches in new clusters of moist phalluses, grunting toward the sun. Hours later each is a thickly-lubricated, purple-green Alien, complete with prehensile jaws, ooze, and an appetite for annihilation. Leave your child by a bush for 10 minutes and it will be subsumed, devoured and mulched into compost.

The only rational response is despair. But even weeping produces nutritious brine.

Or so we thought. Until Marguerite walked into Table on Ten with a Bobbit of severed phalluses, frozen, emasculated. She loves knotweed. Because she has mastered it.

If you can’t beat ’em, eat ’em.



Saturday May 7th, 12.30 at Table on Ten


Rain or shine, Table on Ten’s yard and Rails to Trails


Identify spring edibles and medicinals. Spring pot herbs, tonic plants, folk remedies, earthing and tree orienting. Plants covered include stinging nettles, wild ramps, wild garlic mustard, yellowdock, dandelion and burdock roots and (you guessed it) Japanese knotweed. Roots and shoots.

Later, while still in the field, experience Music of the Plants – melding art, science and technology to finely illuminate the hidden life of vegetation.

Followed by a wild food tasting, prepared by Marguerite: wild garlic mustard pesto, dandelion root french fries, dock chips.


To register: 607.437.1218 or 3moonsister@gmail.com

Starts at 12.30, ends around 4.  Arrive early as we walk at 12.30. Or get a sustaining lunch at Table on Ten before we go.

$20 per participant including walk, wild snacks, handouts, recipes

Four & Twenty Blackbirds Thanksgiving Pies | You’ve Done Enough

You’ve brined the turkey for 36 hours, driven it north in a Subaru, wrestled it downstairs like a drunk auntie. You’ve parboiled the potatoes with celeriac, maple-glazed the carrots, curdled the milk with lemon. Peeled the chestnuts, crusted the bread and cored the apples. Reconstituted the garbanzo bean flour for Antigone and Oliver’s gluten-free stuffing. Creamed the corn. Milled the cranberries. You’ve topped and tailed the green beans, squashed the squash, toasted the cumin. You’ve spun the milk-thistle, cauterized the wood-sorrel, burnt the borage. You’re gagging for the bottle, but you still have to muddle the mallow and drizzle the dingleberries.

Do you really want to bake a pie?





Available now at Table on Ten

The perfect dessert or ‘dish to pass’ in three delicious flavours

• Salted Caramel Apple ($35)

Bittersweet Chocolate Pecan ($40)

Brown Butter Pumpkin ($35)


Call 607 643 6509 or send us a message to reserve.

Pickup available at the following times:

Saturday 21st November, 9 to 3 and 6 to 9

Sunday 22nd November, 9 to 3

Wednesday 25th November, 5 to 7