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On December 31st 2016 the staff of Table on Ten were cryogenically frozen in hermetically sealed pods and shot into outer space. By bending the time-space continuum, each was afforded a full-life on Planet H2T in the phlebotic region of the Crab Nebula, where society is organized according to tenets culled from the lyrics of Barry Manilow. Laura learned to sauté protoplotids in the ink of the flabberjubulus, while Inez had triplets with a blob of slime before inaugurating the Disco revival and taking holy orders. She walked out, tentacle in hand.
All in the space of two months.
But we’re back. Two gallons of green semi-gloss, a spanking new doorknob, some postcards from the kids (Qblib is teaching Slime as a Foreign Language on Gammaglobulin4) and we’re in the kitchen ready to go.
Right now, that is. Even as we write. Hours are as usual. Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday daytimes. Pizza Night Friday and Saturday. And every Friday and Saturday ’til the sun peels the paint and the seat covers fade and the water moccasin dies.
Thursday – 9 to 3
Friday – 9 to 3 then 6 to 9
Saturday 4th March – 9 to 3 then 6 to 9
Sunday 5th March – 9 to 3
Come on down. The price is right. What’s your name?
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
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
TAMARIND PORK – $18
Cortland onions, pickled peppers
SALTED CARAMEL APPLE MINI-PIES – $7
maple syrup, fresh frozen yogurt, bee pollen
bring your own children and cigarettes
November 2, 2016. Posted in Events, Inspirers, Producers, The Menu, Underpants. Tags: Allswell, Bar Bolinas, Berry Brook Farm, Bovina Valley Farm, Burnett Farms, Cowbella, Emily Elsen, Four & Twenty Blackbirds, Greenane Farm, Inez Valk, Key Training Farm, Marguerite Uhlmann-Bower, Nate Smith, Ollie the Dog, Sophie Kamin, Star Route Farm, Thomas Hobbes.
We have The Four & Twenty Blackbirds Pie Book
Yeah, I mean, it’s July 4th for God’s sake. It took you 7 hours to get to Yonkers. The dog had gas. You’re grinding Xanax into Montepulciano, slugging it down in quart jars and snorting the residue. You just made a pass at the lawnmower man in your underwear and he ran off into the knotweed. You’ve locked the kids in an old laundry hamper in the basement and can no longer hear their screams.
Now you’re going to make pie crust?
Spare yourself a lifetime in Attica. We have whole Four & Twenty Blackbirds pies.
Flavors as follows, while stocks last:
• Strawberry Kaffir Lime
• Black-Bottom Spruce
• Salted Caramel Apple
• Matcha Custard
• Strawberry Streusel
• Rhubarb Crumble
$35 for a whole pie. Big enough to feed one fat family of eight or two skinny ones.
Give us a call on 607-643 6509, or email us here
July 2, 2016. Posted in Recipes, The Menu, The Microshop. Tags: Attica Prison, Black Bottom Spruce Pie, Four & Twenty Blackbirds, Matcha Custard Pie, Rhubarb Crumble, Salted Caramel Apple Pie, Strawberry Kaffir Lime Pie, Strawberry Streusel Pie, Xanax Montepulciano Cocktail.
‘The British are going! The British are going!”
Welcome to Independence Day weekend. The one where we celebrate severing ties with a tiny, obscure island off the coast of Europe, known for warm beer, pre-masticated peas and blaming other people for their problems. Being something of a tiny landlocked island ourselves – Delaware County – we thought we could perhaps garner a spot of lost wisdom from our plucky ancestors over the sea: their rabid adherence to cultural homogeneity, quaint policeman’s costumes, groups of men in ladies’ clothes dancing around poles with sticks in their hands and bells on their feet. Their dogged resolve in the face of dentistry. But most importantly; their prodigious capacity for moaning.
To that end, we will be setting up Table on Ten noticeboards, each with a single word at the top:
In a basket underneath will be a selection of commonly-used suffixes, which participants will be encouraged to place underneath to form a familiar British phrase.
ENGLAND FOOTBALL TEAM
COST OF A PINT
COST OF CIGARETTES
Participants will be asked to read their phrase out loud, to be repeated by the congregation. Once all initial phrases are exhausted, we will ask for contributions; thus facilitating a hands-on, Internationalist, cross-platform, multi-media, son et lumière, interactive experience, rivaling Mount Tremper’s World’s Largest Kaleidoscope. And a brief insight on how grim it can be to be British.
To afford maximum participation in this rich cultural exchange, Table on Ten will be extending its weekend opening hours to include:
ADDITIONAL PIZZA NIGHT ON SUNDAY 3rd and ADDITIONAL BREAKFAST AND LUNCH ON MONDAY 4th
So to be clear:
Thursday 30th – 9 to 3
Friday 1st – 9 to 3 then 6 to 9 (Pizza Night I)
Saturday 2nd – 9 to 3 then 6 to 9 (Pizza Night II)
Sunday 3rd – 9 to 3 then 6 to 9 (Pizza Night III)
Monday 4th – 9 to 3
Hope to see you here. Toodle-bloody-pip.