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It’s that special week of the year when we gather together to celebrate casting off the yoke of British colonialism by getting drunk and setting fire to things.
No more bowler hats, funny looking policeman, shocking dentistry and inedible puddings with pornographic names: we stride into the future with our banner held high and a burger in each fist. If Paul Revere’s horse turned up, we’d knock it on the head, bundle it onto the BBQ.
This week’s open/not open hours are slightly changed:
Wednesday July 2nd – 9 to 3
Thursday July 3rd – 9 to 3
Friday July 4th – 9 to 3 and then 6 to 9 for Pizza Night
Saturday July 5th – 9 to 3 but then no Pizza Night (fireworks in Bovina)
Sunday July 6th – 9 to 3
To assist our loyal infantrymen inflicting casualties upon the phrase ‘dish to pass’, we’ve inaugurated FLYING BOB’S PIES TO GO week. Our own fresh, hand-made pies, each emblazoned with the number 4, piping hot from the oven (or cool and ready to be warmed up), poised to be transported to garden parties, fireworks displays, family reunions, holiday AA meetings, World Cup vigils or solitary late-nights on the hill with the munchies, half a bottle of Rémy Martin and the dirty bits from Downton Abbey. Will not sluice across the back seat of the car or conflict with somebody else’s pallid macaroni salad. And no need to choose which pyrex bowl you’re prepared to lose.
Two choices, each finger-lickin’ in their own right:
• Chicken, Leek, Bacon and Prune. A Table classic and proven crowd-pleaser.
• Thornton Steward pork loin, slow-braised with carrots in Montepulciano.
Come and get ‘em. We’re still pleating their crusts right now, but they’ll be eager and golden as retrievers from 1 o’clock on Thursday. And once again, no Pizza Night on Saturday July 5th but yes Pizza Night on Friday July 4th. Saturday pies at Peter and Brooke’s instead?
Oh and roasted banana ice cream. And fresh local snap peas on ricotta. And new beef-and-prosciutto brodo with handmade tortellini. And special pizza. And. And.
Happy Independence for all.
Just when we think we’ve got it all sorted out … out comes the sun (‘guys, guys; outside, big yellow glowing ball in sky’), the picnic tables are inundated and we go and open up the whole downstairs. Suddenly we’re nose to the grindstone of life’s great existential questions: are the fennel and prosciutto pizzas for Table 16? And is Table 16 upstairs, downstairs or in the garden? (Hi)biscus or (HI)biscus? Mizuna? Mibuna? Help! Just like John, Paul, George and Ringo in ’65. We’re in our Fat Elvis period. Yesterday. It’s Only Love. We’re All Shook Up.
You’ve heard it before, but it’s worth repeating. Table on Ten is a café in rural Bloomville NY. We work with local producers, offering a seasonal and improvised menu with strong week-to-week emphasis on what’s being harvested right here, right now. On weekend evenings we serve brick oven pizzas, with a full wine and beer list. The microshop carries local and speciality items, some of which are made in-house. We also host pop-up dinners, events, and collaborations.
It’s a small, close-knit, vibrant, creative environment, akin to being a Navy Seal (but armed with stalks of lacinato kale). We work hard as a team, share responsibilities and have high standards.
We’re looking for two new Seals.
1 – PART-TIME FRONT OF HOUSE PERSON
Roughly, a ‘waitress’ or ‘waiter’. But the unique life of café and its community calls for a more catholic set of skills than simply delivering food to tables.
These include (all melded together into a glittering whole) …
• the ability to attend to detail whilst constantly being aware of the whole picture. Table 5 is waiting for an anchovy pizza, a group of six with kids needs a table downstairs, somebody wants to chat about who grew the arugula, the candles on the picnic tables have blown out, we’re getting low on the asparagus special and soap in the bathroom.
• to attend to this whilst remaining calm, personable, charming and communicative.
• liaise minute-to-minute with the kitchen and register, being aware of work-flow, backups, what’s coming, what’s going. Calmly, efficiently.
• take the high food standards produced in the kitchen and bring them to the tables, being precisely aware of menu items, noticing and helping to correct discrepancies.
• be interested and understand the food, drinks and the overall experience we offer and be able to communicate that understanding to customers.
• have stamina, the physical capacity to keep going without appearing to flag. Upstairs, downstairs, inside, outside.
• work as part of a team. No lone wolves.
• enjoy dealing with the public.
• be self-motivated.
• be detailed and organized.
• in a broad sense, to feel ownership of the environment when you’re working it. There’s a lot to do, and whilst everything’s governed by efficiency and high-standards, there are also elements of poise and performance.
• work evenings, weekends and some holidays.
• balance a plastic ball on nose whilst slapping fins together and barking.
• have your own home and transport.
• start now please.
+- 20 hours per week
2 - PART-TIME SHORT ORDER COOK
who will …
• participate fully in the minute-to-minute operation of the kitchen, follow food production schedules and ensure highest level of food quality, taste and presentation.
• adhere and contribute to practices and goals for the kitchen, anticipate and resolve issues.
• understand and adhere strictly to Health Department and food handling guidelines.
• contribute to the development and implementation of new menu items, ensure adherence to recipes and product specifications.
• bear food cost in mind, through intelligent practice of food preparation and handling.
• conduct regular inspections of the kitchen/dishwashing area, workspaces, storage areas and coolers, and act promptly to correct any deficiencies.
Need to be able to:
• work in a close-knit team environment.
• work calmly and effectively under pressure.
• efficiently solve problems on the spot.
• be self-motivated and organized.
• show commitment to quality service of good food.
• take direction.
• show an interest in food prepared with sustainably farmed, locally sourced ingredients.
• understand the importance of safety, sanitation and food handling procedures.
• show previous kitchen experience.
• exhibit professional, personable communication skills.
• sit on a stool and catch poorly-thrown fish in your mouth.
• have flexibility in assuming different roles within the life of the café when needed; front-of-house skills, helping to prepare and maintain the dining areas and microshop, being aware of stock levels, serving food in the café and at the counter.
• work evenings, weekends and some holidays.
• have a house and transport.
• start now.
+- 20 hours a week
June 4, 2014. Posted in Working at Table. .
Osmos, Cay Sophie Rabinowitz, Torkil Stavdal, Justus Red Rye Ale and 44 individual Potted Ale Loaves by Table on Ten.
Confirming (once again) the Power of Love.
Plugin version: 2.2.8
The pots spell out the text of W.H. Auden’s Song of the Master and Boatswain. Or they nearly do. We ran out of pots and chalked the last line-and-a-half on Kraft paper.
At Dirty Dick’s and Sloppy Joe’s
We drank our liquor straight,
Some went upstairs with Margery,
And some, alas, with Kate;
And two by two like cat and mouse
The homeless played at keeping house.
There Wealthy Meg, the Sailor’s Friend,
And Marion, cow-eyed,
Opened their arms to me but I
Refused to step inside;
I was not looking for a cage
In which to mope my old age.
The nightingales are sobbing in
The orchards of our mothers,
And hearts that we broke long ago
Have long been breaking others;
Tears are round, the sea is deep:
Roll them overboard and sleep.
May 29, 2014. Posted in Events, Inspirers. Tags: Cay Sophie Rabinowitz, Charles Logan, Christian Rattemeyer, Emily Elsen, Inez Valk, Jeanette Bronée, Julian Richards, Justus Kempthorne, Justus Rye Red Ale, Justus Schwab, Kimberly Chou, Leo Koenig, Maggie Clinton, Marc Hundley, Marc Joseph, Neil Young, OSMOS, Peter Dreher, Pixies, Potted Ale Loaf, Sunnie Joh, Torkil Stavdal, W.H. Auden.
It’s been years in the making.
Four trips to Venice, countless afternoons draped along Rialto boardwalks dutifully sampling everything Al Mercà could hurl at us. Tottering home for a nap, returning before sunset to go at it all over again. Life distilled to a golden shaft of Adriatic sunshine refracted through tumbler-upon-tumbler of scarlet hooch. The canon of Table on Ten researchers was long and prodigious: Sara Glick, Arturo Stanig, Ian Stuart, Alessandro Simonetti, Winnie Richards, Emma Farrell, Henrik Knudsen, Kourtney Roy, Jonas Mortensen. Pamela Berry, with her beautiful wooden boat and perfect Italiano sbronzo. And always, always, Dorsoduro’s tittering answer to Siegfried and Roy, Paul Bromley and David Willis.
Table Spritz will be officially launched this Sunday, May 25th; the bare-breasted figurehead at the prow of Pasta on Sunday. We’ll track down some gin-soaked English Queen to smash a bottle on its haunches. And not just any bottle. In a nod (once again) to small producers, we’ve thumbed our noses at mouth-puckering Campari and tugged the beard of sodapop Aperol. Like Goldilocks, we were seeking something more nuanced; not too bitter, not too sweet. We found Cappelletti. This venerable aperitivo has been produced in small batches by four generations of happy Italian villagers, all laughing, singing and wearing traditional clothing at the base of the Dolomites beyond Trento. It gleans its lurid crimson colour from natural cochineal* and its bitter citrus herbiness from heaven knows where. The apocryphal tipple of choice for Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria, it might in some way be responsible for World War I. Or maybe if he’d knocked back a few more and been slumped lower in his carriage, the bullet would have whizzed past his head and we’d all be eating schnitzel now and yodeling. In 21st century Bloomville, we’re going with one-third Cappelletti, two-thirds prosecco, over ice with a plump Castelvetrano olive and a slice of orange. So tasty you’ll be hallucinating gondolas. The perfect springboard into the full-twisting piked two-and-a-half somersaults of …
PASTA ON SUNDAY
Sunday, 25th May from 6 till 9
‘Ai Luigi, che cosa hai fatto con i miei pantaloni’
Menu will launch with:
• The Table Spritz
followed hard upon by a choice of:
• fresh asparagus soup with lemon-zest, toasted almonds, olive oil
• pure spring microgreens with fresh herbs
• shredded lacinato kale salad with red quinoa, smoked almonds, ricotta salata
• lightly roasted asparagus spears with house-made fresh ricotta, olive oil, lemon
and after a short pause:
• fresh tagliatelle with slow-braised Thornton Steward pork ragù, kale, currants
• fresh borsa vuota with ramp-basil pesto, cherry tomatoes
• fresh borsa vuota with 4-hour marinara, fresh herbs
then just when you thought you could eat no more:
• the Corno Grande – house made pure lemon ice cream on fresh meringue
• Quattro e Venti Merli pies – chocolate chess, salted caramel apple, honey rosemary shoofly, salty honey
• house-made ice cream – roasted cherry white-chocolate milk-chocolate stracciatella, fennel, Vietnamese coffee, mango mint, toasted coconut
Embroidered throughout by:
• summery Lambrusco from Emilia Romagna, Prosecco from Veneto
• white, rosé, red
Forecast calls for foggy mornings before and after. But if the sun extends its warm embrace into the evening, sashay over to the loggia and go alfresco beneath the ancient olive tree (you might need more than one Spritz to get there). If it doesn’t, promenade downstairs into our freshly-minted ground-floor sala da pranzo, where Luchino Visconti played the bongos and seduced Claudia Cardinale into taking the lead in Sandra.
Kitchen fires up at 6, cools down at 9. Lambrusco lingers a little longer.
buon appetito, tutti!
* no beetles were harmed in the writing of this post
May 23, 2014. Posted in Events, Recipes, The Menu. Tags: Al Mercà, Alessandro Simonetti, Aperitivo Cappelletti, Aperol, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, Arturo Stanig, Borsa Vuota, Campari, Claudia Cardinale, Corno Grande, David Willis, Emma Farrell, Henrik Knudsen, Jonas Mortensen, Kourtney Roy, Lambrusco, Luchino Visconti, Pamela Berry, Pasta Night, Paul Bromley, Rialto, Sara Glick, Siegfried and Roy, Table Spritz, Venice, Winnie Richards.
What do you think of when you think of Holland? Windmills, right? Tulips, clogs, spherical cheese clad in red wax. White plates with blue pictures on ‘em involving windmills and tulips. Bored women in sculleries, sewing beneath lead-mullioned windows. Half-naked women from Bratislava, gyrating behind plate-glass windows. Unnaturally tall people, built sturdy to withstand high winds. Herring. Ice-skates. Cabbage. Sprinkles on toast, sausages in cans. Collecting discount stamps, sticking them in little books. Dentistry second only to Great Britain. Men wearing lots of hair-gel. Canals. Bicycles, an obsession with the colour orange, did somebody kill a skunk in that coffee shop? Thrift. Camping. Three kisses. Black-and-white cows. Blackface. Bizarre expressions involving monkeys, sunshine and not putting butter on your head.
Just when you thought it was all about mashing stuff into goop and spreading it thickly on bread, along come Dutch bookplates. Intricate woodcuts which combine astonishing attention to detail with rugged no-nonsense conviction; like the Dutch, really. Hailing mainly from the late 19th and early 20th centuries, they were used to identify books as being the property of this, that or the other erudite Dutchman. The words Ex Libris (‘from the books of …’) are frequently followed by the initials and surname of the owner, sometimes accompanied by a pithy idiom. Y’know … ‘well, Gertrud, that just breaks my wooden shoe!’ … but in Latin.
In a subtle springtime rebranding, we turned to our flatland bookish heritage – and Mark Ohe (designer of many things Table) – for inspiration.
Henceforth, anything that sits still long enough at Table on Ten will find itself indelibly stamped. We’ve already capitalized upon Flemish diligence, putting Wilna and Eddie to work stamping all things flat and curvy, white and brown: paper bags, pizza and sandwich boxes, paper cups, wine-lists, letters to our Grannies. We now have our eyes on books, bags, buttocks, foreheads and children. Not to mention blimps, artisanal tattoos, grillz, lobe-stretching and scarification. Linger too long by the picnic tables, you risk Kathleen leaping from behind a bush like a banshee and branding you forever Table.