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

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.

Pie ‘n Mash Night 2 | The Kraken Wakes

Sunday October 11th – 6 to 9.

(The Night Before Columbus Day)

‘In short, whoever you may be,
To this conclusion you’ll agree,
When everyone is somebody,
Then no-one’s anybody.’

In honor of the descending thermometer, Table on Ten will be pulling on its Bon Appétit-era woolly knee-socks and making savory pie for the masses.

Sunday dinner at Table on Ten; a menu expertly formulated to fortify the citizens of Delaware County against the leading edge of Autumn. Insulation for the ribs. Weather-stripping for the soul.



Warm Leek and Turnip Vichyssoise with Ripped Croutons, Olive Oil, Peperoncino


• Guinea Hen, Smoked Pork Butt, Leek, Thyme, Hen Stock

• Shepherd’s Cottage Pie a la Table with Shaved Lamb and Beef, Spicy Greens

• Goodwill Pie with Parsnips, Beets, Winter Greens, Sweet Potatoes, Leeks and Cider Gravy


• Buttery, Creamy, Leekie, Squashy Mashed Potatoes


• Two Special Salads, One Leafy, One Munchy


• Hearty Beer and Cider

• Effete Wine


• Unique Non-Pie Dessert Collaboration with Four & Twenty Blackbirds

• Espresso

• The Collected Works of Gilbert & Sullivan

• Pie Movie


Mauer’s Mountain, Star Route, Burnett Farms, Bovina Valley, Berry Brook, Greenane Farm, Township Valley, Cowbella, Evans & Evans.


Call for reservations to make our life easier – 607 643 6509

Put down that last stacked log, climb out of your Carhartts and come on over anyway.

Sunday 11th October, 6 to 9

Sheepdogs, horses, pitchforks and weapons checked at the door.

Autumn Song | The Return of Soup

Now the leaves are falling fast,
Nurse’s flowers will not last;
Nurses to the graves are gone,
And the prams go rolling on.

Someone told us, a couple of years ago, that summer ends on the last day of the Delaware County Fair. That elegantly shaved Holsteins are ushered into trucks even as the beeches begin to drip with browns and duns. Well, not in 2013. This year the Gods of Summer looked kindly on us, easing apart the parentheses of the season to accommodate the remainder of August and much of September, allowing schoolchildren to return to their lessons still sporting chestnut knees. But there’s no stemming the march of time. The chill is in the wings, like an attendant servant waiting to come on and announce ‘the Queen, my lord, is dead’.

Now friends come through the front door briskly, shutting it behind them. Ice-cream sandwiches linger longer in the refrigerator. And the first glimpses of a conversation that will punctuate the coming months like a thousand commas – how to stay warm – are sighted at the register.

But the turning of the seasons affords new opportunities: to break out that Harris tweed hacking jacket and deerstalker, mothballed from an unlucky May; to twist the menu between finger and thumb, ushering in items that warm the belly and bolster a sense of community. It’s time for Soup. To roll in at lunchtime, pull up a chair, a hunk of baguette and mop up something that distills the goodness of its ingredients into a restorative and sticks sweetly to the ribs.

Soups of Last Season I
Soups of Last Season I
Soups of Last Season II
Soups of Last Season II
Soups of Last Season I
Soups of Last Season III

First up: New Brushland Clam Chowder (with Cowbella Croutons)

2 lbs or so fresh chowder clams (these don’t need to be fancy)
1 cup Star Route Farm creamy potatoes, peeled or not, cubed
2 teaspoons Cowbella butter
3 good slices Catskill Food Company bacon, cut crosswise into small pieces
1 Lucky Dog onion or 2 shallots, diced fine
2 or 3 garden thyme sprigs, stripped
1 Burnett Farms celery stalk, diced fine (we wonder if a palmful of grated celeriac would do the same thing; we haven’t tried)
A little salt (careful, clams are salty)
Fresh cracked black pepper
1 cup Crystal Valley milk
Half a cup of cream
Ripped Table on Ten bread and Cowbella butter for croutons

Put the clams in a heavy pot with 3/4 cup of water. Cook on medium-high until they open. Let them cool (scalded fingers) before removing them from their shells and chopping (or not chopping if they are small). Strain the broth through cheesecloth or a clean tea-towel (more on that in late November) and store the clams in the broth to avoid them drying out. Cook the cubed potatoes in salted boiling water until nearly done, set aside. Melt the butter, fry the bacon pieces till just short of crisp, set aside. In the same buttery/bacony skillet, gently cook the onions and thyme for a few minutes before adding the celery. Continue to cook till the mixture is soft and golden. Season with pepper and (easy, there) salt. Transfer to a saucepan, add the potatoes and bacon, cook briefly. Add the clams and their broth, boil then simmer for a couple of minutes until the potatoes are soft. Add the milk and cream, bring up to heat but don’t boil. That’s it.

The buttery croutons are easy. Melt butter, add rough, big hunks of crustless bread, spin ’em round a few times, bake in the oven till done.

Cold, impossible, ahead
Lifts the mountain’s lovely head
Whose white waterfall could bless
Travellers in their last distress.

Last Harvest Farm | Bloomville NY

‘Noise proves nothing. A hen who has merely laid an egg cackles as if she had laid an asteroid’ – Mark Twain

The lowly egg. Humans have been shoveling ’em down since we first got our knuckles off the ground. Fragments of fossilized egg-shells have been found in the Lascaux Caves in Southwest France, presumably the remnants of a box lunch packed by Paleolithic Woman for Paleolithic Man, busily noodling his life away on yet another sketch of charging bison. There were eggs in the tomb of Haremhab the Hairless, right there by his sarcophagus in case he got a bit peckish on his eternal ramble through the afterlife. And when Vesuvius blew in AD 79, what were the hapless Romans munching on as they looked up from their breakfasts at an onrushing cataract of molten lava? Eggs.

Last Harvest Farm

But if eggs were brought to Mesopotamia by the Nubians in 1500 BC, they were only brought to Table on Ten by Katrin and Jamie Stelmashuck of Last Harvest Farm in the summer of last year: and they proved so fresh and tasty that we have been eagerly devouring them ever since. They are a staple of our baking, the mainstay of the Egg in a Nest and Egg in a Glass. For the Marmite Guacamole Toast, we sometimes poach one and lower it into a bed of spiced, mashed avocado, sprinkle it with black pepper and a little feta.

Last Harvest Farm fits our ideal model for local suppliers. Katrin and Jamie are so local that a fit, athletic man in search of eggs could run up Bloomville Hill Road to the farm and back in a few minutes. But we don’t have any fit, athletic men, so Katrin brings the eggs down in her car. The chickens are madly free-range and all have lovely chicken-smiles on their faces. They are a whole mess of breeds; Barred Rocks, Rhode Island Reds, White Leghorns, Golden Comets, Tetras … and a single Araucana who pops out a bluish-green egg about once every two days. Who knows, you might have unwittingly consumed one of her treasures last time you popped in for breakfast.

We also sell Last Harvest Farm eggs. $3.75 a dozen. Look in the refrigerator, next to the milk.

And by way of an example of Last Harvest Farm eggs in action. Here’s our version of Egg in a Glass.

2 soft boiled eggs
fresh herbs (including chives)
dried red pepper
black pepper
big tablespoon of Frankie’s olive oil

Mix it all up in a glass. Spread it on warm Bread Fellows toast with Cowbella butter.

Egg in a Glass