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 …












I N • C A S E • Y O U • T H O U G H T • B E E R • W A S • B E E R

… because believe us, beer ain’t beer. But don’t feel bad if you thought it was. We did too. Until our new manager Andy Acker arrived.

See, Inez had just finished up an afternoon whittling the testicles off guinea-fowl, and had slipped out to the picnic table, having spotted a shard of sunshine refracted through a giant icicle dangling like the Sword of Damocles from the roof. On her way, she grabs a beer and shouts for Andy to join her. Which, shortly thereafter, he does:

Inez: Hey, I think Spring might actually be here …

Andy: What’s that?

Inez: Eh?

Andy: I said, what’s that? (He points to can of Narragansett on the table) 

Inez: Umm … it’s a beer.

Andy: Hmm. Domestic lager. So soon after the vernal equinox?

Inez: Oh, er … I dunno, is it? (smiles) They’re all the same, right?

Andy: Equinoxes?

Inez: Beers.

Andy: May I? (gestures towards it. She nods. He picks it up by his fingertips. Holds it aloft against the sun. Presses it to his cheek, closes his eyes, emits a low hum. Finally, wafting his fingers like a thrush’s wing over the opening, takes a long sniff followed by several staccato snifflets. Silence)

Inez: You okay?

Andy: Oxidized. Because you drank the first third rapidly, the remaining liquid has reacted with pocketed air within the vessel, throwing off the pH and initiating the first stages of a reverse Haber process.

Inez: Ah.

Andy: Whereby the surface of the lager is gradually becoming low molarity aluminium hydroxide in solution. Leave this can in the sun for fifteen years and you’ll be drinking bauxite.

Inez: Oh.

Andy: Would you like me to titrate you an IPA?


Remember when beer was just the short and glittering road to being shit-arsed? The longer the road, the shittier the arse? When a word like ale was as snort-inducing as mead, flagon or i’faith, draw me a tankard of sack, buxom serving wench? The provenance of short, pudgy hermaphrodites who dressed in plastic armour to beat each other with nerf-swords in fields outside Leicester? Or pockmarked university drama lecturers playing the celtic drum in Wiltshire pubs, singing about bonny shoals of herring with fingers in their ears? Well not any more. These days an otherwise unretarded-seeming Williamsburger in his thirties will barely blush when referring to beer by its mouthfeel or quaffability: behaviour which (in days of yore) would have got you a firm dart in the middle of the forehead, if not a golden baptism down the toilet-bowl in the Gents whilst involuntarily munching on a slice of moist urinal cake. Being a hophead meant somebody was actually hopping up and down on your head. In the car park. Amongst the discarded rubber johnnies.

Not at Table on Ten though, by golly! There’s no prophylactics in our car park. Hell, we don’t even have a car park!

But we do have beer, and we also have Andy – our new Virgil, fated to lead us by the sweaty paw through the labyrinth of the Craft Beer Inferno. Where all names begin with DOG or end in WHALE. And where half a gallon of last-summer’s paddling-pool water, fermented up a cow’s uterus with a handful of Polish zlotys and stirred with a limp celery stick constitutes a fine idea for an after-hours Spring brewski.

First up in the artisanal small-batch wet t-shirt contest: Southern Tier ‘Nu Skool’ IPA, from Lakewood NY, a short ambulance ride from Buffalo.

This one is characterized by middle-school spelling, bringing to mind notes of sweaty snowboard boot, overnight-wetsuit-in-the-trunk-of-mom’s-Subaru and jockstrap. Originally in the category of awesome, it soon became rad before settling into lit with shades of amazeballs. The perfect beer if you’re planning on free-climbing the pizza oven, base-jumping from the garbage cans or wingsuiting over to Sal’s for a breakfast sandwich. Have two or three. Go cray-cray.

Burial Beer Billows Hoppy Kölsch out of Asheville, NC.

This one combines heavy alliteration (Bradley burnished Bobby’s biggest bollock) with implied European exotica, crowned with an umlaut. Kölsch was apparently a serious mover-and-shaker in the Dusseldorf bondage scene; combined with the name Burial, we’re looking at some serious goth undertones here. Sleeve-tattoos, ear-gauges and two semesters at SUNY Oneonta. For more insight, look no further than Burial’s own product description: ‘it is our smoke signal to all brewers, our brethren in craft, and all who enjoy a light quaffable ale with hearty aroma: this is your beer.’ Yes, they said brethren in craft and quaffable ale. Two tugs on the nipplering-o-meter …

Von Trapp Vienna Lager comes yodeling down the Vermont berghang in tight lederhosen, honking its alpenhorn with eidelweiss in its underpants.

No, you’re not hearing voices from your secret show-tunes days. That’s von Trapp, as in Maria von Trapp. As in Captain von Trapp, seven children and a mess of funny Nazis. Yup. This one features high-notes of raindrops on roses with back-end whiskers on kittens. Four Vienna’s shotgunned in succession will make you lay-ee-odl-lay-ee-odl-lay-hee-hoo like Julie Andrews getting a Jägermeister enema high on a hill from a lonely goatherd; the aftereffects of which include brown paper packages tied up with string and a dream that will need all the love you can give every day of your life for as long as you live.


That’s it. Our first litter of craft beer triplets, all meanly wrapped in swaddling bands. They’re here now, gurgling away in a refrigerated manger, awaiting the plump ministrations of your immaculate nipples. Come on down to Bloomville and express yourselves.

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

Touché Family Values | Out, Damned Spot!

For anybody who missed it: in celebration of All Hallows’ Eve, the floor of Table on Ten was turned over to renowned Commedia dell’Arte troupe – La Famiglia Touché – who brought their oversize personality, dubious gender disposition and filthy Grandma to Bloomville for two consecutive nights, inaugurating:

~ An Utter Farce, in Two Acts ~

Master Brian Bates / Mrs Goodie Touché
Master Brian Bates / Madame Goodie Touché
Master Robert Touché / Miss Sally Touché
Master Philip McCrevice / Miss Sally Touché
Mrs Mabel Lovely-Berchtesgaden / Miss Bessie Bates
Grandma Mabel Touché-Berchtesgaden / Nurse Bessie Bates
Mr William Touché / Mrs Pierrot Bates-Slappelul
Master William Touché / Doctor Pierrot Bates-Dronkenvrouw

Players (in attacco)
Madame Goodie Touché  – Mr Scott Neild
Miss Sally Touché – Mrs Lacy Johnson
Master William (Billy) Touché – Mr David Van Vorst
Master Philip McCrevice  – Mr Jason Lindow

(nella posteriore)
Nurse Barry Bates – Mr Josiah Johnson
Nurse Bessie Bates – Miss Winifred Richards
Sister Brenda Bates-Warbler – Miss Val Dudley
Master Brian Bates – Master Seth Johnson
Doctor Pierrot Bates-Dronkenvrouw – Mrs Inez Valk

(su per il culo)
Grandma Mabel Touché-Berchtesgaden – Mr Perkin Lovely

(le pizze)
• The Fresh Roadkill
• The Bloody Wound
• The Strips of Flesh
• The White Cadaver
• The Slugs
• The Drowned Man
• The Burnt Capsicum
• The Dead Man’s Sausage
• The Don’t Ask

(i mezzi)
• Fresh Salad of Greenies
• Salad of Roast Pepper Flesh

(l’ epilogo)
• Baked Apple Corpse
• Wound Ice Cream
• Gore of Grizzled Cranberry

Expunged from her long-term residency at The Novelty Lounge in Oneonta (following an incident with a Merino sheep and two pounds of asparagus) Madame Goodie Touché has bundled her family into a 1996 Subaru Forester and gone south, hoping to make it to her sister Daphne’s Blue Moon Topless in New Paltz before nightfall. A mangled head gasket, however, finds her marooned in the quaint, tumble-down hamlet of Bloomville New York, with an empty purse and Halloween on the doorstep. Ever the opportunist, Mme Touché offers her services at the only bulb burning for 20 miles around – the notorious Table on Ten, bastion of all things salvaged and glutenous. The proprietress, a shadowy Dutch woman of irregular height, has taken to roaming the dirt roads in her undergarments, swigging from a bottle of Chivas whilst communing with feral goats.  The single remaining member of staff – Phil McCrevice (handyman, Speedo model and Master of the Dark Arts) – is tending to an ever-dwindling coterie of absinthe-addled customers, stretching month-old pizza over a badminton racket and baking it over an old toilet bowl filled with Kingsford briquettes. He quickly accepts Mme Touché’s proposal – to take over the restaurant and run it through the holiday weekend – won over, in part, by the sultry charms of her teenage daughter Sally, who imagines herself the younger sister of Scarlet O’Hara and behaves accordingly. Borrowing McCrevice’s pickup, the Touché family go in search of decor, plumping for Late-Century Salvation garnished with dead Japanese knotweed. Billy Touché – 28 and still recovering from a frontal-lobe injury sustained whilst repairing a leaky lavatory flapper at a gas station in Roscoe with his teeth – is put in charge of the wood-fired oven. Sally does the drinks, Goodie runs the show. Grandma Mabel, wheelchair-bound and serially incontinent, is consigned to the basement where she delivers salads and pizza from the ever-widening gap between her waist-high hemline and descending pantyhose.  Kitchen staff are culled from the recently defunct operating theatre at O’Connor Hospital Delhi. They arrive having just undertaken a failed prostate transplant on an alpaca farmer from South Kortright. Sister Brenda Bates is on dough-stretching, Doctor Bates-Dronkenvrouw on pizza prep, Nurses Bessie Bates and Barry Bates on salads and dessert; and Brian, Master Bates on the dishes.  The lights go down. The customers assemble …


Bearleader Chronicle | Issue 61


On one of those those mornings when you got up at 5.30, set a fire in the grate, sat at the table and did two hours of planning and ordering, drove to Delhi, pushed a cart round the Chopper, shouldered 100 lbs of chicken feed, lingered by the slow pump at the Sunoco watching those Aadvantage points whittle crumbs off your life … all before an 8.30 start in Bloomville … it’s rewarding to open your computer and find somebody else’s take on what you’re doing. Thanks to Daniela at Bearleader Chronicle for this beautiful piece, the entirety of which can be found here.

Barneys | The Window

In The Catskills, A Place Of Subtle Luxury At Table On Ten

The Window takes a road trip to experience life in the quiet town of Bloomville, New York with Table on Ten owner Inez Valk, who makes the rugged, romantic Pas De Calais collection look right at home in the earthy beauty of the country landscape.
The Window takes a road trip to experience life in the quiet town of Bloomville, New York with Table on Ten owner Inez Valk, who makes the rugged, romantic Pas De Calais collection look right at home in the earthy beauty of the country landscape.

“On a familiar route between my cabin and friends’ houses, the property always stuck out—towering on the corner, yet nothing appeared to be going on so it was somewhat of an enigma,” says says Inez Valk of what would become Table on Ten. “I made some inquiries, and it turned out the property was for sale, at which point an enigma became a mission,” The Catskills-dweller — by way of Brooklyn, by way of Holland — reminisces on the once crumbling property situated on Route 10 in the tiny town of Bloomville, New York — a place she transformed into a thriving restaurant and inn.

On the weekends, Table on Ten is filled with guests and restaurant patrons from the city, who not unlike Valk, seek out this secluded area of Delaware County. “There’s a complexity to life up here that belies the cliche of puttering along dirt roads, cultivating vegetables and chickens. Quietness and isolation mean there’s a lot of yourself to deal with. There’s no hiding, no retreating into the perpetual adolescence that the city offers,” says Valk. Her rustic inn, meticulously designed using raw materials and clean lines, furnished with handmade beds, a refurbished freestanding tub in the attic, and a reading nook complete with a collection of records to get lost in. At 60 miles west of the Hudson, those seeking peace and the low-key buzz of a local community going on about its day, find their place, and Inez is the gracious host that makes all feel right at home.

PAS DE CALAIS Reversible Fur Parka / PAS DE CALAIS Bateau Neck Sweater / PAS DE CALAIS Drop-Rise Trousers
PAS DE CALAIS Reversible Fur Parka / PAS DE CALAIS Bateau Neck Sweater / PAS DE CALAIS Drop-Rise Trousers


We at The Window had a firsthand account of this hospitality when we set out north to capture Inez in her element. The Pas De Calais collection was a clear choice for wardrobe. The luxuriousness of truly functional, comfortable clothes and sumptuous natural textiles reflect the harmony of running a modern grassroots business amongst the striking, pastoral setting. Unlike most shoots, our crew was treated to homemade meat pies (guinea hens from a neighboring farm), local wine, and cheeses on arrival. Not ones to refuse a hearty delicious meal, we chalked it up to research, and settled in to Table on Ten to experience Inez’s world.

PAS DE CALAIS Mouton Shearling Long Coat / PAS DE CALAIS Swiss Dot Gauze Shirt / PAS DE CALAIS Drop-Rise Trousers / EUGENIA KIM Georgina Wide-Brim Fedora / FEATHERED SOUL Locket On Cable Chain / ESQUIVEL Distressed Jill Ankle Boots
PAS DE CALAIS Mouton Shearling Long Coat / PAS DE CALAIS Swiss Dot Gauze Shirt / PAS DE CALAIS Drop-Rise Trousers / EUGENIA KIM Georgina Wide-Brim Fedora / FEATHERED SOUL Locket On Cable Chain / ESQUIVEL Distressed Jill Ankle Boots

“Delaware County is in a unique orbital when it comes to New York City. We’re not Hudson; we’re not Woodstock; we’re not the State Park. It was settled for tenant agriculture, and its roots are still in homesteading and farming; solitude, hard work, deep country, quiet,” Inez explains of the region’s lure. “Tourism is gentle and subtle. There’s no long list of glittering attractions, big festivals, mega antique roadshows… But an amazing collection of people have settled here, on the outer ring of New York’s gravitational pull. It’s unique. And it offers an opportunity for visitors to slip into the rhythms and cadences of the people who live here. It’s very personal.” The mentality of becoming one with not only the land but the small, hardworking community is part of what makes the Table on Ten restaurant a success. As part of the community, Inez caters to her fellow locals as much as she does her out of town visitors.

The love for turning out a delectable, shareable meal is illustrated in the success of Table on Ten’s pizza nights. Pizza—a modular, made-from-scratch, and quite simply, fun food has been a hit at the restaurant. After experiencing homemade pizzas from a wood-fire oven her friends built, Inez recognized the meal as the perfect melding of opportunity and need. “We’ve been doing pizza night for three years now and really it worked well right from the start. Strangely, for something so seemingly basic, there’s a lot of nuance and tweaking involved and it’s replete with possibility. Like a well-crafted haiku.” And her favorite pie on the menu? “I’d have to say the weekly special. Simply because it’s an opportunity to craft something emblematic of what’s here and now. In that sense, it’s the summation of the week on a sourdough circle,” says Inez, spoken like a diplomat to the land’s bounty but more importantly, to the guest at the table, the right answer when expecting a piping hot meal made with fresh, thoughtful ingredients.


PAS DE CALAIS Oversized Sweater / PAS DE CALAIS Twill Trousers / ESQUIVEL Slides
PAS DE CALAIS Oversized Sweater / PAS DE CALAIS Twill Trousers / ESQUIVEL Slides
PAS DE CALAIS Long Cardigan Sweater / PAS DE CALAIS Combo Gathered Blouse / PAS DE CALAIS Pinstripe-Back Twill Crop Trousers / COMMON PROJECTS Original Achilles Sneakers
PAS DE CALAIS Long Cardigan Sweater / PAS DE CALAIS Combo Gathered Blouse / PAS DE CALAIS Pinstripe-Back Twill Crop Trousers / COMMON PROJECTS Original Achilles Sneakers


While The Window team did not get to experience pizza night (we will be back to enjoy it this fall), we were treated to a skillet of eggs and fresh bread at our shoot call-time of dawn. The sound of roosters roused us first, then the scent of the above dish. Please note again, this is an anomaly on photo shoots, but one we could certainly get used to.


PAS DE CALAIS Hooded Sweater Coat / PAS DE CALAIS Long Dress
PAS DE CALAIS Hooded Sweater Coat / PAS DE CALAIS Long Dress

We like it here. It feels like home for our crew, if home equals wide open spaces, smells of fresh baked bread, and the comfort of a seasoned businesswoman in her fourth year of hospitality, functioning with ease and elegance. But for Valk, Table on Ten is not a place to get lost in time, but an open door for possibility. “Just when you think you know what’s around the corner, something barrels through the door and you’re off on a new tangent. There’s solid structure which appeals to my fundamental pragmatism richly veined with the unpredictable. It keeps me awake and learning.”

“I’m moving closer to a balance of life, work, and place that feels strong and energized, whereby they complement each other rather than gnawing at the edges,” contemplates the woman who describes her role as business owner, innkeeper, chef, and community nourisher as “always here.” It can be hard to not get consumed by what you do, especially without the distractions of urban life but Inez seems to be learning and growing with her business, surrounded by supportive friends and happy patrons who cheer her on.


PAS DE CALAIS Double-Breasted Cocoon Coat / PAS DE CALAIS Belted Long Dress / FONTANA MILANO 1915 Tum Tum Large Tote / ESQUIVEL Distressed Jill Ankle Boots
PAS DE CALAIS Double-Breasted Cocoon Coat / PAS DE CALAIS Belted Long Dress / FONTANA MILANO 1915 Tum Tum Large Tote / ESQUIVEL Distressed Jill Ankle Boots
PAS DE CALAIS Double-Breasted Cocoon Coat / PAS DE CALAIS Belted Long Dress
PAS DE CALAIS Double-Breasted Cocoon Coat / PAS DE CALAIS Belted Long Dress

The end of our day with Inez brings us to a pressing question ever since we noted the impressive record collection situated in the attic suite. Which ones would she choose for an hour of solitude? “Maybe something redolent of the area, romantic but hardscrabble. John Prine’s Bruised Orange, Townes Van Zandt’s Live at the Old Quarter. Or maybe the Chopin Nocturnes if you fancy something less site-specific.” A solid lineup to interrupt everyday life for a bit of meaningful calm.

PAS DE CALAIS Fur-Lined Parka
PAS DE CALAIS Fur-Lined Parka