The age of uninnocence at Blue Hill Farm

I’ve never jumped to write about a trip so quickly since I started this blog. The past two days were everything, and nothing was the same ever again.

This June, I left my mid-twenties behind for my late-twenties. I’m so excited to be 27 but decided to ring it in with just a small, intimate dinner with friends who make New York feel like home. My partner, who I have now been dating for a year and a half, is as big of a sweetheart as he is a planner. Roughly a month before my actual birthday, he asked me to take Tuesday the 21st off from work for us to go “somewhere”. Turns out, he somehow secured a reservation at my dream restaurant, Blue Hill Farm at Stone Barns. How incredible is this man? I’m speechlessly grateful to be loved by someone who is so excited to see me happy. 

To round out the long weekend, we decided to also take Monday/Juneteenth off and head upstate for a pseudo-weekend (Boyfriend insists on calling it a “minicaytion” and it’s adorable). I would work mornings on Monday and Tuesday and take off in the afternoons. Knowing I only had to be online for two half days, I felt motivated to wake up at 8am and crank away. Whatever they’re doing in Europe is clearly superior because two half days in a row was SO efficient and beneficial for my crippling mental health.

Anyone who lives in New York along enough to explore the Hudson Valley and upstate during the summer knows that supplies of lodging options way undercut demand, and everything books up faaar in advance. The few bed and breakfasts I checked out were either way out of budget, still under post-pandemic reconstruction, or completely booked. Since Blue Hill Farm at Stone Barns is located in Tarrytown, Boyfriend suggested a Hilton-affiliate hotel across the Hudson river, in Nyack.

There are obvious choices in the Hudson Valley, like Beacon and Cold Spring. I had never paid any mind to Nyack before this trip. A mutual friend just so happened to grow up 20 minutes away here and offered some recommendations, which were all that we went off for this short stay. Both Tarrytown and Nyack are easily accessible from Grand Central via the Hudson Line. You can also drive, although it would take some serious planning to avoid summer traffic heading out of the city.

just an empty highway

After checking into Hotel Nyack, we went on a short hike at Buttermilk Falls (not to be confused with the other waterfall of the same name in New Jersey) near the center of Nyack. Bear Mountain or Harriman State Park would’ve been the obvious choices had we driven, but that’s the L you have to take saving time and money traveling via public transportation. Buttermilk Falls is roughly an hour or two if you’re taking your time (the majority of the hike is inclined) and exits into a Yeseviah university that cuts right back to the hotel. Boyfriend and I giggled our way through the families of groundhogs we came across. Dinner consisted Pringles from Walgreens and views of a Hudson Valley sunset. Perfect.

a really, really great afternoon

The next morning, I woke up early to go through emails before boyfriend joined me to head into downtown Nyack. Hotel Nyack is almost one straight shot into downtown and a 20-minute walk downhill. We started at Art Cafe, one of the three restaurant recommendations from our friend.  Art Cafe is housed in a converted townhouse, it’s front lawn completely turned into the main outdoor dining patio. It’s a family-run business and has been in town for over 40 years. The menu is Israeli/Mediterranean-leaning. 

After breakfast, we took a left to the small pier with an immediate view of the Cuomo bridge on Hudson. Boyfriend retreated back to the hotel for a post-breakfast nap and I went to the Nyack Library to finish work. All the business wifi was set to public and open without any password. That alone should say everything you need to know about the town.

the prettiest local library in Nyack

Back at the hotel and a quick pool dip later, we got ready and headed to the main event - Blue Hill Farm at Stone Barn. 

(For the purpose of imagery, I was wearing a calf-length lavender silk dress from Vince and a pair of hot pink Prada kitten heels with black beaded ribbons (thrifted, which makes them all the better). Also keeping things balanced by wearing a ~practical~ tote bag to hold comfortable walking shoes to explore the farm grounds. I also forgot my camera to one of the most important dinners of my life :)

I black out from excitement in the Uber and come back into consciousness as we turn behind a stone slab labeled Stone Barn. Someone checks us in and we join the rest of tonight’s first seatings under the entryway arch. Finally, a chef gives us a little welcome speech and begins the tour through the farm. 

Let’s check our privileges at the door before stepping in. Blue Hill Farm at Stone Barn and award-winning head chef Dan Barber pride themselves on restorative farming as well as food ecosystem research and education. They’re able to do this through donors and industry support in a relatively undisturbed upstate town paying zero commercial rent. Small batch produced anything doesn’t come cheap. So this experience is, needless to say, pricey and beyond what I would personally consider worthy to pay for any singular meal, at least at this point of my life. However, the Blue Hill experience by far outshines other restaurants of the same caliber, with the same price tag, in major US cities. I also feel the need to acknowledge the recent Eater article by Meghan McCarron detailing the labor and mental abuse that took place at Blue Hill, common to many restaurants with a French brigade hierarchy, as well as ingredients fraud. Nothing is perfect, but can we just put on a veil for the night and enjoy ourselves? Life is exhausting enough already.

The farm tour reminded me a lot of the farm excursions I used to go to with my family back in China where we would get down dirty and handpick the ingredients for dinner, but instead of plastic shoe covers, the patrons are wearing suit jackets and Loewe handbags. 

I won’t go into details of the dinner to save the spoilers. For roughly four hours, Boyfriend and I gasped and ooh’d and stared and kept our waiter at our table for too long with questions. At roughly halfway through the most immersive dinner I’ve ever experienced, I suddenly started mentally prepping for the staff to kidnap and murder us. The patrons become the next course. I just couldn’t imagine walking away with completely intact memories of this experience (and love Boyfriend doubly for playing alongside my sudden conspiracy theory). I’m still alive, clearly, but I completely lost my appetite over the next 36 hours knowing I will not be dining at Blue Hill Farm for the foreseeable future.

Blue Hill Farm at Stone Barn is just better than me in every way. This was, in Carrie Bradshaw’s words, the age of uninnocence.