There were four of us who'd come together, but she encouraged us to mingle amongst the mostly older crowd as though it were a dinner party. Cathy told us that many of the diners who come to the Herb Lyceum subsequently try Will's restaurant, Garden at the Cellar, in the city--but every now and then she gets people who go to Garden first and then make their way to the Lyceum, as we had done.
We were amongst the only city dwellers dining that night--and it was fascinating to hear the new resident chef, Paul Callahan, talk about his experience of moving to a nearby farm in Groton as a result of his job at the Lyceum. Instead of seeking out ingredients as most chefs do, he told us, the local purveyors call him--offering grass-fed beef, or heirloom cabbage, or whatever is fresh and abundant. Chef Callahan's past experience includes such Boston institutions as L'Espalier and The Butcher Shop, and it's not hard to tell that working as the first full-time chef at the Herb Lyceum is a far different atmosphere.
"The difference is the people," he said. "I get to come out of the kitchen and interact with people--nobody is just a number here or a table that needs to be flipped--and I get to know the local purveyors." For a chef who loves to experiment with local ingredients and wants to have a dialogue with diners about the choices he's made in creating the six courses served at Friday and Saturday-night herb dinners, it's a pretty ideal fit.
All of the herbs used in preparing these dinners come from the gardens and greenhouses on the property. In the future, more of the produce will be grown on the grounds at the Lyceum too, and plans are in the works to start a CSA and expand the buildings to include space for bigger events (the current barn holds 32 people, maximum).
The menu at the Lyceum changes monthly, and diners bring along their own wine or beer. Highlights of our November meal included a sweet kraut made with apples and heirloom arrowhead cabbage from nearby Springdale Farms, and a day boat scallop that had been skillet-roasted with sage and brown sugar for a tasty sweet-savory crust. Cathy had told us that "clean platers get dessert," and it wasn't hard to fulfill her mandate as we spooned into a creamy roasted chestnut bisque, made with parsnip puree and dried cranberries.
Our main course was a rich, herbs-de-provence-braised short rib wrapped with spinach and foie gras inside homemade puff pastry, Wellington-style. A delicious smoked potato fondue (accomplished, the chef admitted, with an improvised smoker on the stove-top) and a variety of local squash in hearty, brown Perigueux sauce came alongside. By then we were totally sated, but the cheese plate proved irresistible: a wedge of creamy French cheese alongside Port wine-soaked bing cherries and honeyed pine nuts with lemon verbena. We finished with an upside-down quince cake drizzled with bourbon-spiked caramel and vanilla chantilly cream (made with vanilla bean, not extract, Chef Callahan was careful to emphasize) studded with thyme.
My only regrets were that we didn't get to stroll the grounds in daylight, and that two of our table companions were loud, overbearing, and increasingly drunk regulars who detracted from our focus on the delicious food and lovely atmosphere (if you go, steer clear of Grace & Tim). The other folks we sat with were quite friendly, and meeting new people at the table is a fun idea. But our experience ensured that when I return, it will be with enough friends to occupy one of the smaller tables.
Otherwise, though--thanks to Cathy and Dave Gilson and the fantastic Chef Callahan, along with good friends and outstanding food--the night was a magical one, indeed.
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