Still Hungry: Get Out And Eat. Now.

As I’m writing this, it’s 98 degrees in Manhattan and we last exactly five shvitzy minutes on the patio under a defenseless umbrella before requesting a move indoors. We didn’t want to succumb, however, because during summer, food somehow tastes better when eaten outside. Not that kitchens do anything different with your al fresco order, but we savor the open-air experience because the mood seems lighter, spirits higher, conversation is often more buoyant and/or romantic when there aren’t any boundaries or blaring music, more space between tables and you’re surrounded by fresh rather than refrigerated air. So many new restaurants spend a fortune on singularly, dramatic décor (thank you David Rockwell, Martin Brudnizki, Ken Fulk and Roman & Williams), but rare is the setting that can compare with a crystal clear or starlit sky, a coral-to-fuchsia-to-lavender sunset, caressed by just enough breeze to blow out a votive candle (easily the worst element of any table setting because if you think being lit from below is flattering, how come every campfire ghost story teller uses a flashlight under the chin to spook you out). 

There’s still a couple of months left to enjoy the serene rush that comes with literally eating out—and these are four different ways to do it. 

HUDSON CHATHAM WINERY 

If you’re an avid reader of The Mountains, you know we haven’t just discovered HCW. We’ve been big fans from the outset. In fact, the Summer 2024 issue featured an interview by Anthony Giglio in his “Thirsty” column of co-owners Steven Rosario and Justen Nickel focusing on both their life partnership, and the ways they’ve renovated and transformed the winery since taking ownership in 2020. Though Giglio praised the couple’s determination and perseverance in reinvigorating the vineyards, there was no mention, for justifiable reasons, of what had made me a constant visitor. Justen Nickel is a smashingly gifted chef. 

After our collective release from self-imposed house arrest, the guys, who met as students at the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park began hosting intimate dinners for 30 once a month. The meals were refined revelations. Deceptively simple, yet innovative even audacious feasts, each featuring several dishes capable of generating gastronomic bliss. Depending on the weather, dinners were either staged in the winery’s tasting room or outdoors on a pastoral hillside with a clear view of the alluring vineyards under several expansive tents of various shapes illuminated by bistro lights and fire pits. More than half a dozen dinners, not a single dish was repeated. Each meal was heartily consumed with boundless delight, a devoted following developed that transformed a roomful of strangers into affable acquaintances and new friends. But suddenly, legal complications brought these dinners to a halt and my taste buds went into mourning.

Happily, this spring, the winery cleared all the hurdles jealousy had dropped in its path and the dinners have returned. I hesitate to relay this good news because seating capacity hasn’t increased, the evenings already sell out quickly and describing the bounty of the last buffet will only intensify desire. 

The groaning board of a buffet was a celebration of Steven Rosario’s Dominican heritage. The winery excels at charcuterie plates. This one was three-feet long and the shrewd diners were quick to ransack the Ibérico ham, though they need not have—there was a seeming unlimited supply. Lots of Spanish restaurants feature tostones though green plantains originated in West Africa. Too often tostones taste like they were cookie cuttered out of UPS shipping boxes. Here they were crisp and savory on the outside, slightly sweet and nutty on the inside, and became irresistible when dipped in Salsa Waskaka, a Dominican sauce of garlic, cilantro, olive oil and lime. Fried yuca (cassava) has a similar coloration but the flavor is more like a cross between a creamy french fry and a potato chip and was enhanced by Salsa Rosada, a pink sauce that’s a Latin street food staple whose base is just mayonnaise and ketchup punched up with lime juice, garlic, onion powder and hot sauce. Pico pollo is an excellent South American version of fried chicken, different from Hy’s Fried Chicken (see below) in that the chicken is first marinated in citrus, vinegar and garlic, then rolled in more heavily seasoned cornmeal flour and served with a peppery, herb-flecked sauce. Surrounded by beet-stained potato salad, citrus laced avocado, pickled red onions, the table’s unequivocal star was pernil, succulent, addictive, slow-cooked shredded pork shoulder marinated in an adobo rich in oregano, garlic, paprika and lime. After everyone had had their multiple portions, I stood over the table and unapologetically picked at it until my husband pulled me away. 

For dessert, the table groaned with dulce de leche sandwiches, flan, rice pudding, a cake I can’t honestly recall though I remember having two pieces and coconut cookies so wonderful I took home half a dozen. Oh yeah, we had wine with dinner. 

The Winery has tastings daily, a limited menu on weekends and can be rented for groups, conferences, celebrations and weddings. This fall, after hosting another evening of deliciousness and unlimited hospitality, the owners will escort diners to a massive bonfire held toward the back of their vineyard; sort of a mini-Burning Man minus the life-changing ephemeral philosophy and the semi-permanent coating of dust. Is there room for all of you? No. So, how about I just write about it after it’s over? I want to. I do. But I can’t. As we’re learning daily, it’s a lot less fun being ethical. 

The email for Hudson Chatham’s mailing list is below.

Hudson Chatham Winery
1900 NY-66, Ghent, NY
hours: Dinners are once a month on Friday at 6pm
hours of the winery: Thursday-Saturday 12-7 pm
Sunday 12-5pm
518.392.9463
info@hudsonchathamwinery.com

HY’S FRIED CHICKEN 

It’s as hard to imagine anyone turning their nose up at fried chicken as it is refusing to sit next to Lin-Manuel Miranda at dinner, turning off Singin’ In The Rain during “Moses Supposes” or calling Meryl Streep, Bruce Springsteen, Taylor Swift and Jerry Seinfeld “overrated.”

Fried chicken is having a Ranch dressing moment. The crispy bird seems to be everywhere—from fast food establishments to fine dining. Cluckers account for more than half of McDonald’s revenue and that percentage is growing (all hail the return of the Snack Wrap!). Cane’s, the chain that sells only chicken fingers, is popping up all over the place, with its CEO Todd Graves, who owns 90 percent of the $12 billion company, occasionally sitting in one of the black faux Eames chairs on Shark Tank. Chick-Fil-A is inedible because it’s too difficult to chew any fried food produced by unapologetic homophobes, but it may be easier to find a Hermès Himalaya Birkin bag than score a 7:30pm reservation at Coqodoq, the Korean fried chicken phenomenon in NYC’s Flatiron district. Walk-ins can wait more than two hours for a table, if they aren’t first turned away. 

Well, for the time it takes to be seated at 10pm and spend almost $40 a head for about two pieces (your share) of Coqodoq’s signature “Bucket List,” you could drive up to Hy’s Fried Chicken in Hillsdale, NY, spend just $4 more and get an eight-piece bucket for four of the Hudson Valley’s crispiest, most satisfying version of this American classic. 

If you’re willing to sacrifice the bronzed and lacquered splendor of Coqodoq’s David Rockwell designed chicken palace disguised as a sleek, members-only disco, you can savor the T-shirt and shorts ease of either Hy’s cherry-red enameled, retro school-cafeteria-turned-into-a-roadside-disco interior, complete with checkerboard floor and mirror ball, or claim one of the expansive array of picnic tables out front, just far enough away from Route 23 to ignore the traffic noise, though I wouldn’t let my dog off his leash. However, once owner Jack Luber’s singular bucket of joy hits your table, you won’t be paying much attention to your surroundings. 

Brined for six hours then dipped and sizzled in a just-fiery-enough glaze of honey and sambol, Hy’s chicken gratifies all the senses thanks to its radiant sheen, peppery sweet aroma, pleasing crunch outside, savory succulence inside and subsequent, intense finger licking. No wonder Luber is determined to franchise. His concept is as guaranteed to please as the first sight of a beribboned Tiffany box. 

But, unlike Cane’s, it’s not just his chicken. Hy’s limited menu excels. Northeast city kids like me don’t grow up eating or wanting biscuits. Southerners like my husband crave them. He immediately took mine, assuming I didn’t want it. One bite and I snatched it back. Hy’s potato salad is a misnomer because this side dish, tarnished by every fast-food chain and bodega, bears little resemblance to the lush mélange of roasted golden orbs, red onions, scallions, dill pickles and celery tossed in olive oil, stone ground mustard, a dash of mayo, vinegar and lemon juice. The mac-and-cheese is just as singular with apples, peppers and small cucumbers, baked in honey, apple cider vinegar, mayo and Dijon. Even the now-enough-already cauliflower option works, roasted in mint, cilantro, garlic, chili and lime. 

You may not be old enough to recall when ice cream sandwiches were delicious, but even if you are, those served at Hy’s are so much better than your memories. Don’t offer to split one. You’ll regret it. However, should you make that mistake, Nightingale Sandwiches are available in multiple flavors at the Hawthorne Valley Farm Store.

Hy’s is such a treat. If Hilltown Hot Pies ever finally opens its doors in the old John Andrews space down the road, Route 23 on the border of New York and Massachusetts may spur a new roadside food mecca. And unlike the unrealized promise of disco at Coqodoq, Hy’s mirror ball isn’t just there for show. There’s a DJ and dancing every Friday and Saturday night and a gay friendly Tea Dance once a month. What could be more uplifting than sharing two buckets of bird and biscuits with a cluster of friends or loved ones while Sister Sledge sings “We Are Family?” You sure won’t hear that at the drive-thru window when they hand you your Snack Wrap.

HY’S FRIED CHICKEN
264 Hillsdale Road, Route 23
South Egremont, MA
Open Thursday – Mon
summer hours: 4:30pm-11pm.
Kitchen closes at 9:30pm
413.644.8911
Reservations for tables of 6 or more
info@hysfried.com

HAWTHORNE VALLEY FARM STORE
327 County Route 21C, Ghent, NY 

THE GREENS AT COPAKE COUNTRY CLUB

This isn’t Bedminster where people too powerful to snitch on lie and cheat when they hit into the rough, or the Augusta National Golf Club (home of The Masters) which didn’t accept its first Black member until 1990. An egalitarian air flows through the Copake Country Club, whose main building houses its restaurant, The Greens. Its gravelly parking lot has more Subarus and Volvos than Porsches and Maybachs and, while the structure may not be elegant or up-to-date, it’s comfortable and familiar, like a favorite pair of golf gloves or a family dinner where everyone likes each other. The dining room’s décor is a little more than functional, but it’s decidedly relaxed. The view, however, overlooking the 100-year-old course’s 17th hole is lovely, especially when viewed from the outdoor dining terrace, its verdant lawn sloping up into the Berkshire foothills unbroken to the horizon. Even the whirring of a few traversing golf carts doesn’t disturb its serenity, and it’s more effective than a dirty martini in getting those shoulders down from just below your earlobes.

The restaurant attracts a steady local clientele, many of whom know each other, and the staff is equally convivial. The menu, wisely and not surprisingly, leans toward comfort food and executes it with consistent satisfaction. Odd, however, that such a straightforward place would start its menu in such a dishonest fashion, listing the appetizers as “Small Plates,” when every single option is generous enough to serve at least two people. Fritto misto is overflowing with crisply fried calamari (lots of tentacles!), white fish and shrimp, graced by shishito peppers and sundried tomatoes in a light marinara and lemon aioli sauce. Three large tacos hosting large batter-fried shrimp with sesame slaw and pickled onions could easily be a main course. It’s become standard for many eateries to charge around $35 for a single crabcake. The Greens offers two sizably dense discs of piquantly seasoned, almost filler-free seafood. Blackened Brussels sprouts, lacquered in sweet chili, soy and sesame works best as a side dish with entrées.

For entrées, pan-roasted hangar steak not only gives credibility to the notion that an iron skillet is a better home for slabs of beef than an outdoor grill, but for $34—startling, considering the ever-increasing price of beef. Half a roast chicken with mashed potatoes, roast Faroe Island salmon and the house burger (another bargain at $21) are all substantial versions of comfort classics. I usually hesitate ordering sea scallops because I rarely find them an ample main course (when I worked at The Odeon, the kitchen rationed three to a plate) but the half-dozen large, golden, gently sautéed scallops circling a briny mass of couscous may be the first time I’ve not been able to finish an order of bivalve mollusks. Desserts are okay but chocoholics need note that the chocolate torte is really a solid slab of ganache masquerading as a slice of cake. 

Country clubs are often characterized as bastions of elitism, just the place to show off your Prada golf shoes ($950) and Vuitton golf bag ($23,400). The Copake online pro shop sells Carhartt hoodies and coolers, Imperial bucket hats, North Face backpacks and Adidas pullovers. The most expensive item is a Pinned Rangefinder at $329.95. If you’re looking to impress folks, head to the Silo Ridge Golf Club in Amenia, NY ($150,000 initiation fee). However, if you’d rather break open your cooler after 18 holes and dance with your kids down at the bandstand listening to the music of Acoustic Mafia, Tim McDonald or grabbing a mic for Karaoke during The Thursday Night Summer Music Series, then head to The Greens. And that’s definitely no lie. 

The Greens At Copake Country Club 

44 Golf Course Road, Craryville, NY 

hours: Monday & Thursday 11am-8pm

Tuesday & Wednesday 5pm-8pm

Friday & Saturday 11am-9pm

Sunday 11am-8pm

518.325.0019

Info@copakecountryclub.com 

THE BISTRO BOX 

Great Barrington, MA, the tranquil and serene civilized refuge for lovers of crocheted vests, Barbour style jackets and women who wear their hair like Joyce Carol Oates or Andie McDowell boasts three defining traits: It’s the home of Karen Allen, my favorite Indiana Jones heroine; many, many cannabis dispensaries for a population of only 7,000; and the best food in town is served from a roadside stand four miles south of the main drag on Route 7.

If The Bistro Box were down the road from me, I’d probably eat there every day. Most roadside stands are usually sufficient for something, anything to eat along the way, but the William-Shatner-at-Comic-Con long line that amasses every day at lunchtime is composed of rabid patrons who shlep to this compact structure with a daunting I-want-it-all menu because Nick and Birdie Joseph’s food is pretty damn faultless across its boards. 

If you’re headed to The Box during primetime, it’s best not to go alone because scoring a picnic table requires an eagle eye and a sprinter’s reflexes. Frankly, I’d happily sit on the grass or the open trunk of my SUV because Bistro has the best burger for miles. It’s not just the superior grass-fed beef from Mazzeo’s (available at Guido’s Marketplace right up the road closer to town). It’s the divine tomato jam which The Box sometimes offers separately, except it sells out faster than you can eat their super hand-cut fries and cornmeal-dipped onion rings—and you have to stop yourself from wolfing them down.

Go on. Order everything: the pressed Cuban sandwich with the hand-pulled pork, briskly zingy gazpacho, almost perfect chili (though if you like yours with beans, it is perfect), turkey BLT wrap chicken quesadilla, falafel burger, fried pickles, tacos, pesto panini, chili cheese fries, even the damn hot dog (from Whippoorwill Farm in Lakeville, CT). There isn’t an item on that wall I wouldn’t recommend. Whatever the berry lemonade is of the day—blueberry, strawberry, raspberry—get it, unless you can’t resist the slushie of the day—orange mango, blueberry pomegranate, strawberry mint. Then again, how do you possibly resist a peach pie milkshake?

The only thing upsetting about The Bistro Box? This is the Berkshires, not the San Gabriel Mountains. It’s Great Barrington, not Pasadena. The Bistro Box will close in mid-November and not open again until mid-spring of 2026. The lines during the last week of each season are proof of The Box clientele’s fervent adoration—and they’re very vocal about the anxiety they’ll soon feel being denied that superior burger for at least four months. Maybe that’s why there are so many places up the road where you can buy gummies. 

THE BISTRO BOX
937 South Main Street, Route 7
Great Barrington, MA
hours: Thursday – Tuesday, 11am-4pm
413.717.5958
thebistrobox@hotmail.com

GUIDO’S MARKETPLACE
760 South Main Street, Great Barrington, MA

WHIPPOORWILL FARMS
189 Salmon Kill Road, Lakeville, CT