I can’t say with any accuracy how many times I’ve driven up and down the Taconic—from the City to the country, from the country to the City—but let’s agree that the number is staggering. Like other motorists on this schlep, for years I tended to stop for coffee or grub at the usual fast-food suspects—not because they’re good necessarily, but because they’re efficient and a known quantity; they’re good enough. I might have gone on for years in this way, inexplicably blowing by a pretty adorable little shop, Taste NY at the Todd Hill Service Station, until finally, on one such…
