Jeffrey S.
Yelp
I want to set the stage and set expectations first, because I'm about to tell you that this was my favorite meal of 2019, and quite possibly my favorite meal of the least several years. And you're going to expect sparklers and firecrackers and confetti--but just stick with me as I set the expectation before telling you about an incredible meal I had here last December.
Hogstone's is a small, cozy, intimate little restaurant on Orcas Island. The island has a rich agricultural heritage, and though it's not an agricultural powerhouse, there are some innovative people doing back-to-the-earth things here. So it's the perfect kind of small place for food from the land and food on the plate to meet together in harmony. It's a place where creative farmers and creative chefs could marry their two passions and come up with some exquisite experiences.
Orcas Island is also an island, after all, and you can always expect to pay more for things here--groceries, gas, hardware--it all comes at a premium. Now, if you combine very detailed culinary work with highly creative chefs and experimental techniques, with an already elevated cost of living, you're not going to get a cheap meal. Hogstone's is not a stuff-your-face pizza joint. It's not an all you can eat buffet. It's not a value by the pound restaurant. Those businesses have their place (who doesn't love a pizza spot with cheese dripping from each slice and crusts for days?) but don't come here expecting that. No, this is a place where the ancient spirits of farmers past whisper their secrets to an inspired chef who dreams about maritime tradition, wild oyster beds, and sings the songs of ancient peoples who first inhabited this land and ate of its bounty. It's where that music still rings out today, blending into harmonies of sea and garden, line and land, net and nest. These melodies are short, sweet, and unforgettable.
Those melodies are rare, and hard to produce, so don't expect bowls brimming with massive amounts of food. Oh, you can get full if you order that way, but this is more about coming to taste and experience.
We embraced this philosophy and let our taste buds take part in the centuries-old song of dinner. Leeks and brussels sprouts were the first to hit the table, and it was a savory dish with just enough fat to complement the earthy flavors of both of those veggies. The came the treviso--the sauce was acidic and bright, and even though this radicchio variety is said to be more mild, it was still bitter and given a long roast on the grill. In the end, the bitterness won out, but the flavors all together were fulfilling if you're into that bitterness. The second-most surprise hit of the night was the potato, pickled shallot, shaved cured egg pizza. I say the second-most, because I do love a good pizza and this combination sounded good, but it came off even better in our hands. Pickled shallots added a brightness and acidity, potatoes left a savory and fulfilling texture, and the shaved egg added just a hint of salt and fat I haven't experienced before in my life.
The real star of the show was the half pheasant. A little sweet, a little sticky, and the thing that I will think about most is actually the cabbage dish that accompanied it. I have no idea what it had with it, but it was hypnotic.
We had the pleasure to sit at the "bar" area that faces the kitchen and watch Jay work. Here's a guy who seems super humble, despite the massive accolades and national recognition, and who, on a whim, decided to plate our meal right in front of us and talk about the components. He didn't have to. He didn't even have to be there at all--some successful chefs leave it to staff on the daily--but he truly delighted in composing the plate and talking to us about it.
Some moments you wish could last forever. This night, just a few before the new year, we chatted with staff about their passion, their upcoming ventures (hooray for a permanent space for the tasting menu nights) and we reveled in the good food and cozy atmosphere. Glasses clinked. Guests drank and laughed. The kitchen buzzed. And there we were, just held in suspension, somewhere in the song between the ancient worlds of old sailors and new crop.