Follow the restaurant's directions, and follow them closely. Route 63 is dark, windy, without navigated signs and remote; you can drive right past Montague and not even know it (Nick certainly did, even with three navigators helping him). But it's worth the trip (as long as Nick's not driving)-provided it's an "occasion."
The restaurant evokes a wood-paneled, warm, homey hunting lodge; the only things missing are the stuffed elk. And only the kitchen gives the restaurant away. The seasonal menu, which changes frequently and repeats a number of similar elements, is somewhere between New England and New American cuisine. That is to say, venison, quail and rainbow trout share a menu with "porcini-burgundy reduction" and "saffron-citrus risotto." The game might remind you of old New England stalwarts like the Deerfield Inn, but the reductions and fusion-inspired accoutrements do not.
And we're glad that's the case. From the bread, piping hot with a crispy crust, to three incredible desserts, the food is delicious if not flawless. The setting is the most serene we've encountered in the Valley-no doubt enhanced by the small size of the restaurant (as well as the fact that there were only two guests present outside our party on a Thursday evening).
Highlights included the local cheese plate ($7), which on that night boasted a creamy but not particularly pungent New York camembert, and crab cakes ($8) that, although lacking in chunks of crab meat, were nevertheless delicate and only lightly breaded. We also commend the roasted beet and baby spinach salad ($6), the Bibb lettuce salad with blue cheese, bacon and grilled red onion ($6), in addition to the steamed mussels with chorizo ($7). We differed on the garlic-parmesan flan ($8); Sarah compared it to Boursin Light, while Nick hailed the combination of old flavor and unexpected texture. It's not that these dishes were terribly ingenious in and of themselves; rather, the small things made all the difference-the candied walnuts that accompanied the cheese plate, the preserved shallots alongside the flan, the spicy white wine broth in which we dipped the mussels. You get the idea.
The quail ($20) was the game bird at its finest-smaller and less predictable than chicken, lighter than duck. The mashed potatoes were nothing special, but the moist cranberry-walnut stuffing complimented the sweet bourbon glaze nicely. The venison ($21) was the best Sarah's father has ever had (and while he's no hunter, he's had more than a few deer for dinner). The grilled beef ribeye ($22) was tender and large, and the curried root vegetable stew ($16) was flavorful with a satisfying kick. Unfortunately, there were a few false-starts. The rack of lamb special ($23) came with potatoes prepared the same way and a too-heavy pine nut crust; the lamb was unevenly cooked in one of its incarnations. The duck breast with port-soaked cherries ($20) was a tad dry.
But it's easy to overlook these flaws as your wine glasses are being refilled, the river is flowing over the rocks and the desserts (all $6) are reaching unparalleled culinary heights. No, we're not exaggerating; they really were that good (although Sarah's first cup of coffee arrived at the table cold). By all accounts, the grilled s'more panini-rich, creamy Nutella and almost-liquid marshmallow inside sweet pressed bread-made for a serendipitous "sandwich." The pumpkin cheesecake tastes like it sounds: a hybrid of pumpkin pie and New York cheesecake (that's a good thing). The "heart of darkness" is a good deal less sinister than Conrad's version, and a whole lot more chocolatey.
We'll be going back to the Night Kitchen-as long as we can find an appropriate "occasion." Winter solstice, anyone?