Travel
Eating the Adirondacks :: A Locavore’s Dilemma in the North Country by Richard Frisbie
EDGE ContributorSunday Sep 20, 2009
There’s no better way to start an Adirondacks tour than with a boat ride. The fact that it was not a penile boat, (some call them cigarette boats), but a pontoon boat was, at first, disappointing. It looked more like Tom Sawyer’s raft than a stylish, cut-thru-the-water and be SEEN-IN boat. Not that there was anyone to see us. Cranberry Lake, the third largest lake in the Adirondacks, was devoid of other humans in any mode of transportation. It’s definitely not the party center of the universe, but since wilderness cruising is more our speed than bar cruising, Cranberry Lake proved perfect.
The boat’s charms quickly became apparent. While there would definitely be no water-skiing, it was quiet enough for a conversation, and it rode high enough in the water to navigate the shallows. If I fished, this would be the way to do it. Instead I looked and listened, hoping to see an eagle - Cranberry Lake is that isolated. We had a lazy afternoon exploring the inlets, skinny-dipping, drinking Land Shark beer, and eating the delicious picnic lunch the Windfall Restaurant provided, while we contemplated all the dinners to come. The first full day of our attempt to eat our way through the Adirondacks began with barely a ripple.
What’s A Locavore To Do?
Our trip came about from a conversation I had with a chef during the winter. We were talking about slow food, 100 mile diets, and consumer and restaurant supported agriculture (CSA & RSA). From that idea, sprung the idea of a week-long tour in the Adirondack Park. My partner, EWL, who supports me in all my food adventures but seldom joins me, scheduled a rare vacation so he could come along.
Once the trip began we almost immediately gave up on being strict locavores. I say it happened when I was offered French Champagne (Taittingers!) instead of New York sparkling wine at The Point. He remembers it was the delicious spice-encrusted Arkansas catfish and hush puppies at the Windfall Restaurant. Either way, once we got over ourselves, we ate and drank some of the best meals I’ve ever been served. It seemed as if each place we went the chef tried to outdo our previous meal in an over-the-top culinary contest. Our motto? Let the games begin!
Tupper Lake Celebration
In Tupper Lake we drove past an old-fashioned lakefront motel called Sunset Park several times before ruling out the classier, in-town locations in favor of its water views. Ducks, loons and water lapping gently outside the window as the sun set into the lake made up for the drive we would have to take for dinner. Two guys asking for a motel room - no problem. For about $80 we got a kitchenette and directions to the best eats in town. They even gave us each a coupon good for a free appetizer!
The 19th Hole Restaurant at the Tupper Lake Golf Course was all it was touted to be. The menu looked so good that I ordered three appetizers, Chicken Rangoon served first, with shrimp on green beans to be served as my entree and the cheese and fruit board to be our shared dessert. The last came with wine! EWL was more conventional, ordering a salad, with seared bay scallops as a main course. Counting drinks we spent less than $60, about half what the down-state cost would be. My only complaint was that there was no New York wine on the menu. New York’s Finger Lakes is the third largest wine-making region in the country, while the Hudson Valley is the oldest. (The waiter’s eyes rolled as I told him that.) After dinner I promised my long-suffering partner not to give any more lectures about New York wines and to stop adding up the costs. What I got in return rose with the full moon that night, our anniversary moon.
Windfall Restaurant in Cranberry Lake
I’d been looking forward to visiting the Windfall Restaurant in Cranberry Lake for several years. If it had been closer than a five hour drive I’d have been there sooner. As it was, John Dragun, one of the chefs I follow, and his wife Roz fed us and put us up in country style. Their restaurant is an old bar & grill officially in the middle of an unpopulated area. John brought his Culinary Institute of America skills and Roz her B&B expertise to an outpost of civilization in New York’s last great wilderness. Make no mistake, you’d be as comfortable here in mukluks and Carhartts as Gucci and Ralph Lauren (and far less conspicuous), but there isn’t a more honestly procured, prepared, and served meal available in the park. Everything is made from fresh ingredients when you order it. Look for deliciously breaded and expertly sauced simple dishes, and be sure to order the capellini (and the shrimp, and the catfish, and definitely the steak!) I’d suggest that you make a reservation, or be prepared to wait to be seated. If you’re really lucky, Roz will have rooms available. Play your cards right and she’ll even give you directions for a hike to Rainbow Falls in the morning. Remember, food is fuel - you’ve gotta burn it!
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