The squash arrived on Monday, in the back of a pickup that also held the last of the season’s peppers and a crate of apples nobody had ordered but everybody ate. That is how the menu changes here: not by meeting, but by delivery. Tuesday morning the new menu gets written around what the farms actually brought.
So this week the squash opens the night — roasted over oak until the edges catch, with brown butter and the sage from the bed behind the kitchen. It is the first dish of the short season, and it will stay on the menu exactly as long as the squash keeps coming, which the farm reckons is five or six weeks.
Some things do not move. The short rib has not left the menu since the first winter, and it is not leaving for a squash. The bread is still baked in the back room in the afternoon, and there are still exactly two courses and no substitutions worth arguing about at the pass.
If you are coming this week, book if you can — twenty-eight seats is not many, and October fills. If you cannot get a table, remember the bar keeps two stools for walk-ins, and the squash tastes just as good from a stool.
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