Barrows House

Barrows House is destination dining. Executive Chef Zach Baker is a tattooed, glove-wearing wizard in the kitchen, casting spells and potions to create food magic.   

Tucked back off Route 30 in Dorset, Vermont, Barrows House might at first be overlooked.  And you might ask,  just what is a barrow, anyway?  

Well, a burial mound.  Or one definition says “a luggage trolley.”  

Not helpful. Hard to imagine anyone naming a place for a luggage trolley. 

I surrendered and  perused the online background information--and--surprise--Barrows House is named after the couple who built it in the 1800s--Theresa and Experience Barrows.

Ok, Theresa is a nice name--but Experience! How cool is that?  To be Experience,  personified.  And to think he lived just down the road from a guy with another all-time great name, Consider Bardwell--who opened the first cheesemaking operation in Vermont.  Until recently,  Consider Bardwell cheese was sold all over the place--until Woodlawn Creamery took over its cheesemaking--thankfully keeping the cheese, but changing the name.  

That’s another story--but Woodlawn sends cheese and also wagyu beef to Barrows House--establishing the Bardwell-Barrows link for the 21st century.

Had I known that Consider and Experience--and other wonderful Quaker names-- were available to boys born this century, my son might be, oh, Pious, or Curiosity or Wander… 

But I digress.

In addition to being a restaurant, Barrows House is a sumptuous inn.  If you want a glimpse of it,    enter from the front.  If you want the vibe of the lively bar, enter from the back.   The bar hosts hordes for its trivia nights--and even here on a Tuesday, the night of our visit,  during early fall foliage--the place is hopping. Music was there in the background above the buzz of conversation. Rooms are cozy and welcoming.  A large high-backed booth looked especially inviting, a cocoon for dining.  

In a quieter section of the restaurant, my friend Cathy and I sit next to a candle wall--with actual mounted candles flickering--and she orders a Lavender Sunset mocktail.  She reports it as being pleasantly lavender-y.  I have an Old Fashioned--and to be Vermonty, I ask for Whistlepig bourbon, which creates an earthy bass for the drink--perfect for a fall evening.  

Our waiter Tom brought bread with whipped cinnamon (!) butter. (Tom, by the way, was present when needed, invisible otherwise, a perfect, genial guide to the meal.) 

 Just as we were savoring the bread--whosh--the steak tartar arrived.  

Some timid souls flee at the sight of uncooked beef set before them--but this dish was luscious, with capers, smokiness, and brine floating through each bite.  Woodlawn beef is bred for wagyu marbling, raised on grains grown locally, all of which give the beef a rich flavor hinting of grass, flavor deepened in the steak tartare by the roasted bone marrow aioli. The house kettle chips added a welcome crunch.

The crab cakes, flecked with red bell peppers, are softly crispy, full of crabby goodness. The remoulade, a creamy, mayonnaise-based sauce, harkens back to France and nods to  Louisiana Creole cuisine.  

The main course featured Woodlawn tomahawk steaks, butchered by Chef Zach Baker. The steaks were pink, luscious, juicy--the tips well done.  Zach, the sultan of salt, finished it with just the right amount of Maldon smoked sea salt to catapult it to the next level.

Oh, and the fingerling potatoes--roasted and then fried in duck fat to bring out a rich, crunchiness. 

Diets are meant for tomorrow.

The steak paired beautifully with a full, slightly fruit-forward Daou cab from Paso Robles, available by the glass and bottle. Barrows House often runs a special of tomahawk steak for two, paired with the Daou.  If you like steak and red wine, your choice is simple.

It’s a testament to the spectacular crab, tartare and tomahawk dishes that the butter poached lobster is the shy partygoer in the corner here: perfectly fine, tender and luscious--but not the boisterous crowd-pleaser front and center.  

For dessert, we ordered the apple crisp--crunchy,  sweet--ah--perfect for fall.  Or any season, really.

And of course we could not resist the fluffernutter sundae,  which arrived sparkling like a little Vesuvius.  I admit, I was doubtful--a marshmallow fluff, caramel, chocolate, ice cream, peanut butter concoction seemed, well, over the top.  After it stopped smoldering, I plunged in with a spoon.  Hmm, not bad.  Just one more bite.  Well.  14 bites later and Cathy and I were alternating spoonfuls--a surprising flourish to end the meal.    

I pushed back in my chair.  

Imagine riding in the back of a convertible Cadillac, one of those land yachts  from the sixties, cradled in sumptuous leather, awash in the scents of a warm summer evening,  a harvest moon casting a golden glow.  This meal was like that, sumptuous and satisfying.  

A couple days later I ate at a highly touted restaurant in Burlington--which was fine.  But the verve and punch of the flavors made the Barrows House food stand out.  

In short, I have just one piece of advice: Experience Barrows House.