Winvian, Morris

Winvian
cuisine:Contemporary French
prix-fixe dinner: $85
address: 155 Alain White Road, Morris
phone: (860) 393-3004
credit cards: Visa, Mastercard, American Express

5 Stars… Extraordinary

Away from it all

A faithful reader of my reviews for RestaurantsCT.com might draw the conclusion that I tend to like every restaurant I visit. Nothing could be further from the truth. I visit so many undistinguished eateries and slog through so much pedestrian food searching for restaurants I feel are worth highlighting that I should draw combat pay. I just don’t waste my time and energy (or yours) covering the mediocre ones. But when I find a newcomer that I can rave about, I have the ebullience of the youngster who has just landed his or her first fish, the miner who has found a sizeable gold nugget in his sluice, the paleontologist who has turned up a bone that challenges conventional evolutionary thinking.

Even among restaurants I can get enthused about, there are degrees of difference. Some restaurants manage, at least, to provide a jolt or two of excitement, a smaller number are competent across the board, and a select few make me think Michelin should be paying them a visit to determine how many stars they deserve.

One such oasis of pleasure and good taste is Winvian, a Relais et Châteaux property situated in the town of Morris in the Litchfield Hills, just eight miles from its presumptive competition, Washington’s Mayflower Inn & Spa. Winvian eclipses the Mayflower in offering the most exclusive (and priciest) accommodations in Connecticut, and its dining offerings should rank among Connecticut’s best as well. Normally, I’m no fan of stratospherically priced accommodations. To drop a couple of grand on a luxury suite in Manhattan or Las Vegas is appalling to me. It’s rampant, showy consumerism at its worst.

But Winvian isn’t for those who feel the need to show off. It’s discreet rather than ostentatious, the kind of destination that makes better sense at a time the phrase “inconspicuous consumption” is being bandied about. This incredible retreat manages to be classic yet quirky, luxurious yet rustic, mannered yet exhilaratingly freeing. Fifteen leading architects were recruited to design eighteen cottages, each cottage following a particular theme. There’s a helicopter cottage, in which the lounge is an actual 17,000-pound 1964 Sikorsky Pelican helicopter restored as lovingly as any vintage automobile. There’s a tree house cottage, a small paradise among the canopy designed to evoke the feeling of a boy’s treetop retreat. There’s a Secret Society cottage that looks from the outside like the clandestine Skull & Bones Society meeting place, but inside has a graciousness and lightness that the original surely lacks. There’s a log cabin, an artists cottage, a music cottage, a library cottage, a golf cottage, even a stable. Viewed from the outside, one of the most intriguing is the stone cottage, which is billed as a “no-comfort-spared cave.” I can only imagine the interior. Of special appeal to Nutmeggers, there’s a medieval-themed cottage called A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court.

Anchoring all of these enchanting lodging possibilities is the Smith Ell House, a stately farmhouse surrounded by sprawling green lawns, stone walls and manicured gardens. Inside the Smith Ell House, guests will find a game room and sitting rooms on the ground floor. The second-floor dining areas are reached by mounting a circular staircase inside a restored wooden silo, which adds a touch of drama to the farmhouse’s quiet class.

Winvian, we learn, was named for husband and wife Windsor and Vivian Smith. Winthrop was a founding partner of Merrill Lynch, while Vivian was a glamorous Powers model. The 113-acre property remains in the Smith family, owned by mother Maggie (no relation to the esteemed actress) and daughter Heather. The Smiths also own The Pitcher Inn, a Relais et Châteaux property in Warren, Vermont.

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While Winvian’s lodging may be priced out of most people’s casual reach, its meals are considerably more accessible. (And the room rates are a better deal than they initially sound, because they include all meals, even room service.) The dining public is welcomed Wednesday through Sunday for either lunch, which is à la carte, or dinner, which is prix-fixe.

Reservations are recommended, because on occasion large groups reserve the entire retreat for weddings or other functions. Diners choose an appetizer, an entrée and a dessert, but typically receive an amuse bouche before dinner, petit fours after dessert and a surprise course or two at the kitchen’s whim. Amenities like terrific artisanal breads, French butter, coffee and select teas are standard.

Winvian has assembled a superb restaurant staff. Each dish that comes from the kitchen is beautifully plated, presented like a work of art. Executive chef Chris Eddy is a French Culinary Institute graduate who traveled extensively throughout his youth, opening his palate to a world of possibilities. Eddy has served as a sous chef to both Alain Ducasse and Daniel Boulud, and he has prepared dinner at the James Beard Foundation. He calls his cooking style “à la minute,” which translates into taking the freshest, highest quality ingredients and cooking them at the last possible moment so they are at their very best. Pastry chef Gilles Ballay, who trained in France, also dazzles with extraordinary creations. Savvy food and beverage manager Paolo Middei is a gracious host.

On the occasion of my visit, I am accompanied by three of the people with whom I am closest. One is celebrating his birthday, and I cannot imagine how one could do so in better style. We have to ourselves the Maple Room, which is the very room in which Merrill Lynch was founded (even if its founding partners are no doubt gyrating in their graves at what has become of their vision). The room is lined with handsome wood paneling and graciously appointed with lovely antiques and bric-a-brac. A real fire crackles in the hearth.

Despite all of its tradition, Winvian is part of that new generation of top American restaurants that grow significant portions of their produce. Still River Café in Eastford and Blue Hill at Stone Barns in Westchester County are nearby examples. The Winvian estate includes a greenhouse, an apple orchard and a vineyard, producing, among other things, tomatoes, squash, eggplants, blueberries and all kinds of herbs. And of course, Winvian enjoys an idyllic location where there are many good organic farms in the vicinity.

We’re off-menu at Winvian, which is a very good place to be. Not known for my restraint, I encourage the kitchen to throw everything it can at us—even the kitchen sink. We have no idea what’s coming our way, and the suspense adds palpably to our excitement. We’re poured flutes of Perrier-Jouët Grand Brut ($85), a lovely enough Champagne to overcome my normal standoffishness toward sparkling libations. We’re served exquisite miniature cornbreads enlivened with sweet little kernels of corn, a touch of jalapeño and the wonderful gritty texture of cornmeal.

The dry Champagne proves to be stellar accompaniment to our first course, such an exercise in excess that we would cheerfully make an entire meal of it. Presented on a slate slab, the charcuterie platter includes generous portions of pâté en croûte (pastry enclosing a mostly duck terrine with pistachio and morel mushroom), mélange toute (a mixture of pork shank and foie gras), aromatic smoked Pekin duck slices, a rustic pâté grandmère (a mixture of pork, chicken liver and Cognac), a rich duck rillette, a smooth chicken mousse and a silky foie gras torchon. Stars in their own right, the meats are backed by an impressive supporting cast. Among the understudies are brioche toasts and a cutting board covered with bowls of marinated red, pink and yellow beets, pickled celery, pickled carrot and whole grain mustard.

We move from very substantial provisions to ethereally light fare. Our second course might best be described as “octopus two ways.” One small plate holds an octopus salad, its base of sliced potato topped with tender tentacles, shaved fennel, slivers of purple onion, flecks of anchovy, capers, and dill weed. The other small plate showcases an attractive octopus mosaic, which is actually extremely thin slices of octopus terrine topped with pine nuts, bits of orange and fleur de sel. Both octopus offerings are absolutely delicious.

The octopus is accompanied by a lovely 2006 Rudera Chenin Blanc, Stellenbosch, South Africa ($28) that shows Winvian was careful to include some affordable vintages on its wine list. In fact, there are several nice wines in the $20s and $30s. And while I realize few readers will ever have the opportunity to whet their lips on a Château Petrus (and neither will I, unless I start cultivating some more affluent friends), Winvian’s price of $1,500 for the 1999 is less than the wholesale price some distributors charge for this wine by the bottle and represents only a fifty percent markup on the case price (when two to three hundred percent is more typical of restaurants). Winvian’s wine list is global in scope, with particular emphasis on French, Italian and American producers.

Our next dish, so mouthwatering I forget to sneak a photograph of it, features scallop-edged, cuttlefish-ink nocchette served with shrimp, garlic, parsnip, tomato and a touch of dry vermouth. The Neapolitan pasta are light, luscious and wonderfully al dente. It’s a dish worthy of Ibiza in New Haven, I observe, which is one of my highest compliments.

Signaling our next course is a 2006 Maison Ambroise, Ladoix Premier Cru “Les Grechons,” Burgundy, France ($65). And what a next course it is, beautiful pan-roasted halibut, its silky, unsullied, virgin-white flesh complemented by a delightful quinoa salad with saffron, cilantro, olive, roasted pepper, grape and dried apricot, a combination that hints of North Africa or the Middle East. We love the confidence shown in serving really good fish naked.

We set foot firmly on land and turn our backs to the sea with a 2003 Ferro Carlo “Roche” Barbera d’Asti, Italy ($45), a red wine with plenty of body, a lot of fruit and well-balanced tannins. And yet our food comes not from land or sea but from the air. It proves to be a squab pastilla, a celebrated Moroccan dish with sweet and salty contrasts in which shredded chicken or even fish is sometimes substituted for the traditional fledgling pigeons. At Winvian, there would be no substitutions, only additions. In addition to tender pink squab, there is also foie gras, spinach and dried fruits wrapped tightly, and picturesquely, in phyllo dough. This delicacy is surrounded by a moat of squab demi-glace and plated with a tangle of spaghetti squash, a lightly poached quail egg and a cipollini onion.

The pastilla was hardly everyday fare, but neither is our next dish, a superior piece of bison filet mignon in a black pepper sauce accompanied by assorted root vegetables. Garnished with lardons of bacon are pommes boulangère, potatoes in the style of the baker’s wife, so named because of the crunchy golden crust they acquire through slow cooking. The meat is spectacularly tender and teeth-tinglingly flavorful. One of the world’s leanest meats, bison toughens easily. It’s one meat you don’t want to request at a temperature much beyond medium-rare.

Accompanying this supremely satisfying dish is a 2003 Fisher Vineyards “Cameron,” Napa, California ($90). The 2003 was a particularly good year in a string of vintages that was consistently scored in the low nineties by Robert Parker’s Wine Advocate. Decanted first, this wine is absolutely gorgeous, a heady blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot and Malbec with hints of black currant and even coffee.

It’s hard not to be swept off one’s feet by such incredible fare. Even our desserts come at us in three waves, tsunamis of pleasure and flavor that break over our heads and carry us off, our resistance shattered. First to arrive is a “pre-dessert,” a warning of what’s to come, just a little receding water sucking at our feet. Little more than a palate cleanser, the pre-dessert is just a bit of coconut tapioca, passion fruit crème anglaise and grapefruit.

Next comes the real onslaught, knocking us off our feet, carrying us away. There’s a roasted pear tiramisù crowned with almond crackle, a sour cream cheesecake topped with blueberry compote and lemon peel confit, and an apple tarte Tatin with brown butter ice cream. Living up to its name, a strawberry delight combines miniature strawberry macaroons, fresh berries, raspberry sorbet, strawberry sorbet and whipped cream. Chocolate? We’re chockablock in chocolate, with a puffy chocolate soufflé, a milk chocolate crunch with vanilla ice cream, and a white chocolate mousse cake with raspberry, sliced strawberry and edible gold leaf.

And finally, there’s the aftermath of this seismic event, the waters sucking back to sea leaving us high and dry, dazed and confused. We try to find space for a selection of petit fours that, in my opinion, eclipses in quality and variety those I’ve had at fine French restaurants like Bernard’s in Ridgefield, Thomas Henkelmann in Greenwich and La Panetière in Rye, New York. There are coconut roches, raspberry chocolate truffles, pistachio chocolate truffles, fruit jellies, strawberry macaroons, coffee macaroons, and pineapple financiers, just to name a few. And with all of this excess, we sip a 2000 Kadlec, Lyss-Doux Eiswein, Austria ($40), an ice wine made of Grüner Veltliner grapes, shaking our heads in wonderment. Asked by Middei what’s my favorite dessert, I’m almost paralyzed. But of course, there are no wrong answers.

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Two of our party reluctantly take their leave after dinner, two of us stay the night. My grown daughter and I hunker down in the Beaver Lodge, a charming, spacious cottage in the woods that rivals in design and comfort any lodging that I have enjoyed anywhere in my world travels. The beaver cottage suggested to us proves a perfect choice because I’m fascinated by the creatures, being one of the few people on this earth who can say they know someone who was bitten by a beaver. Perhaps a decade ago, I was in Cornwall when a young fellow tried to chase a beaver off its famed covered bridge, concerned that cars would run the critter down in the dark.

Unfortunately, the beaver, feeling threatened, leapt onto the youngster’s leg and sunk his teeth into it, leaving behind the most distinctive bite mark one would ever be likely to see. Luckily for the young fellow, it was a warning bite and the beaver didn’t fully close its teeth together, because any animal that can take huge chunks out of trees could do tremendous damage. In fact, beavers cause many problems around the country with their tree-felling and damming. Some people want beavers removed or destroyed, but it’s a suggestion that gets animal lovers up in arms. I guess you’re damned if you do, and dammed if you don’t.

Our cottage’s interior is a fabulous blend of wood and stone. Over the master bed is a ceiling of interlocking varnished sticks, a stylized rendering of what it would be like to live inside a beaver lodge looking up at its intricate construction. There’s a massive stone fireplace, a fire blazing away and lending an odor of real smoke. We climb a circular staircase that wraps around a thick tree trunk, its iron railings topped with rope. It leads to a loft bedroom. We find a light switch in the tree trunk. A wood canoe dangles near the fireplace. We feel as though we’re staying in our own hobbit house, or the beaver lodge in The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. A carved wooden beaver, guardian of the lodge, rears up from the footboard of the master bed, as if surveying all it has wrought.

The luxuries and curios outfitting our cottage probably cost more than most people’s houses. The cabin is wondrously rustic but stealthily modern. Hit the right button and a liquid crystal flat-screen television rises from inside a wall. There’s a serious Bose sound system, and a well-outfitted bar. The bathroom is the nicest I have ever used, the beaver theme continued with stone, tree trunks and varnished sticks. There’s a toilet hidden behind frosted glass, a sumptuous, glassed-enclosed steam shower large enough so one can be seated, and a Jacuzzi that makes both my daughter and I wish we were with just about any member of the opposite sex except each other. My daughter says she could picture herself spending her wedding night at Winvian, before jetting off somewhere tropical for her honeymoon. “Better start saving now,” I tell her.

It’s difficult to leave in the morning. “Can’t we just live here?” we pout, when it’s time to depart. But before we leave the retreat, we’re fetched by Winvian’s silver Mercedes-Benz 450 GL for a bite of breakfast at the Smith Ell House. We enjoy pan au chocolat, fresh croissants, lemon pound cake and a fruit smoothie, then choose between brioche French toast, truffled scrambled eggs and an omelet. Finally, we take a tour of some of the other cottages, confirming our deep-seated conviction that everyone who stays at Winvian is likely to be as fortunate as we, holed up in the Beaver Lodge, were. Giant snowflakes bound past our heads, heightening the feeling that we are in a magical world of someone’s imagination.

Ours, sadly, must be a short stay. We learn that the activities Winvian offers include everything from hot air balloon rides to glass-blowing to croquet to kayaking to race driving lessons at Lime Rock Park in nearby Lakeville. And, of course, there’s Winvian’s relaxing spa. We hope circumstances will conspire to bring us back sometime, but we know this visit will be imprinted on our memories forever.

There are plenty of places that will part you from your hard-earned money, but few, if any, that will deliver the incredible kind of experience that this oasis of civility and comfort will. At most high-priced venues, you can’t win for losing. At extraordinary Winvian, you can’t lose for winning.