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Written by Charles Oppman
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Grandale Farm Restaurant is in Purcellville, Virginia, not far beyond historic Leesburg. It’s a point of destination for sure. It’s about an hour’s car ride from the metro area and worth the trip just to enjoy the beauty of the countryside. As the metro area grows smaller in your rear view mirror, you’ll begin to ease into the hinterland of Loudoun County and the northern most reaches of Virginia’s wine country.
Wineries abound in a region brimming with American history. Rows of grapevines neatly line tracts of land once farmed by colonial homesteaders. To many Virginians, this landscape represents far more than the business of viticulture; this is hallowed ground. This is where their forefathers carved out a life. Before you know it you’re smack dab in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. A verdant sea of hills and pastures appears to roll on forever.
Suddenly you’re at Grandale Farm Restaurant. As you enter the property you’ll notice mature linden trees standing straight and tall as if they are natures sentinels guarding the restaurant. As we strode toward the bistro I was reminded of an auberge in the French Pyrenees where I lunched many years ago. The dining room is spartan yet not uncomfortable ― a few wall hangings, fresh-cut flowers, last winter’s ashes still in the fireplace ... A curious cook sporting a toque blanc peered through the window that connects the dining room with the kitchen. I supposed he wanted to get a glimpse of the customers.
My lunch companion and I were greeted warmly by a young man who would be our waiter and, as we discovered later, was also the manager. We requested a table on the patio, but a violent afternoon rainstorm chased us indoors.
A basket containing three kinds of house-made bread was promptly delivered to our table. This bread was exceptional. It was warm and its aroma whetted our appetites. With a bottle of wine and a bit of cheese we would have been content. I appreciate restaurants that make their own bread; so few do. Most lack the requisite skills or the specialized equipment.
We decided to begin with the pork and rice soup, crab cake and Virginia smoked trout. The soup was awesome; my bowl was full of diced pork and wild rice in an intense natural broth that was laced with fresh sage. The crab cake was plump, moist and full of jumbo lump with only the necessary binders. It was sautéed to form an attractive bronze crust and served atop slender grilled asparagus and roasted red pepper rémoulade sauce. I’m unsure why the executive chef, Author Clark, Jr., insists on calling this a rémoulade when it isn’t remotely close to the French classic, a type of mayonnaise-based tartar sauce. The smoked trout appetizer was tasty enough, but the presentation was an afterthought. Flakes of trout, slices of Shitake mushrooms, artichoke hearts and caramelized onions were tossed with vinaigrette and served in a soup cup. We chefs have an expression: “You take the first bite with your eyes.”
My companion couldn’t resist the pork loin entrée, which proved to be a good choice. Because it was marinated in a brine solution, the thick-cut steak exuded an exceptional amount of natural juice. It was heated just long enough to cook it thoroughly, but not so long as to desiccate it; a rookie mistake many kitchens just can’t seem to avoid. Her pork was served with emerald-green and crispy haricot vert and sautéed spätzle ― small, firm egg dumplings common to the cuisine of southern Germany and regions of neighboring countries.
I couldn’t resist the quintessential American sandwich ― the beef burger. Many consider beef burgers as pedestrian fare, but there are beef burgers and then there are beef burgers. If done properly, a burger can be uncommonly good and mine was exactly that. The correctly seasoned ground sirloin was juicy and unctuous due to the correct lean to fat ratio. It was served on a toasted Kaiser roll and accompanied by fresh fruit compote. As much as I wanted to devour the entire sandwich I wouldn’t; dessert was in the offing.
As outstanding as the meal had been to that point, the quality of the desserts could not have been more disparate. I ordered the cheesecake. It was New York-style; firm and creamy with a mixed nut base. A tart berry coulis provided a compatible ying yang flavor balance. This simple dessert is an example of how less is more in gastronomy. It was uncomplicated yet perfect.
The organic peach and lemon frozen torte, however, was a disappointment. It was pretty much just a chunk of unsweetened frozen fruit juice. The texture resembled that of granité ― the course, granular cousin to sorbet. As a rule, fruit purée desserts require dissolved gelatin ― necessary to maintain firmness when thawed ― combined with Swiss or Italian meringue or whipped cream, or both, to provide a velvety texture and creamy mouth feel. This dessert was neither velvety nor creamy. To be fair, this might have been an aberration. Being a former restaurateur, I know the difficulties of producing a consistently good product.
There is more to Grandale Farm restaurant than meets the stomach. There is also a dinner theater in an adjacent building. An interactive murder mystery comedy was scheduled around the time of our visit. It sounded like great fun.
Chef Clark is producing some very decent food at affordable prices. If he hasn’t developed a following, I hope he does. He deserves it. A few menu items need a bit of tweaking, but that’s true of most restaurants. Now that I’ve discovered Grandale Farm I’ll be sure to include it in my itinerary whenever I’m making the rounds in Loudoun County wine country. |
