Eat in order.
Choose twice.

Ember

Sight — served in firelight

White oak from the valley floor. The room goes dark before the first plate lands.

Garden

Smell — crushed herbs

Sauvie Island greens, picked at dawn and dead by dinner. No menu survives them.

Hearth

Touch — torn bread, culture butter

From the mouth of the kiln, still too hot to hold properly.

Taste — you decide

Columbia River against Willamette pasture. Two plates leave the kiln; one reaches you.

Roots

Smell — cellar vegetables, ash

What the cold room kept for us since October.

Touch — you decide

One course is eaten with hands, the other forgives cutlery. Both embarrass the tablecloth.

The Long Fire

Taste — dry-aged, ember greens

The signature. Forty-five days aged, ninety seconds over oak, lemon ash.

Ferment

Smell — crock seven, day fourteen

Eleven-month miso, roof-hive honey. The back wall in a bite.

Orchard

Taste — Hood River stone fruit

Whatever the valley sent this morning, barely touched by heat.

Rind

Taste — raw milk, smoked honey

One cheese, one honey, no distractions.

Sweet Smoke

Taste — bitter cocoa

Hood River stone fruit under burnt caramel. The lights come up slowly.

Nightcap

Smell — pine tea, last light

Needles from the same woods as the oak. Drink it looking at the fire.