The new Steve-Eats serial: genius loci

In an episode of Treasuresof New York about Columbia University I watched recently on PBS, the architect Renzo Piano mentioned the desire of the school’s administration to account for the genius loci of the surrounding Harlem community when designing the buildings for the university’s new campus.  He went on to give his brief definition, “The genius of the place.”

So during this week I have been thinking about genius loci as it relates to all things food and by coincidence/confluence I also caught the Burgundy episode of Huang’s World on the new ViceLand network in which Eddie Huang discussed terroir the French, more BV familiar version of genius loci.

My conclusions:

1. Even if we take into account that the programming I watch trends toward the educational (Agnes calls them “Steve Shows,”) rather than say the mindlessness of most reality television or the toxic, intellectual fungus of Fox News, I watch too much television,
2. I will borrow the term genius loci (I hope the Romans won’t mind) for the title of a new serial here at Steve-Eats to encompass the genius of place in its myriad variation.  In our little endeavor, place can mean restaurant, farm stand, deli, bodega, city, world region and its genius its food, beverage, people, atmosphere or je ne sais quoi that makes it unique and appealing,
3. I really should apologize for the number of italicized words in this post.  So smug, so elitist.  Is this a food blog entry or Master Thesis you jackass?

Rather than further, boring explication let’s get to it with the first installment of genius loci: grilled oysters and Riga Black Balsam at Darkhorse Restaurant, East Main Street, Riverhead, NY.

I’ll be honest, I do not frequent Darkhorse.  Our relationship is challenged.  How do I best explain it?  Maybe the best comparison is dating.  Perhaps you meet someone, you get along sort of, but you do not really hit it off, but for a reason you cannot quite put your mind around, you keep trying.  You sense there is something there only to find more disappointment the next time you meet, but that does not preclude trying again and again and again…

So there’s that, but now there are the grilled oysters which until our most recent visit, we had never, to our subsequent shame ordered.  In fact it took a well traveled out of town guest to put us on the path to possible reconciliation (thanks LM!)  Indeed, they were perfect: local briny shellfish deliciousness teased with butter and a hint of smoke and sufficient reason in and of themselves for a return engagement.

The other reason I find my way back to Darkhorse on occasion: Riga Black Balsam.  It is likely that Darkhorse is the only establishment in the greater expanse of Long Island that has this Latvian aperitif on offer. 

When I first saw it high on the third shelf, appearing to be (in its resplendently sexy black bottle lettered in gold) more decoration than active pour, I was forced in shock, amazement and genuine disbelief to ask, “Is there anything in that bottle?  Or is it just there for decoration?”

The bartender then had to admit, “I have never poured it.  I will have to check.”

Riga Black Balsam is an acquired taste children.  As Agnes once said, “It smells like dirt.  I am not drinking that.”  Her advice is sound and I am certainly not advocating its consumption unless one appreciates earthy (a euphemism for smells like or tastes like dirt,) herbaceous aperitifs that were originally concocted (before the advent of antibiotics) as medicinal tinctures. If that is your boat, by all means hop the hell on it is an interesting sail.

For me, Riga Black Balsam has come represent the weird weaving confluences of Life, of friendship, of loss and unless you buy a bottle and split it with me, that is all that I am saying about that.

And so ends the first installment of genius loci: grilled oysters and Riga Black Balsam at Darkhorse Restaurant. 

Sorry for all of the fucking italics.