Making our way to BUTTERMILK CHANNEL
It all started with a stroll through Brooklyn Heights, Cobble Hill, and finally to our destination in Carroll Gardens. We were headed to Buttermilk Channel.
Named after an essential waterway between Brooklyn and Governor's Island that dairy farmers would cross to deliver their milk to the markets in Manhattan, this sweet little restaurant seemed just as essential in making our trip to New York City for Thanksgiving with family a memorable one.
The menu was both simple and decadent. We began our evening with a rum cocktail, the Fairharbor, which is rum of two kinds, Ginger Beer, Pomegranate juice and lime. It went down way too easily. (Decadent.)
We then moved to a mysteriously delivered bowl of bacon maple roasted almonds that had a slight dusting of mustard. Hard not to rifle all down in one handful. (Simple.)
During our little menu perusal, we found ourselves faced with one of each appetizer (since my brother knew the owner and all). We had a pork rillette. We had a silky-smooth chicken liver with roasted grapes (seriously). We had a country pork terrine with home-made pickles. And we had a couple of thick slices? slabs? bricks? of bacon that were dressed in this mustard goo-y glaze that was way more better than the hot-sweet mustard packets that you get at Chinese restaurants, but just as crazy. (Decadent)
And then our entrees arrived. I had a short rib beef stew that I didn't really want to share-even a bite-it was so good. My husband, Scott, had the duck meatloaf that came with the world's largest onion ring. My brother ordered their famous fried chicken with cheese waffles, and my sister-in-law had the warm lamb and romaine salad. We were speechless for about 20 minutes save for the occassional guttural moans and groans coming from our throats. With two bottles of a super-fine Pinot Noir, our evening could not have been more perfect. (Simple.) (Decadent.)
There were the desserts and the Sauternes. It was not perfect. It was sublime.
(photos from *here*)