The Elm

If going out to eat was just about the food, I’d implore you to drop everything, go on Resy as you jump in the car and drive to Great Barrington, because there’s a new, extremely gifted young chef in town. Ian King is just out of CIA (Culinary Institute of America), but he’s one terrific find.

The fare was good when we first sampled The Elm right after its opening, but King’s recent arrival has elevated its food to the best in town. We greedily devoured just about everything on his menu: sweetly charred beets in taleggio counterbalanced by crispy leeks, citrusy hake crudo accompanied by an unexpectedly conversation-stopping buttermilk emulsion laced with parsley oil, meaty octopus brightened by a charged salsa verde and a kick of pepper coulis, burrata savvily paired with squash and a brisk anchovy vinaigrette.

Even King’s oysters get special treatment thanks to his pink peppercorn mignonette. However, the marinated lobster salad may be my favorite item on the menu. Not only is it sensational, but it’s also priced to be irresistible.

There are two appealing pastas on the menu: a vibrant preparation for gnocchi using pistachio arugula pesto and chili oil, and the housemade semolina strands in a rich medley of locally harvested mushrooms in a sauce of cognac and ricotta. I don’t remember the last time I had scallops that made me sit up and take notice. King’s flash seared rendition with pancetta and truffle oil almost made me ignore my guests. The seared duck breast is superb, the flaky halibut is surrounded by a lively piperade of onions and tomatoes. And though I’ve more than had my fill of kale salad, I’d readily order King’s version with roasted grapes and hazelnuts the next time I’m back.

The question is: Am I going back?

The first time we walked into the restaurant, there was no one to greet us. We just sort of stood there. Then something must have registered with the gentleman sitting at the bar who suddenly got up to seat us. How did you miss us? We were eight feet away. The next time we dined at The Elm, friends of that same gentleman—he’s either a manager or co-owner, though we never found out— showed up for a pre-party cocktail or two and he proceeded to sit with them for the rest of the evening. When we left, our waitress, whom we liked a lot, thanked us but we walked out without the guy or anyone else ever getting up to thank us and wish us good night. The third time, though there was still one table left in the room, there was no one on the floor even after waiting. Unbelievable

Finally, to check on the veracity of this review, I often call and ask to speak with the chef to confirm preparation and ingredients, and as with the other reviews, to find out a little history about the chef as well as his goals and intent. I was especially eager to speak with Chef King because of my enthusiasm for his talent. During the week, I left three messages on The Elm’s voicemail. No call was returned. When I finally did get someone to pick up the phone on a Saturday, though I made clear my affiliation to this magazine and my delight at having enjoyed Chef King’s dishes, I was brusquely informed, by a voice that sounded a lot like the gentleman at the bar, that the chef could not speak to me until late the following week, though the restaurant’s closed on Monday and Tuesday and was then admonished for not having called sooner. Upon being informed of the three previous messages, the voice hesitated for a moment, then said there was nothing he could do, wouldn’t take my number to pass the message on and hung up. Suddenly, I wasn’t hungry for that lobster salad anymore. And now I don’t know if I want to go back.

Ponder this: How many restaurants do you go to, where the food’s just fine, but you frequent the place because you like the way you’re greeted and treated, plus the people who work there are happy to see you? Now how many restaurants do you go to where the food’s superb, but no one gives a crap whether you show up once a month or once a week. Exactly. I really do want to go back to The Elm. I just wish my being there mattered more, or at all. Makes me wish I had Astrid’s withering glare. Maybe the next time I go to there, I’ll bring Astrid with me. That’ll show ’em.

THE ELM

20 Railroad Street Great Barrington, MA

413.644.0146 open: Wednesday–Friday, 5pm-10pm Saturday & Sunday, 11am-10pm