Like Mickey Rourke’s character in The Wrestler, Dennis Foy—a New Jersey culinary legend—has emerged from retirement to discover that he can still draw a crowd. It would be difficult to overstate the influence of his early work; Foy put Jersey dining on the map when he opened the Tarragon Tree in Meyersville in 1975, moving it to Chatham in 1978. He was also a mentor to Craig Shelton, former chef of the Ryland Inn and the only Garden State chef to bring home a James Beard award. In the 1980s, Foy was Tom Colicchio’s boss at the Mondrian in Manhattan, and by 2007 he had an eponymous restaurant in Tribeca and two others on the Jersey Shore.
Then came a routine cardiologist visit in 2007 that resulted in emergency open-heart surgery. Foy sold his restaurants, swore off the business, and focused on painting the subdued and evocative landscapes that have long been his passion. Those paintings decorate the dining room of his new restaurant. Foy was hired to consult at the Lawrenceville Inn while on hiatus and wound up with the deed (his wife, Estella, is co-owner and operating manager) after a bid that he describes as an out-of-body experience. “I’m making an offer,” Foy recalls, “and I’m thinking, Did I just say that?”
Foy bought the property eighteen months after retiring. But watching him work the crowded front room or preside over the open kitchen with commanding ease is to wonder how he ever persuaded himself he could quit the restaurant game.
Whether it’s health concerns or the cleaner, simpler sensibility that Foy says comes with age, his cooking has changed. His fondness for inventive foie gras preparations is now found only in his vintage reviews. Instead, his focus has shifted to fresh produce from nearby farms. Case in point: the mushroom soup with a hint of truffle, a dusting of chives, and an entrancing combination of deep flavor and light texture.
You’ll want a second bowl, but restrain yourself and order one of the fresh, house-made pastas instead. Luscious sautéed gnocchi with button mushrooms and Parmesan emerged from the pan with an appealing crisp sear, and a veal Bolognese over pappardelle had a subtle creaminess and vibrancy that I associate with Bolognese made in Bologna.
The rustic pastas and simple soups sync nicely with the homey setting. The rooms of the petite 1892 farmhouse, situated across from the manicured golf course of the Lawrenceville School, have a cozy, compartmentalized feel, from the secluded upstairs dining room to the more modern front room and the smaller central room with a bar that overlooks the open kitchen.
Foy has a consummate touch with seasonings. Mac and cheese pleasingly teases sriracha hot sauce under a perfectly balanced blend of goat cheese from Montrachet, cream cheese from Philadelphia, and Parmigiano-Reggiano. He knows when to let fresh herbs speak for themselves, in the case of a tender lamb loin with ratatouille and the heady perfume of rosemary. A drizzle of balsamic vinegar provided a nice, and not overwhelming, dose of acidity on a meaty, perfectly seared red snapper; his cassoulet Toulouse, rich with smoke and spice from lardoons and Toulouse sausage, is as classic as they come.
For all the hits on the concise menu (five appetizers; three pastas; seven entrées; a few specials), there were some hiccups. A salad with poached apple and walnuts featured some very fresh organic baby lettuces that someone had apparently forgotten to dress. A roasted pepper stuffed with faintly metallic-tasting crab salad was presented with one scoop of mild hummus and another of “eggplant caviar” that had a vaguely soapy aftertaste and a mushy consistency that cried out for pita chips.
Foy set out to create a reasonably priced dining experience, and he’s succeeded—at least on paper. Amply portioned appetizers are $10; generous half portions of pasta are $15; entrées are $24. So far, so good. But no one mentioned the price on the special or market price entrées, which, on a recent night, were $38 for excellent lamb loin and $36 for a fatty, unremarkable pork chop. Had I known, I would have stuck with the excellent prime dry-aged sirloin, which is worth the (clearly listed) $6 supplement for its side of silky and delicious mashed potatoes alone.
On my initial visit, service was mostly cordial and efficient. But on a return trip, my table was ignored for the length of the meal. It is no exaggeration to say we had to plead for menus, bread, and water; by the time our first course arrived, our wine had not only breathed—it had aged. Foy himself came over to apologize as we sat alone in the dining room, waiting for dessert while his staff cleaned up around us.
Dessert, which hopefully will reach your table in a timely fashion, is pretty good. The crust of a crème brulée lacked the traditional brittle caramelization, but the crème was perfect, with potent vanilla perfume. Brioche bread pudding had all the sticky richness you could hope for, and the excellent ice cream is from Halo Farms, just five miles from the restaurant. “There’s just so much great stuff around here,” Foy says. I’d add most of his menu to that list.