When Cortney Burns moved east from San Francisco to build a restaurant in the Massachusetts woods, she brought along the key building blocks of complex flavor: a pantry full of funky, fermenting things. The first tell is the battery of tinctures, tisanes, spices, and pickles crowding her new test kitchen, a collection so varied and impressive it could probably sustain a family of four for a couple of years if it came to that. The second is the talk of not really needing any human interaction, relayed as she puts the finishing touches on a fermented harissa that’s spicy and sour and just about good enough to eat with a spoon. But the clearest sign that chef Cortney Burns is adjusting well to life at the edge of the Berkshires comes a bit later on, when she shows off a slick collection of Japanese donabe, puts on a Keith Jarrett record, and fixes me and a few of her new collaborators what was at once a convincing case for hippie food and one of the best home-cooked meals I’ve ever had.
