Lunch With Benedict Arnold
The Elms revives the cooking legacy of the first American revolutionaries
by Lorraine Gengo - December 26, 2002

"Benedict Arnold would have ordered the mutton and the traitor pie," my brother David quipped as we looked over the tavern's bill of fare. By vocation my brother restores old houses and his business, Salem Preservation, does quite well in an area that boasts numerous antique structures and historic landmarks. By avocation, though, he's always been a living and breathing encyclopedia of American history; as a boy and then as a man the events of 200 years ago are as present in him as what he had for breakfast. A weekend warrior, not the kind who relishes running marathons, but one who re-enacts Revolutionary War battles as a member of the 23rd Royal Welch Fusiliers, it bothers him not one whit that he fights for the losing side; after all, the Brits had all the good gear. So, I thought he would enjoy a nice winter lunch at the Elms Restaurant & Tavern, housed in a 200-year-old building along Ridgefield's famous, mile-long, eight-rod-broad Main Street, which back in the day (that would be 1709 when the town was established) was called "Town Street." The building's longevity inspired chef Brendan Walsh to research and revive the cooking legacy of the first American revolutionaries, uniting, as the menu says, "the best from the past with the finest flavors of the present." Victuals of that era were homey, hearty concoctions like stews, chowders, hashes, roasts, custards (both savory and sweet), spoonbreads, pies and puddings. The colonists ate much like their English brethren, that is to say lots of venison and other game, smoked fish and potted duck.

We were the first diners to arrive on this particular snowy afternoon so the fireplace wasn't lit and the front room of the tavern, with its dark wood paneling and low beamed ceilings, seemed a bit unwelcoming. We chose a table in front of a bright bay window across from the bar. Outside, it looked as if God had shaken a snow globe, the wind making the flakes dance and spin. It was picture perfect, except for the holiday traffic which was in full snarl. Inside, it was warm and unhurried, and with the help of a black and tan and a glass of California Zinfandel (Renwood "Sierra Series") it was an easy thing for David and me to slip back in time 200 years or so when Ridgefield and its environs were far more dangerous and wild than they are today.

In 1777, Gen. Benedict Arnold had his horse shot out from under him during the Battle of Ridgefield, a mere skirmish in the war against the British. Arnold, pinned under his dying horse, was almost taken prisoner by an enemy soldier but managed to retrieve his pistol from his saddle holster and felled his adversary in one shot, adding yet another plume to his hero status. Near where the battle involving Arnold took place, and only a couple hundred yards from where we sat talking of his escapades, there's a century-old plaque marking the burial ground of "eight patriots...companioned by 16 British soldiers, living their enemies, dying their guests."

We received much kinder treatment from our waiter, a personal friend who had absolutely no clue our mission was anything but having lunch and discussing historical trivia. Master Jonathan Bustle brought us some exemplary corn bread studded with cranberries on china bearing a quaint floral pattern. David nodded his head in approval; this savory bread with a hint of sweetness could only have been more authentic if it had been baked in grease as the re-enactors make it when they're encamped.

The menu didn't offer mutton, but lamb tenderloins instead ($17.95). Three slender tenderloins measuring about six inches long were cooked medium rare and served with mashed potatoes, broccoli, asparagus and baby yellow beets, which, unlike the meat, were slightly overcooked but not to the point of being inedible. The sauce, a reduced, rich meat stock, had wonderful flavor. David's spice rubbed Hangar steak ($15.95) was equally delicious, making me rue every tasteless hunk of meat I've been served elsewhere. Each bite of this steak sang with flavor. His entrée was served with fresh California spinach sautéed with garlic and a country potato pancake studded with onion. We left not a scrap of food behind. Next time, I must try what Jonathan considered the tavern's signature dish, one that would be very familiar to the colonists--chicken pot pie.

Benedict Arnold would have been remembered as a brave war hero and a born leader of men if it weren't for a pretty society gal from Philadelphia. Arnold had been passed over for promotion and never rose to the level of the elites because he was considered a commoner. So, when his young wife brokered a deal to provide the British with the plans for the fortifications to Constitution Island, the disgruntled general took the traitorous route. He fled to England and died penniless in London, buried in Potter's Field. His wife, who by all rights should have been hung for treason, turned on the water works and was pardoned by George Washington, once a great friend of Arnold's and a fellow Mason.

Traitor pie was not on the menu, and if it had been we would have been dubious about ordering it. But many authentic early American treats were offered: apple "Pandowdy" with vanilla ice cream; Indian pudding; fresh fruit Brown Betty; and a dessert whose moniker paid an historic tribute--a chocolate Washington pie. The Indian pudding, corn bread soaked in molasses and served warm with maple syrup and a scoop housemade roasted pecan ice cream, ($6.50) brought the meal full circle. The Welch fusilier at the table made scatalogical jokes about the corn kernels floating in the syrup, but it did nothing to dampen my pleasure in this unusual dessert. The chocolate Washington pie ($7) was actually a chocolate cake layered with pastry cream, cherries and chocolate ganache. The cake was moist and surprisingly not overly sweet as we expected.

We could have lingered for quite a while longer; after all, the fire was blazing and there were so many more stories to tell about our forebears' adventures. But the 21st century beckoned, with only three more shopping days left!

There may still be time to reserve a spot for dinner on New Year's Eve, when the Elms will offer an exceptional menu of five courses. The tavern will be closed on that night for the festive menu and reservations.