The Meadow: Salt, Chocolate, Bitters, Flowers, Living

You know those random happenings that jump-start your brain, reminding you of something you meant to do or take care of?  Happens to me all the time, except in a relatively “out-of-the-box” way, sending me on a trip into my alternate universe, leaving everyone I’m presently with behind. (Sorry about that guys).

Well upon returning home from doing laundry, I looked down at my salt-crusted boots, snow (more-so sleet) still fresh in my hair and remembered “Ahh, salt! I wanted to go to that salt place!” So I ditched all the “important” things I had to do, and went on an adventure.

Over the summer when it was so disgustingly hot and smelly in the city (hard to remember a day like that right now), I remember strolling along Hudson St. where I used to live, staring longingly into The Meadow’s window full of chocolates and salts, promising myself I’d return for one of their “make-your-own salted chocolate ice cream sandwich”. Those days are over, but a little cold hasn’t kicked my craving. (Salty brownies the other day… Case and point).

So I hopped on the subway and headed to my old stomping ground in the west village.

Once I opened the shop’s door, my nose immediately filled with delicious scents: mainly the array of beautiful flowers through the middle of the store. Blocks of Himalayan pink sea salt lay stacked on palettes in the corners and shelves upon shelves held large glass vessels of salts from all over the world. Opposite that wall: Chocolates…Every kind you could imagine. And at the back of the store, shelves of bitters in so many flavors you could get lost: lavender, bergamot, citrus, cardamom, etc. The presentation was exquisite, a figure of my imagination: budvases of dried cotton plants, peonies and roses, twinkly lights; It was beautiful. 

As if I wasn’t in la-la-land enough already, the girl behind the counter stops me: “This might sound really weird, but are you Caroline?” Turns out she went to Bard and knew me from the farm stand! Funny how moving to the city can make the world feel smaller. Lowell was so sweet and really knew her stuff: from the salts to the aromatic bitters in the back. We sampled, my knees wobbled, I went dizzy with excitement, we giggled…It was awesome. She even snuck me some goat milk candies from the jar at the counter.

I was solaced to find there are people who are so incredibly fanatical and passionate about the powers of finishing salts:

“Patter the pink flesh of fresh-caught trout with the stratified lacework flakes of Halen Mon and brace yourself against the sure compulsion to make offerings of hecatombs and burnt flesh to the sea god Poseidon. Let fall dark crystals of Turkish Black Pyramid salt on medallions of Armagnac-seared pork and plantains and you will feel the turgid rush of Incan discovery. Grind smoked salt on hand-churned ice cream and you will trade your house for an igloo. Salt sates the Alchemist’s desire, transmuting food to fantasy.”- Mark Bitterman, Selmelier- The Meadow

PREACH!

I left with a jar of black truffle salt, one of the Taha'a Vanillas, and the promise to return for some lavender bitters.

Visit or check them out online: At The Meadow Shop