Patrick O'Connell is the longtime chef and co-founder of The Inn at Little Washington, a multiple award-winning locale in Washington, Va., that celebrates its 30th anniversary this year. (Blade photos by Henry Linser)
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KATHERINE VOLIN
Friday, April 04, 2008
A woman who is about 60 sits at a small white table in the middle of the garden. Her hair dangles down her mink coat in a thin ponytail as the sunshine strikes her and her companion’s faces. They’re at an inn, but not just any inn; they’re about to dine at a restaurant, but not just any restaurant.
The locale is The Inn at Little Washington, which became a legend shortly after it opened its doors 30 years ago on property that formerly housed a gas station in rural Washington, Va.
On this day, the couple in the garden is unaware that they’re under the careful, intense gaze of chef Patrick O’Connell. O’Connell is watching them from a table just inside glass doors that overlook the garden. He is bemoaning that no one has helped the woman slip out of her mink coat, but also noticing with an impish smile that she is, in fact, wearing a fur on this spring-like day.
He narrates as they relax.
“They’re feeling differently about themselves and each other,” he says. The couple has only recently arrived at the Inn, and as they settle into the space that O’Connell says makes “you breathe differently,” he observes that they’re beginning to change.
“They were your age once and they’re reconnecting and they’re ageless,” he says to me as a member of the wait staff brings a tray of delicate tea sandwiches and cookies to the couple.
“It is truly living theater,” O’Connell adds, speaking as much about the experience of the staff as of the couple. “The key here is that it’s a film. It’s living theater. But they’re the star.”
PRIOR TO OPENING the Inn with his then-partner Reinhardt Lynch in 1978, O’Connell studied and trained as an actor.
“That is something that anyone with a sexual ambiguity learns early on — act or die,” he says.
It wasn’t long before the duo was being recognized nationally for their culinary and inn-keeping accomplishments. The Inn earned the first-ever food-and-accommodation double five-star ratings from Mobil Travel Guide along with several James Beard Awards, among other accolades.
The Inn’s 30th anniversary celebration will be held in D.C. at the Andrew W. Mellon Auditorium on April 9 and features an impressive guest list, including Virginia Gov. Tim Kaine, chefs Charlie Trotter and Alice Waters, the Zagats and Martha Stewart.
“Part of the magic here is I approach each day as if I were having friends for dinner, as opposed to doing it for a commercial venture,” O’Connell says.
But this friends-for-dinner concept is not at all like throwing a quiche in the oven, firing up Norah Jones on your iPod and pouring wine you found on sale at Whole Foods. O’Connell’s friendly dinner combines luxury with his surgeon-like meticulousness.
“Luxury has a bad rap in our culture right now, and that’s unfortunate,” O’Connell says. “It’s about things that weren’t created or produced for money and they are without a price; they are part of the cultural framework. They’re not the same as commodity often times.”
But there is a price for dinner here — starting at $148 per person, a far cry from the $4.95 dinner fee when the Inn first opened. At that time, O’Connell only had one assistant. Now the staff numbers 125.
AS THE RESTAURANT’S reputation has grown, so have its holdings. The Inn now houses 18 guestrooms scattered across a few blocks, a pristine kitchen with two dining tables, candles and a fireplace, and several gardens.
The interior design, which began in 1978 with curtains O’Connell sewed himself, was eventually placed in the hands of English designer Joyce Evans. Her European background is evident, but the drab palette seen in so many “fine” Washington restaurants has no place here. Evans’ sumptuous, quirkily designed rooms convey a warmth and liveliness enhanced by ubiquitous bouquets of fresh flowers accenting each room.
“Anyone can afford this if they can afford shoes,” O’Connell says. “It’s an experience and that experience is worth it.”
One young couple, O’Connell relates, saved up money to visit the Inn by eating bologna sandwiches every night for dinner for three weeks straight.
“That’s a lot of pressure. Forget food critics,” he says with a laugh.
Another couple had been experiencing marital difficulties and had found all the resources they turned to, including therapy, unhelpful. Finally a family member suggested they instead spend their therapy money eating at really great restaurants together every two weeks.
“They said it was miraculous,” O’Connell says about the impact of the experience, but to him, that is largely expected.
“I see food as the most sensuous and intimate experience other than sex in our human vocabulary,” he says. “The ultimate potential of a dinner party can be therapeutic, it can be healing,” he says.
If going to the Inn, with room rates that begin at $410, is truly out of the question, O’Connell offers tips for those wanting to replicate The Inn at Little Washington’s experience. But understand that O’Connell is the culinary version of an Olympic athlete. His tips are not simple.
For the home cook who wants to master entertaining, he suggests selecting three dishes: an appetizer, an entrée and a dessert.
“Make them once a week for nine years until they’ve learned what could possibly go wrong,” he says. “Their friends think they’re the greatest cook in the whole world and they are: of those three dishes.”
For those not willing to commit for nine years, think about eating bologna sandwiches for three weeks and indulging in O’Connell’s masterful entertaining at the Inn.
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