The Butcher/Baker of Cutchogue


Give us this day our almost daily bread. Sourough & whole wheat.

Not much in the way of competition in this folksy north forky hamlet of 3.5K gentle souls but any press is good press in an election year and I hope to earn your votes in my mayoral candidacy this year.  I am running on a sturdy farmhouse-chic reclaimed barn wood platform steeped in compromising flavors of “More sidewalks, Less fat chicks, Some speed bumps” for those of us within the walking,  bicycling and revoked driver’s license “Bro” community.  While my constituents and I are eager to pocket monies from up-island,  they just need to take it more easy, man, drive slowly and set an example for the locals who are vying for qualifying times on my road in a yet-to-be-sanctioned WRC Edition in the town of Southold.


Pork liver and salted anchovy bound in bacon.

Been making some decidedly effeminate, hopelessly dated  and whimsical fabrications with items from the farm or area (proteins, produce, dairy, bread) with exceptions of salt, spices, grains and flours and the yokels seems to enjoy it.  They are a friendly bunch -honest, fair, generous- and during the leaner months I might put some couches next to the display case so that we can all take a load off but I’m going to add a surcharge for having to listen to problems/stories that are not within 3 degree of separation of food history, culture or cooking.


Pasta with various fillings but singular technique.

And we have some even more well heeled civil service/policy makers as of late whose stars shine a bit more than the rest and if they see me pacing outside their weekend homes in the evening it is because the cellular reception is spotty out here (*add cellphone tower to platform) and I’m afraid I might miss an invitation or call for help.  So long as they don’t inflate the flounder sandwich price at the Sophie’s or bring their smarty-pants ringers to Trivia, the city big-shots are welcome out here (I did grow up on the Island, albeit it a smidge west of the tines).  Consider it a south-eastern spin-off of a popular transplant/relocation series.


Fancy meatloaf in pastry with a conceptual “chicken” on an clever “egg”.

Visit anytime during out operating hours (they correspond with the numbers outside ie: 10am EST- 6pm EST) and while I will listen under the guise of patience to requests/questions*, it is not a guarantee that I will consider them.

*I do know the name(s) of the people who feed the chickens.