The building still holds traces of its earlier lives β from the original mill drive shaft to the names signed across the beams. Was there a detail or discovery during the restoration that changed the way you understood the place?
The hundreds of names dating back to the 1870s, handwritten on the beams first by mill workers and then bar patrons, sometimes send shivers down my spine. Knowing these men and women, now long gone, were standing on a chair painting their names on beams of a building they clearly loved gives such an intimate glimpse into the past. I feel that, in a way, they are still there with us, especially when I am alone in the building.
The Old Mill has been a grist mill, a tavern, an inn, and a gathering place for generations. What kind of atmosphere did you want to create for its latest chapter?
It had to remain The Old Mill. And I donβt just mean in name. The Old Mill has been a bar that welcomed everyone for 120 years. It needed to stay welcoming, casual and a great place to have a drink with an old friend or a new one youβve just met at the horseshoe bar. It would have been a travesty to transform it into a whitewashed Hamptons style restaurant. What I did need to change was to serve great food, which The Old Mill hadnβt ever been known for. Now we do, and Chef Joe and I are so fortunate to have great relationships with local oyster and vegetable farmers and fishermen, that we serve locally sourced, organic and seasonal food that we and our guests love.
