On Friday, Irene and I drove more than 300 miles to the small town of Chilhowie, Virginia for dinner. Why? It was a celebration of sorts for the 40th anniversary of the day we met, June 24, 1974, which was when I started at Marvel Comics.

But why Chilhowie?

The New York Times asked the same question back in 2009 when chefs John Shields and Karen Urie, who’d worked at Alinea and Charlie Trotter’s, chose to open Town House there rather than launch a Las Vegas Charlie Trotter’s spin-off. And what they whipped up at Town House earned them raves from bloggers and John a nod for Best New Chef from Food & Wine.

John and Karen left Town House a few years ago in the hopes of opening a restaurant in Washington, D.C., a plan which they’re still hoping to pull off. But until then, they’ve decided to offer dinners a few nights a month—only three each in June and July, for example—at Riverstead, a beautifully renovated 1903 home on 30 acres. It’s an intimate experience, with a maximum of 14 diners per seating, I believe, and only two rooms for overnight guests.

Once we realized that the June 20th opening night was close to to the date of our anniversary—and exactly how luxurious the renovated accommodations would be—and that it would be a straight shot for us down I-81—we snapped up a reservation.

As we counted down the days, the buzz about Riverstead increased. I knew this opening was a big deal, but was startled when Chef Dave Beran—whose work I’d enjoyed on six different occasions at Next restaurant, most recently during its Bocuse d’Or menu—gave the Shields a shout-out when talking about the importance of making the World’s 50 Best Restaurants list.

It’s not truly an argument of what is the best restaurant in the world because what if, hypothetically, John Shields opens Riverstead, and everyone who eats there is so blown away it genuinely becomes the best restaurant in the world, like, there’s no one in the world doing what he does. The fact of the matter is, he’s in the middle of nowhere and he’s doing 14 covers a day. Will enough people be able to get there to see it, to eat it, to enjoy it, to make him number one on that list? I don’t know. So it’s tough to say what truly is the best restaurant in the world.

Kudos like those only heightened our excitement, and so when we headed south Friday morning, we knew we were in for something special. We took our time, making many stops along the way (about which more later), and arrived at Riverstead around 4:30. (Had we wished, we could have checked in as early as 3:00.) We were warmly greeted by Neal Wavra, formerly of The Ashby Inn, who gave us the key to our room and explained how things would proceed that evening, with cocktails and hors d’oeuvres at 5:45 followed by dinner at 6:30.

Up in our room, we discovered that the Shields had left us a welcome treat—cookies, cheese crisps, and spiced nuts. Quite tempting, but thinking of that night’s multi-course tasting menu, we resisted. We felt we needed to leave room for what was to come!

We were also pleased to see the promised king bed, which was a deciding factor in our staying overnight rather than just stopping by for dinner. Irene and I have for the most part avoided bed and breakfasts because we’ve grown used to sleeping in kings, and so often B&Bs offer only doubles, or at the most, queens. And the bed, with its down duvet, was quite comfortable.

We only rested for a few minutes, though, because we did want to stretch our legs after the long drive and explore the property’s 30 acres before changing for dinner. We walked a path through a field until we got to the river that gives Riverstead its name. We couldn’t spot any turtles—the water was moving too swiftly for that, I think—but it was a peaceful spot.

We enjoyed the view, and would have spent a few more minutes watching the water rush by if not for the sound of thunder and a light drizzle. I had fears of newspaper headlines which would read something like “Riverstead Opening Marred by Diner’s Death Due to Lightning Strike,” and since I didn’t want to spoil the Shields’ celebratory first night, we headed back.

Once we dressed, we headed downstairs to where guests—many of whom had previously frequented Town House and had felt its loss deeply—were gathering in the parlor. As we exchanged foodie experiences, we were served three rounds of hors d’oeuvres, none of which you’ll get to see here, because it didn’t seem the right time yet to pull out my camera and begin obsessively documenting my food. We had a sunchoke cannoli, a corn ice cream sandwich, and finally, trout roe and sea lettuce on crispy chicken skin. That last one, an unexpected and powerful combination, was my favorite.

And then, at 6:30, we were led to the dining room, where we invited to choose our own tables. Irene and I picked a spot by one of the windows.

Inside our folded napkins were small wooden forks and spoons which, as it turned out, were meant for the first course only.

1st course: Scallop cured with herbs and flowers.

2nd course: Geoduck and grilled spring onion petals.

3rd course: Sugar snap peas with egg mousse and trout roe.

Perhaps the tastiest—and certainly the most beautiful—dish of the night!

4th course: Vegetable sourdough with cheesy butter.

5th course: Burnt scallop with caramelized cream and dashi.

A winning taste combination.

6th course: Dungeness crab soused in roasted squid stock.

A competitor for the best dish of the night!

7th course: Roasted chicken liver mousse and Spring-Summer salad.

8th course: Sprouted wheat biscuit with boudin noir.

9th course: Lamb with nocino and ramps.

10th course: Burnt embers with beet cake and wintergreen ice cream.

This dish, with its intense wintergreen flavor, brought back memories of my father, who always carried wintergreen Lifesavers. Not an association the Shields intended to conjure up, but a welcome one all the same.

11th course: Parsnip, banana & parsley.

12th course: Warm olive oil meringue.

And what a perfect meringue it was.

I’m afraid I’ve completely lost track of the full range of nonalcoholic pairings that accompanied the menu, other than that we started with a drink combining elderflower, vinegar, and mint, and ended with one containing South African rooibos tea, elderberry, and wildflower. I was pleased with the pairings, which I believe were thanks to Wavra, who in addition to greeting us and performing many other hospitality functions, was also the sommelier.

Their work in the kitchen done, the chefs joined us in the dining room, where we all congratulated them on a job well done. I couldn’t resist getting a picture with them …

… as well as getting my menu signed.

Those of us who were lucky enough to spend the night found an additional culinary treat waiting in the kitchen the next morning. There was a tray for each couple, as well as a container of granola, plus eggs, yogurt, and fruit juice in the refrigerator.

Irene and I split the onion pastry, and I mixed up a bowl of granola and yogurt.

We didn’t have to relinquish our room until 11:00 a.m., so after breakfast, we sat in rocking chairs on the porch and contemplated Riverstead’s bucolic setting.

And then it was time to head back up I-81, during which we nibbled the grit sandies we were rewarded with after backing the Shields on Kickstarter.

If any of this entices you to head to Chilhowie to experience Riverstead for yourself, you can purchase dinner with or without an overnight stay here. All of the July dates are gone, but August and September are still available, though there’ll be only two dinners offered in those months rather than three, because another Shield is about to join the family. (Which isn’t quite visible in the photo of Karen above, but was quite visible to those of us present Friday night.) And with only a handful of seats per night, you’d better act quickly.

Congrats to all for surviving the opening—and may there be many more magical nights!