Edge of the Woods is like a Cracker Barrel for those who read the Torah and Noam Chomsky: it is a half shopping, half dinning destination. One can shop for organic groceries, herbal cure-alls, or enjoy their hot food, sandwiches and baked goods. We associate Edge of the Woods with unwashed bike messenger types and sociology majors; those who bum handrolled cigarettes and will only ride a fixed gear bicycle. It reminds us of that old joke made famous by Jeff Foxworthy before he discovered redneck humor: "If your record collection consists of 7 inches ordered from a Seattle zine...you just might be a vegan."
The self-serve buffet has been called "A vegan Conn Hall," by a friend of ours and employee of Edge of the Woods. His identity shall remain anonymous after those malicious remarks. For those of you out there unfamiliar with Conn Hall, it is the mess hall at Southern Connecticut State University. The food does not taste like death warmed over, but death warmed over, refrozen and then reheated again, plus more yuckiness. The food at Edge of the Woods sits like an unwanted newborn at room temperature. Mendez dabbed at his eyes with his monogrammed handkerchief like an Indian seeing litter for the first time. Food needs warmth and love. The food here is dried out not by the omni-shining heat lamp, but by time. "Where's the integrity?" Hans asked scooping a macaroni salad to his plate: like the chef, he too can read the back of an Annie's box. Out of our entire selection we like the cauliflower pie best. It was essentially mashed potatoes made with cauliflower, not the most original of dishes, but tasty non-the-less. Mendez enjoyed the spinach salad immensely finding the sweet onion to be paired well with craisins and the salad's mixed nuts.