main dining room at Little Goat in Rhinebeck NY

A Kitchen of One’s Own: Redefining Dining in the Hudson Valley

By Sophie Knight | July 21, 2025

There is, when it’s done properly, a kind of spell to café life. Not the rush of a takeaway latte, but the slower, more sensual pleasure of lingering—over coffee, over conversation, over a perfectly salted tartine. In Europe, this cadence is second nature. In America, it’s rarer. But here in the Hudson Valley, that slower pulse has found its place again—reimagined, refined, and ready to be lived in.

All-day cafés first gained ground here—as with most things in the Hudson Valley—through the artists, musicians, and writers who came seeking space to think and time to make. They weren’t just stopping in for a bite; they were shaping a culture. Cafés became their commons—rooms where ideas percolated alongside coffee, where afternoons slipped by in conversation or quiet reflection. These were places where the hours softened and the edges of the day blurred. You didn’t have to leave your thoughts at the door—you could bring them in, spread them out, and stay as long as the light held.

There is, when it’s done properly, a kind of spell to café life—not the rush of a takeaway latte, but the slower, more sensual pleasure of lingering.

By 1962, the barn on Tinker Street in Woodstock had become the Café Espresso, lit by candles and alive with the poetry of espresso steam and impromptu ballads by Dylan and Baez. It wasn’t a restaurant; it was a room where ideas collided and afternoons unfolded like novels. Where artists gathered not for a quick bite but for communion.

John Sebastian and Bob Dylan at the Cafe Espresso in Woodstock NY playing guitars

Photo by Douglas Gilbert, initially intended for Look Magazine

That spirit is reborn now in two modern-day salons—Little Goat in Rhinebeck and Gemela in Woodstock. Part refuge, part rhythm, they are all-day cafés in the truest sense: places where you might stop in for a mezze breakfast and find yourself, hours later, glass in hand, watching the light change. They are not just beautifully designed spaces—they are moods; they are memories in the making. And they remind us, without ever saying so, that there’s art in simply staying put.

They are not just beautifully designed spaces—they are moods, they are memories in the making.

Little Goat | Follow @littlegoatny

76 East Market Street, Rhinebeck NY | Lunch & Dinner Wednesay – Sunday

Housed in a former carriage house just off the main street, Little Goat feels like a love letter to the art of casual gathering. Co-owned by designer and restaurateur Taavo Somer and hospitality expert Erin Winters—the duo behind INNESS and Lola Pizza—the restaurant is a continuation of their impeccable design dialogue: tactile, grounded, and quietly transportive. Executive Chef Brian Paragas and Consulting Chef Brian Arruda lead the kitchen, while Somer and Winters bring their respective gifts—visionary aesthetics and warm, hands-on hospitality—to every inch of the experience.

cafe counter at Little Goat in Rhinebeck NY

The room is intimate and quietly cinematic—shelves of antique French ceramics, whitewashed walls that catch golden light from vintage sconces, and textures that feel as if they’ve been there forever. It’s not a space that demands attention but one that rewards it.

In a culture calibrated for speed, they offer a rare and necessary luxury: the permission to linger.

“After years of dreaming about a place like this, Little Goat finally came to life in a building I’d admired since moving to Rhinebeck,” says Somer. “I imagined it as a space where light, warmth, and ease guide everything—from the design to the way guests move through it. I wanted it to feel natural, like being in someone’s home.”

Not just any home, of course. “I felt like the building—and the restaurant—wanted to be a lady,” he says. “I kept picturing these scenes: glowing cream kitchens, women wrapped in beige cashmere cardigans over crisp white shirts, picking vegetables from a garden. Later, I realized they were all Nancy Meyers films.”

That aesthetic—sunlit, soft, and effortlessly elegant—informs every choice, from the golden cream palette and brushed brass accents to the softly pleated curtains and floral arrangements by Ariel Dearie. It’s a space designed to hold both conversation and quiet.

The layout invites lingering: a curated pantry at the entrance with home-made staples like Sparrowbush bread and Flamingo Estate olive oil, cozy nooks for solo cappuccinos, and long tables that beckon for shared plates and second glasses.

“The energy shifts throughout the day,” Somer says, “but the feeling remains the same: comfort, care, and a quiet sense of joy.”

That same ethos carries through the menu. Pastas are handmade, flavors are deep but never fussy. There’s a roasted La Belle Farm chicken with salsa verde and a ricotta gnudi with mushrooms that arrives like a sigh. The inspiration? Family meals at home. “One of my daughters is a vegetarian, and the other is very picky—so dinner is often a buffet where everyone builds their own plate,” Somer says.

“The space truly glows at golden hour,” Somer says. “It’s soft and warm and a little romantic. Like coming home.”

The cocktails, crafted by Natasha David and Jeremy Oertel, nod to Mediterranean flavors with a confident wink: saffron and apricot spritzes, beet gin with hibiscus ginger beer, a martini accented with tomato and lemon bitters.

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Gemela | Follow @gemela_ny

43 Mill Hill Road, Woodstock NY | Market & Café: Open daily starting at 8 a.m | Bar & Bites: 4–10 p.m. daily

Across the river, Gemela is a different kind of love story. One with mossy roots and park-like calm. Just off Tinker Street, the café opens onto a generous lawn, where picnic tables nestle under leafy willow boughs and clouds drift by like watercolor.

“Sometimes being able to sit outside whilst it’s raining and enjoy a coffee or a bite can be magical,” says co-owner Craig Leonard. A covered patio delivers exactly that: shelter without separation. An embrace of the in-between.

Inside, the atmosphere is earthy, almost meditative—barn wood walls, vintage chairs, and sun-faded angles that feel both architectural and accidental. There’s a distinct nod to 1970s California meets Upstate cabin core.

“We embraced what was already here,” Leonard says. “Simplicity is always the best.”

Together with Lisa Choi, Leonard built Gemela to feel like a pause in motion. A moment of calm. The menu follows suit: granola with chamomile honey and mint; mezze breakfast plates with poached egg and labneh; mortadella and burrata on focaccia; Tunisian tuna with preserved lemon aioli. The feta and herb salad is a revelation—bright and herbaceous, crunchy and cool, each bite arranging itself into something a little new. A salad that behaves like a full dish—not a sidekick.

Gemela is the kind of place that doesn’t announce itself—it simply becomes part of your life.

Next door, a tiny grab-and-go outpost has quietly become a local favorite: parfaits, charcuterie, and picnic-ready sandwiches, each stacked with care and sealed with cheerful graphic stickers. The packaging charms, the contents deliver—toss a few in your bag and head for the stream. It’s fast food for those who like their lunch with a view.

After 4 pm, the mood softens. Lights dim. Wine flows. Small plates appear: smoked salmon deviled eggs, spicy beef tartare, and a fritto misto that crackles with citrus. The music gets lower, the atmosphere warmer.

“Sometimes being able to sit outside whilst it’s raining and enjoy a coffee or a bite can be magical,” says co-owner Craig Leonard.

“We wanted it to feel like a little zen oasis right in the middle of town,” Leonard says. “Honestly, I can’t think of another space that really compares to this one. It’s so beautifully put together.”

And it is. Gemela is the kind of place that doesn’t announce itself—it simply becomes part of your life.

A New Kind of Ritual

Together, Little Goat and Gemela are more than restaurants. They are rooms with rhythm—spaces where design and hospitality meet at that golden intersection of atmosphere and community. In a culture calibrated for speed, they offer a rare and necessary luxury: the permission to linger.

The table could be a stage, the light its co-star, the passing hours a kind of quiet performance.

They echo an older café culture, one that knew the table could be a stage, the light its co-star, the passing hours a kind of quiet performance. Hemingway lingered. Didion lingered. Dylan lingered. And here, if you’re lucky, you will too.

You’ll notice the grain of the wood, the hush between courses, the exact salt level in the whipped feta. The way a glass catches the last of the afternoon light.

You’ll remember the food, yes—but also the mood, the faces, the charged stillness of being nowhere else but here.

Not just a meal but a soft, full-bodied yes to presence itself.

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