The Field Guide to Eating in Catskill
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Step inside a decommissioned church packed with stories and hidden finds. The floorboards carry every footstep, and light cuts through colored panes onto aisles built for wandering slow.
Sun leaks through the high windows and you catch a low shuffle of hangers, boots tumbled at the door, and a patchwork of color in every aisle. The air is light with old cotton, leather, and easy-going stories from regulars passing through.
The Hodge Podge Shop spills over with old light, creek views out back, and stacks of goods that brush past every decade. The stories float as easy as the dust motes, and the owner knows them all.
The creak of the wood floor echoes between tall racks, each packed with planes, saws, and hardware that earned their scars. Afternoon light drops through old glass, casting shadows over bins of sorted chisels and French polish.
Main Street’s old church is stacked floor to rafters with other people’s finds and stories. Vendors squeeze vintage clothes, kitchenware, and records into booths and corners. Light slants through stained glass as footsteps wander the aisles.
The river slides by and the air smells of salt, grilled lemon, and dock boards warmed in the sun. Voices drift between inside tables and the wide, covered patio while boats idle nearby and staff pass out tall drinks.
Sunlight glances through the big windows, illuminating flour-dusted bakers working behind the counter while the river drifts past just outside. Early chatter, hiss of steamed milk, and the reach of a fresh loaf shape the day here.
After dusk, Hemlock glows along Main with candle-lit corners and chatter rolling from the bar. There's a thread of jazz and old friends, burgers griddling behind the counter, and small plates ready for the next pour.
Sunlight washes across wood tables as barstools fill with neighbors and wanderers. Glasses clink, apples and cheese land with a thump, and a soft creek breeze drifts through the patio door.
The Avalon Lounge crackles with stage lights and laughter. Drag karaoke echoes upstairs, while the kitchen pushes out plates of bibimbap and scallion pancakes below.
Captain Kidd's Inn feels like Catskill’s pirate den, brimming with laughter, clinking glasses, and stories tacked on the weathered bar. Strings of lights flicker above mismatched tables while the tiki patio stays lively even in a drizzle.
Sunlight finds its way into the treatment room, where quiet music and the faint aroma of botanicals mark the start of every session. Appointments here feel one-on-one—just Kelly or Christina, the sound of Main Street outside, and an hour that moves slow.
Midweek afternoons in Adam & Eve’s Beauté Centre move slow, sunlight filtering through the window onto hairbrushes and quiet chatter. Clippers, color, and the hum of dryers mark the pace while regulars greet each other by name.
Sunlight moves across a peaceful room as the sounds of the day fade away. Just beyond the windows, trees catch the wind and the pace slows to something manageable.
Sunlight settles over the floors at Meditation House, where quiet fills the gaps between breath and gentle instruction. Sessions move at an unhurried pace, blending clarity and stillness.
Fog settles in the hollows and tall grass just outside your window. Morning brings quiet, sun-lit cabins and the steady hush of leaves and wood underfoot.
Stepping into Camptown, there's a whiff of campfire in the air and the sound of screen doors thumping shut. Pine needles underfoot, drinks clinking at Casa Susanna, and kids skipping to the pool round out the day.
The chairs hum with conversation as staff move quickly between regulars and first-timers. The air smells faintly of polish, the TV murmurs in the background, and life outside slows down for a bit.
Mornings here start with mist curling over stocked lakes and the ring of laughter drifting from the breakfast table. Evenings mean dance parties in the tavern and quiet walks under big, old oaks.
Out past the main road, a gravel drive winds into the trees where clusters of modern tiny cabins settle between patches of sunlight and shadow. Birds call, wood crackles in the fire pits, and the mornings start in hush and fog.
The Old Catskill Game Farm settles quietly into overgrown hills, its former zoo paths winding by wild grass and animal barns turned inn. Branches tap the windows and low voices carry from the fire pit, while dusk finds shadows flickering across vintage signs and animal murals.
The Compassion Center keeps its pace slow—candles lit, a thread of incense, chairs arranged in a circle and calm settling in from the fields outside. Soft voices and the gentle shuffling of mats mix with a practiced stillness.
The shop hums with radios and the blast of the cryo chamber, sunlight catching the clean blond floors and shiny equipment. Sandy runs the show—wry humor, talk of injuries, and no rushing anybody through.
Sitting on Green Lake Road, the Homestead feels like summer camp – kids dart through the grass, water laps close, grills make slow smoke by late afternoon. Wood cabins, scattered picnic tables, voices drifting across the lake.
The kitchen at Village Pizza II works steadily behind the counter, with the smell of baked dough drifting outside onto Main Street. Bright lights bounce off the tile floor. Tables fill up fast around lunch and dinner as slices hit the oven.
Great Wall’s small storefront puts the food up front. The sound of woks and chattering takeout orders are steady, with little flash—just what you’re hungry for.
The air by the creek smells briny and there’s the clink of pints carried to shaded tables. Inside, locals and travelers settle in for plates that come quick and steaming, sunlight drifting in from dockside windows.
Step inside La Conca D'oro and you’ll find red-checked tables, the swirl of gravy, and the steady hum of folks who treat it like a second kitchen. This spot runs on handshake greetings, generous pours, and platters meant for lingering.
Small dining room, bare tables, and kitchen sounds drifting out—that's Wasana's. Locals drop by for spicy curries and the kind of greetings that come with years of service.
The clang of plates and a steady rumble of conversation fill this barn-like space just off the mountain highway. Wood walls, metal trim, and big tables draw families and regulars from the valley.
Sun spills across the simple tables and open windows catch snippets of Catskill’s Main Street. The gentle clatter of plates and a thread of conversation run through the room while saffron and lemon drift from the kitchen.
This place runs at Main Street pace—bright, steady, and full of locals on their lunch break. Giant bowls clatter, avocados and carrots tossed, and orders shouted behind the counter. Things move quick, but no one rushes you out.
Midday sun catches the screen door and the smell of hickory smoke drifts to Main Street. Inside, order at the counter and watch platters stack with meat, steam, and sharp pickles.
Inside Rip Van Winkle Brewing Company, the taproom buzzes with steady voices and the smell of fresh dough. Pints clink along the long bar while pies and plates slide out of the kitchen at a brisk clip.
Sunlight cuts in through wide windows, casting light across small tables and a steady stream of takeout bags. Locals roll through for quick lunch breaks or slow dinners, the hum of the kitchen working the whole time.
Counter chatter and the smells of griddled dough and stewed chiles meet you at the door. The tables fill with families, the menu hopping from classic slices to loaded burritos and street tacos.
Sawdust floors, clack of pool balls, and the clink of pint glasses fill the room at B&B Lounge. There’s grit, laughter, and the comfort of bar food done right under a simple neon glow.
Afternoons here settle under soft tent lights, clinking glasses, and the clatter of the kitchen. The air smells faintly of malt and fire, and folks drift inside and out—laughing, bringing dogs, calling out for another round.
Steam from big pans drifts over the counter and Spanish music hovers above the steady shuffle of regulars. Plates come stacked—no fanfare, just the sound of folks digging in.
The clink of mugs and plates stays steady all morning at Lindsay's. Sunlight sneaks across checkerboard tiles, and regulars swap stories from counter seats to booths.
Walking into Arianny’s Casa Grande feels like a small fiesta. Bright light pours in, the hum of happy chatter blends with the clinking of glasses, while outside the river quietly passes by just beyond the patio.
Sun breaks over the first tee and dew hangs around the edges of the fairways. Mowers hum, old timers swap stories outside the clubhouse, and mountain ridges anchor the horizon.
River Basin Sport Shop feels like stepping into a timeworn Catskill outpost—the creak of the door, familiar chatter from behind the bench. Jars of tackle, bins of live bait, and the scent of oil and river mud set the tune for a morning’s rig-up.
Mornings start with mist clinging to the low fairways and a hum from the kitchen drifting through open windows. Wind stirs the pines and every green frames a stretch of the mountain wall.
Out here, the hills roll into tall grass and the air is filled with the small sounds of animals and wind. Early light breaks on barns and ponds, while guests wander from room to pasture, coffee in hand.
