A few hundred trees, planted in blocks by ripening date so the picking runs from late August into late October. Ginger Gold and Gala come off first, then Honeycrisp and Cortland through the heart of the season, then Winesap and Northern Spy — sharp, better cooked than eaten, and they keep in the shed for months.

At The Smokehouse

The applewood in the pit comes off the trees you're standing in — prunings from the winter cut, split and seasoned through the summer. It burns cooler and sweeter than hickory, so the brisket and pulled pork carry a lighter smoke than the ribs, and the difference is easy to taste if you order both.

At The Greenhouse

The harvest bowl is built around whatever's coming off the trees that week — apples cut fresh over greens from the beds outside, with cheese from the creamery and a dressing that changes with the variety. It's the one dish on the menu that's different every time you order it.

Elsewhere

Fresh apples are sold at Plaza Café and out of the shed here at the orchard, and the press runs through the fall — cider by the cup and cider donuts at the carts.

Two dozen beds cut into the paths, planted thick enough that the kitchens can take from them every morning without the garden looking picked over. The perennials — thyme, sage, oregano, bay — hold through the winter and get cut back hard in spring. The basil and dill go in fresh each year and are gone by the first frost.

At The Smokehouse

Oregano, thyme, and sage go into the dry rub, cut here and dried in bunches rather than bought in tins. The sage also goes into the sausage, which is the one thing on the menu where you can taste a single herb instead of the blend.

At The Greenhouse

Basil and mint come in by the handful and get used the same day — basil torn over the flatbreads, mint in the lemonade. Parsley and chives do the quieter work, folded into the dressings or scattered over a plate on the way out.

At The Boathouse

Dill and bay, both for fish. The dill goes over the fried platter and into the tartar sauce; the bay goes into the chowder pot at the start of the day and gets fished back out before service.

The trees live in the Mediterranean Garden — a couple dozen in glazed pots, wheeled out in spring and back under glass before the first hard freeze. They flower and fruit at the same time, so there's usually something ripe on them from midwinter through the summer.

At The Smokehouse

The lemonade is pressed here, not poured from a mix, and it's the counterweight to everything else on that menu — the whole point of a rub that heavy is something sharp to drink alongside it.

At The Boathouse

Lemon goes out with the fish, cut in wedges on the platter and squeezed into the pan before service. It's the least complicated thing in this guide and the one you'd miss immediately if it were gone.

At The Greenhouse

Lemon and dill together, both cut on the grounds — the dill from the herb beds, the lemon off the potted trees a few hundred feet away. It's the one dressing on the menu where both halves came from inside the park.

Elsewhere

Frozen lemonade at the carts, the same juice run through a machine instead of over ice.