Dogs have become recurring thematic options for me here on Route 23C. Canine-challenged for decades, in the city, I wasn’t aware of dogs much except for perhaps noting the restaurants with reviews in Time Out and The New York Times that allowed dogs on their chic outdoor patios—thus allowing posh patron and pedigreed pooch time together on much-coveted New York City summer real estate. This, of course, segregated my dog awareness into summer months. All other times of the year, dogs were of as much note as, say, yellow cabs, which is to say: none at all. Since moving into my cottage in North Lexington I have dog-sat twice for darling Golden Retrievers up the road. Moses, Abigail and I made a lovely trio of blondes as we wound our way through the white pines and hemlocks of a private housing enclave. I refused to let them off their leashes since I had visions of the three of us happening across the path of some large, hairy wildlife specimen (with enormous claws or fangs) and the dogs taking off in hot pursuit while I vainly tried to call them back to me. This way, with them on the leash and me holding the ends, I would at least hold the inevitable at bay a bit longer either by being dragged or losing control after being dragged in hot pursuit of the large, hairy, fanged, clawed wildlife. Another time, dog-sitting for Stella, an Irish Setter Collie mix, required chicken flock sitting and goat sitting and—more pressing—daily 7 am goat milking duties. My payment for watching Stella, Cocoa and Mocha (the goats) and 10 or so of their chicken compatriots was fresh goat milk, homemade goat cheese and fresh eggs, should the chickens be so accommodating. These are the poetic country canine experiences. Devoid of all lyricism is a neighboring dog rather fiercely devoted to her cohabiters (this sort of New Age speak is endemic to urban areas only) and has on two occasions charged at me, nipped and then followed me down the road a ways for good measure, growling and barking too close at my heels. Of course, over the years in my wanderings for this and other local stories for this magazine, all sorts of dogs have barreled out of driveways and undisclosed thickets to feverishly attack my car only to be left hacking and spewing in the dust my car wheels kick up as revenge. Gladly, these encounters with Cerberus are few and far between.

Fred’s—a new dining experience in Stamford—raises adulation of Man’s Best Friend to new levels, both esoteric and culinary. The restaurant is named for Fred, a female Black Labrador Retriever bred and trained at Guiding Eyes for the Blind in Yorktown, who didn’t fare well on tests to become a guide dog. She was released for adoption and soon found a home with Larry Johnston and his wife, June—the owners of the restaurant on Main Street in Stamford. Larry and June bought the building in 1994 and gradually became interested in becoming more involved in community revitalization. Owners since 1997 of a successful restaurant—also called Fred’s—on 83rd Street and Amsterdam Avenue in New YOrk City, they decided to open the satellite Stamford outpost of the Manhattan spot. Fred’s opened at 60 Main Street in Stamford this past December 27, 2007. Business has been brisk. Reservations are strongly suggested, perhaps even required. When I inquired of several friends of their availability on a Monday night to join me for dinner at Fred’s, every single one of them asked if the restaurant was even open on Mondays and then if I had reservations. Well, a seat at Fred’s might be hard to come by but they restaurant is an equal opportunity opener, ready for business seven days a week. No theatrical Monday closings here.

Fred’s has separate dining and bar areas with a giant glass picture window separating the two, either to satiate curiosity or perhaps to offer respite from a particularly tedious dinner companion. The decor is reminiscent of a steak house: dark woods, reds and greens. White, red and pink carnations flourish in vases. The menu is sort of an American comfort food married with traditional steak house fare but with interesting little zaps of ingredients. For instance: Fred’s Chicken Wings offers a Chipotle BBQ sauce in addition to the stalwart celery and blue cheese dressing, and the Italian Fried Calamari is dressed with crushed red pepper, garlic, basil and sea salt. This sort of fine tuning of ingredients seems to be the signature at Fred’s. I sampled the Stuffed Portabella Mushroom appetizer and also—impulsively—the Mussels, Mussels, Mussels. By the time I caught that the mussels were steamed in amber beer, it was too late to stop the chef from firing the dish but Jill, my waitress, attentive and all smiles without being faux and unctuous, immediately ordered me up another sans beer. The broth, consisting of simple garlic, olive oil, tomato and thyme, was so delicious, mild and comforting that I spooned it up once I’d devoured the mussels, which were cooked to perfection and radiantly fresh. The Portabella Mushroom—stuffed with artichokes, sun-dried tomatoes and Boursin cheese—came with a drizzle of a balsamic that was intensely thick and voluptuous, near to balsamic nectar. The mushroom was nicely cooked, meaty and thick and smacking of a satisfying grill flavor. I ordered Fred’s Crab Cakes for the main meal. The crab cakes themselves, chock full of real crab meat—not the rubbery imitation crab—were more domed orbs of crab crusted very well done. The menu promised potato cakes and I had visions of Jewish-German inspired potato pancakes but instead, I was presented with chunky mashed potatoes shaped into patty form. They were good, but perhaps slightly misrepresented. Or I am just too much a child of New York City Jewish deli cuisine. The dish did contain a delicious surprise: a tousled pile of shoestring onions—thin, crisp and oniony—that was not mentioned on the menu. “I don’t like to list everything on the menu. I like the surprise factor,” says Executive Chef Fred Bhend, newly relocated (from Philadelphia) with his fiancée to Delhi and already delving into sourcing local. Eggs come from Green Acres Farm in Meredith and only local honey and maple syrup are employed in various roles for dinner and brunch on Sundays. “We are a scratch kitchen. Everything is made fresh and from scratch.”

A new menu for spring is in the works and will feature such dishes as Grilled Marinated Rib-eye Steak with Yellow Tomato and Buffalo Mozzarella Salad and Crispy Hay Potatoes; Pesto Crusted Tuna with Tomato Green Bean Salad, Roasted Mash Potatoes with Balsamic Syrup, and a Grilled Salmon with Basmati Pilaf, Grape Tomato Salad and Fire Roasted Tomato Oil. Spring appetizers will include Crispy Firecracker Shrimp, Pickled Cucumber Salad and Roasted Red Pepper Jam; Baby Arugula Salad with Bosc Pear, Gorgonzola and Candied Pecans in a Sherry Mustard Vinaigrette.

Other current menu items include a 14-ounce New York Strip Steak with Sautéed Spinach, Trio Fries and a Cracked Pepper Demi Glaze; Filet Mignon with Goat Cheese Mashed Potatoes, Seared Asparagus Topped with a Roasted Shallot Demi Glaze; Sesame Crusted Tuna with Stir Fried Veggies, Ginger Scented Sweet Potatoes and a Honey Soy Glaze; Rigatoni with Italian Sausage, Tomatoes, Peas and Shaved Parmesan; Mustard Grilled Salmon with Saffron Rice, Steamed Asparagus and Herb Oil; Fred’s 8-ounce Burger with Your Choice of Toppings: Cheese, Bacon, Onion and Mushrooms. A singular Vegetarian Plate is available upon request, although the appetizers contain several options for vegetarians: Asian Vegetarian Spring Rolls with Hot and Sour Napa Cabbage and Red Pepper Jam; a Black Bean Quesadilla with Jack Cheese, Scallions and Tomatoes with Chipotle Aioli, and the aforementioned Stuffed Portabella Mushrooms.

The Kids Menu gives new meaning to “You want fries with that?” All—Hamburger, Grilled Cheese and Junior Steak—but one entrée (the Penne Pasta in Butter or Red Sauce) are served with French Fries.

The wine list contains six wines by the glass evenly distributed into three reds and three whites. By the bottle the red wine selection has five from California (Parducci Petit Syrah, Ravenswood Vintners Cabernet, Sonoma Creek Cabernet, Ravenswood Zinfandel and Estancia Meritage), two from Australia (both Shiraz) and one Chilean red (Castillo de Molina). Bottles ranged from $27 to $59. The white wine selection includes four from California (Parducci Pinot Grigio, Sutter White Zinfandel, Matanza Creek Chardonnay, Clois du Bois Chardonnay). New York State is represented with one selection (Heron Hill Riesling) and New Zealand is on the menu with Brancott Sauvignon Blanc. The beer selection is lengthy and with a pub next door, varied as well.

The only hiccups: the bread was a bit stale—too hard to be simply crusty—and the kitchen had run out of a Chocolate Lava Cake. Granted, this might be more of a personal affront given my predilection, bordering on addictive, for all things chocolate. The Italian Lemon Cake I ordered instead was luminescent in its own right, composed of fluffy lady finger-esque sponge cake and voluptuous lemon cream accompanied by real whipped cream worth swooning about. Order a side of the whipped cream with whatever dessert you indulge. Other desserts include Carrot Cake, Caramel Cheesecake and a Turtle Cheesecake with Caramel and Nuts.

The thing worth noting about Fred’s is how it is managing to start a tradition. By inviting village residents and neighbors and other folks to bring in pictures of their dogs, the bar area now has an irresistible gallery of dog portraits. Some are whimsical, others display startling resemblance to human portraiture (like the black Labradoodle against the dark red background) and all are delightful. A large group of about ten folks left their table a few minutes before me and detoured through the bar area to exit, viewing the dog photos as if they were in a gallery at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I took the cue and walked through the bar on my way out. The effect of the dog photos—all of them in glassed picture frames—is at once warmly nostalgic and euphoric, a tribute to these beings that reflect the love they share with their cohabiters and owners. Fred’s is doing something more places in rural America should attempt: creating a new local tradition for generations to come.

Fred’s: Come! Sit! Stay! Fred’s is located at 60 Main Street (Route 23) in Stamford, New York, and is open for dinner seven days a week from 5 pm and also on Sundays for brunch from 11 am until 3 pm. For more information or to make a reservation, please phone 607 652 2265. MasterCard, Visa and American Express are all welcomed.