If you take an award-winning chef out of Manhattan and plunk him down in rural New Jersey, will the inventiveness used to survive in the city dwindle as the pressure to perform downshifts? If the chef in question is Sean Gray, the answer, blessedly, is no.
Gray, who took the reins at the Sergeantsville Inn in 2024, made his name at the now-closed Momofuku Ko in New York’s East Village, where he won a couple of Michelin stars. The versatility he showed there is fast turning the inn into an if-you-know-you-know kind of place.
If you know, for instance, that his spicy, quadruple-fried chicken helped secure those Michelins, you might not be surprised to see squads of regulars filing in at 4 pm, when he offers the exact same bronzed, exceptionally crusty drumsticks for $5 apiece.
And if you know they’re but one of several tantalizing snacks comprising the inn’s ridiculously cheap “blue plate special” menu, a concept Gray now offers during a two-hour daily window, you’ll have come prepared to delight in an atmosphere that intentionally blurs the line between simple and sophisticated.
The Sergeantsville Inn is achieving a tricky balancing act in the kitchen with Gray, who grew up a few miles away in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. Since setting up shop in New Jersey, the chef says, he’s figured out his culinary M.O. “The restaurant can sort of wear whatever hat you want it to,” he says. “If you don’t want to come in for a massive dinner, but you want to pop in for a beer and a plate of nachos and see your neighbors, great.”
If you’re angling for a demonstration of his culinary chops, that’s okay, too.
The Sergeanstville Inn in Delaware Township is housed within a cozy 1734 stone farmhouse. Photo: Ted Nghiem
The setting, a cozy 1734 stone farmhouse split into three dining areas, makes ample room for both experiences. In the tavern, a slip of a bar with fewer than a dozen seats is surrounded by rustic tables arranged close enough to encourage conversations with strangers. If Gray’s New York City restaurant past is evident, it’s here. Though the room is not closet sized, like the dining rooms Manhattanites often squeeze themselves into, you’ll know if someone went heavy on the cologne.
Formality is more readily accessible in the intimate dining room and upstairs loft. Both are quieter and not so much laid back as romantic. Formality of a sort is available on the compact dinner menu, too, where innovative seasonal dishes like pumpkin ravioli with kabocha squash and Parmesan share space with nostalgic American classics like a dry-aged New York strip steak. All of it, unlike the humble blue plates, is luxurious. Almost all of it, judging by my two visits, is delicious.
The halibut is served with cauliflower and capers on vintage china. Photo: Ted Nghiem
Entrées include a dollar bill-sized wedge of halibut that may qualify for the most perfectly cooked piece of fish I’ve ever had, and a couple of rotating large format dishes meant for two. In the fall, they included a well-fired roast duck, whose depth was rounded out with squash and tender-sweet caraflex cabbage, and a 32-ounce côte de boeuf with sweet potato and mushrooms.
On the not-so-delicious side was a starter of beets with ricotta and cherries, whose prettiness atop a delicate china salad plate didn’t make up for its failure to transcend meh-ness. The bread “with nice butter” on the other hand—a locally made sourdough paired with French butter—is a crusty, hearty revelation.
Desserts are as intensely American as the blue plates, and maybe just as capable of leaving you marveling at the glory of simple pleasures. The chocolate torte with silky local chocolate ice cream travels a grown-up lane, avoiding cloying sweetness and sending endorphins to your brain. And a humble, dense slab of almond cake with citrus, apricot and sweet vermouth can’t decide whether to be homey or sophisticated. So, like the restaurant itself, it satisfies both cravings.
The cosmopolitans and martinis are served in gorgeous vintage glasses. Photo: Ted Nghiem
Expect the same at the bar, where an intuitive barkeep will patiently steer you through beers, wines by the glass or bottle and popular cocktails like the Desk Job, a rum drink Gray says a regular turned him onto. “Someone threw it together half-jokingly in the fall, and we thought, This is awesome,” he says. He’s keeping the recipe around for the same reason he keeps anything he considers worth keeping: “It’s simple and approachable and really good.”
HOW WE REVIEW: Restaurants are chosen for review at the sole discretion of New Jersey Monthly. For our starred fine-dining reviews, our critics visit a restaurant at least twice with a guest, always maintaining anonymity to avoid preferential treatment, and the magazine pays for their meals. Stars are assigned by the dining-section editor in consultation with the reviewer.
Four stars = extraordinary; three stars = excellent; two stars = very good; one star = good; half a star = fair.