Even from the driveway, I can tell that this is not going to be like any other culinary experience I’ve ever had. Glossy black Simmental beef cattle toss their heads as they graze in the pasture to the right of the road; dozens of egg-laying hens are pacing up and down the ramps of their mobile chicken coops to the left. Up ahead, at the top of the hill, guests in flowing cocktail dresses and dark suits are depositing their keys with the parking valet before they head to dinner with the Rockefellers.As the sun sinks toward the Hudson River, some of us linger inside a small courtyard garden, where it’s too tempting not to pluck a tiny Alpine strawberry. We breathe in the heady fragrances of different basil plants tucked among thick-stalked heirloom tomatoes. It’s hard not to miss the juxtaposition between the Rockefellers’ formidable Norman-style stone barn buildings on the crest of the hill, and the 22,000-square-foot, four-season glass greenhouse on the slope below, which...