All these places are remarkably and uniquely good-looking, and extend the chef's concept of the restaurant from the cooking to the whole decor, from the chairs to the menus
So, skipping right over the haybale and overalls jokes, understand that The Farm is not about props so much as it is about ideas. The American idea of "farm" has changed, moving from its early subsistence days through massive industrialized agribusiness to today's rediscovery and rescue of the value and flavor of hand-raised and handmade food.
That's what Murcko's going for with his menu, and he nails it, emphasizing local sourcing to a degree we haven't seen in a food operation this size - from grass-fed Summit County Beef (besides the usual steaks, he uses the shortribs in his pasties and in his "oxtail"-onion soup fusion, one of the deepest-flavored dishes I've ever tasted), to produce from Zoe's, to poultry from Heritage Valley and ice cream from Yellow Snow. And the place, with its amazing service counter of agate-like stone, its wide windows looking out over the main plaza, and the worn patina of the wood tables and leather slung chairs, manages the same mix of modernity with heritage.
For all that, it's not an expensive menu, topping out at $37 for the steaks, nor it is a pretentious menu - a Morgan Valley lamb burger and a turkey meat loaf share the list with tenderloin and sturgeon.
So, the answer to the musical question is clear. This is how you keep'em down (actually, up) on The Farm.