Sourcing most of its food from right on the property, the Pig functions as a less hands-on agriturismo—a fantasia of the Dirty Life for would-be back-to-the-landers. (Your bedside reading: vintage clothbound volumes on hen-keeping and homegrown vegetables.) Guests can tour the gardens, picking bog myrtle and cavolo nero, or visit the farm’s rare-breed hogs and chickens. The agrarian motif extends to the shabby-chic main house, where galvanized watering cans and antique farming tools are displayed on burnished antique tabletops. Each morning two long farm tables are laid with a Sunday brunch’s worth of house-made treats: prune and pear compotes, berry preserves, billowy loaves of country bread, silky yogurts, granola, meats, and raw-milk cheeses, plus a bowlful of multicolored hen eggs—fresh from our backyard flock—to cook yourself in a suitably old-school egg boiler.