The steam room sits tucked beyond the kitchen's working edge, a chamber where eucalyptus-laced heat replaces the residual warmth of the range and the world outside the Derby Corridor dissolves into mineral silence. Here the same intentional design that governs the chef-driven spaces—clean lines, natural stone, hardware chosen for touch as much as function—turns inward, trading performance for recovery, the body's own quiet reset between courses of a longer evening. It is the room that makes the home feel less like a showpiece and more like a compound built around the rhythms of someone who lives at full capacity. And it is precisely that sense of self-contained command that carries you forward, past the private quarters and into the kind of space where the house opens its doors not just to guests but to something closer to enterprise.