On the eve of my first formal supper club experience, I receive the email with the details of the event. “We will be dining al fresco, so dress appropriately” states the invite. Reading this on a sunny Saturday afternoon all sounds well: time for the first outdoor dinner of the season. But the next day, the weather takes a turn to cool temps and overcast skies.
My spirits are not hindered by this, and as I walk up the many steps to the dinner venue in the hills of Echo Park, the cool air is refreshing. I know the crisp air is a pleasant contrast to the cosy (now indoor) dinner I’m heading to.
I reach the top of the stairs and look out at the view. It’s dark for 5 PM and a soft mist hangs over the landscape, screening the view of Glendale in the distance. I walk through the wooden gate into the courtyard of a lovely 1930s bungalow and then on into the house.
I’ve arrived early to check out some of the prep action in the kitchen. There are bowls and pots everywhere. Asparagus is being sliced into ribbons, baby radishes are being peeled and a large sheet pan or lamb is being cut into pieces. For the number of tasks going on simultaneously, the women working in the kitchen all seem relaxed.
I’m greeted by Rachel Narins, co-creator of the supper club Chicks With Knives (along with Suzanne Griswold) and she invites me to be to be the first to try the evening’s complementary cocktail. I accept her drink of celery and fresh herb infused organic vodka over ice, garnished with a stalk of baby celery. Celery is not my favorite flavor, but at the first sip, I’m surprised by the complex flavor of this drink. It has just the right amount of celery and many other herbal notes to back it up. The drink is strong, but has a sweet background provided by just a bit of simple syrup.
Seven o’clock rolls around and Suzanne spreads caramelized onions on slices of homemade brioche and then sandwiches it with a local cheddar cheese. Golden brown from a righteous slathering of homemade butter, the grilled cheese comes off the press decadent in flavor but light in texture. The brioche is light and airy, surrounded in a flakey, crispy crust. This grilled cheese doesn’t ooze with cheese, rather it oozes with flavor and the perfect balance of sweet and salty.
As the guests arrive, Rachel offers them a warm greeting, the grilled cheese and the vodka, freshly poured by her volunteer assistant, Shanti.
Sandwiches quickly devoured the guests are seated. I sit at one of the three tables with seven others. We recite names to make an attempt to remember everyone at the table. Bottles of wine open and I break out my big mason jar full of homemade strawberry sangria.
“That makes ordinary wine seem so much more boring” said one of the diners across from me. I laughed and offered to share some. The evening is BYOB and the bottles of wine at the table are generously shared. My table gladly helps me kill the jar of sangria.
Conversations bounce across the table as we snack on a variety of small bites that Rachel and Suzanne set out, including homemade curry-pickled asian pear. Soup is served followed by salad.
As the salad plates are cleared away, Rachel taps certain guests to switch tables. Rather than spending the entire evening with the same people, you get to switch it up and meet new people for the second half of the meal.
The Second half of the meal brought my favorite dish of the evening: a “mosaic” of fresh, local, grass-fed lamb, served on a beautiful swirl of mulberry sauce. Having recently ventured out of the pen of vegetarianism into a sensitively expanded palate, I’ve become a big fan of well raised, well prepared lamb.
The dish is a brick of small cuts of meat, pan seared and finished in the oven to a perfect medium rare. I find it surprisingly tender and the natural flavor of the lamb pairs wonderfully with the mulberry sauce. There is a large bowl of extra sauce put out at the table, and I pour it on my plate liberally, sopping up the extra with a piece of walnut, date and fig-studded bread.
By the time we finish dessert it’s after 11 PM, making the whole affair over four hours. But this is the kind of meal that you want to last four hours (pun intended).
“We are not a restaurant!” was the disclaimer given at the start of the meal. There is quite a wait between courses, but the table snacks warded off starvation and the interesting people kept boredom at bay. I was actually quite surprised how efficiently they managed to serve twenty people.
All of the guests came to this gathering on the premise of a good meal, but in the end, it’s not just about the meal. The food is delightful, of course, but the people are what really makes it fun. There is no need to be shy, because you know that at the very least, you share an interest in good food with everyone else in the room.
As the conversations rolled to the end of the evening and people got up to help bus the tables, the clouds outside were pouring rain. I don’t think anyone even noticed that it was raining until it was time to go. We were all too engrossed in the meal, the people, the wine and the conversation to be bothered by something as frivolous as the weather.
Walking down the staircase in the pouring rain was a stark contrast to the warm meal, but it felt good. My stomach and sprits satisfied, not stuffed, I dreamed of my warm shower and soft bed as the cool April rain soaked into my clothes.