september

“…we longed for interaction and mingling, for sharing stories and learning from others. We wanted to experience and create new forms of generosity. We missed that feeling of walking into a room full of strangers all looking for that similar ineffable experience of spark. ”

This past year, Liz and I have had the pleasure and humbling experience of meeting so many new folks who’ve reached out to us about getting involved with Supper Club, offering their space, their time, their creativity, even their foraged hen of the woods mushrooms. 

When we recently met Nick and Jo from Zachary A. Designs—where we’ll be hosting our September ‘PB&J’ Supper Club (read more about the September dinner below)—what sticks out, aside from the charming conversation with new and artful friends, was Nick saying something along the lines of, it seems like you’re trying to tell a story…where does that come from? This stuck with me. 

At the beginning of Supper Club, we started with a craving for connection. After 14 months or so since the initial 2020 quarantine, we longed for interaction and mingling, for sharing stories and learning from others. We wanted to experience and create new forms of generosity. We missed that feeling of walking into a room full of strangers all looking for that similar ineffable experience of spark. 

One of the practices we love most about the restaurant industry, where it’s practiced, is family meal. Family meal, staff meal, comida, however you call it, but I’ve always liked referring to it as family meal. A time at the beginning or end—or sometimes the middle—of service, a meal of sorts is provided for the staff. This can be quite an elaborate or performative experience, or a simple and humble form of nourishment. It’s in that in-between time of day that offers a moment for reflection, therapy, review, rehearsal, and reset. An absorption of nutrients and resentments. Passed plates and spoons and stories of our diurnal realities coming together in one room around one table and for one primary reason: because we are there to provide hospitality to others. 

Family meal is the nucleus of hospitality. A space to exchange stories, to celebrate, to vent, and to seek nourishment in all its physical, emotional, and intellectual forms. We like to think of Supper Club in a similar light: many folks from many places and walks coming together for the same purpose of experiencing fulfillment, enjoying a meal, and finding some human connection. To tell the story of their day, their deal, their highs and lows, their “yummers and bummers” (as the highs/lows were affectionately dubbed in the Lula basement over family meal and rolling silverware). 

What do we get from these stories? Whether mundane or monumental, stories are a way of meaning-making. A way to synthesize and make sense of the systems that involve us and revolve around us, and to understand the roles we play within them. From the aboriginal stories of Dreamtime, to Greek and Roman mythology, and to modern day television, we use stories as a way to identify the makings of our existing reality, to understand its impulses, its consequences, and to invite opportunities to create new realities along the way. Being part of a story allows us to become bigger than ourselves, to be part of a sum much greater than our individual pieces. 

In Be My Guest: Reflections on Food, Community, and the Meaning of Generosity, author Priya Basil weaves stories of family generational history with philosophical ruminations on food and hospitality. In a meandering musing on the English phrase “to cook something up,” she writes that “stories enact a form of mutual hospitality. What is story [sic] if not an enticement to stay?” While the host offers a form of welcome or entertainment in the form of story, the guest is implicitly asked to invite the story (and by extension, the storyteller) back in return, to stay and listen and, hopefully, to understand something new of the other, while the host learns more of the guest. The reception of hospitality must also be a conscious act. Just as one reaches out to extend a gift or expression of hospitality, one must reach out in order to receive and accept. 

We’re all familiar with the cutesy adage “tell me what you eat, and I will tell you who you are” (dis-moi ce que tu manges, je te dirai ce que tu es) from 19th century gastronome Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin. The premise is that what we eat reveals much more about ourselves than just our diet or take-out tendencies.

Similarly, what’s your story? is probably the most FAQ to fast-track getting to know someone. But one could just as simply ask, what do you eat, and who prepared it for you? for a revealing account about one’s self, or one’s surrounding conditions. Geography, climate, religion, economy, politics—these all impact our relationship with food. What we eat, and how we eat it, often provides a demonstrable account about who we are and where we are from. And conversely, the foods we prepare, how we prepare it, and for whom—this also tells a story. 

For Liz and me, Supper Club has been an attempt to tell our own stories and histories, as well as to create a space for new stories to emerge from the collective vocality of the experience. So much happens across the table during the dinner that we will never be aware of. The conversations, the connections that are made, only some of these tidbits are revealed to us, while the rest go on in the world outside ourselves. We hope the story we tell is one of gratitude, of excitement and curiosity, one that converges with the stories of others and continues to grow and spread.

yours truly,

liz + dsp

TXA TXA outside the garden

a supper club w/ SEE YOU SOON

For our August Supper Club, we wanted to find a way to transpose the TXA TXA backyard and garden onto a new space. We worked with photographer Clayton Hauck and his event space See You Soon to create a virtual garden to fill the room. We had three 4-hour durational videos projected on the walls and drop sheets, so that the leaves trembling in the breeze and the sunsetting light-change would correspond with the light outside the space’s vast windows. We lugged felled branches, plants, and benches to help set the edenic scene. There was even a soundtrack of cicadas and crickets layered into the mix. 

From the moment we began concepting this dinner, Liz wanted to do butter molds for the tables, to pass bites on whimsical shells, and to have a dinner that resembled a picnic. 

We started by passing out capricho de cabra cheese, honeycomb, and nasturtium plated on scallop shells, along with sourdough bread and gently poached and peeled sunburst tomatoes. The idea here was for the table to communally smash the tomato and use as a spread on the sourdough, similar to a pan con tomate. It was simple and rustic, and a way for the guests to interactively share and pass, to engage communally. 

Our first plated course was inspired by a picnic classic—deviled eggs. The deviling here came in the form of red chilis in a smoky and vibrant peri peri sauce, spooned in the center of the plate, topped with a 6-hour cured yolk, so that the yolk’s exterior was just barely set, and the introduction of a spoon would allow for a custardy release of the inner yolk. The egg was topped with a nest of lightly dressed shaved fennel and dill, and dusted with a touch of charred eggplant ash to echo the smokiness of the peri peri and have the classic deviled egg paprika-speckled appearance. 

Up next was our ‘tin fish,’ essential a high falutin version of the classic tuna salad, which we plated in empty tuna cans: smoked lake trout, lapsang souchong tea and goat’s milk custard, with some crushed blackberry for a hint of sweetness and acidity, a touch of szechuan chili oil for zip, a few fragrant blades of tarragon, and a pinch of sunflower seed for crunch and nuttiness. Cheeky and playful, this was probably the most fun dish of the night to plate.

Where I’m from in Georgia, just about anything with fruit and mayonnaise gets the ever-inclusive moniker of “salad.” Though we skipped the mayo here, we went with a whimsical riff on ambrosia, typically a *salad* with some combination of mandarin orange, grape, marshmallows, pineapple, and T. Swift lipstick red maraschino cherries. We roasted Chinese eggplants from Pleasant Hill farms in our house vadouvan curry blend, and plated them over a longan fruit (sibling of the lychee and rambutan, with a distinct green grapey flavor) and ginger puree, topped with a brunoised relish of tart cherries, pineapple, and fresno chili, and finished with a poofy crest of savory coconut-marshmallow foam. 

Next was a golden bronze wedge of Spanish tortilla, layered with the classic potato and not-so-classic rutabaga, topped with a dollop of honeyed yogurt for a creamy sweetness, as well as a green garlic vinaigrette for an herbaceous and punchy contrast.

Sticking with the Spanish-ish theme, our dessert was inspired by the pandemic-trending Gateau Basque, or burnt cheesecake. Having cured 40-plus individual egg yolks for the deviled egg dish, we were left with enough whites for a life-sized recreation of the Ghostbusters infamous Mr. Stay Puft, so we decided to go with a torched angel food cake with cream cheese ice cream and orange blossom caramel. The rich caramel notes with the bruléed cake were the perfect contrast to a rich and creamy ice cream. We finished the dish with some sliced ground cherries—imagine a grape tomato’s savory and juicy burst with the tropicality of ripe melon—for a tiny explosion of fruity acidity. 

It was a terrific night, a charming mix of new and familiar guests, and we want to say thank you to all who were able to join us.

comin’ up

PB+J

vol. 15

friday, september 30th

6-9pm

We’ve been invited by our new friends at Zachary A. Designs to soak up the last bit of summer by utilizing their outdoor studio space. Founded by Zac Bitner, ZAD is a furniture brand based in Chicago, combining an approachable art sensibility with a deep expertise of the materials. With a focus on the unexpected, they push the boundaries of material finish and refine age-old production techniques to be used in modern, artful furniture designs. 

So we thought ZAD would be the perfect space to host our last outdoor Supper Club of the year—a dinner fully inspired by the iconic childhood sandwich: the PB&J. 

But in lieu of peanut butter and jelly, you can expect to find things like liver and plums, short ribs and tamarind, or sunflower seed and radicchio, dishes that represent a contrapposto toward fall with the back-to-school feeling of equal parts nostalgia and anticipation.

next month:

disco aperitivo

vol. 16

friday, october 28th

6-9pm

For our “DISCO APERITIVO” October Supper Club, you can expect some vibrant colors and flavors paired with transformed ingredients, as well as riffs on kitschy classics. The menu will feature dishes like a smoked beet carpaccio with grilled romaine and spruce; glazed carrots glossed in a fish sauce caramel with bee pollen and crispy amaranth; campy “campfire” potatoes dressed in a blistered shishito gremolata with fresh horseradish and black garlic; and a kombu dashi risotto with huitlacoche and crispy oyster mushrooms. It’ll be a celebration of the autumnal hinge into winter, bracing ourselves as we hunker down for the colder months ahead.

TXA TXA in HUDSON VALLEY

a supper club w/ FRANKIE’S

friday, oct 14th + saturday, oct 15th

6-9pm

October is going to be a big one for us. In addition to our regularly scheduled Supper Club dinners, we’ve got an extra special travel edition as we venture to the quaint hamlet of Spencertown in beautiful upstate New York. We’ll be hosting an intimate dining experience in collaboration with Frankie’s, the local Hudson Valley mobile bar, for a cocktail hour followed by a plated 5-course dinner. In honor of Frankie’s Lebanese heritage, we’ll be pairing our unique flavors and style with traditional Middle Eastern fare for a dinner like no other. 

Don’t miss out out on early bird pricing going to the first 20 seats sold. Early bird ticket pricing, $145, will last until Friday September 9th. After that, tickets will be $175 per person, cocktails and wine all-inclusive.

RECIPES

white peach ajo blanco

Ajo Blanco (literally “white garlic”) is a classic chilled soup from the Spanish region of Andalusia (southernmost part). Its bright, refreshing flavors are a perfect match for Spain’s southern summer heat. Traditionally the soup is thickened with bread, but we’re going sin pan here and just allowing for the fruit and almonds to thicken things up.

The hardest part of this recipe is finding a scale and a heavy duty blender.* Blanching your own almonds may seem like a formidable task, but it can be done in a pinch (quite literally). Bring a couple quarts of h2o to a boil and prepare an ice bath (one tray of cubes in a large bowl filled with cold water). Blanch the almonds, cooking for about 1 minute or until they’re swirling in an eddy at the top of the pot, then scoop and transfer to the ice bath. The shock will loosen the almond skins. Strain and pat dry. Using your thumb and forefinger, pinch the almonds at the base and they will shoot right out of the skin (and across the room if you aren’t careful). Done.

(Serves 2; ~3 cups)

210g white peach, peeled and pitted

140g green grapes

140g english cucumber 

50g blanched almonds

24g sherry vinegar

10g olive oil

9g garlic cloves

8g honey

6g (~1 ea.) serrano chili, stemmed and seeded 

6g salt

¾ cup h20

Peel the cucumbers and slice in half, all the way down the middle. Using a spoon, carve out the center part with all the seeds, so that you’re left with a long canoe shape. Cut into manageable chunks. 

Once the almonds are blanched, the peaches peeled and pitted, and cukes all taken care of, just add everything to your heavy duty blender and blitz away. You want a texture that’s glossy and smooth, thick enough for a luscious spoonful, but thin enough to pour in a steady stream. The acid levels from the vinegar should make your mouth pucker just a bit. Taste for salt. Add more h20, a tablespoon at a time, if you want a thinner consistency. The soup will thicken once it’s completely chilled. Cover and refrigerate until ready to serve. I recommend making 1 day in advance for the garlic’s raw pungency to soften and to allow all the flavors to properly marry. 

For serving, garnish with a touch of good olive oil and some cracked black pepper, or some thinly sliced peaches would be nice, too. 

(*NOTES: If we haven’t talked about this already, I can’t emphasize enough how indispensable a kitchen scale is. Do yourself and your kitchen a favor and get one. As for a heavy duty blender, we use a VitaMix, which can be a bit of a splurge, but super convenient for making velvety smooth soups and sauces, unbreakable emulsions, and—if you’re a new parent or have just had your wisdom teeth removed—delicious baby food.)

YELLOW WAX BEAN SALAD

(serves 4)

1 qt yellow wax beans

2 TBL tahini-buttermilk dressing

Torn mint leaves

3-4 garlic scapes

TAHINI-BUTTERMILK DRESSING

(makes ¾ cup)

54g (¼ cup) buttermilk

45g (3 TBL) tahini

21g (1 TBL) seasoned rice wine vinegar

20g (1 TBL) yogurt

20g (½ ea.) lemon juice

10g (1 tsp) honey

3g (¾ tsp) sumac

2g (½ tsp) salt

We’ve made this simple salad all summer long, snagging a quart of wax beans almost every weekend at the farmer’s market. 

Clean the bean tips (we like to snip the vine-side only, leaving the curlicue tails on because they’re cute), and cut beans on a diagonal bias into thirds. Bring a pot of salted h20 to boil and prepare an ice bath. Once your h2o is at a rolling boil, drop the beans and cook 1-2 minutes. You want them to be *just* tender but retain some snap. Retrieve beans and shock in ice bath. Once cooled, pat dry and set aside. 

To make the dressing, combine everything in a mixing bowl and whisk until evenly incorporated. It’s that simple. For the scapes, trim the ends and finely slice all the way up the tendrils, giving you the tiniest of flat pegs. To make the salad, toss the beans with a couple tablespoons of the dressing, the sliced garlic scapes, some fresh torn mint, and if you’ve got a wild hair up your sleeve, finish with some za’atar.

Serve chilled or room temp.