The underground restaurant scene has been gaining ground, so to speak, and while I’ve been hearing about many iterations of secret eateries all over the country (and the world), I had yet to check one out for myself until last week, when I bought two tickets to attend Wild Kitchen—an underground supper put on by San Francisco upstart ForageSF.

ForageSF is the brainchild of Iso Rabins, a committed young scavenger who has made a business of the bounty of the Bay Area by creating a “community-supported forage” subscription service, much like a CSA. Members of Rabins’ CSF get a box full of whatever he’s pulled from land and sea, all subject to the seasons (some of which are even more fleeting then farm crop seasons, such as a quick blink of wild mushrooms and miner’s lettuce). Rabins began doing occasional secret suppers as a way to assemble community around the delights of cooking and eating foraged food.

I bought my tickets online based upon a menu sent by email that promised fried cattail hearts, wild vegetarian sushi, foraged nori, local spring vegetables, and acorn ice cream. On the day of the dinner, I received another email revealing the address of the temporary establishment—fortunately just a few blocks from my house in the Mission.

About twenty people showed up, some whom were already CSF subscribers and friends of Rabins, and others who were just passing through town from the east coast on their way to the weekend’s Maker Faire festivities. As Rabins said after the meal was complete, the crowd defines the evening, and this was a lively group. Conversation never ceased at the two long tables as we sampled radish greens from nearby McLaren Park, sipped 5-year miso soup, and drank a wide array of wine that arrived on the table via the BYOB policy.

Overall, the Wild Kitchen excelled as the sum of its parts. The food was very good, but the experience revolved as much on the novelty of eating unusual ingredients with a tangible backstory (I’d never tried cattails and certainly wouldn’t have thought to munch on the greens that grow in the shadows of McLaren park) and on the group of people that showed up to share it. I left thinking that the primary difference between making a great, interesting meal for friends and hosting a secret supper is that you recoup your costs and you get to be surprised by your own guest list. Certainly neither of these factors is to be underestimated—it was great fun to meet other local food enthusiasts and if felt good to support a venture founded on the principles of fair food and fulfilling work. As Iso Rabins builds a community around the fun of foraging, he’s also building himself a satisfying, independent career.

Photos: Monica Jensen

Supper clubs, where excellent amateur chefs who are passionate about food host under the radar dinner parties in people’s apartments for a relatively cost, are my new obsession. Why go out for an anonymous restaurant meal where you are just another customer when you can have a completely unique food adventure, hang out with the chefs, and actually talk to people you don’t know at a fraction of the cost of a similar quality restaurant evening? I’m sold.

I’d never heard of the Queens County Farm until I sat next to its head farmer Michael Grady Robertson at a One Big Table supper club. An NYC parks department-owned 47 acre farm in Floral Park, Queens, it’s been a working farm for over 300 years, and is a very last remnant of the city’s agrarian tradition. The farm is a living, breathing education center where people can take tours or just wonder around and see historical, sustainable agriculture practices in action.

After surviving the experience of Friday rush hour at Penn Station, my posse and I were whisked out to Queens on the LIRR. When we arrived at the farm, we were invited to explore in the musty wet spring evening. “Check out the cow over that way, her name is Daisy,” we were told. “She’s 23 years old!” (Apparently that is very old in cow years?) As soon as we started walking around everything started to feel so much calmer and all that frenetic energy the city demands of its residents seemed to fade away. We saw the rows of salad greens the farm sells at the Union Square farmers market, chickens with shiny feathers prancing around, ducks, clean and happy (and swine flu-free) pigs poking around in their pen, and a butterfly garden. I noticed that when I looked in one direction I could immediately feel confident I was in the middle of Amish country, turn in the other direction and I could see tall city buildings. This is the magic of urban agriculture.

I was charmed before I even had my first bite.

But what a first bite it was — fried wonton wrappers with edamame hummus. Hapa Kitchen is inspired by poly-cultural culinary influences from Asian cuisine, with a focus on local, seasonal and organic. I tried to restrain my appetite as we munched on the hummus, curried deviled eggs and lamb pate. One of the servers handed out flowers with hair clips for women to put in their hair (the maypole and garland weaving had to be canceled because of the rain. No really, there was gonna be a MAYPOLE.) My inner hippie child, who I deeply try to hide in my everyday life, swooned.

After some appetizers and a glass or two of wine from the New York Wine & Grape Association, the farmers who’d raised the lamb that we’d be eating in multiple courses that evening from Apple Pond Farm gave a little talk. Based in the Catskills, Dick Riseling and Sonja Hedlund run an organic farm where they humanely raise animals and and power themselves through green energy. They’ve now helping other farms green their operations, and have become a renewable energy education center. When people think of organic farmers, it may unfortunately come with connotations of prissy idealists. This couple could not put that stereotype further out of your mind. Dick is a gruff but grandfatherly man with a deep voice, a white beard and a potbelly. When he started talking about how he felt mother earth was seriously hurting, he was so cast against type you couldn’t not take him seriously.

And then we were off to the farmhouse for dinner. I somehow managed to forget my corset and hoop skirt, which would have been a perfect aesthetic fit. Long wooden tables with lanterns, stone hearths and fireplaces going, several small rooms with intimate tables — hello 19th century!

There were sometimes leisurely pauses between the courses — maybe the cooks were scrambling with their ambitious dinner for 40, but it gave us plenty of time to drink more wine, move to other tables, and further chat up our dinner companions. This was not the sort of night you wanted to go by quickly.

When the menu advertised a meal “featuring lamb,” they weren’t kidding. Lamb from Apple Pond was featured in every course but dessert, but with very good reason. This was the kind of lamb that was so decadent and flavorful in its many preparations that it made me question the lamb-like substance I’d been thinking was lamb all these years. I particularly liked the savory-sweet combination of lamb gyoza with apples, honey and yogurt sauce, and the Taiwanese-style “Three Cup” braised lamb with turnip-apple puree was so stupendous, that when one of the waitresses came by with an extra plate of it, thinking someone hadn’t gotten one yet, we implored her to leave it with us and I and my 5 tablemates lapped it up in spoonfuls. The dish that I had to pick my jaw up off the floor over, however, was dessert: Curry carrot ice cream with cinnamon-sugar dosa. Yes, it was as exciting as it sounds.

At the end of the meal I tracked down both Cathy and Michael to tell them how great it was, and how much fun I’d had. They both, separately, looked at me sort of wide-eyed, and replied with a humble, “Really?” As if they couldn’t quite believe it has all come together as the rousing success that it was. Yes, really. The only thing left I could possibly ask for is a seat at Hapa Kitchen’s next dinner.

For a parting gift, here’s the recipe for the Curry Carrot Ice Cream courtesy of Cathy Erway’s awesome blog, Not Eating Out in New York.

Curry Carrot Ice Cream(makes about 1 quart)

1 cup heavy cream
1 cup whole milk
1 cup coconut milk
1/2 cup packed finely shredded carrots
4 egg yolks
3/4 cup light brown sugar
1 1/2 tablespoons Indian or Japanese curry powder
squirt of lemon or lime

In a small bowl, beat the egg yolks and brown sugar until fluffy and the lighter in color. Set aside.

Combine the milk, cream, coconut milk, carrots and curry powder in a medium saucepan. Bring mixture just to a boil, then reduce heat to very low. Let simmer, stirring occasionally, for 25 minutes. (Do not let boil.)

While beating the egg yolk mixture, pour in a small spoonful of the hot milk mixture and continue to beat. Repeat process with a larger spoonful, while beating, then repeat again, and again. (This will temper the eggs, so that they don’t cook lumpy.) Next, scoop all the egg yolk mixture into the hot milk mixture. Return heat to medium-low. Cook about 8-10 minutes longer, stirring frequently with a spatula to scrape all corners of the bottom of the pot. Do not let boil. The custard should be just thick enough to coat the back of a spoon, but have no lumps.

Let custard cool completely, then transfer to an airtight container and completely chill in the refrigerator at least 2 hours. Add the squirt of lemon or lime juice. Follow your machine’s instructions for churning length. Add the chopped nuts in the last minute of the churning process. Transfer ice cream to an airtight container and freeze for 2 hours to “ripen.”

Originally Published on The Huffington Post ]]> http://civileats.com/2009/05/20/adventures-in-secret-dining-dinner-down-on-the-queens-county-farm/feed/ 0 http://civileats.com/2009/05/14/adventures-in-secret-dining-ted-and-amys-underground-supper-club/ http://civileats.com/2009/05/14/adventures-in-secret-dining-ted-and-amys-underground-supper-club/#comments Thu, 14 May 2009 18:28:44 +0000 kgoldstein http://civileats.com/?p=3638 It’s possible, it the biggest and most anonymous city in America for dinner with a group of strangers to feel completely familiar and relaxed. The Ted and Amy Supper Club was my second foray into the underground supper club scene — amateur chefs hosting under the radar dinner parties in someone’s apartment, where they charge a relatively low flat fee for several courses and free flowing wine. (Check out my first experience at One Big Table here.) These supper clubs seem to me to be the social dining experience of both the now and the future. I think everyone realizes the cultural winds are shifting — formal, fancy, trendy, showy and gimmicky gastronomy is out. Home cooking, value, connection to your food and the people around you are decidedly, wholeheartedly in.

When I walked into Kara Masi’s Clinton Hill, Brooklyn apartment, I felt like it could easily be the home of someone I knew. Kara exuded the friendly vibe of someone you would have met her at your college dorm. She has been the stalwart of this supper club for about two years, along with a rotating cast of friends and boyfriends who’ve assisted her along the way. (In case you were wondering, the supper club is quirkily named in honor of Ted Allen and Amy Sedaris). She hosts one or two dinners a month. I started asking about her experiences with the supper club. “It’s amazing, with all the dinner parties we’ve hosted, we consistently meet great people,” she said as she poured me a glass of wine. It seems bold to routinely open your home up to complete strangers, who have heard about the event by word of mouth or her website, but Kara does so cheerfully. The dinners usually end up being a mix of about half people she knows and half she doesn’t.

A few days before the dinner, everyone was sent a brief questionnaire with a request to answer questions about ourselves, like what you did for a living, your favorite restaurant, and if you had a website. I felt like I was getting ready for summer camp, in the best possible way. I have a theory that New Yorkers are actually some of the nicest people in the world. Not in a faux -friendly, “You have a great day, ma’am,” way, but are deep-down incredibly lovely, once you get them to let their guard down. Kara strikes me as some kind of modern innkeeper — she creates a cozy, charming and unpretentious atmosphere, where the usual Brooklyn suspects — writers, professors, artists — can do exactly that.

As we sopped up garlic-y shrimp with thick slices of bread, Kara expanded a little on her philosophy. “I’m a home cook. Not a professional chef, not even a foodie. I know there are supper clubs that do all sorts of wild things, but this one is pretty simple.”

The Ted and Amy Supper Club isn’t in any sort of game of culinary one-upsmanship, Kara is focused on making making things tasty — with wonderfully delicious results. After the shrimp we had rack of lamb and rich, creamy risotto (the secret is a lot of cheese, she said with a grin and a giggle), followed by a creme brulee which Kara expertly caramelized with a blowtorch. It was certainly several steps above the average, “come over to my house for dinner” invite most would get from a friend. Kara comes exactly as advertised, a home chef — but a clearly talented one.

Kara and her accomplice David Lifson sat smiling at the head of the table, presiding over their handiwork, and enjoying the fruits of their labors. They offered up seconds and were sure, of course, that the wine got passed around.

Originally published on the Huffington Post