The Art of Eating In - Cathy Erway [100]
2 tablespoons water
1 bunch fresh basil leaves, rinsed well
2 cups heavy cream (or substitute whole milk for up to ½ cup)
1/3 cup sugar
Dissolve gelatin in water and set aside. Reserve one or two large basil leaves for the garnish. Combine the cream, sugar, and the rest of the basil in a medium saucepan and bring just to a simmer. Remove from heat and cover to steep for 20 minutes. Strain the leaves from the cream mixture and stir in the gelatin. Divide equally among four ramekins, cover with plastic, and chill at least 4 hours or overnight to set. Roll up reserved basil leaves and slice thinly into chiffonades. Place a pinch of the chiffonades on each of the ramekins to garnish.
CHAPTER 11
Underground Eateries
SUPPER CLUBS AND THE EXCLUSIVE SOS
The first time I went to an underground supper club was back in January of that year, 2008. It was the Whisk and Ladle Supper Club, the Williamsburg-based operation run by four residents of a large loft apartment in a converted industrial building. I’d heard about it from a casual friend and fellow food blogger, Amelia, who often cooked with the group. We’d run into each other a few times at various food-related events that year, and she urged me to come by sometime. At Whisk and Ladle, she explained, the bar area was open for drinks after the sit-down dinner was served. So I could drop by without sitting through (and paying for) dinner to check it out.
When I arrived, around eleven o’clock, dinner service was still in full swing. The loft’s open kitchen was separated from a vast dining area by a wooden staircase that led to bedrooms overlooking the entire space. A few waist-high brass candleholders lit the lobby area, and a small side table held a placard with the night’s menu. Just before the kitchen, a rope-and-wooden-slat swing hung from the ceiling. About thirty guests were seated to the far left of the loft, at three or four long tables. The kitchen was full of cooks and their presumed friends scurrying about, plating dishes and bringing plates or glasses to the dining area. I spotted Amelia in the kitchen, wiping her brow with the back of her hand and squeezing some sort of plastic bag with the other. She walked over when I waved. Taking my hand, she immediately piped a spurt of pea green substance the texture of toothpaste onto my finger.
“We made edamame paste,” she said. “Try!”
I found myself licking creamed edamame off my hand before I could even say hello to anyone. Smooth, with a buttery richness that coated my tongue, it had the concentrated flavor of fresh edamame beans.
“Wow!” I said.
This state of awe pretty much remained with me throughout the night. After meeting a couple of the roommate-chefs, I settled at the living room area’s makeshift bar to let them get back to work. The bar was manned by Nick, one of the roommates and a professional bartender by trade. I was his first cocktail customer of the evening, and he was more than gracious about fixing me a drink. Written on a folded card set at the bar were the drink specials he’d come up with for the evening. After he briefly explained each of them, I chose a Bourbon-based drink with Japanese-twig tea and fresh lemon. A few moments later, he poured me a shot of roasted peanut-infused vodka that he’d been experimenting with lately. It tasted of peanut shells at a ballpark in liquid form, in a surprisingly good way. While I was sipping and chatting with Nick, Amelia came over and brought me a bowl of soup from the kitchen, apparently extra stock from the evening’s first course.
“This is Danielle’s green-apple soup,” she said, referring to one of the resident-cooks I’d just met. Even though I had already eaten, I took a curious sip. Lukewarm, it was still good enough to finish. The thick soup was creamy and tangy at the same time, topped with julienned Granny Smith apples and shaved Parmesan.
Eventually the diners, finished with their desserts, flowed into the room. Soon, everyone was drinking and chatting with one another. The cooks, finished with serving for the night, were lapping