The Humble Gourmand

On a recent, warm Sunday evening I found myself sipping a pre-dinner cocktail and chatting about President Obama’s Guantanamo Bay problem. A not-altogether unprecedented Sunday evening, if you replace “cocktail” with “beer” and “President Obama’s Guantanamo Bay problem” with “homebrewing.” What was unprecedented, though, was what brought us all together: a once-monthly private restaurant known as Sunday Dinner. And the cocktail – a rare combination of gin, cinnamon, black pepper, and kumquat – was likely never before combined, and perhaps never will be again. Sunday Dinner is the creation of two DC residents with a passion for cooking. They planned an elaborate five-course meal for 15 – an impressive undertaking.

Before I go further, I should elucidate: what’s the difference between a “private restaurant,” a normal restaurant, and dinner for friends? Well, it’s in a household, like the dinner for friends, but you pay for your meal, so you don’t feel obligated to clean up after yourself. There are waiters, but you don’t have to tip them. You know the cooks (perhaps), and can see into the kitchen, and can occasionally hear the screams of the softshell crabs, so you know the provenance of your food. In sum, it is perhaps the best of all worlds.

Sunday Dinner proved itself to be as good as any restaurant in DC. The starter, a thimbleful of ramp-and-potato soup with a tiny truffled grilled cheese sandwich, was simply divine. Earthy and savory, the potatoes and truffle oil waltzed with the ramps to create a two-bite masterpiece. Had the soup been cold, like a vichyssoise for royalty, this would have been the best dish I’ve had in a year.

The meal went on in a similar way – well-paired fresh and local ingredients expertly plated, if perhaps with a bit of a lag (the meal lasted 5 hours! Hard to explain that one to the boss on Monday morning…) Red beet ravioli stuffed with golden beet and goat cheese, softshell crabs, a wonderful mushroom pastry with bitter greens. By the fourth course (ha! We were fooled – shouldn’t have counted the amuse-bouche as a course!) we were full and satiated, but who could resist cardamom-encrusted lamb? And then dessert – homemade strawberry ice cream and a 14-layer cake, no doubt modeled on the state cake of Maryland.

By now it was almost midnight and we were all stuffed. It was a big commitment, both for the night and to our wasitlines, but well worth it. Keep your eyes peeled – this sort of thing is now in DC. Check under rocks, in basements, behind locked doors – there are private restaurants, the speakeasies of the eating world, just waiting to be discovered.

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