Middle Class Problems: What kind of person would want to put themselves through the ordeal of attending a supper club?

 

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The Independent Online

At some point in their intrepid exploration of the gastronomic landscape, urban foodies feel duty-bound to attend a supper club. The reasons are numerous: the chance to mingle with like-minded culinary adventurers; the opportunity to sample genuine, home-cooked versions of foreign cuisines; the ability to research and quaff your own tipple with the meal; and the laudable support of fellow amateur chefs.

Yet, having carefully selected the club, based on location, menu and word-of-mouth reviews, as the event itself looms, all manner of worries surface.

Will you be allocated places together at one large table? Or split up between small, shared tables with strangers? Worse, what if it transpires that every other guest went on the same uni ski trip two years ago? And while they, understandably, are keener on catching up with one another than you, they do seem a bit more relaxed acquainting themselves with your really quite good wine…

Which brings us to the menu. What if you don't like whatever the equivalent of a cheese course is in Hawaiian/Guatemalan/Tanzanian cuisine? You can't just leave it on your plate, can you?

That would be a terrible thing to do to your host, who will be on hand to devour your every morsel of criticism.

Come to think of it, what kind of person would want to put themselves through such an ordeal, or indeed invite a group of complete strangers into their home in order to feed them?

Maybe we'll just book that latest five-star-reviewed restaurant in Fitzrovia instead.

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