From the Rabbit Hole Supper Club: (top left) James Beard’s Onion Sandwich; (top right) the entry way into the Rabbit Hole Supper Club, and (bottom left) brown butter carrot cake with Japonica Noyeaux Buttercream and Louisiana pecans. Photos by Alexandra Kennon. Bottom right: a fried ginger “Beign-Yay” from Black Roux Culinary Collective. Photo by Jyl Benson.
TA B L E ’ S S E T
Supper, Re-Imagined
THREE UNCONVENTIONAL, IMMERSIVE DINING EXPERIENCES FOR THE CURIOUS EPICUREAN Story by Alexandra Kennon and Jyl Benson
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f you are tempted to raise an eyebrow when we tell you that we’ve discovered one-of-a-kind dining hexperiences in New Orleans, we understand. But really, even by the standards of the South’s most vibrant food city— these food encounters take things far beyond the standard white table cloths and pre-fixe menus. From bunny-themed secret suppers to personalized multi-course meals inside private homes—these corners of the NOLA culinary scene are, we’re pleased to reveal, secrets no more.
Rabbit Hole Supper Club Alleyway dining meets funky hipster theme party
If you’ve never before experienced a multi-course, pre-fixe meal in an alley with the cartoon eyes of pop culture’s most famous bunnies watching over you—well, then you’ve clearly never dined at Rabbit Hole Supper Club. The millennial urge to describe the atmosphere as a “total vibe” is too strong to resist (go ahead, wiser boomer food writers—roll your eyes, I understand). But I will also tell you how that vibe is created: haphazardly-strung red string lights along the length of the dining room cast the space with a warm, red glow—reminiscent of Snake ’n’ Jakes Christmas Club Lounge dive bar or some far-away red light district. Beyond the glow of the Christmas lights, a little A-frame sign out fronts reads “RABBIT HOLE SUPPER CLUB”—which catches reservation-holders just as we began to wonder “this surely can’t be it.” From there, we slunk into the alley to join our friends, who greeted us beside a shrine of bunny tchotchkes. Once settled at our round, bunny-cloth covered table, we took in the
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full impact of the décor. Our table featured a framed portrait of Buster, the white rabbit pal of public broadcasting’s cartoon aardvark Arthur—and each other table hosted its own bunny of honor. Rabbit and star stencils decorated a burgundy-painted cement brick wall to one side; a vintage mirrored sign, smattering of tropical plants, and set of sixties swivel chairs beaconed toward the bamboo-covered bar in the back corner. Overlooking the entire operation with his usual good humor was a humorously voluptuous Bugs Bunny. The masterminds behind Rabbit Hole Supper Club, which they’ve appropriately branded as “Your Grandmother’s Side Alley Sometimes Restaurant,” are couple Eden Chubb and Aaron Miller. The friendly, laid-back front-of-house and themed décor are Chubb’s work, while Miller cranks out the homey-yet-elevated, contemporary-yet-charmingly-dated menu offerings. The evening we went (Rabbit Hole operates on alternating Monday nights), we opted for cocktails, though their wine
J U L 2 2 // C O U N T R Y R O A D S M A G . C O M
and hot tea menus also looked promisingly well-curated. Going all in, I ordered a Hasenfluffer: Smith & Cross rum, carrot, lemon, egg white, and angostura bitters. It arrived in a dainty stemmed glass, a satisfying carrot-orange color with a rabbit shape stenciled into the foam on top. My table mates tried the menu’s other two offerings: a refreshing tequila cucumber drink and a more intense rum and Campari concoction— each highlighting unusual ingredients, like traditional Alpine herbal liquor génépy, with creativity and cute garnishes. The pre-fixe, family-style menu (and whole experience, really) felt like an oldschool meal at grandma’s, a modern trendy farm-to-table restaurant experience, and a dinner party with the cool hipster friends we didn’t know we had— all rolled into one. The first course was James Beard’s Onion Sandwich, a 1965 classic which I was previously unaware of and is now my new oddly-simple obsession. Pillowy-soft and buttery brioche potato bread cushioned thinly-sliced
sweet Vidalia onions and mayo, with a generous parsley garnish encrusting the sliced side of the sandwich. The vintage entertaining staple was served alongside a crisp and herby green bean salad, bedecked with thin shavings of fennel and generous sprigs of fresh dill. Then came a platter of richly-savory, just-soft-enough roasted beets, nestled atop a thin layer of fresh greens, drizzled with an orange tahini sauce, and bedazzled with crushed roasted hazelnuts. In keeping with the cottontail concept, most of the menu is plant-based: up next was a salad of thinly-shaved squash with fresh mint, Aleppo pepper, and Tién Dat Tofu. But it wasn’t all rabbit food: the fourth course was a juicy spiced, roasted half chicken served alongside charred broccoli and crispy-fried chunks of potato. A creamy, garlic-heavy toum sauce and a darker, more savory reduction of some kind arrived as dipping sauces. Our vegetarian friend was accommodated with cubes of tofu marinated just like our chicken, curbing any tableside envy. Finally, in a finale rounding out the rabbit theme (which might sound heavy-handed, but I found to be delightfully campy without being overwrought), we had brown butter carrot cake smeared with a silky Japonica Noyaux (a Japanese plum-like fruit) Buttercream and dotted with pieces of Louisiana pecans. The thoroughly-spiced, hearty cake paired perfectly with a cardamom-infused digestif suggested by our thoughtful waiter. We moseyed back out of the rabbit hole only after sharing some compliments and deep belly laughs with him, the chef, and the hostess; whose combined efforts created a delectably off-the-wall meal and experience. rabbitholesupperclub.com. —Alexandra Kennon
