Supper, Reimagined

3 Unconventional Dining Experiences in New Orleans

If 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

Alexandra Kennon

Alexandra Kennon

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 SUP- PER 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 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.

From the Rabbit Hole Supper Club: James Beard’s Onion Sandwich

Alexandra Kennon

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 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.

Brown butter carrot cake with Japonica Noyeaux Buttercream and Louisiana pecans.

Alexandra Kennon

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.

Black Roux Culinary Collective

A Vegan Brunch Affair

Jyl Benson

Jyl Benson

Chef Myisha “Maya” Mastersson arrived in a blaze of color and fanfare. The pinkhaired, pink-coated chef pulled up to my friend’s Algiers Point home in a Cadillac (not pink) packed with flowers, serving ware, table adornments, and the makings for an unforgettable brunch.

I invited my well-travelled, former journalist, octogenarian friend, Robin, to join me in Black Roux Culinary Collective’s Vegan Brunch Affair—just so long as we could do it at her home. Between my four dogs (two of them rambunctious, destructive, nine-month-old puppies) and a hardworking historical renovator husband who would rather eat a bug than socialize over brunch on a Saturday, my house is not the ideal venue for a chef trying to compose a seven-course meal with cocktail pairings.

Chef Mastersson danced a shimmy as she plated up the courses and mixed cocktails, conversing easily as she worked from sealed containers holding her prepped ingredients, leaving her only in need of a hot oven and a small saucepan.

A native of Detroit who fell in love with New Orleans in the 1990s, Mastersson launched her dream business—fostering immersive culinary experiences in the intimacy of people’s homes, as well as through the luxury of culinary tours/ travel—just in time for the pandemic to shut her down in 2020. Now, in 2022, she has officially relaunched Black Roux Culinary Collective. “I knew I would call it Black Roux, because black is as far as you can take a roux, and there is a very fine line between a black roux and a burned one.”

This past June, she led a group on an immersive culinary tour in Yelapa, Mexico. She’s begun hosting a monthly supper club at her home in the Marigny for up to twenty guests, conducts regular pop-ups around New Orleans, and offers catered experiences in private homes for up to fifty people. The themes and the menus for those experiences change every three months or so and include “A Little Dim Sumthin’, Sumpthin’” featuring foods of the African Diaspora presented in a dim sum style; Mediterranean; Tapas; and “A Vegan Brunch Affair”. She is a member of the Good Trouble Network, a non-profit coalition of hospitality workers in New Orleans that hosts monthly fundraisers for local social justice and human rights organizations. Seemingly inexhaustible, she is also starting a Led Zeppelin cover band with her husband, Adam—but that’s another story.

Mastersson is also as vibrant, compelling, and engaging as the food she prepares. And she knows full well that we feast first with our eyes. Her dishes are artfully composed of screamingly-fresh produce and lushly adorned with edible flowers.

The "Lox Nest Monster"

Jyl Benson

Robin, my epicurean friend, is thin as a wisp and eats very little. She cleaned her plate through all seven courses. We both did.

The meal started with “Ramen in the Morning”: a vegan soft-boiled egg (silken tofu flavored with Middle Eastern black salt, the high sulfur content in which mimics the flavor of egg), confit carrot bacon, blueberry sausage, pickled collard greens, “bacon” broth (made from smoked mushrooms), and yam noodles. I obnoxiously tilted the bowl to my lips to consume every drop. This was paired with coffee spiked with Nigiri sake and finished with coconut cream. I eyed this beverage dubiously, but the pairing was brilliant, and I drained the glass.

Up next was the “Garden of Eden,” featuring generous portions of fresh tropical fruit (passionfruit, starfruit, dragon fruit, gooseberries, persimmon, and papaya) lightly drizzled with rose-infused agave and served atop a swoosh of vegan turmeric yogurt and adorned with edible flowers. It was presented in a transparent glass orb that magnified the colors and concentrated the aroma of the fruit. This was paired with a light rose spritzer.

"Garden of Eden"

Jyl Benson

Yet another feast for the eyes, the “Lox Ness Monster” combined lox-cured beets, vegan crème fraiche, heirloom tomato, spring onion, fried capers, micro dill, and a petite freshly-baked everything bagel served with a cucumber-dill martini. The martini carried over to also pair with “Let’s Toast”—small baguette toasts each with its own topping of smashed avocado, fresh hummus, and smashed roasted garlic.

“Simba’s Waffle” married chicken-fried Lion’s Mane mushroom atop a small black garlic waffle with carrot bacon and a light barbecue bourbon sauce. A smoked Bourbon Cajun Mary accompanied and carried over to “The Southern Omelet,” which was made with an exterior of Just Egg (a plant-based egg substitute) filled with Cajun Smoked Jackfruit, braised collards, red pepper gravy, cashew crème, and a sweet potato biscuit.

The final course, “Beign-Yay” brought together a fried ginger beignet, seasonal berries, coconut cream, and vegan chocolate ganache paired witch a peach-infused Moscato.

Lauching this month, The Vegan Brunch Affair menu’s bright colors and refreshing flavors are as tantalizing an exploration of summer flavors as I’ve ever encountered. blackrouxcollective.com.

Fishhawk

Invite the fishmongers over, you won’t regret it.

Alexandra Kennon

Alexandra Kennon

Imagine hosting a fine, four-course dinner party—including wine pairings—out of your own home. To some of you skilled culinary show-offs, this may sound like a regular Saturday night. To most of us, it sounds like a massive pain in the ass—mandating a probably-minimum of seventy-two hours of menu planning, shopping, preparation, and clean up.

Recently, I experienced the ultimate dinner party fantasy: I held an elaborate, four-course, high-end, wine-paired dinner in my own home, for my own friends. And I didn’t have to buy a single ingredient, toss a salad, pour a glass of wine, or wash a dish. I owe it all to the crackerjack culinary team at Fishhawk: a popup fishmonger business formed by Luci Winsberg, Tyler Correa, and Gina Mazitelli during the height of the pandemic in October 2020, which has expanded from their farmers’ market offerings to cater private dinners.

The idea of having a private dinner catered in our house still feels unattainably fancy (to be candid, the experience was a gift I loved but would not have sprung for myself). Even presenting such high-caliber food and wine, Winsberg, Correa, and Mazitelli from Fishhawk made the experience feel easy, laid-back, and not at all awkward (as I’d imagine being served in your own home could totally have the potential to be). “Co-Chefs” Winsberg and Mazitelli handled the food, while Correa (Winsberg’s partner in Fishhawk and in life) kept the wine flowing.

Fishhawk’s Private Dinner Experience, featuring pompano lightly fried with masa atop a miso corn broth with wild mushrooms, white hominy, collard greens, and Fresno chilies

Alexandra Kennon

Winsberg emailed me menu options beforehand, which included three distinctly-different choices for each of the courses. It didn’t appear that we could go wrong, but we chose what sounded best to us: most of our choices were Latin-inspired, with a middle course of a Middle Eastern-leaning roasted eggplant with tahini, just because we thought it sounded good.

I wasn’t sure what to expect, so was pleasantly surprised when Winsberg told me she and the team would arrive around 6:45 pm for a 7 pm seating—they do all of the prep work on their end, and only needed to utilize our stovetop and oven to cook the fish and scallops fresh. Our first course of seared scallops atop a bright, fresh salsa verde was piled high with crisp, subtly-bitter local greens. Next was the roasted eggplant, dressed with wilted baby kale, roasted pumpkin seeds, tomato confit vinaigrette, and a homemade tahini so lusciously creamy we all but licked the plates (a bit emboldened by being in the comfort of our own home, no doubt).

For the main course Winsberg recommended leaving it up to her to select the freshest fish of that particular day—which I excitedly agreed to; I trusted her judgement and had also assembled a group of adventurous eaters. The result was the freshest pompano I’ve encountered, prepared in a dish credited to Mazitelli’s culinary mastermind: the fish was dusted in masa and lightly fried, set atop a miso corn broth containing delicate wild mushrooms, white hominy, collard greens, and thinly-sliced Fresno chilies. The beautifully-colored result rendered the previously talkative table speechless— or at least unable to discuss anything besides the glorious fish at hand. My partner Sam’s food writer dad obsessively zoomed in on the photo we sent him, making an astute observation: “Plenty of people are great home cooks, but you can tell this dish was made by someone with culinary training. It’s just another level.” Of course, he’s right. It was a next-level meal, enjoyed comfortably atop our own dining room table.

Café au lait ice cream-filled profiteroles

Alexandra Kennon

For dessert, we felt kind of bad choosing the café au lait ice cream-filled profiteroles, knowing they would have to transfer the frozen filling to our house on a hot summer day. But, they were among the menu options, and clearly the Fishhawk trio is not deterred by tricky dishes, so we sprung for them, and were the opposite of disappointed—whole leaves of fresh mint and a rich tempered chocolate sauce made the ice cream-filled cream puffs all the more decadent.

On top of all of the incredible food and not having to drive home, we thoroughly enjoyed getting to gush about how much we loved everything to the small team as they (graciously) cleaned up our open kitchen behind them. Since then, we haven’t stopped talking about how much we enjoyed the whole experience—our only complaint is that now, hosting dinner parties the old fashioned way will never feel the same. fishhawknola.com