Not all of the chicharonnes were as crisp as they could have been. Chef Timmy Malloy knew it as he sent out his first course for his "Chef Aquatic: An Evening of Sophisticated Piracy" meal at Dinner Lab: a thick rope of fried pork rind anointed with uni, cucumber, and gems of finger lime. The dish was (ideally) as much of a contrast in textures as it was flavors, the softness of the uni playing off the firmness of cucumber, the chicharon crunchy at first, then melting away on the tongue. But the air in the gymnasium where he was serving dinner that night was humid, and when the chef had planned the menu a few months back, he hadn't counted on serving 90 people in a space generally meant for 3-on-3 basketball games.
No one in attendance minded much. Pop-ups are scrappy affairs, more like a draft of a dinner than a polished product, and the crowd of Dinner Lab members knew they weren't signing up for perfection. The startup, which started throwing dinners two years ago in New Orleans, now holds large-scale dinner parties with rotating chefs and locations in 20 cities across the U.S., with more on the way. Its members, who pay $175 a year (along with $65-$85 per meal) for the privilege of attending two or three dinners a month in S.F. , aren't looking for a flawless experience from beginning to end. They're looking for that spark, that fleeting, ephemeral feeling that comes with dinners that only happen once.
Chefs like pop-ups because they give them a chance to test new concepts or just have fun for a night without the pressure of investors, business models, and everything else that comes with a restaurant. But it's stressful to cook a meal in an unfamiliar kitchen each time, especially a temporary one set up in a place that doesn't usually host dinners, like a field, a dive bar, or a High-Five Sports Zone. A few places in the Bay Area have attempted to provide a permanent home for pop-ups over the past few years, like FoodLab in the Renoir Hotel and Guest Chef in Oakland, but both closed after realizing the almost insurmountable challenges of running a restaurant that changes chefs and cuisines every night or week.
Dinner Lab seems to have figured out a way to keep the spontaneity and fun of pop-ups while creating an infrastructure that allows both chefs and diners to have a reliably good time. The organization seeks out promising sous chefs or other up-and-comers who are looking to cook beyond the food of their restaurants but aren't already entrenched in the usual pop-up world. Some cook the food of their parents and grandparents, some riff on the food they cook every day at their restaurants, like Chef Malloy's aquatic menu, which reflected his position as chef de cuisine at the seafood-centric Local's Corner in the Mission. Then Dinner Lab pairs the chef with an unexpected location — Malloy's dinner in the gymnasium, with its long tables on the wood floor and fairy lights strung from basketball hoops overhead, had the distinct (though not entirely unwelcome) feeling of a high school themed dance. The result is an evening full of surprises where everyone seems to leave happy.
If they don't, Dinner Lab's creators know it immediately. One of the secrets of the organization's success is the data it collects at every dinner by soliciting feedback from its members. Each dinner guest is given a comment card where the meal's taste, creativity, and drink pairings are rated on a scale of 1 to 5, all to say whether the dish is "restaurant-worthy." Comments are encouraged. It's a feedback loop that works well for chefs, who can see what people like and don't like immediately, without it filtering through a review site like Yelp. With this feedback, chefs may find something they can apply to their next pop-up, or perhaps better still, something to help them get to the next step in opening a restaurant.
Comment cards also give diners a chance to feel like they're in control, even when things go awry. At Malloy's aquatic dinner, some courses took a while to come out — a pretty common occurrence in pop-ups when chefs are plating for 90 at once. But that complaint could be noted on the feedback card and then put aside for the rest of the evening, freeing up mental energy to drink wine, talk to your neighbors, and focus on the exquisite food. Thin slices of cured halibut came with earthy turnip puree and bright Meyer lemon. There was a startlingly good seared tuna paired with black bean puree and a cured egg yolk. The fourth course, poached salmon chilled in dashi, could have had more flavor, but the final dessert, celery semifreddo, was intense on its own but paired well with concentrated melon, lime sorbet, and cilantro. It was fun to see the chef have fun, trying out combinations he might not have gotten a chance to at Local's Corner, where he doesn't run the kitchen.
Malloy says that the feedback he received from the meal didn't surprise him — he knew that the chicharonnes had wilted a bit and the bland salmon was a last-minute switch from sea bass, which had been unavailable. That's part of the allure of hosting a pop-up, navigating all the curveballs to bring all these disparate elements together. Most of the time they do work, and the exposure to new chefs and flavors is what brings its members back. "If it were always the same location or always the same chef or always the same people it wouldn't have the same dynamic, kinetic, playful quality that it does," says Scott MacLaren, who's been a dedicated member for the nine months that Dinner Lab has been in the Bay Area. "Every one's been worth the price of admission. I haven't been disappointed yet."
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