Supper Takes It Home

story by Jamie Png
photos by Michael Chien

I confess: I’m a jaded foodie. Yes, my restaurant addiction is already constrained by my student budget, but even if my dollars were less tightly wadded I’d still rather spend them at a roadside barbecue shack or a blowsy breakfast joint. My tolerance for pretension has worn thin from too many uptight, underwhelming, overproduced “fine dining” experiences. So when I sat down at Supper, I was prepared to be unimpressed.

Supper’s seasonal menu consists of “hors d’oeuvres” – canapés; “firsts” – appetizers; “plates” – smaller entrées; and “large plates” – traditional entrées. We started off with five “hors d’oeuvres” to share. I was delighted by the crisp shell and pillowy interior of the duck fat fingerlings with truffle mayo ($6) – the care and technique lavished on simple potato wedges boded well for the rest of our meal. The crab latke with lemon, capers, and Joe’s mustard sauce ($7) was also a treat, with splashes of lemon juice brightening the fried potato. The little details of our meal thus far were noted and notable: the crunch of the sea salt atop the fingerlings, the light dusting of grated cheese on the butter for our bread. Our party’s hands-down favorite, though, was definitely Chef Mitch Prensky’s smoked chicken wings with birch beer, black pepper, and buttermilk ($6). Wait, let me write that again. Birch beer. Black pepper. Buttermilk. The meat fell off the bone and the marinade was smoky with a surprisingly complex sweetness. The stack of artfully arranged wings, topped with black pepper and generous curls of spring onion, was gorgeous, even refined.

It was also slap-your-mama good.

So good that we threw silverware to the wind and went at it with our bare hands, marveling that we felt comfortable enough in a fine dining atmosphere to do this. We later learned that the restaurant has received half-serious requests for bulk order wings come next Superbowl.

Sidestepping the charcuterie and cheese, we ordered our “firsts.” If you only order one thing on the menu, make sure it’s the smoked butternut squash soup with cinnamon marshmallow and sage ($8). First, a white bowl was placed in front of me, with vague pieces of green in the bottom and a smear of scorched marshmallow. Then, from a pitcher, my server poured the thick, luscious butternut squash soup, moving his wrist in a circular motion around what was now becoming the dish’s sage garnish. The quiet theatricality of it all was thrilling. I dipped my spoon into the soup, collected a sage leaf, and scraped some cinnamon marshmallow from the side of the bowl on the way up. One bite and my faith in fine dining was restored.

Other standouts were the slow roasted pork belly with spiced yams, greens, and pineapple mustard ($17), and the stellar round of desserts by pastry chef Justin Relkin. Our favorite was the milk chocolate pretzel tart with banana gelato ($8); I asked for seconds of the heavenly gelato and got three scoops with a chunk of caramelized banana.

Not everything was perfect. Though it was Prensky’s professed favorite, the shellfish pan roast ($28) fell short. The Thai-inspired concoction variously described to us as “paella” and “curry” (but which was neither) consisted of scallops, mussels, clams, head-on prawns, eggplant chunks, and black rice in a dense coconut gravy. The seafood was impeccably cooked, but the dish lacked unity.

Supper’s ethos is one of community: the liberal use of the word “family” on the menu promotes a sense of coziness that extends into the service. Both Chef Prensky and his co-owner and wife Jennifer stopped by our table to chat about our meal. Supper’s “urban farmhouse aesthetic” also wins points for good feng shui: natural materials and warm lighting create an atmosphere of flow and comfort. Still, take a cue from the dining room’s centerpiece—a quirky chandelier assembled from various kitchen gadgets by a local artist—and expect subtle anarchy.