Dining with Angels

Last night marked the beginning of a new phase in the eating habits
of myself and several friends.
Over the course of a miserable Wellington evening we threw off the shackles of dicey Chinese takeaways and slap in the pan home cooked meals for one, we spat in the face
of sub standard ingredients, and we turned our back on our favoured wine merchants at Monty's superette. For this one night we became elite, we became The Supper Club.
Haha well maybe that is a slightly dramatic version of events but in any case last night saw
the first meeting of the newest gang in town the Supper Club.
The brainchild of a friend of mine (we will call him J) which emerged after
a favourable experience with the novel The Club of Angels in which a group of aristocrats meet regularly to entertain gargantuan and decadent feasts spiced with a dash of murder.
J being the sentimentalist he is suggested we follow suit and attempt to replicate these meetings but without the homicide.
Several of us agreed and I took it upon myself to play host to the first gathering.
What I didn't realise is that over the course of the evening perhaps the more apt name would have been the Discussion Club.
The meal was a largely simple affair consisting of a lamb roast, caprese salad and a improvised babybeet and feta salad which turned out to be a success despite my gross underestimation on the number of babybeet I would need.
This aside the food received a rad reception, the wine was outstanding as was the company.
The conversation however was deep and reflectively hilarious.
I have always been an advocate for getting involved in discussion as are many of my friends.
It is the most engaging thing about surrounding yourself with intelligent people.
However I would not have considered some of the topics which we seemed intent on hammering for vast periods of time once the fog of wine had settled on the evening.
I mean are we really qualified to comment on the relationship between a farmer and his work dogs when none of us have either farms nor work dogs? And is our spin on the merits of technical jazz verse classical accurate when all but one of us is musically illiterate?
Should our friend get a pager? Does the best form of an art come from limited means or is it a product of wealth? Cats verse Dogs and their emotions?
Yes I'm telling you folks all this and more was discussed as we imparted our well defined (hyper sketchy) points of view on each other with gusto and conviction.
It was brilliance in an evening and as I finish up this piece I can't help
but smile with anticipation at the thought of the next gathering and laugh at the knowledge if we ever get onto politics we are royally fucked.