An Abbreviated History of the Anne Samuel — Part Cinq

Bonjour, and welcome back! Ever wonder why the “part names” of this series are in French? Me, too! Especially since I’m not French and don’t speak French…Italian might’ve made sense, or even Roman numerals, but here we are five chapters in and we’re still in French. Ah…ce’st la vie… 😉

Today’s chapter of The History of the Anne Samuel is appropriately Roaring 20’s themed, especially considering the law-breaking mischief that ensued in the last installment. (In case you missed it, you can catch up here…) Happy reading, old sports!

Chapter Five — The Anne Samuel Plays Dress-Up

As much as I might have been growing up and finding my place in the world during that first month of The Anne Samuel’s history as an unofficially official social club operating out of my own house, I was also rediscovering parts of my childhood the world had tried to convince me I’d outgrown while Elias was experienced some of them for the very first time.

For example, after we’d both read The Great Gatsby, my mother—or, as she quickly became known, the Anne Samuel’s indomitable proprietress—transformed the old playroom into Gatsby’s mansion in West Egg, complete with towering golden candlesticks, an art deco mural, black-and-gold balloons, feather-and-pearl-bedecked chairs, and a “24 carat” carrot cake.

Elias arrived in period dress and eagerly accepted both the prop cigarettes and gold-handled walking stick Mom had ordered for the occasion. I, of course, was fully bedecked in a flapper dress complete with a matching feather headband, silk gloves, and extra-long pearls. Together, we were a glittering relic of not only antique glamor but also the more recent past—a childhood that both Elias and I had outgrown by the world’s standards yet one we still ached to hang onto.

That is why, on a dreary January night, The Anne Samuel found itself filled with the sounds of big band music and jazz, its very air perfumed by the “celebrated sandwiches” being prepared in the kitchen. The Anne Samuel’s Great Gatsby party marked the first instance in which its menu went far beyond that of a simple supper club. Conventionality fled that evening, not to be seen or heard of again in the establishment’s lifetime.

Taking inspiration from every sentence and word of Fitzgerald’s novel in the days and weeks leading up to the grand event, the proprietress and I unleashed every ounce of literary ingenuity. Mom dreamt up the dishes which included “pastry pigs” a là the story, as well other vintage-inspired cuisine with a modern twist. While my culinary assistance was limited to taste-testing and cake-decorating, I did prove myself at least partially valuable in my ability to concoct clever titles for the rest of the menu offerings. Orange creamsicle cocktails became “Orange Sports” as a nod to Gatsby’s favorite catchphrase; hard-boiled eggs stuffed with ham and asparagus became, naturally, “Deviled West Eggs”. But the true star of the evening was Mom’s take on those elusive “Celebrated Sandwiches” mentioned by Fitzgerald in his literary masterpiece.

Although it is unclear exactly what the good writer intended in communicating through that description, it didn’t matter. The Anne Samuel’s version included rare-seared beef patties, creamy chèvre, candied bacon, fresh pear slices, field greens, and honey-herb aïoli. If the goal was to create a “sandwich” worth celebrating, then we exceeded one hundredfold.

From that evening on, I could never think of anything but those pear-topped hamburgers whenever that scene was referenced. And I knew even without visiting it (yet) that the Plaza Hotel itself was sure to be incapable of exceeding the standard culinary excellence that instituted in my own home that evening.

It was a landmark occasion in the history of The Anne Samuel, not only for its invitation for its patrons to arrive in period clothing—to, quite simply, play “dress-up”—but also for its avant-garde take on bookish cuisine, its first unique cocktail creation, and the over-the-top decor that would become its signature. The next time The Anne Samuel threw open its doors, it would once again follow through on the precedents it had set that night. Except, the next time, it would be in Paris.

And that, my friends, is the story of The Great Anne Samuel (it doesn’t have quite to the ring to it that Gatsby does, I’m afraid…). Make sure to come back next week for a rather romantic foray into the Anne Samuel’s illustrious history as the establishment hosts its first Valentine’s Day dinner.

Until then, leave a comment below to say hi, and tell me: what book would YOU want to step into for an evening, and why?