An (Abbreviated) History of the Anne Samuel — Part Trois

Ciao, and welcome back, my friends!

It’s been almost an entire year since my last post…oops!

To be honest, I wasn’t sure I would ever finish this blog series because (let’s face it…) blogging can be discouraging. BUT I received a message not too long ago from a reader whose life was changed when she used the Anne Samuel to inspire her own special at-home events with her family. It brought tears to my eyes, touched my heart, and inspired me to keep sharing with you these little snippets of my life.

So…welcome back to another chapter of An Abbreviated History of the Anne Samuel! For those of you who are new here, the “Anne Samuel” is an extra-remarkable, absolutely exclusive “private club” which was born during the height of the 2020 shutdowns (remember those?!) and which lives on to this day. If you feel like catching up, you can read Part One of the story here and Part Deux here.

Chapter Three – The Anne Samuel Gets Its Name

No one has ever accused me of being particularly creative, witty, or otherwise adept in the art of artistic invention. Which is funny, seeing as how I’m a writer (I guess) and spend most of my free time and half of my working time stringing words together on the page. I love the thrill of composition—of painting not with pigment and brush but with twenty-one consonants and five vowels. But I prefer my work to have some basis in reality; abstract invention is far from my forte. Maybe my form of literary artistry is more akin to photography than painting—and that’s fine by me. 

What wasn’t fine during the 2020 holidays was the fact that my family’s secret “club” in the old playroom had been in business for over a month and still didn’t have a name. The institution was famous in my immediate family (including Elias) for its status as a breathe-easy amid a world of ever-increasing masking mandates or (even worse) restrictions on indoor dining. It had famously hosted its first-annual gingerbread-house-decorating competition, served aperitifs before a memorably unmemorable dinner date spent shivering on a makeshift outdoor patio in a near-freezing rainstorm, and redeemed that unfortunate experience with a gourmet dinner for two. Inside. By the fireplace.

Now, it was the eve of the new year and the end of the old—of 2020, the strangest year anyone on the planet could have dreamt up or dreaded. 

For better, for worse, it was over.

But the life and legacy of The Anne Samuel had only yet been born.

That night, it happened—somewhere between the honeyed arugula and pear salad served on chilled plates, the creamy lemon and shrimp spaghetti with homemade sourdough, and the tableside s’mores station with homemade cookies and fresh caramel sauce for drizzling. Elias and I, once again wearing black tie attire, were waxing poetically about the glories of having our own private restaurant. 

And then, there it was—the very moment when we first proposed the notion of giving the place a name.

Almost instantaneously thereafter, the usually pensive profile of the young political assistant I had found myself falling for brightened. “I know!” He exclaimed. “We should call it The Anne Samuel.” He turned his head to hold my gaze triumphantly, candlelight flashing like starbursts in the deep chocolate pools that were his eyes, like he knew that the name was unequivocally perfect.

And, of course, it was.

Not only because it sounded classic, vague, and more than a bit elitist, but also because it was simply our two middle names fused together. It was the first occasion in which we found some part of our names intimately linked, and it was a harbinger of many more instances to come. For, though we would weather great adversities in the months and years to come, we found The Anne Samuel to be a sort of anchor amidst the tempest of our capricious world.

In life and in death, through victory and defeat, the Anne Saumel stood immobile as a pillar in the tempest, a representation of all in our world that was good. 

Pure. 

Lovely. 

And delicious (naturally).

That evening, against a backdrop of twinkling lights and amid a soundtrack of Pink Martini and Sinatra, we laughed about the future scandals that might transpire at The Anne Samuel, an establishment so shady its proprietress (also known as Mom) was willing to theoretically break the law in the name of a good time. We toasted the New Year with Martinelli’s in lieu of the gin joint offerings of old. And we exchanged gifts in honor of the coming days and months—me presenting Elias with a copy of The Great Gatsby in honor of the book club we intended to start, him bestowing upon me a bouquet of red, red roses.

The Anne Samuel was born in a night, just as my relationship with Elias was equally expeditious—an out-of-character move on both accounts for an indecisive, methodical person such as myself. That night, I didn’t particularly expect the legacy of the Anne Samuel to live past the evening. I saw it as both a glorious night and a passing fancy, sure to vanish in the light of day when reality returned.

But, for that night, we twirled around the room to strains of La Vie en Rose, gloriously immersed in the time capsule of the playroom. Putting on airs and talking and laughing. Allowing our lips to almost-meet upon the clock’s stroke of midnight. 

Throughout the evening, the winking candlelight in Elias’s eyes had only grown brighter; his usually sober face had been transformed into one that glowed with the joy of life. 

His friends would later tease him about his rare (nearly) toothy grin in the photographs we posted of the night, but, at The Anne Samuel, it wasn’t a curiosity at all. From its inception, the Anne Samuel was a place of light, life, and love: a light when life seemed dark, source of life when hope seemed lost, and part of a home brimming with a miraculous sort of maternal love amid an entire world of hate.

That night, the glory of The Anne Samuel was fully revealed—but it had only just begun.

The End…For Now 😉

Thank you for tagging along for another adventure à la the Anne Samuel! I hope you enjoyed this episode in its long and storied history. Make sure you’re signed up to receive all the behind-the-scenes info on our more recent Anne Samuel events (as well as some exclusive tips and tricks to create your own special at-home events) by clicking here!