asi asi, The Supper Club as Sandbox

Spring shiro shoyu ramen with Dungeness crab, English pea, fennel, dandelion greens, onsen egg and chives. Photo by Jakob Layman

Two old friends— a chef and a ceramicist— dreamed up the perfect bowl of ramen: not just the broth, noodles, tare (seasoning), and toppings, but also the bowl itself. A few years later, 50 Angelenos sat down at asi asi Supper Club in Boyle Heights for a dinner called Bowl & Broth. Ceramicist Brian DeRan of Western Desert Studios in Joshua Tree custom-made and hand-painted each bowl that Chef David Potes used to serve his ramen, which our guests got to take home.

It was one of our “drops” on Biite Club, where we curate weekly out-of-the-box culinary experiences with the most inventive chefs, restaurants, and supper clubs here in LA. Each pop-up uncovers a different corner of the vast LA food scene and, while they all have their own special sauce, this drop was particularly symbolic of the boundless creativity and multidisciplinary approach that makes this city’s culinary and cultural landscape unlike any other. The event staff wore t-shirts hand-painted with a flier by artist Casey Jones, and the desert-inspired tablescape was decorated with carefully chosen rocks doubling as chopstick holders. The attendees drove out from all over the city— a diverse group of food entrepreneurs, aerospace engineers, sculptors, and data analysts sitting together at one long table. Bowl & Broth, like each and every single dinner at asi asi Supper Club, was a complete labor of love fueled by a whole ecosystem of creative collaborators and community members that came together simply for the love of the game.

In writing the event description for Bowl & Broth, I scoured my books by Charles Spence, “the Godfather of Gastrophysics,” for a succinct way of communicating what asi asi Supper Club embodies so well. In ‘The Perfect Meal: the Multisensory Science of Food and Dining,” Spence writes, “Eating is the only thing we do with all of our senses.” The perfect meal or, in this case, the perfect ramen, is about the broth and the bowl as well as “everything else”— the ambiance, the lighting, the company, the tablescape, and the memory of it all once it’s over. I had a hunch that asi asi would be the perfect backdrop for this dinner, and I was right.

Sana Keefer, founder of asi asi club. Photo by Christopher Shintani

Sana Keefer, the founder of asi asi Supper Club, is a former interior designer turned Creative Director and community builder. After working with the Sydell Group on the branding of such hotels as The Nomad and The Line, she shadowed hospitality creatives in Indonesia and hosted dinner parties Brooklyn, all of which inspired her to start her own supper club. Also a mother to two young boys "who love food theater” –wonder wonder why! –she’s the kind of woman that suggests a picnic at the park as our meeting spot (true story) and knows just the right provisions to bring. She was raised on Southern hospitality and you can tell. On the day-to-day, she’s marketing, running sales, curating, hosting, serving, and dishwashing, but if you distill it all down to one word: Sana Keefer is a placemaker.

As a fellow curator of food experiences, I love what that word encompasses. It creates a connective tissue between all of the tactical parts of producing an event, consumable and not—but it also assumes that, beyond building the space within four walls, there’s a more abstract quality to how the space is held. It’s the difference between how a room looks, smells, and sounds, and how it makes someone feel.

On a sunny afternoon at Silverlake Meadows over cold watermelon, fresh baguettes and white anchovies, I got to study Keefer’s unique approach to placemaking, where every decision passes through the asi asi litmus test. It ultimately sees the supper club as a sandbox, a place for connectivity, discovery, and play.

CONNECTIVITY

Don’t be surprised if you’re asked to spin a Lazy Susan for an anonymous question from a fellow supper club member. Keefer loves a subtle invitation for a meaningful conversation. It’s a style of design thinking that encourages a sense of belonging through environmental cues—both overt and subliminal—like capping dinners to an intimate size at one single table, greeting each guest upon arrival, curating seat assignments based on shared interests, and a table-wide introduction to each concept and collaborator. Offering a little glimpse behind the scenes and unifying the attention in the room is one of the most powerful ways of establishing a sense of place. It signals that “We’re all in this together.” That goes for guests and staff alike. At asi asi, there is no internal hierarchy. Everyone on the staff fills the role that’s needed and gets a seat at the table when the moment allows for it. Can’t find Keefer on the floor? She’s likely washing dishes.

DISCOVERY

At asi asi, you can learn how to play Mahjong over century eggs and rice bowls by K-Town’s Open Market and explore the science of scent with Capsule Perfumerie’s Linda Sivrican over Vietnamese aromatics. Get an inside look at the art of stained glass over dinner in a 1920s glass studio or quite literally embark on a sailing supper club for a Mediterranean feast through the Naples Canals, a Long Beach hidden gem. While the nature of the traditional restaurant environment often relies on consistency and set standards, the supper club as a format invites bending the rules. It molds to fit the nooks and crannies of current culture and curiosities with permission to do things a little bit differently. PLAY

… and it doesn’t always turn out as planned. Keefer believes a good placemaker is someone who is not afraid to experiment. Testing out-of-the-box ideas involves taking risks, looking silly, and sometimes failing. But with an improv-like approach to hospitality, a “problem” can always be reframed. A windy rooftop dinner at The Row in DTLA can become a portal to the Windy City of Chicago, and an invitation to adapt to unforeseen circumstances. While asi asi pays close attention to detail, it doesn’t take itself too seriously. “It’s not like we’re performing brain surgery here,” Keefer says. “My ultimate goal isn’t perfection, it’s to be seen as human.” It’s a dinner party, after all.