Choreographing a Memory: The Art of Baci Supper Club

Written by Macy Sinreich

Whether it be the mind-numbing attention to detail directed towards a five-course meal at a Michelin-star restaurant or the hours-long labor of love that goes into a home-cooked secret recipe going back generations in the family tree, there is undeniably a unique combination of creativity and skill in cooking. If the inescapability of food posts on instagram stories or the popularity of food-centric media ranging in genre from Netflix’s gorgeously shot docuseries Chef’s Table to the 2022 horror-comedy film The Menu indicates anything, it’s that food is appreciated as art by mainstream audiences now more than ever. What tends to go unnoticed, however, is the work that goes into making and presenting the final dish you see on camera. There’s a host of processes and aesthetics that culminate in the final product. On paper, the food is the focus, yes—but the experience as a whole can be a kind of performance art in itself. Nowhere is this more apparent than inside the four white walls of Nichi Pandey’s dorm room which Baci Supper Club calls home.

Every Friday and Saturday evening, a handful of lucky students are invited into Nichi’s Carlton Arms suite for several rounds of dishes accompanied by various drinks brought and shared by each of the guests. The meals follow a structure that is a fusion between traditional Italian and French dining, the former influencing a three-course meal including a soup or salad, a pasta, and a protein, and the latter inspiring the creation of an amuse-bouche (an appetizer, essentially) and a dessert to cap off the night. The menu, which changes from week to week, is usually inspired by some combination of the chefs’ preferences or ideas and the favorite dishes and restaurants of the guests—which they note in the Google form that is required to be entered into the increasingly competitive lottery to attend Baci. According to Nichi, the weekend that I went they had received their most submissions yet—somewhere around 50—a number that is likely only going to continue to expand as Baci gains visibility through press and word of mouth. While there is an option to submit with a few friends as a group, the Baci team tries to select guests who most likely do not know each other yet and who may not share all of the exact same interests or backgrounds, in an effort to encourage and cultivate new connections that may have otherwise never been made.

Baci most definitely accomplished this core goal at my dinner, where the other six guests and I pretty much immediately got along. An eclectic group of different majors, extracurriculars, and school years (even schools in general, as one guest brought a childhood friend who currently attends NYU as his plus-one) the conversation was natural and constant, so much so that we barely ended up using the card game Nichi provided that was brazenly titled “Let’s Fucking Date”. We talked about everything from the beauty of economics, to the unfortunate decline of JJ’s place, to the Dodge Sauna, to the time that one guest was retweeted by Snoop Dogg. Despite being surrounded by candlelight ambiance, a print of Gustav Klimt’s “The Kiss”, and delicate flower petals and glassware, there was no pressure to “get deep” or to discuss romance. That didn’t mean that the conversation was never real or meaningful, though; the flow between joking about Twitter and sharing personal, introspective thoughts having to do with far more than just romance (though the subject did appear; one memorable quote being “I did meet someone over COVID though. She’s married now and has kids—”). We opened up about friendship, aspirations and fears for the future, and the balance of reciprocation and time commitment versus independence within relationships; it felt like we were old friends who had gone off on our own life adventures and had now come together for a reunion. As one guest put it, “We’re our own little capsule in time”.

The warmth I felt, a deep appreciation for the time and connection I was getting to share with these people I had not known mere hours before, was definitely cultivated by every aspect of the dinner that Nichi put together—a choreography of elements that he says is very much so intentional. Describing how Baci draws on Gen Z’s desire to spend time and money on experiences rather than things, Nichi told me, “In the beginning, it was just me, so I was doing every single part of it… I had held a few different types of jobs in the food industry, so I was envisioning what I saw other people doing, channeling that energy of what I'd see. I was really acting, you know, to put on a show. But now what's really changed is that since we have a group of eight people including me, there is a chance to really put on a show”.

Apart from the unusual location and group, of course, what exactly does this show consist of that makes it different from a traditional dining experience? For one, the chefs are much more involved in the dinner, both behind the scenes and in the ‘front of the house’. “The big addition, which I guess doesn't really sound that revolutionary, was that we added a second table to the room. We usually do a bunch of tableside components—we've done a tableside Caesar salad, where the chefs will have all the ingredients and they'll make the emulsion for the dressing in front of everyone, or they’ll have pasta dough and they'll cut the pasta—and I think all of that really heightens the experience”. The team, a group of students who got involved at Baci through various avenues (some were previously guests at Baci, others knew Nichi from campus organizations, and a few were hand-picked from a pool of applicants to a form that was posted in late January) also gets to participate in the selection of the meals. “I've been really open— I kind of let everyone do what they want,” says Nichi. “Everyone gets to contribute something. We also all learn something new because I had never made that and she brought a recipe and we all were able to see how it's done”.

Individual guests’ preferences are also taken into account at times. Students include information like their favorite NYC restaurant and their favorite childhood dish when they submit the Baci interest form, and the team will often attempt to recreate at least one dish per dinner inspired by this information. They’ve even made special cakes for guests who have had their birthdays at Baci, the most recent, featured on the Baci instagram (@findthekiss), being a gorgeous matcha olive oil cake topped with a healthy serving of whipped cream a blossoming pile of strawberry compote (and completed with a ring of candles for good measure). “We will recreate a dish for a person, and we bring it out and I usually say something like, ‘This is a love letter to your childhood,’ and they're really surprised. Those kinds of things are really memorable for people. Once I graduate, some people that come, they're freshmen or sophomores, so they won't remember exactly how this pasta felt in their mouth, or the taste of this or that. But I hope that they'll remember, ‘Oh, on my birthday this guy also baked a birthday cake. And I forget what was in it, but he did that for me,’ you know?”.

And then there’s the room itself, so delightfully decorated that you almost forget that it’s a tiny NYC dorm room—but the aesthetic is just apparent enough that it’s extra charming. We were seated around a long table blanketed by a white table cloth swarming with various cups, plates, bottles, and silverware by the time our night ended. In the spirit of the cozy intimacy that our physical space fostered, the tightness of the tablespace made for a busy splay of items that added to the comfort and vulnerability that this close proximity encourages. There was no room to keep your distance, no space to allow for self-containment. Flowers and leaves were sprinkled around the entire layout, the perfect colorfully organic complement to the otherwise minimalist tableware, and floral-printed napkins laid at every place mirrored the plant decor. Candles served as the only lighting in the space, creating captivating reflections of light in the endless assortment of glassware they shared the table with and casting shadows on the plain walls. Nichi gushed just a little bit about this element to me, describing the sort of quiet beauty in the figures and objects captured in silhouette. “It's like a different dimension… Being in a shafted dorm and not having that much of a view, I can imagine Baci happening in an upstairs suite with a great view of the Hudson. But this way, it's even better. In one poem I described it as a candle lit box. And I love that shoe-box feeling, as if you come in here and we're kind of like characters playing in this set”.

The cherry on top, a piece that has become somewhat iconic of Baci, is the aforementioned print of “The Kiss”, centered on the wall at the end of the table where the chefs stood to present each dish. The only item adorning any of the walls in the room, Nichi told me the backstory behind this curatorial choice. “Baci means ‘kisses’ in Italian, and very quickly after I chose the name, I thought, ‘Well, what is going to go in a space like this dorm room that's hard to elevate?’. I immediately thought of the painting “The Kiss” by Gustav Klimt. That is a special painting to me because it was the painting that hung above my parents bed for many, many years”. Looking up at the artwork from the spot in his room where he was zooming me from, he laughed, “I never talked to my parents about why they chose it—they're not from here, they're not Western, and I don't know why this art spoke to them or where they found it. But to me, it was just a representation obviously of love, but also of intimacy”. And indeed, the piece is oozing with intimacy; the two figures meld into one as the pair embrace, and luscious golds and greens and purples, colors rich with life, surround them. “The other really amazing part to me is that there's no eye contact between the subjects in the painting and the viewer. He's looking at her, and her eyes are closed as she takes the kiss. To me, it's so serene, like they don't care about what we think or that we're watching them; it feels like we’re almost intruding on their private space. And to me that just felt so special,” says Nichi.

Between the enchanting atmosphere, eloquent decor, and expertly executed anecdotal interludes by the staff, Baci comes across calm and collected on the surface, but Nichi tells me that there’s a healthy dose of disorder and spontaneity behind the walls of the dining room. “There's a lot of controlled chaos. I feel very much like a manager or a conductor of some sort, keeping my eye on the clock and making sure things are happening and coming out. But crazy things always happen anyways”. Case in point: Having arrived at Carlton a few minutes early to chat about article ideas, I witnessed a live menu adjustment as Nichi, after receiving word that a guest was bringing mojito mix, deliberated a last-minute run to acquire additional ingredients with his team. An hour or so later, once we were a few dishes and drinks into the night, the chefs delivered us perfectly prepared mojitos over ice adorned with sprigs of fresh mint, so tasty and smoothly introduced that no one would have been able to guess that they were a spontaneous endeavor—if not for the little ceramic mugs they were served in. The mug-mojitos felt appropriately representative of Baci as a whole; delicious, classy dishes with interesting backstories, served in a cozy and unapologetically authentic space stripped of the intimidating formal atmosphere of your traditional high-end restaurant.

As I walked out of Carlton carrying two feet of store-bought dried pasta in hand—an amusing gift from Nichi and the team in the name ‘journalistic integrity’—I remember being hit by an overwhelming wave of gratitude. The feeling I left Baci with that night was one that I still have trouble describing to the people I’ve told about the supper club. At a point in my life that has felt particularly turbulent, getting to sit down in the candlelit shoebox for a few hours filled with the most genuinely fulfilling conversation with (ex-)strangers was an opportunity I will never forget. It’s this emphasis on the feeling Baci imparts on its guests that Nichi is most intent on maintaining.

“I guess my love language is a lot of gift giving. I just love giving people things and seeing them happy. Anytime we've done something tailored to a specific person, or a special additional course for someone—to me, those are the most memorable things. There's some famous quote about how people don't remember what you said, but rather how you made them feel. And I hope that that feeling lasts. Working in food service is unlike any other; it's one of the most honest reactions that someone can give you when they put something into their mouth or like you present something to them. I think I can read people pretty well, and when I see that sparkle in their eye, or a genuine ‘thank you,’ or a message later from that person—that really moves me in a way, and it’s what makes me continue doing this.”—

From Ratrock’s writing staff, an online column featuring thought pieces, art reviews, and comments on cultural media.