Readers, this is an audience participation introduction. Remember one of the numerous times you've taken the first bite of a delicious dish. What's your first reaction? If you're like me, and the dish is particularly dreamy, you close your eyes and murmur, "Mmmmmmm." And somehow, the act of closing your eyes allows you to enjoy the food and the moment that much more.
That's the premise of Dark Dining, which I experienced at Fort Mason on Friday night. The evening featured a three course menu by up-and-coming chef Lisa Ruggeri Hines of Bella Cucina Café in San Rafael -- which approximately 60 diners ate in total darkness.
The dark dining concept began several years ago when a blind Swiss clergyman named Jorge Spielmann blindfolded his dinner guests so that they could literally taste what his world was like. His dinner parties became so popular that he opened a restaurant in Zurich that has been replicated by others all over the world. Most employ completely blind or visually impaired wait staff, while others have sighted staff using night vision goggles.
When we arrived at Fort Mason to check in, we saw some of the waiters preparing for the evening, with their night vision goggles strapped onto their heads. All agreed that the look was very "Silence of the Lambs." We proceeded into a dimly lit anteroom to amuse our bouches with tuna tartare in phyllo cups and pre-dinner chit-chat.
Then it was time to head into the main dining room, which was much darker, but still had enough light for us to make our way to our tables. All of my table mates (none of whom I knew beforehand) were there with motivations similar to mine: they wanted to experience something out of the ordinary and fun on a Friday night, and a couple of them are food writers like me (giggle). Once seated, the lights were turned off. It wasn't pitch black, but I could only just barely make out my glasses and flatware. I was thankful that I'd gone home after work and changed out of my crisp, white shirt into a cute black halter top. Not that anyone could see me, but I have trouble keeping the errant splash of sauce or salad dressing off my shirts when I can see, so eating in the dark is just asking for it.
We were told that due to the nature of the window treatments, they couldn't make the room completely dark, but if we wanted to ourselves, extra cloth napkins would be provided to be used as blindfolds. Most of us promptly donned our napkin blindfolds, ready to surrender fully to the experience. The first thing we had to adjust to was not being able to see each other's facial expressions. When one of my table mates mused aloud that it was difficult to know if people found him funny and interesting anymore, I jokingly reassured him that we were all rolling our eyes at him under our napkins.
I tried to orient myself to my surroundings by feeling around my space for my flatware, wine and water glasses. All present and accounted for. Then it was time for our salad course. The theory goes that when one of your senses (sight) is removed, your others are heightened. When my salad was placed in front of me, that theory was proven as I immediately took in the smell of the vinaigrette and cheese in a way I don't remember doing when I have my sense of sight. My fork navigated the contents of the plate and I cautiously took my first bite. It was loaded with greens and flavorful dressing. Another bite contained a burst of flavorful blackberry. Being unable to see made me pay much more attention to everything -- from the size, weight and positioning of the ingredients on my plate, to how to get them onto the fork and into my mouth, to what they tasted like once they got there.
A table mate theorized that when people are blindfolded, their inhibitions are lowered -- especially women, who get excited about the 9 1/2 Weeks connotations. At first I thought it was wishful thinking on his part. The next thing I knew I was flirting with another table mate, wishing I could see his facial expressions, and he my cute black halter top. It wasn't long before our entire table was engaged in a game of "Truth or Dare."
The waiters did a terrific job, especially since they were all doing this for the first time. They said their biggest challenge was distinguishing between wine and water glasses, since the liquids appeared the same color in the dark. I was also the subject of a cruel DD twist: I'd pre-ordered the chicken and specified it several times when the waiters asked what everyone was having, but when my dish arrived, it tasted remarkably like fish. In a futile exercise of the blind literally leading the blind, I asked several clarifying questions to others also supposedly eating chicken. "Is it boneless?" "Is it one big piece or cut up?" The answers didn't get me any closer to resolution, and I began to seriously question my palate. How can I be an acclaimed food writer if I can't even tell the difference between chicken and fish? Finally a waiter confirmed that I had, in fact, been duped and brought me a chicken dish. They must have run out of dinner plates, because as I felt around for the rim, it turned out to be a salad plate -- and the food was piled high. Impossible to eat without sight with a fork, so I did what I suspect many others were doing and used my hands. Now THAT's chicken! I was sorry I couldn't see it because it tasted so good but I'll never know what it looked like.
The same can be said for the dessert, a warm chocolate and banana bread pudding. Unreal. Chalk up a contender for Fro Fro's Best Dessert of 2007, although unfortunately I won't be able to give it any points for presentation.
When the evening was finally over (our table closed the place down), we removed our blindfolds and got a chance to lay eyes once more on the folks we'd gotten to know so intimately through this unique shared experience. To them I'll say thanks again for a terrific time and remember: what happens at Dark Dining Stays at Dark Dining....
Click here for more info on SF Dark Dining (Upcoming dates: Fri. Sept. 28, Fri. Nov 9)
UPDATE: Click here for NBC11's TV coverage of the event.
