Shadetree and the Spirit of Sharing

The first American dollar I ever earned was at a supper club of sorts. It was 1993. My Louisiana wife-to-be and I were penniless backpackers who, having met in Europe, had gotten a cheap flight to the U.S. to visit her family. That was my first time to set foot in the United States, and I found late summertime Louisiana to be almost unimaginably exotic. We spent most of that fall roaming South Louisiana, seeing the sights, and crashing on the couches of Ashley’s old college friends. And since our goal was to replenish our funds prior to hitting the European backpacker circuit again, we were willing to do just about anything for money. 

That fall in St. Francisville, Ellen and Kenwood Kennon hosted a handful of guest chef dinners at the Shadetree—the rustic inn that has been a fixture at the corner of Royal and Ferdinand streets for more than thirty years.

And since our goal was to replenish our funds prior to hitting the European backpacker circuit again, we were willing to do just about anything for money. 

For each dinner Kenwood and Ellen would arrange for a renowned chef to come spend the weekend staging an elaborate meal out of Shadetree’s kitchen, then they’d invite locals over for a spirited feast. Ellen had convinced the Brennan’s people to send Chef Gerard Maras and a team from Mr. B’s Bistro upriver for the night. Among the culinary cognoscenti of St. Francisville, news that New Orleans restaurant royalty was coming to cook spread fast, and Shadetree’s Guest Chef Dinner was sold out. Ellen needed dishwashers. James and Ashley needed quick cash. It was a match made in heaven. In 1993 I didn’t know how to do much but having spent the best part of six months working as a dishwasher at Dublin’s legendary Bad Ass Café, where I wooed my future wife amongst the soap suds, I could scrape melted cheese off pizza pans with the best of them. Ashley and I spent an unglamorous evening downstairs in the Shadetree garage, on the receiving end of course after course of crockery elaborately soiled with the remains of whatever culinary delights Chef Maras was visiting upon the faithful above our heads. Our job description expanded when Kenwood and Ellen’s six-month-old daughter, Alexandra, got tired of being seen but not heard, and started to squawk loudly enough to be banished to the scullery. Between courses Ashley and I took turns walking back and forth trying unsuccessfully to comfort the wailing, flailing infant, who knew a couple of amateurs when she saw them. Eventually one of the gravel-voiced, chain-smoking old Mr. B’s career waiters traded me a stack of dirty dinner plates for the baby. Instantly Alex stopped crying, melted into his shoulder, and fell asleep.

Between courses Ashley and I took turns walking back and forth trying unsuccessfully to comfort the wailing, flailing infant, who knew a couple of amateurs when she saw them.

Incredulous, I asked him how he’d done that, and he looked at me over the top of her head and just said, “I’m a father!” It was an educational moment. While we might have gotten paid $50 for the dishwashing, we ended the evening richer in other ways—with a new respect not only for parenting, but also for the power of a meal to bring people together around a shared experience. This is the stuff of which community is made.

With their sophisticated food, interesting guests, and comfortable, house party atmosphere, those Shadetree Guest Dinners served as inspiration for our new Country Roads Supper Club events, the first of which took place in late November at St. Mary’s—a gorgeous, deconsecrated Gothic revival church in the Tunica Hills. Taking a leaf out of Ellen’s playbook, we invited Will Avelar, Chef de Cuisine at New Orleans’ Meril restaurant—to come cook a feast, which we served in the candlelit church as singers sang Renaissance choral works and the last of the autumn light faded outside the Gothic windows. It was, if you’ll pardon the expression, heavenly. We all know that sharing a meal is one of the cornerstones of civilization, so it seems to us that providing opportunities to do that in unforgettable surroundings, is a worthy way to fully appreciate our regional culture. Call it the gift of experience if you like. In 2018 we will present a series of six Country Roads Supper Club events, each featuring an acclaimed chef, an exploration of a cultural theme, and a spectacular destination. We hope you’ll join us and promise that you won’t have to wash any dishes. Visit promotions.countryroadsmagazine.com/supperclub to join the club. 

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and thank you for reading Country Roads. It’s lovely to have you along. 

—James Fox-Smith, publisher