Bloodwood

I would prefer to think that it’s not first impressions that last forever, but the middle ones. Only because the first impression, of the very first third dinner club really wasn’t so memorable.

Bloodwood – Newtown’s new hot spot – doesn’t take bookings for groups under eight, and I am very set on my numbers. Still, it’s a Wednesday night – how long can we possibly wait?

Try two hours.

Two hours for a table at a restaurant is absurd, but we manage to waste some quality time at a dodgy pub across the road, drowning our sorrows in alcohol, orange juice, cigarettes, and bad music. So bad, it’s good, that is.

P is, as always, first on the scene. She waits for us at a table on Bloodwood’s outdoor courtyard, which closes at 8pm sharp. Why anywhere in Sydney would have to close at 8pm sharp is slightly beyond me, but I’m trying to be optimistic.

V and I arrive next. We’re basically a married couple at the moment, as we live together, and are starting to be make fun of each other in a way that only those who are truly comfortable can. It’s a wonderful feeling.

Z & L are next. They’ve been to yoga and are starving. I break the tragic news of the two hour wait to them. They take it like a man.

Finally J rocks up, like a hurricane, and the seemingly endless time-wasting begins. Finally, when our stomachs are grumbling so loud you can hear them even above the ridiculous volume of the pub ballads, we storm back into Bloodwood, looking like we’re ready to kill.

Luckily (I know. What is lucky about a two hour wait!? But at this point I’d feel lucky to eat a frozen pie!) a table frees up after just five minutes, and we start ordering like we’ve just celebrated the end of Ramadan.

We get a bottle of red to drown our sorrows, and as soon as our glasses are filled, the waitress tips it over, spilling the rest of the contents on the floor. Happily, we get a whole new bottle. The night is off to a great (though belated) start.

The food, when it arrives, it brilliant. It really was worth the wait. Each dish is a surprise, completely surpassing expectation in aesthetics, flavours, and even – I must admit – size. We are totally stuffed, and happily drunk after a very short time.

Though we disagree on what was best, the general sense of satisfaction is absolutely shared – as is the decision that we will be back ... though next time it’ll be with eight of our nearest and dearest.

It's only the beginning ...

Once upon a time, while living in a foreign land (let’s call it Japan), I found myself sitting around with five hungry friends, when a brilliant concept suddenly appeared to us. Seemingly out of nowhere, we decided that the one thing missing in our lives was a great variety of food – the spice of life. And so, the idea of Monday Night Dinner Club was formed.

Our mission was simple – to find unique restaurants in Tokyo, serving non-Japanese fare. We would meet up once a week, savour the delicious meals, talk about life, the universe and everything, and find ourselves completely re-energised for the week to come.

Years later, while living in Sydney, I decided to reinvent the idea. Reinvention meant moving dinners to Wednesdays (crazy, I know!) and encouraging absolutely everyone to come along for dinner every week as we worked our way through Sydney’s restaurant offerings. Wanting some sort of structure, we decided to go through restaurants from A – Z. It was a great concept, resulted in tons of fun, lots of set-ups, delicious meals, but also – a ton of stress. The dinners were getting way too big, and the commitment of meeting up every single week was making one grumpy woman out of me.

And so, the concept fizzled, and eventually died.

Died, that is, until a sudden craving made me reinvent it. Taking out the stress factors – namely the weekly meetings, and the huge group of people – Dinner Club came back better than ever. Let’s hope.

So the new concept is simple and effective. Six girls. Fortnightly dinners. Sydney’s best restaurants. Great conversation. Sexy outfits. Wonderful laughing fits. And so, we begin.