The day of our Seattle Supper was one of those rare, perfect, late-spring days in Washington. Each of the many greens of the manicured gardens at Jardin del Sol stood out against the bluebird sky, which perfectly matched the floral tablecloths we selected. The cloudless sky was decorated with wisps of cotton from the surrounding dogwood trees drifted gently in the warm air. Two half-moon tables fit just about perfectly in line with the sharp-edged hedges framing the garden’s lawn, creating a cozy nook in which to serve a very special meal from De la Soil.

The grounds of Deep Creek Farmstead are delightfully untamed, full of beautiful pockets begging to be explored. We wandered around the beautiful gardens until we found a lawn perfectly sized for an intimate table, with the titular deep creek babbling just on the other side of the trees. The land and trees all around were bursting with blooms, so we foraged trailing roses to build a table runner on our springtime table set with shades of green. Once set, it seemed to become part of the layered textures of the landscape, visible to anyone who peeked around the arched bushes as guests entered later that afternoon.

Each guest winemaker paired their wine with a course of the menu, and had the chance to share its story at the table while pouring. We got to not only enjoy great wine and food, but the chance to sit down and share a thoughtful meal with the people who grew the grapes, walked the vineyards, and meticulously checked the ferment to make each beautiful, place-based vintage.

At the end of a dirt road, down a winding path, past a burbling stone fountain, in a clearing bordered by draping oaks, we gathered outside of The Wildflower Barn in the heart of Texas Hill Country. We felt like we had discovered a secret garden, and set the table among the bright blooms of springtime wildflowers.

A collage of story and influence emerged throughout the evening to create a beautiful moment in time, with details added by the unique stories supplied by every individual at the table. The collection grew into something far more than the sum of its parts, something that could never be recreated, which only enhanced the beauty of the experience for those who were there to become a part of it.

By the evening’s end, the white barn glowed with reflected light off the windows, the world now dark outside. The room filled with clinking glasses and good conversation. That moment, the meal shared, was one worth experiencing with all five senses, worth far more than just the pretty sight it created.

The days are short and dark, and the snow and cold stubbornly remain. It can be a difficult, in-between time. That’s part of why we believe it’s one of the best times to gather — warm up together, beat the winter chill with a hearty meal, and find the beauty of the season in the twinkle of a good friend’s eye over a final glass at the end of the night, the bright burst of winter citrus that sneaks some sunshine into the dark days.

The barn warmed with good company as the night turned dark around us, many people lingering in the golden light of the glossy wooden room long after the meal ended. Eventually, we all had to bundle up, snuff out the grills’ glowing embers, and make our way into the winter’s eve, warmed through from the inside out. It was just the kind of evening that fortifies us until the soft spring sunshine arrives.

The evening felt a bit like an after-hours social, blending the vibes of a speakeasy with the French-colonial aesthetic of the city, the flavors of a South American holiday meal, the classic winemaking traditions of Cognac, and the New World terroir of the Russian River Valley — the whole experience an exciting, indefinable blend of cultural celebration fitting for the ineffable, exuberant spirit of New Orleans itself.