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As the restaurant world chases ever-splashier spectacles and social media moments, Daniel Patterson, the chef formerly of two-Michelin-star Coi restaurant and co-founder of Alta Adams, is staging one of this fall's most radical fine dining experiments in Los Angeles: he's abolished the restaurant entirely.
Every Friday and Saturday through November, Patterson is transforming his Larchmont abode into an impossibly intimate supper club where twelve strangers gather around communal tables for what might be the city's most authentic and subversive dining experience. Jaca Social Club exists in the space between dinner party and destination restaurant, where ticketed admission buys not only Patterson's exquisite multi-course interpretations of West Coast ingredients but entry into something increasingly rare in modern dining: spontaneous human connection.
The setting itself tells a story. The apartment's triple-high ceilings frame vintage glam art and rock memorabilia—artifacts from the legendary music career of Patterson's wife, Sarah Lewitinn, the former Spin Magazine tastemaker known as "Ultragrrrl" who discovered My Chemical Romance and championed The Killers before launching her own record label. It's old Hollywood sparkle filtered through downtown grit, where a Disney executive might find herself debating Pét-nat wines with a sound-bath healer, while Patterson orchestrates from an adjoining kitchen that happens to be his own.
But this isn't nostalgia for a simpler time; it's something far more prescient. As Patterson and Lewitinn prepare to open their forthcoming Jacaranda Restaurant (moving forward without Patterson's former Alta Adams and Locol collaborator Keith Corbin, who remains a partner in their sauce company, Alta Pantry, and their Watts-based nonprofit, Alta Community), these living room gatherings serve as both preview and philosophy.
In an era when dining has become increasingly performative and isolating, Patterson is testing a provocative thesis that the future of fine food might actually require dismantling everything we think we know about restaurants. Jaca Social Club's ethos suggests we venture out not merely to eat but to feed something else entirely—that restless hunger to break from routine, to discover shared obsessions with random people beside us, and perhaps, if the evening aligns just right, to kindle lasting friendship or something deeper still.
It helps that the food is outstanding. Patterson serves ten courses over a run of two-plus hours (some guests stay much longer than that, he says) with surprises at every turn. His menu includes puffed brown rice crackers with charred avocado. Grits served with a heaping dish of popcorn. Lobster mushroom in umami powder next to new potatoes in a fir-oil foam. There's pepper-seared duck breast. Passion fruit baba. A chocolate-cheery-almond bar for dessert.
Maybe the most intriguing part, however, is that Patterson has created something that can never be franchised, copied or commodified. Jaca Social Club is a dining experience that exists only in this moment, in that room and with these exact twelve people who will never gather this way again. And that's what makes it worth seeking out while it's all still here.
The dinners run every Friday and Saturday night through November. You can make a reservation on Resy. Seats are limited and go pretty quickly.
Since I'm a sucker for radical underground supper clubs, I checked in with Patterson and Lewitinn to learn more about why they're turning the standard fine-dining restaurant experience on its proverbial ear.
David Hochman: You're running a $250 tasting menu out of your home. How did this unconventional concept come about?
Daniel Patterson: It started as an experiment. We had this beautiful space and wanted to create something that felt different from traditional restaurant experiences. Sarah was initially skeptical about communal tables, and honestly, so was I. But we discovered that people who are willing to book a $250 tasting menu at a chef's home are a self-selecting group that wants connection.
Sarah Lewitinn: From day one, we've never had a dud group. People arrive as strangers and leave exchanging numbers. We've had musicians book each other for birthday parties; couples planning double dates. As far as dining experiences go, it’s kinda what everybody wants but doesn’t know how to ask for.
Hochman: What can you do at home that you can't do in a restaurant?
Patterson: The expectations are completely different. When people come to someone's house, they arrive with a mindset of mutual respect rather than treating staff like servants. There's an openness and curiosity that would be hard to replicate in a public space. It's also more expensive to run. You can't buy in bulk. You're doing all the work yourself. I'm spending a good amount of time washing dishes. But it's been great, truly.
Lewitinn: Plus, as host, I can have a drink with guests. I don’t think I could do that at a restaurant. And people can stay as late as they want. Above all, there’s genuine warmth. You’re not just a customer -- you’re our guest. And I think everybody who comes to one of these dinner feels that.
Hochman: How does the evening unfold?
Lewitinn: I research everyone beforehand -- their Instagram, their interests. When they arrive, I introduce them strategically, finding connection points. People have cocktails, get to know each other, then sit down for dinner. The conversation flows naturally because we’ve broken the ice.
Patterson: The food changes constantly. We modify three or four dishes weekly. I’m working with local vendors; experimenting with techniques I haven’t tried before. Recently I did a mango and fig leaf sauce -- the fig leaf oil tastes like coconut but isn’t coconut. Much of what I’m doing at this stage is about discovery for me as much as the guests.
Hochman: This seems financially unsustainable. What's the endgame?
Patterson: You’re right -- this is an untenable business model. We barely break even despite not paying rent. In a restaurant, this experience would cost twice as much. But we’re learning invaluable lessons about what people crave: genuine connection; shared moments; the ability to talk to each other without the pressures of traditional fine dining hours and the need to rush customers out.
Hochman: You’re planning a brick-and-mortar restaurant called Jacaranda. How do you translate this magic?
Lewitinn: I think about the party I used to run with my friend Karen in New York, called Stolen Transmission, named after my record label. The DJ booth wasn’t up on a stage -- it sat on the floor, tucked behind four posts -- so everyone felt like they were on equal footing. There was no hierarchy, no velvet ropes, no bottle service. Whether you were in a band with a show the next night, an industry executive, or just someone who wandered in not knowing a soul, you were immediately welcomed as a friend. Karen and I would introduce you to dozens of people, and by the end of the night you’d be part of the family. The booth was packed with people dancing, hanging out, making out. You couldn’t even tell who was DJing half the time. That chaos was the point. It was punk rock in its own way.
So that’s kind of vibe I wanted to bring into Jaca Social Club and I want us to bring that to anything else we do. Everyone is there for an experience. Everyone is welcome. Everyone is taken care of at all times. You want everyone to feel welcome and seen and special from the moment they walk in.
Patterson: We’re exploring ideas like making Jaca an actual social club within the restaurant, so maybe that’s monthly gatherings, wine tastings, after-parties. We don’t know yet. I think the real question is how to create the most human experience possible while still operating as a business.
Hochman: Fine dining has a reputation for being stuffy. How do you plan to change that?
Lewitinn: I come from a punk rock background; going to tasting menu restaurants always felt like I was behaving improperly. I curse too much; I laugh too loud; I always have my elbows on the table. I want to eliminate that feeling. Daniel’s food is spectacular; he’s one of the finest chefs working today; I think his food can speak for itself without all the pretense.
Patterson: At my previous restaurant Coi, we mixed symbols—using handmade pottery instead of formal china; creating ambitious food in a neighborhood restaurant atmosphere. The goal with Jacaranda would be two-Michelin-star food but with inclusivity and joy. You never want that feeling of over-seriousness. At a great meal—especially on the higher end of things—when you’ve spent a good amount of money，people should be giggling and laughing.
Hochman: What dining experiences spark actual joy for you?
Lewitinn: Baka d’Busk in Copenhagen was huge for us. It’s a vegetarian restaurant and they provided one of the wedding dishes for us when we got married. We went back for our one-year anniversary and experience was completely bonkers and fun. I mean，they literally trapped Daniel at his table so he couldn’t get out. It felt like dinner and a show. It was so exciting and silly and goofy。We were crying-laughing while eating transcendent food。
Here in Los Angeles，you’ve got the places that exude old-school vibes and charm。Like，I just love Jones in Hollywood and Formosa Cafe。
Patterson: Septime in Paris nails it for ambitious food and super energetic service in a relaxed environment. The challenge is that if you're talking strictly fine dining, it's a very short list. But if you ask where you find joy in dining, the list becomes much wider. I mean, if you're talking pure joy in L.A., you go to a place like Pancho's Tlayudas. It's in their backyard. They're just cooking over fire, and it is so delicious. You sit down at a picnic table.And everyone is having a great time there.
Hochman: What's your ultimate vision?
Patterson: Creating a place of joy where you can get exceptional food without the barriers that typically come with fine dining.Where a 95-year-old and a teenager can sit at the same table and both have the time of their lives.
Lewitinn: There’s no other reason to do this.We want people to leave having made real connections,having laughed,having experienced something they’ll remember.It’s about bringing back the humanity in dining.