What’s old is new again with the recent launch of The Clover Club, a retro-style supper club. Dallas bartender Eddie “Lucky” Campbell, owner of The Standard Pour and Parliament, joins forces with chef Anthony Van Camp (SER, Al Biernat’s), and local big band legend Hunter Sullivan, who’s on board to oversee the live music component. The club is named after the pre-prohibition gin cocktail. (It should be noted that there is an incredibly popular bar in Brooklyn under the same name, the patrons of which were none too pleased to learn about Campbell using its name.)
Last Thursday my partner and I checked out the scene. (It should be noted that we were invited on a media visit. But we also paid.) While walking up the long staircase, which led from the street-level entrance to the second-floor venue, there was a sense of déjà vu as ghosts of ambitious restaurant and nightclub projects past watched on. (The space used to be home to Nikkei and before that was Parquet.) Once I reached the landing it was clear something different was afoot. Before I could even give the hostess my reservation information, the sultry killing-her-softly sounds of Roberta Flack drifted through the door (courtesy of the Shelley Carrol Quintet), drowning out raucous laughter, some muffled chatter, and the percussive clinkety-clink of glasses and silverware throughout the space.
Once inside the dimly lit room, we were escorted to a two-top near the stage and quickly realized there would be little chance for conversation while the band played. My inner old man (dormant until only recently, I just turned 50) found it almost too loud. Interactions with the server were difficult for everyone involved with each of us screaming, “Huh?” at several moments and frequently pointing to items on the menu to ensure the accuracy of our order. (The menu font is also difficult to read in the low-light setting, too, but dwelling on that could lead to “Hey, kids, get off my lawn!” escaping my lips next.)
Fortunately the music was so good that the pumped-up volume became a non-issue as we adapted to our surroundings by ordering and asking questions between songs. That’s when we learned more about a main mission of The Clover Club, which is to appeal to an over-30 crowd in a part of town that tends to target twenty-somethings. The results could be seen throughout the near-packed room, which consisted of several large tables of 40-ish-year-old women out for a night on the town, as well as a handful of multi-generational groups with at least one septuagenarian at each, and the rest filled by couples of every imaginable variety.
After working our way through the near-seizure-inducing cocktail menu that’s packed with unnecessary graphic flourishes that create optical illusions surrounding the descriptions of various cocktails, we kicked things off with the namesake cocktail: The Clover Club, which dates back to the turn of the 19th century. It came with a warning from the server that “it’s a pink drink, but don’t worry, pink used to be considered masculine.” I assured her that two gay men were not afraid of a little blush-colored booze. The gin-based, lemon-raspberry cocktail comes served up in a coupe glass, garnished with fresh raspberries, and a pink, raspberry-flavored clover design contrasting the egg-white foam atop for a fun presentation that complements the sublime, well-balanced flavors. Similarly, a barrel-aged Old Fashioned in a substantial crystal rocks glass hit all the right notes.
The food menu from Van Camp brings together an eclectic mixture of classic steakhouse fare (a given considering his background) with some unexpected international flair from specialty dishes including Jidori chicken, Wagyu short rib fried rice, and a curried cauliflower dish among the non-steak options.
I was recognized as a former Zagat editor, and the kitchen sent out items without us asking. (We still paid.) To begin, a classic shrimp cocktail and lobster potstickers. The shrimp were plump, nicely chilled and plated in a less-than-traditional format on a rectangular white platter with a delightful cocktail sauce and some fresh vegetables to add contrasting colors. The potstickers were hot, fresh, and not in the least bit oily, but as flavorful as each crispy morsel was, had I not known in advance that the filling was lobster, I would’ve assumed it was simply ground pork. I’d much rather have a nice chunk of lobster meat inside each crescent, especially for $23 (oh boy, here comes the curmudgeon again).
Between starters and main courses, we opted to share a wedge salad, which again took an unexpected turn away from a conventional iceberg-slathered-in-bleu-cheese-dressing approach. This updated version used better greens and replaced the creamy dressing with a tangy tomato-oregano vinaigrette. Plus, it showed up to the table split between two plates, an always-welcome sign of thoughtful service.
For entrées, which come a la carte, we opted for a medium-rare Prime New York strip and seared day boat sea scallops. Both were expertly prepared (and once again split in the kitchen so there was no awkward carving and passing across the table), although the steak arrived a little on the cold side. Perhaps the only negative of the night was receiving multiple apologies for the temperature of the beef, but no offer to make it right. Luckily, the scallops wowed enough to make the steak issue a non-issue, thanks to perfectly caramelized shellfish nestled on a creamy coconut-plantain trinket with an orange-vanilla emulsion. This tropical flair turned an otherwise standard surf-and-turf combination to feel a touch more exotic. I’m still dreaming of that coconut-plantain combination as I munch on some awesome homemade nachos made with the leftover steak.
We were too full to try dessert, but as the singer encouraged people to take to the dance floor, we ultimately declared the night a success. With a few minor tweaks including the sound system and some tighter expediting in the kitchen, The Clover Club could be the new gold standard of the supper-club genre.
