There’s nothing bland about Studio Suppers at On the Boards

The communal-dining fad of a few years back was a short-lived one, and few were sorry to see it die. After all, what are the chances of having any real kinship with the random strangers seated next to you, based on the basic shared interest in eating at restaurants? Things could, and did, go awry. (Personally, I learned much, much more about one couple’s latest wine-tasting trip to Napa and, separately, one woman’s metal allergy than I ever wanted to know.)

Here in Seattle, Spinasse broke down and broke up its tables so you could sit with the simpatico people you brought with you, while all-shared-table Belle Clementine in Ballard closed down after only a couple of years.

But communal dining is alive and well — alive and a thrill, even — at On the Boards, in the form of its Studio Suppers. It turns out that an actual community (albeit a loosely knit one) helps, along with excellent guest chefs, free-flowing wine and a sliding-scale payment policy.

It’s not an everyday thing. On select opening nights at the performance-art venue, 56 people gather for cocktails and appetizers in the stylish lobby, then move to the theater’s downstairs Studio space and take seats at two long wooden tables dramatically suspended from the ceiling. Amber lighting flatters both people and food; the rest of the room fades into darkness, creating intimacy and a little mystery. There’s the slight undermining of reality as the table sways slightly on its cables and as wineglasses are refilled, sometimes so stealthily that they seem actually bottomless.

The dinner, served family-style, is made by the likes of Rachel Yang (chef of Joule, Revel, Trove), Jason Stratton (Mamnoon), PK Frank (Little Uncle) and Ba Culbert (Tilikum Place Cafe). It’s typically three bountiful courses, costing $25 to $100 according to your means (cocktails and wine included). Dessert is Hot Cakes’ chocolate truffles, and there’s coffee to fortify everyone before they head to the main theater to see the show (for which tickets cost extra, usually $23).

It’s the nature of On the Boards’ shows that creates the self-selecting community for the communal dining. Artistic director Lane Czaplinski calls the programming “weird performance … You could argue that we push people, and, as a result, we have the opportunity to inspire people.”

The artists might be local or international; there might be dance, video, song and/or something difficult to categorize. Nudity is known to happen, and sometimes the work is unsettling. Pat Graney’s “Girl Gods” earlier this fall featured a woman progressing across the stage at a glacial pace while carrying a rattling teacup, then later feeding four other women punitively small bites of chicken. As Czaplinski puts it — and it’s an ethos that’s embraced by On the Boards regulars — “You’re either going to love it, or you’re going to hate it. But you’re going to think about it. As opposed to having a sort of bland experience.”

At a Studio Supper, you might end up seated next to an artist, such as dancer (and past On the Boards performer) Kate Wallich, or Seattle arts royalty, like philanthropist (and On the Boards mainstage namesake) Merrill Wright. Seattle food industry types are often in the house as well, like Cupcake Royale’s Jody Hall and her wife, Kelly Ring, or Mamnoon owners Racha and Wassef Haroun. There are placecards, and the staff exercises a careful calculus to construct the seating chart — people who know each other interspersed with unknown quantities, the potential of old friendships and new connections factored in. Ten or more guests are generally newcomers.

People at a Studio Supper gesticulate a lot. At one recent dinner, a woman stood up and sang its praises in full-throated operatic style (“The people that cook / Are they not fabulous / The food / Is it not wonderful”). As the platters are passed, the room gets happy and loud, united by the common causes of food and art. It is very rare that anyone has their phone out.

“I feel like this is the best dinner party in town,” I heard one diner remark.

Czaplinski says the dinners have been “huge” for opening-night ticket sales, creating “a special kind of ritual.” Each dinner also benefits a charity of the visiting chef’s choice — normally $1,000 — an idea he got from the Mission Street Food cookbook. The average diner pays a generous $55, but many go to either the low or the high end of the suggested range. Payment is accepted, cash or credit card, at the end of the meal: “If you have more money, pay more; if you have less money, pay less,” Czaplinski has been known to announce.

He agrees that communal dining is, in general, kind of a terrible idea, and he still seems surprised that the Studio Suppers work so well, four years in. “It’s kind of amazing how easily it gets pulled off,” he says.

All levels of On the Boards staff members polish glassware, set the table, run the food out of the decidedly non-commercial-grade kitchen. The chef always gets a tour first, so they’re aware of the limitations of the four-burner, non-gas range. Some servers are volunteers, doing table service for the first time, though you’d never notice.

“It’s a bit of a party trick,” Czaplinski says, and it’s one they’re pulling off handily.