Eight years ago, my husband and I had dinner with eight total strangers. That’s a slight exaggeration: One of the eight (whom I’ll call Sarah) was an acquaintance from our elementary school, a mom I enjoyed chatting with while our kids finished class in 4^th grade. Sarah’s daughter was friendly with my son, but since the kids didn’t cross paths with play dates or sports teams, Sarah and I never saw each other beyond the boundaries of the blacktop.

When she asked me if I’d like to join a supper club she and a friend were starting, I was a tad unsure. Still, my husband was up for a new social adventure, so we RSVP’d yes. One Friday night a few weeks later, we knocked on Sarah’s front door and walked into a room filled with tantalizing aromas and unfamiliar faces. I had trouble keeping everyone’s names straight and remembering which wife went with which husband. Regardless, the evening was marked by easy chatter, plenty of laughter, and conversations that went deeper than your typical cocktail-party small talk. As we said our goodbyes, we all agreed the evening had been a success.

With that, our Supper Club was launched. I offered to host the second gathering, although I felt a little nervous about spending another evening with almost-strangers. So a week before the soiree, I asked everyone to come prepared to tell the story of meeting their sweetie. That simple request led to a fascinating evening filled with wonderful stories and remarkable props – love letters, a college yearbook, old photos, and even a PowerPoint presentation. I knew we were onto something special.

One of the five couples soon bowed out due to their busy schedule, but the rest of us hit quickly upon a recipe for Supper Club success. Every six to eight weeks, one couple hosts. Hosting means cooking an entire meal, from appetizers to dessert. It’s a lot of work, but we’re all foodies who enjoy creating a “restaurant quality” meal. We eschew the potluck approach (except for wine), so if you’re not hosting, you’re guesting – just relax and enjoy.

We’ve never had themed meals, but sometimes we have assignments: teach the group something (I learned how to book a campsite at Yosemite during the height of summer), recommend your favorite books (which is how I ended up reading my first Sherlock Holmes mystery), or share something the other Supper Clubbers might not know about you (I confessed my penchant for fainting). These conversation starters were nice in the early months of our gatherings. Now, all these years later, no one needs such prompts.

Food, wine, and conversation are reason enough for me to treasure our Supper Club. But maybe the real magic is a little more nuanced. For one thing, although we’re all parents, we’re not connected through our children — so we rarely talk about them. At this still-kid-centered time in my life, it’s nice to spend time with adults who are not, first and foremost, someone’s mom or dad.

When we started this great social adventure, everyone knew someone in the group but no one knew everyone. Now, we’ve shared enough dinners to have also shared nearly a decade’s worth of world travels, career changes, deaths and losses in our families, surgeries, new pets – and even a new boat (up next: Supper Club on the high seas). We’ve written down predictions at the start of a new year and read them 12 months later to see what came true. We’ve mourned political changes and argued about the Oscars, too.

On rare occasions, our group has met at a restaurant rather than at someone’s house. Those excursions are perfectly lovely. Somehow, though, I find they pale just a little in comparison to our usual format: catching up around a welcoming dinner table, eating a delicious home-cooked meal, and enjoying the myriad delights that have come from saying yes, let’s have dinner with strangers. 

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