Stories from Grand Cafe — Part 3: Pink Walls to No Walls

March 15th, 2020 – The Last Service

It was Sunday morning. I woke up early for brunch service, but the news was serious. We couldn’t pack 100 people into a room. We called the guests & canceled brunch. The night before had been our last normal service at Grand Cafe, & we didn’t even know it.

After that, everyone was home. I sat in my apartment, overwhelmed: Do you keep paying your energy bill? Taxes? How do you handle vendors?

One thing was clear—my team needed purpose. The second thing—the deepest origin of Paris Dining Club—People need beauty.

Our team, we were all artists. That’s why we worked at Grand. Everyone had something to contribute. That’s when we started making boxes: Grand at Home. Take-and-bake quickly evolved to The Big Kit—comfort, indulgence & beauty for people stuck at home.

It was a week’s worth of moments to look forward to. Thoughtful dinners, comforting lunches, & breakfasty items like Christmas-morning food, things that made home feel like home. There was frozen cookie dough, late-night snacks & art kits. Teagan’s watercolors, DIY gift wrap, Evy’s dancing classes, Shana’s flower arranging tutorials, Scarlett’s palette training kit. We experimented with packaging, adding little touches like Snoopy eating a muffin on a sticker. Small details that could delight people during such a difficult time.

The Big Kit gave people anchors: roast chicken on Tuesday, watercolors on Thursday, brunch on Sunday. When everything else felt bleak, The Big Kit offered joyful routines.

The response was profound. Guests emailed saying these weren’t just meals—they were lifelines. One guest wrote, We’re listening to your playlist & eating beef Wellington after bringing our baby home!

This wasn’t a pivot—it was a lifestyle change. The same connection people felt at Grand was there, but even stronger. I realized the experience of eating at home with these kits wasn’t any less than dining in a restaurant. We had solved a puzzle no one had thought to solve before— bringing restaurant food into homes in a way that felt magical.

Life was chaos. If you saw me in a pink jumpsuit delivering boxes, no you didn't. But for the first time in my career, I had time to think. I considered how to build a meal kit business through marketing & storytelling. How to create something genuine & curiosity-driven.

The Big Kit was the foundation for everything that followed— an experience as much as a product, designed to make people feel cared for.

Enter Weekender: my desire to rediscover passion. As a chef, you’re often too deep in the weeds running a restaurant to truly indulge in your creativity. But nowwe had the time to create. Weekender was something brand new: a project to travel, learn, and share deeply personal stories through food.

The concept was a weekend home dining experience, inspired by a person, place, or thing. Each quarter, we’d explore a new theme, creating an intimate, tangible experience. Every box included a print piece (no screens!) telling the story behind the edition. We created four editions.

With The Shellfish Edition, we traveled to Cape Cod, stayed in a house together, toured oyster beds, had a clambake on the beach. It embodied what Weekender could be. This edition was about reconnecting with curiosity, exploring where food comes from, and creating pure armchair travel. Guests could read the story, try the food, and feel transported.

The Bill Edition was a portrait of the ultimate bon vivant. We filmed in Bill’s home, capturing intimate details—his hands on a cutting board, the corners of his home that most guests wouldn’t see.

Weekender wasn’t about ego—it was about humanity & connection. Bill’s approach to hosting embodied that. He’s unapologetic—elegant, but casual & effortless. Bill makes people feel welcome by being himself. Hosting isn’t about perfection. It’s about creating space for others to feel at ease.

The LA Edition: We had hoped to explore the Azores, but weren’t able to go. So, we ended up in Los Angeles. LA was chaotic & didn’t fully come together. It felt like the focus had to be restaurants, but I struggled to get excited. Restaurants didn’t feel special anymore—nothing compared to Grand. When you know too much about the industry, the romance disappears. But even in the chaos of that trip, there were moments of magic. The team bonded in ways we hadn’t before. Britt and Sarah became close friends on that trip, which felt like its own kind of success :)

The Ham Edition was our most foodie edition. We explored American & Spanish ham, Mangalitsa, Bob Wood’s breakfast ham, & jambonettes. We wanted people to finish the weekend as ham experts—knowing how to buy, serve, & cook it. It was fun & quirky.

With the launch of PDC, we were struggling to give Weekender the attention it deserved. It was our creative art project that was also incredibly hard to produce. PDC had taken off & fit into people’s lives more practically. Weekender went on hiatus. If I won the lottery tomorrow, I’d bring it back—it’s the dream job. Exploring the world, learning about food, and sharing it in meaningful ways. Slowly, we’re merging Weekender’s exploratory spirit with PDC. Last June’s Monet Box is an example of that.

Finding a New Home: The Studio

Our team had been operating out of Eastside as the meal kit business took shape. We played pizza restaurant with Woodfire & had a rad summer with La Pistola. A private dining room turned “war room” was our makeshift office. The walls were covered with moodboards & giant post-its. Four 4-tops shoved together served as our "conference" table. I realized how much a creative environment could fuel focus & creativity. I also loved the idea of a workspace being visible to guests.

We needed our own space. When I toured The Studio, I didn’t know exactly how we’d use it, but I knew it was the right place. I signed the lease. Then, sitting in the bathtub, it hit me: We can host dinner parties here. Duh!

At first, the dinner parties served as press previews for each month’s menu. But it became so much more. The Studio became a physical manifestation of our aspirations—a place where our dream dinner parties come to life. Yes, we do rent it out, but that’s not its purpose. It’s an inspiring space designed to foster creativity, connection & community.

Our long-table dinners redefined what a midwestern dining experience could be. I wanted to introduce concepts common the coasts and in Europe. Strangers gathered around a table, sharing extraordinary moments of connection.

It felt like The Studio brought Paris Dining Club to life. We launched with six static dinner box offerings—dishes you’d have a hard time pulling off on your own, but could effortlessly execute with PDC.

Every entrée is the centerpiece. Think Wellington—wow. Or Coquilles St. Jacques served in giant scallop shells. The menus carried Grand’s ethos—old-fashioned glamour & classic French cooking—while being simple to heat & impossible to mess up. Each dish is highly crafted, carefully engineered to deliver perfection on your dinner table.

We initially offered new menus every six weeks, but customers weren’t just ordering occasionally—they were ordering repeatedly. PDC was meant to be an occasional experience, but it became a lifestyle.

I proposed monthly subscriptions, and everything changed. Each month brought a new theme, merging Weekender’s creative spirit with PDC. We began exploring a new region of France each month—regional French cooking had always been my dream. At Grand, I explored the concept, and with PDC, I fully embraced it. Each menu became a love letter to a different region.

We were creating so much content too, but it felt untethered. How could we share it in a way that was tactile, not just aspirational? At first, we called it Dinner with Friends (because, duh, you should just have dinner with friends), but now it’s The Dinner Party Guide. It ties everything together each month.

Whether you follow the guide completely or just draw inspiration, we want to give you permission to create time with loved ones. Order the box, or don’t— it doesn’t matter. It’s about encouraging people to gather & celebrate the little moments.

But of course, you’ll have a better time if you do order the box :)

When I think about what we’ve accomplished, it’s extraordinary. Holy shit, we built a business. We were restaurant people with restaurant skills, but we created something entirely new. We taught ourselves everything—how to build a website, manage its backend, graphic design, marketing, logistics, systems. We figured out how to R&D menus so they’d be just as good at home, & how to design packaging that creates a luxury experience, even when we’re not there to control it.

Our team was tiny (and still is), but we made it happen. Me, Britt, Ryan, & Sarah—we built it all ourselves. And I deeply trust us.

For three years, I had no idea if this would work. My entire life had been preparing for a certain career & trajectory, only to completely start over. As scary as it was, I knew that even if it failed, it wouldn’t matter because we’d learned so much.

You can take massive, scary risks. You can feel like you’re going to die in the process, & it can still be worth it if you stick to your vision & trust your gut. The years of hard work in restaurants & burnout brought us here. We couldn’t have done this without that foundation. And we’ve only scratched the surface of what we can accomplish.

The heart of everything we’ve done—from Grand Cafe to Paris Dining Club—has always been for our guests. The food, the ambiance, the details—it’s all here for you.

I’ve always lived by two quotes. The first, from Houdini, pertains to food: An old trick well done is far better than a new trick with no effect. The second is from Brian Eno’s philosophy on ambient music, to paraphrase - I make this music not to get your attention, but if you pay attention, you’ll be rewarded.

That philosophy shapes everything. I want the dishes to be beautiful on your table, but the point is the connection happening around it. If you pay attention to the food, we won’t disappoint you, but it’s there to enhance, not overshadow, the experience of being together.

I’ve never operated within any sort of box or expectation—it’s just not how I work. But this is the furthest I’ve ever stepped outside of that. What I’ve learned is that the four walls of a restaurant don’t matter. It’s all about making people happy.

What we’re doing now is more authentic, more connecting. More intimate. It’s more than a meal kit. It imprints on people’s lives—it’s not just an experience you go out and have. It changes who you are. You become someone with a deeper, richer life. You’re the person who brings that richness to yourself and the people you invite to dinner. You’re the bon vivant!

Grand Cafe never truly closed; it lives on in every Paris Dining Club experience.

We thrive as a dynamic, evolving, lusty brand, continuously redefining what it means to share a meal and finding unfussy ways to connect people through food.

xo,

Jamie, Sarah, Britt, and Ryan

Ps. If you’ve been following along over the past few weeks reading our story, thank you. This has been a story years in the making and to put it down into words — to share our purpose with you — has been deeply meaningful. ♡