Become a patron of Polly’s Paladar for as little as $1 HERE
Polly’s Paladar is a private supper club in the heart of downtown Nevada City dedicated to facilitating enthusiasm for the sharable food movement. We collaborate with organic farms, chefs, and artists to provide a fusion of delights in a unique atmosphere.
Every month there is a different food theme and chef. Sometimes chefs can get enough after just one go at it and they come running back for more. We have had a good handful of them return but never repeat what they did before. Humans thrive on food and companionship. What makes the Paladar different is that we are all involved, in one way or another, by nurturing each others gifts and talents on a recurring platform.
Sustaining our local economy and cottage industries are especially important right now. This is our chance to give opportunities to local businesses or artists to shine, who might not otherwise have those moments. This refers to home chefs, trained restaurant chefs, visual artists, and/or local musicians. This is a chance for these hidden gems in our village to be the shining stars for a night or two. It’s a chance for community members to enjoy each other and all the brilliant nature we hold. To share talents in an intimate and safe environment is a blessing. This is what Polly’s Paladar is ALL about.
And just so you know:
Paladar (plural: paladares) is a Spanish term (the direct translation is “palate” or “roof of the mouth”) used in Cuba to refer to restaurants run by self-employers. Mostly family-run businesses, paladares are fundamentally directed to serve as a counterpart of state run restaurants for tourist seeking for a most vivid interaction with cuban reality, and looking for homemade cuban food.
We like that: VIVID INTERACTION
Although we will not be serving food from just one geographical area, we liked the term.
…And Polly. Well, she happens to be a real live person who is the grandmother of our Director. She is worthy of something special being named after her.
If I envy anyone it must be
My grandmother in a long ago
Green Summer, who hurried
Between kitchen and orchard on small
Uneducated feet, and took easily
All shining fruits into her eager hands.
That summer I hurried too, wakened
To books and music and circling philosophies.
I sat in the kitchen sorting through volumes of answers
That could not solve the mysteries of the trees.
My grandmother stood among her kettles and ladles.
Smiling in faulty grammar.
She praised my fortune and urged my lofty career.
So to please her I studied-but I will remember always
How she poured confusion out,
how she cooled and labeled
All the wild sauces of the brimming year.