Not a “Pop and Pop Shop,” Mainlander has moved and it’s better than ever.

by Alexa Beattie / photography by Carmen Troesser

You loved it the first time. When Mainlander occupied its spot at 392 Euclid you already couldn’t get enough of that gorgeous time capsule, that unexpected trip you took when — hunching outside in January slush — you thought you were just going for supper. You had no idea, in other words, that you were in for so much more than supper and that behind those tinted windows, you wouldn’t know what to delight in more — the food (well, yes), the sunburst clock, the shag rug, the set of “Golden Girls” tiki mugs or the ugliest macramé lamp you had ever seen.

There is good news and good news: Mainlander has moved a few blocks north and now occupies the far bigger space left by Salt & Smoke after it was gutted by fire in 2022. It has lost none of its charm. It is only more-so — more than double its original size, even more sexy and already so in its skin that after one or two deliriously heady sounding drinks you wonder if that is actually Alice in the kitchen, pulling a jelly mold from an avocado-colored fridge.

Yes, the vibe here is part-Brady Bunch family room and part “Mad Men” slink. It’s dark, but what low light there is catches on a row of jewel-like candy dishes, winks off kitschy cocktails (with names like Breakfast Cigarette and 23 and Me) and beams down between the muscular macramé ropes of the aforenoted lamp. But you love it all. To say it’s moody is to say an Old Fashioned is wet.

Mainlander’s owners Blake Askew and Gordon Chen.

“‘Someone else’s house’ was the goal,” says Gordon Chen who co-owns Mainlander with chef and business/life partner Blake Askew. “The last thing we want is the generic feel of a big company restaurant. We’re a ‘pop and pop shop.’” But “someone else’s house” can sometimes feel frowsty. This is a million miles from that.

Chen and Askew had a dream, and still — apparently — are having it. Chen, who is a chiropractor by day, grins from ear to ear when he tells you how the pair set off on a coast-to-coast road trip during the pandemic to find the perfect spot to open their first restaurant. They started in San Francisco — that supremely prismatic food town -- where Askew had been cutting his chops in kitchens like Dominique Crenn’s Petit Crenn and Casey Thompson’s Aveline. He also spent formative years at Wolfgang Puck’s in Washington, DC.

“We weren’t interested in a big city like Chicago. We loved St. Louis at once,” Gordon says. “People are friendly here, they are kind. For a city of its size, the dining here is incredible.” On the heels of San Francisco, they were definitely ready for something a little less intense. “St. Louis is relaxed, more supportive. There’s more chance of success. We could tell at once it was right.”

Success has come quickly. Mainlander was a James Beard Foundation semifinalist for Best New Restaurant in 2024 and now, with twice the footprint that has allowed for a walk-in cocktail bar (called the Jujube Inn), they are set to expand their reach. “[For the Jujube] we’re doing drinks and light-hearted little bites for people who don’t want to commit to the full restaurant meal,” Chen says.

So, what is a supper club, anyway, and is it as exclusive as it sounds? Not anymore, according to Chen, who referred to a regretful, earlier era of socioeconomic or racial stipulations for meeting places such as this. But what “supper club” means at Mainlander is that everyone arrives at the same time for one of the night’s two seatings, there’s a flat, pre-paid fee (of $93) for a multi-plate three-course dinner and three cocktails for an additional $43. “It’s like buying a ticket to dinner. When you’re done, you just get up and leave,” Askew explains.

More interesting, there’s also a no-tip policy. “We choose not to participate in tipping culture,” Askew says. “We treat this like a retail business: We bring in wholesale foods, have labor in house to fix it up and then we send it out the door. We don’t complicate things by cutting the customer into the labor equation. All our employees receive an above-market wage and don’t have to rely on tips.”

This, adds Chen, contributes considerably to a healthy work environment. “We want this to be a happy place … to get to know our employees and keep them. Everyone does their best work because their lives aren’t unstable. It’s much more civilized.” Mainlander currently has a total of 11 employees. “And there is very little turnover,” Chen says.

You were a little surprised when Chen told you he doubles as a chiropractor. No, it’s not what you were expecting to hear, but nor were you expecting to see a menu on the chalkboard on which words like kartoffelpuffer, okonomiyaki bao and mac and cheese merrily coexist. The menu, Askew explains, is full of surprises, changing all the time. “The seasons dictate.” And so does their place on the map.

“We have a lot of pride in where we live and what we have to offer,” Chen says, going on to mention the tofu made from Illinois soybeans, the jasmine rice that comes from Bernie, Missouri, and mushrooms from the Ozarks. In winter, Askew may focus on inland freshwater fish, “playing with” rainbow and brook trout, and the caviar of Mississippi River sturgeon. In spring, peas and ramps and garlic may take the stage. And in summer, ripened very specifically by the hot mainland sun, tomatoes come to bear. “I’ve had the best tomatoes of my life, right here in Missouri,” Chen said. Even cocktails commit to one local ingredient: a passion fruit Hurricane subs in indigenous maypops; the house rum hails from three or so miles away — the StilL 630 Distillery downtown.

The glorious multifariousness of the food comes honestly to this menu: Chen (although born in Boston) did much of his growing up in Taiwan and Askew has German roots and deep knowledge of French culinary techniques. “It’s a melting pot situation. Everyone has a voice, if you like,” says Chen, still smiling. So… on one night’s line-up: sweet potato dumplings, Mai Tai squash flambé, “strange flavor bean curd” and a persimmon pâté de fruits. Or, on the Jujube menu: Fusion Slaw of “shredded local roughage” with fried wontons and a Missouri pecan pie with Kung Pow spice and miso butterscotch.

On this, Mainlander’s watch, it all just comes together. And it’s all just like being at “somebody else’s house.”

Someone Else’s House

The glorious multifariousness Mainlander food