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Occasionally, a meal is so good you nod along to each bite, grooving to the pulsing rhythm of different flavors and textures. Maybe you even find yourself doing a little dance while seated in your chair, twirling your fork along to an imaginary beat only you can hear.

Then there’s , a bimonthly pop-up where you vibe to the music and the food. Chefs Amber Beckem and Jermond Booze have been curating these musically themed dinners since 2022. It works simply: The chefs pick a musical artist, select some of their songs, and then create dishes based on the music.

“A lot of people don’t consider hip-hop or R&B or techno acceptable in fine-dining spaces,” Beckem explains. “We love bridging that gap.”

At the particular event I attend one night in late September, the artist is Beyoncé, and the dinner is held at the — a Black-led, community-owned and -focused grocery store in the North End. The co-op asks and answers important questions: “How can grocery stores better serve their community?” and “What do people need from their food?”

Vinyl Tasting poses similar questions: What does the dining world need? Does it need more stuffy sit-down dinners? Does it need gold-leaf garnishes, caviar bumps, valets, and dress codes?

Or does it need a relaxed yet energetic atmosphere with total freedom of expression?

The answer comes thumping through the speakers as our host waves us into the co-op’s banquet room, a welcome departure from many of the eerily quiet, antiquated dining rooms where prix fixe dinners usually live. This has the vibe of a wedding reception — guests pick from seats available at big communal round tables. There is no dining alone, no isolation in the form of a two-top near the window. You’re here with everyone, nudged along to meet your neighbors and leave your comfort zone.

A live DJ in the back of the room begins to play Beyoncé’s “6 Inch.” The haunting, twangy bridge reverberates through the room, setting up everyone’s anticipation for the meal.

Before the dinner begins, both chefs take microphones and lay out the menu dish by dish, detailing how they received inspiration from each song. Beckem and Booze each separately chose three of Beyoncé’s most popular tracks and interpreted them into a culinary work of art.

Booze explains their contrasting styles. “I say it every time. Beckem is an elevated, elegant, five-star chef,” he says, before taking a beat. “I like ribs.”

I have heard a lot of verbose, self-serving speeches in my time covering restaurants. Monologues detailing the chef’s inspiration for a particular dish can often read like a long-winded exposition given by a character in a bad movie. However, the Vinyl Tasting dinner is one of the only times I’ve actually enjoyed somebody explaining the food. It felt like getting the rules for a game; you’re immediately dropped into a world the chefs have created, and it’s up to you to get up to speed.

First up is “Break My Soul,” from Beyoncé’s Renaissance album, which Booze describes as having a clear New Orleans vibe. It should be noted that Beyoncé’s mother is Louisiana Creole, and Beyoncé herself was raised in Houston, so much of the food reads Southern. Though Booze initially thought about serving a classic po’boy, he instead leans into shrimp toast.

As the DJ starts the hypnotic drum machine pattern in “Break My Soul,” the shrimp toast hits the table, served on a vintage record, which acts as the meal’s place mat. This course features tangy sweet-and-sour tomatoes, shredded iceberg lettuce for freshness, and a luxurious rémoulade.

From there, the night is a sensational flurry.

Mustard-marinated fried catfish rests on a stack of thinly fried potatoes, slathered with caramelized onion tartar sauce and sprinkled with cowboy caviar — a dish inspired by “Church Girl” and the quintessential Southern church fish fry. Sweet and tangy cherry chipotle barbecue chicken thighs transport me directly into the energetic, fiery tempo of Beyoncé’s “Thique.”

“Cozy,” a song all about self-love and Black pride, inspired a simple black-eyed pea and smoked collard soup that is tangy, bright, and nourishing, with a corn bread dumpling acting as a metaphorical pillow.

After that, the wine starts to take effect. There’s a steady buzz of lively conversation, dancing, singing, trivia, and impassioned commentary in between dishes. The room exudes joy.

I don’t usually leave dinner talking about dessert, but Beckem’s burnt-honey snack cake leaves me floored. Inspired by the beautiful synth and bass pop beat of Beyoncé’s “Pure/Honey,” a petite pastry comes spread with sugary vanilla crème and surrounded by fruity dried pineapple and candied pecans, effectively enhancing the bun’s delicately sweet nature. A play on both Jamaican hummingbird cake and Russian honey cake, it’s a sublime end to a raucous evening.

“Survivor” by Destiny’s Child begins to blast through the speakers, and the nostalgia waves on. People dance and mingle, and chefs from the kitchen start to join the fray. What if dining was more like this? What if it wasn’t so serious? What if it was just a party?

“We look forward to these dinners,” says Beckem, who works as a private chef and uses the events as a creative exercise. “It’s about connecting to community, feeding them, and providing a safe space to enjoy life and music.”

Beckem and Booze won’t be doing another Beyoncé-themed dinner anytime soon, and that’s the point. There are no repeats, and the hits keep coming.

This story originally appeared in the January 2025 issue of ����vlog��׿��. To read more, pick up a copy of ����vlog��׿�� Detroit at a local retail outlet. Our will be available on Jan. 6.��