Groucho Marx famously quipped that he wouldn’t be a member of any club that would accept him, but we wonder whether Mr. Giggles would have reconsidered if the club was located beside Holt Renfrew and served really good food. Tangerine Supper Club blends the best of its rarefied location and subdued interior with family-style dining wherein the plates come to the centre of the table in ample portions and are passed around just like in the Waltons—though we imagine John Boy might have had some difficulty coming up with the $1,300 for the bottle of 2003 Mouton Rothschild on the wine list.—Neal McLennan

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