On any given day, you’ll find Billy and Al slinging bagels at Leeds petrol station-turned-venue Hyde Park Book Club. But tonight, they’re at work in the even tinier kitchen of the New Headingley Club, juggling polenta and pierogi while Rhiannon Hope soundchecks jazz standards. It’s the second outing of A Moveable Feast, simply taglined ‘a meal and a show’, and everyone is dressed for the occasion.
“Al and I were restless to make the sort of food that excites us,” Billy tells me. “But it was also about serving that to folk for whom – like us – posh meals out feel scarce. We’re keen for it to have a sense of occasion about it. Even though we’re in a kitsch little social club, we can dress up and pretend for the night.”
Button-up shirts and bottles of Sauvignon populate the candlelit tables lining the function room, which more often hosts World Cup screenings and birthday parties, while Billy and Al stack mismatched bowls with bisque, polenta croûte and samphire salad. Rhiannon is gently strumming ‘Rocky Raccoon’ from a stage draped in crimson curtains, a notebook and a sea of battery-powered candles at her feet, while friends and acquaintances dip in and out of the beer garden for a smoke.
It’s partly the choice of venue that allows A Moveable Feast to escape any feelings of pretension that could easily accompany this kind of event. Carling-branded buckets take the place of proper wine coolers and stacks of unused red chairs sit in the corner, but the frills of a fancy restaurant go unmissed. Everyone feels at home here. The pub has charmed locals, students, football fans, gig-goers and snooker players alike with its strange warmth and, at least tonight, its reliably cheap wine list.
“The New Headingley is a funny one, obviously,” shares Billy. “It’s beloved by most people I know, mostly because of its eccentricity. In some senses, it’s a completely unreconstructed social club, full of army memorabilia and cricket fans, and in other senses, it’s a place with a great deal of interesting and new things going on. For amusement more than anything else, it seemed strangely appropriate – but we try to make it our own.”
Their additional décor is just as carefully curated as the menu and musical accompaniment, but it’s the feeling of community that sets A Moveable Feast apart. Billy and Al are cooking up pierogi and parsley liquor from a small side-stage hatch, making it easy for soon-to-be wine-drunk friends to come up and say hello. Familiar faces from the city’s DIY scene don white shirts to juggle pints with plates, stopping at each table to chat. Everyone is rooting for Rhiannon’s endlessly wandering set from their seats.
“I’ve always had a slightly half-baked fondness for the idea of dinners out accompanied by a musical act. Like Goodfellas – white tablecloths and candlelight and a crooner on stage in front of you,” Billy explains. “As soon as I had the idea, Rhiannon was on the bucket list. I could hardly think of a better thing to hear in the background of a meal.”
Her intimate folk musings and unfailing vocals tie the event together perfectly. Diners catch up as she plays, but they intermittently drop their cutlery in favour of clapping. “I used to play a lot of background-music-type gigs, and I loved them as I could basically noodle for however many hours and people would only be half listening,” shares Rhiannon. “It also makes me feel more part of the night; I’m like in-house entertainment. It’s nice to feel like I’m adding an extra aspect to the experience.”
“Billy and Al are people full of ambition and passion,” adds James Vardy, the head of self-proclaimed independent beer label Private Regcords (home to Rhiannon Hope). “Ever since they first told me about the idea, I was sold – and I trust their taste buds. I love bringing new life and new ideas into old social clubs; they’re always such special rooms. After Rhiannon played such a big headline at the Brude, it’s been hard to decide what to do next in Leeds. Something like this is perfect – so intimate, really precious, even while the focus is elsewhere.”
A mix of olive oil ice cream, raspberry sorbet and a few shots of Shanky’s Whip, courtesy of our table neighbours, sees us out for the night. There’s applause for Rhiannon and her hours of crooning as she finally swaps her guitar for a plate of her own, and applause for Billy and Al’s candlelit creation. Good food and good music in your local: what else is there?
