Remember when a big night out meant throwing on a sport coat, sliding into a red-leather booth, and letting the bartender keep the rye coming while the steaks sizzled? Those old-school supper clubs were where deals got done, stories got taller, and nobody looked at their phone for four straight hours. A lot of guys figured that whole world vanished somewhere between disco and DoorDash.
Turns out it never really died. It just moved home.
That’s the bet WhistlePig Whiskey is making with their new Proof & Provisions Supper Club Kit, a box that lands on your doorstep and basically turns your dining room into the best damn private club in town. No cover charge, no valet, and you don’t have to put pants on until the guests arrive.
At the heart of the kit sits the bottle that put WhistlePig on the map: their Small Batch Rye, Aged 10 Years. This isn’t some trendy flavored nonsense; it’s the straight rye that just walked away with World’s Best Rye at the Las Vegas Global Spirits Awards. Big spice up front, oak in the middle, and that long, warm Vermont finish that makes you lean back in your chair and say, “Yeah, that’s the stuff34.”
But they didn’t stop at the whiskey. WhistlePig brought in their in-house chef, Ashley Sanderson, a Vermont native who knows her way around a cast-iron skillet and isn’t afraid to put rye in places most chefs wouldn’t dare. She created a dead-simple but knock-out recipe for Madeira Pork Loin that pairs so well with the 10 Year Rye you’ll wonder why every Sunday dinner doesn’t end this way. The pork comes out juicy, the sauce has that sweet-savory depth, and when you slice it thick and lay it on the platter, you’ll look like you’ve been doing this for decades.
On the cocktail side, the mixologists delivered two heavy hitters. The Cranberry Rye Punch is bright, crowd-pleasing, and dangerous, because it goes down like juice even though it’s packing 100-proof muscle. Then there’s the Rye Espresso Martini, the closer. One sip and you’re wide awake, slightly buzzed, and telling the same hunting story for the third time like it just happened yesterday.
Everything you need shows up in one box: the bottle, all the fixings for the pork loin, the cocktail ingredients, and QR codes that pull up videos of Chef Ashley walking you through every step. Even if the extent of your cooking is flipping steaks on the grill, you’ll pull this off without breaking a sweat. And if someone spills red wine on the tablecloth? It’s your tablecloth. No harm done.
Charles Gibb, the CEO up there in Vermont, put it plain: “Supper clubs were once about tuxedos and tablecloths. We’re rewriting that tradition the WhistlePig way, with rye in hand, sleeves rolled up, and flavor leading the charge.”
They launched the kit on November 12, 2025, right when every guy starts wondering how he’s going to top last year’s Thanksgiving or keep the neighbors from dragging him to another noisy bar on New Year’s Eve. At ninety-five bucks it’s cheaper than taking four people out for steaks and a couple rounds, and the first hundred buyers snag a bonus hundred-dollar Visa gift card, basically making the whole thing half-price if you’re quick on the draw.
Look, nobody’s saying you have to light candles and put on Sinatra (though it wouldn’t hurt). The point is you get the best part of those old supper clubs: good whiskey, better food, and actual conversation with people you like, without the hangover of fighting for a parking spot or yelling over some DJ.
WhistlePig didn’t bring back the supper club to be cute. They did it because a lot of us woke up one day and realized the house we worked our asses off for actually has a pretty nice table in it, and there’s a bottle of the best rye in the world sitting on the shelf collecting dust while we scroll past everybody else’s vacation pictures.
Maybe it’s time to pour that rye, fire up the oven, and remind everybody why we bought the big dining room table in the first place.
The kit won’t last forever. When they’re gone, they’re gone. But the nights you make with it? Those might just become the stories you’re still telling twenty years from now, preferably over another pour of that same 10 Year Rye.
Supper club isn’t dead, fellas. It just moved back home where it belongs.
