It’s early morning as we navigate the winding maze of Chelsea Market, coffees in hand. The nervous excitement is contagious, charged with the expectation of the day ahead. There’s a feeling of being small and, at the same time, anticipating something grand. The city dwarfs us—yes, Manhattan is slightly bigger than Birmingham—but to be here with clear purpose is what leads her path. She’s in search of flowers.

We come to a florist stall, which has just opened. Bouquets of roses alongside dried arrangements, vases, and trinkets. Kristen chooses the sunflowers—a representation of both joy and strength, as they constantly look for the light.

She has traveled hundreds of miles for this dinner, but still appears to be right at home. Kristen Hall is the chef behind La Fête, Birmingham’s Michelin Bib Gourmand-winning French bistro, and a James Beard Award semifinalist for Best Chef: South. Tonight, that recognition has brought her here to headline Platform’s Bastille Day dinner, where some of the country’s most celebrated culinary voices have displayed their talents. She seems to have nerves of steel, unshaken by a delayed flight and having to pack nearly one hundred pounds of ratatouille, carefully portioned and boxed to make its journey here. Now, all that’s left is the day ahead.

We walk the couple blocks to Pier 57, home of Platform by James Beard. The name carries real weight here. The New York Times crowned Beard the “dean of American cookery” back in the 1950s, and the title stuck for good reason. He was the first chef to demonstrate cooking on network television, and his Greenwich Village cooking school helped shape a generation of American chefs, Julia Child among them. Decades before it was fashionable, he argued that American food deserved to be treated as its own serious tradition. That’s the lineage this room sits inside. She sees her name on the lettered sign, tears swelling in her eyes. She is certainly not alone.

No, not at all. The night before, we gathered at Bar Pisellino in the West Village. The joy and excitement were palpable—arms draping over shoulders in giant hugs, Negronis passed, smiles and laughter as glasses clinked. Every few minutes, another familiar face would swing the door open, and everyone would collectively throw their arms up as a sign of welcome. Another person who had traveled all this way. I begin to feel like we’ve been transported back to Birmingham, because the faces around me are proof of it.

But here we are, Bastille Day. The dinner is set and she spends the afternoon deep in preparation, alongside both Platform staff and her La Fête team. When I arrive back at Pier 57 in the early evening, the line stretches to enter the coveted space. Perfume, dresses, heels, seating numbers, and a welcome with a glass of champagne. Inside, long family-style tables stretch across the room, but no one is seated yet; we’re mingling, excited, smiles and laughs and hugs all around. It feels like a reunion. We are here to celebrate Kristen, and to celebrate Birmingham.

As the room begins to settle, Kristen steps up to speak.

“I’m bringing a dinner to you tonight that is inspired by so many of the things that inspire me—and of course, one of those is France.” She had just gotten back from a trip to Provence, and she’s woven pieces of it into tonight’s menu: familiar tastes to me as a lifelong Francophile: pistachios and preserved lemon.

“I’m really inspired by the city of Birmingham,” she tells the room. “There are so many Birminghamians here tonight—could you guys raise your hands?” Hands shoot up across the room, and we all shout and wave, proud to have traveled here together.

“Birmingham is an amazing city,” she continues. “Not only because of its high hospitality—but when Birmingham loves, it loves hard. And I’m really thankful that I’m one of those—both myself, La Fête, and my team—that Birmingham loves.”

She tells us that when the invite came, she knew she couldn’t do it without her team. Some of them are here tonight as guests, seated at the long tables; others are just beyond the kitchen doors, already elbow-deep in the courses to come. Several of her team members are experiencing New York for the first time. The line between the two blurs by design. This is a team that shows up for each other everywhere, whether that’s a Tuesday service back home or a room like this one.

“Chefs, yes, we cook food,” she says, “but really our mission is to create community, to create opportunity. Our success is our team’s success, and our team’s success is our success—it’s completely intermingled.”

The room settles into its seats, and the night slips by much faster than I would’ve liked, wrapped as it is in conversation—both in French and English—and in the story of the meal unfolding course by course. First, a delicate ratatouille galette with herbed chèvre, bright with the same Provençal ingredients she’d carried all the way here. Then roasted salmon on a lemon pistachio couscous, balanced and flavorful. And to close, a peach basil pâte à choux—delicate, summer distilled into a single bite. Pastry chefs spend years learning to achieve the lightness and texture of the perfect choux bun, and hers is as near to perfect as can be.

It’s perhaps no accident that I’m seated next to Jeffrey Alpert, who is not only a wine expert and importer, but a storyteller himself. Between courses and pours, he brings to life every detail of the wine’s history and process—where it was grown, who grew it, the years behind each sip. I listen more than I taste, though the tasting is its own education: limestone, salt air, the particular terroir of the French coast carried all the way here, in our glasses. They are the perfect compliment to an already spectacular dinner: a celebration of community, of our farmers and growers, and of course, our chefs.

After dinner, the team surrounds Kristen, and Jeffrey brings out a special bottle for the occasion. I watch Kristen take it in—not just the amount of work and dedication it took to arrive at this moment, but the community that has carried her. And they have.

Dear Birmingham. As she said, Birmingham loves hard. We support our people, we carry their hearts and their dreams. Sometimes all the way to New York.

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