Her post racked up over 200 likes and a flood of affirming comments.
What began as a half-baked idea quickly sprouted into a full-blown culinary concept. The Chartreuse Dinner Club, a cannabis-infused, four-course culinary adventure with vintage style and tons of flavor, was born.
The concept started in New York before moving to St. Louis. Now the club is making its Phoenix debut. The 32-year-old chef invites dinner attendees to her and her beau’s mid-century, space-age-decorated home, where you can toke, talk and taste alongside up to seven other guests as you light up and settle in.
Waldman is calm and clearly in her element as she preps and plates each dish in her open kitchen. She occasionally cracks a joke, and even if you aren't high yet, you'll still get a good chuckle. Guests are encouraged to ask questions, swap stories or kick back and enjoy the show.
Embarking on an experience
On the 20th of each month at noon, Waldman posts the upcoming month’s menu on Instagram. Prospective diners slide into her DMs to request a seat and plop down $175 to secure their spot. Slots are generally filled on a first-come, first-served basis. The exact location? Undisclosed until customers pay via Venmo. It’s all part of the mystique. Think Phoenix raves of the ’90s, reimagined for 2025 cannabis and culinary culture.
On a recent visit, we played along to better grasp the whimsically high-minded adventure.
I messaged Waldman about an interview. She replied promptly, and we set up a time. I asked if I could bring along a buddy — a cannabis enthusiast — to vibe with us. I mentioned that I’d need my food non-infused since I was on assignment. She was totally game.
Her DM followed, confirming the time with the address of her Phoenix home, tucked in a quiet neighborhood.
“I'll have you enter through to side door and through our 'Tunnel of Bud' light tunnel so you get the full experience,” the DM instructed.
We all met outside by the fence before walking on a pathway under a series of LED-lit arches. Then, we hung a left, weaving through an elevated table and stool setup, a mid-century-inspired hanging rattan chair and a low and sleek modern sofa.
“Welcome to the Chartreuse Dinner Club,” says the chef.
Candles flickered atop side tables, a bird feeder hung nearby and a palm tree swayed gently in the background. The space practically whispers “chillax” as diners catch the scent of fresh ganja and whatever Waldman is cooking in the kitchen.
Sliding open the glass door and stepping inside, Waldman shows us the mid-century-inspired dining room packed with kitschy collectibles. An eight-seat dinner table is topped with more candles. A wooden puzzle-like runner spans the table's length, flanked and topped with plates, silverware and large wine goblets. There are also coloring books and crayons.
“This is the club," she says. "This is my baby."
The vibe is playful yet elevated, the perfect fusion of nostalgia and novelty.
One of Waldman's go-to comfort dishes is her pumpkin chili crisp pasta with prosciutto panko crumble and Pecorino Romano cheese.
Mike Madriaga
The canna-feast
For the club's Phoenix debut, there will be three $175 four-course dinners held on April 16, 18 — and, of course, 4/20, National Weed Day, which sold out immediately. This month, the first course is black truffle-roasted potatoes, whipped feta, braised bok choy and gochujang corn sauce. The latter two were a part of Waldman's childhood. “In St. Louis, I grew up in front of an Asian market,” she recalls. “I’d get ingredients there and rework it in the food at home.”
She admits her Jewish parents weren’t exactly master chefs. By the time she was a teen, she took matters into her own hands using a slew of seasonings and ingredients from the market. One of her go-to ingredients was, and still is, gochujang, a savory, sweet and spicy fermented staple in Korean cuisine.
The second course is seared sesame-crusted ahi tuna with dashi miso crema, snap pea and red cabbage slaw.
During our interview, Waldman prepared one of her go-to comfort dishes and the third course of her April dinner menu: pumpkin chili crisp pasta with prosciutto panko crumble and Pecorino Romano cheese.
“It’s a saucy, savory pumpkin sauce blended with chili crisp,” she says. “You get that little kick, and the prosciutto adds just the right amount of umami.”
While we sampled the non-infused version, she noted that for official dinners, the medical grade cannabis supplied by local dispensary Sunday Goods is added via an olive oil drizzle on top of the noodles.
“This dish has gone through a lot of versions," she explains. "Everything I make evolves over time, but the pumpkin base and crumble have been club staples for years. I even put a little cinnamon in the chili crisp to give it that warm, elevated finish.”
Global inspiration
While Waldman’s culinary journey began in St. Louis, she sharpened her skills after moving to New York in 2016. There, she worked inside a high-volume food truck, eventually discovering that the hustle of cooking was only part of what she loved.
“That's also where I was like, this is not only cooking, but I'm talking to the customers, and they're coming to the back door of the truck, checking on me to see how I am doing. I'm hearing about their grandkids or whatever,” she says. “And that's when I said to myself, ‘I need to do something intimate, private dinners, and that's where I can really talk to these people.’”
She also worked at restaurants and took advantage of readily available flights out of New York to travel to Spain, India, Portugal, Israel and beyond. She often returned with bags of rare spices and herbs that inspired new dishes. Cannabis, she says, helped soothe and fuel her creativity.
Waldman combined her love for cooking, her global flavor inspirations and the sense of community she built through the food truck to launch the Chartreuse Dinner Club in Brooklyn.
When she returned to St. Louis shortly after the pandemic, she continued developing the concept.
“In St. Louis, we sold out every single month for three years,” she says. “It was a new menu each time, and regulars formed real connections. They’d come in as strangers and leave as friends. I want to build that same community here in Phoenix. I’ve noticed no consistent cannabis fine dining scene here — yet.”
Each dinner brings together a unique mix of guests.
“That's also where I was like, this is not only cooking, but I'm talking to the customers, and they're coming to the back door of the truck, checking on me to see how I am doing. I'm hearing about their grandkids or whatever,” she says. “And that's when I said to myself, ‘I need to do something intimate, private dinners, and that's where I can really talk to these people.’”
She also worked at restaurants and took advantage of readily available flights out of New York to travel to Spain, India, Portugal, Israel and beyond. She often returned with bags of rare spices and herbs that inspired new dishes. Cannabis, she says, helped soothe and fuel her creativity.
Waldman combined her love for cooking, her global flavor inspirations and the sense of community she built through the food truck to launch the Chartreuse Dinner Club in Brooklyn.
When she returned to St. Louis shortly after the pandemic, she continued developing the concept.
“In St. Louis, we sold out every single month for three years,” she says. “It was a new menu each time, and regulars formed real connections. They’d come in as strangers and leave as friends. I want to build that same community here in Phoenix. I’ve noticed no consistent cannabis fine dining scene here — yet.”
Each dinner brings together a unique mix of guests.
“We’ve had lawyers and politicians in the club, I've hosted a lot of people over the age of 60, and they say, ‘Oh wow, the cannabis I had back in my day wasn't like this. They want to have those new experiences. Or I've had families; I do Thanksgiving dinners for the whole month of November.”
When asked about conflicts with various diners from different backgrounds and having honest discussions while being high, she said there was only one conflict among the 300 different attendees she served in St. Louis. The chef has also cooked for cannabis newbies.
“A big part of this is inclusive dosing,” she explains. “It's when we make sure every single person gets the exact amount of cannabis that they want, instead of a one-size-fits-all experience. So they tell me what they want on a scale from one to five, one being 15 milligrams and five being 150, and it's based on four-course meals.”
That means each portion can range from about 3.5 to 37.5 milligrams of THC. Most gummies sold at Phoenix dispensaries contain about 5 milligrams of THC — though higher doses are available at a premium, and all dosages are clearly labeled.
Waldman says her diners can request an exact amount of THC, which she measures with a tCheck device. The small machine measures the THC levels in oils and butters used in her meals. Waldman squeezes five drops into a tray, and the device, with help from its companion app, analyzes potency on the spot.
“Sometimes people come in and ask, ‘Can you give me 300 milligrams?’” Waldman says with a grin. “I sure can, but I'm not responsible for what you do afterward.”
Waldman’s witty charm and calming presence make her new guests feel safe and welcome. Cozy vintage seating in the covered patio gives dinner attendees a space to stretch out, laugh and ride the wave. The weed-centric dinner experience lasts about three hours, half of which goes to dining and the other half to chilling or smoking.
Cuisine and connection
Waldman also focuses on the strains’ flavor profiles when planning her menu.For the April dinner, she’s using Papaya Bomb, an Indica hybrid born from Papaya and THC Bomb strains. It boasts sweet, fruity melon notes with hints of cherry and strawberry — perfect for pairing with dessert.
This month's final course is a stony spin on a classic tiramisu.
“I’m soaking the ladyfingers in pure pomegranate juice, and instead of cocoa powder on top, I’m dusting them with dehydrated strawberry dust," she says.
After dinner, guests often linger — sparking a joint, swapping stories and basking in the glow of full bellies and new connections.
“Part of the joy of doing this is being able to interact with people like that,” Waldman says. “You’ve got to welcome people into this world, and you have to let them know you’re here, you’re a friend and you’re here to hold their hand through this experience."
In her nearly seven years running the Chartreuse Dinner Club, Waldman has seen it all.
“My favorite thing is being able to feed people and provide a new experience for someone. I like seeing them; they get this glow and they light up,” she says. “I had a proposal at the club, and they invited me to the wedding later."
After just one evening with Waldman, it’s clear that this isn’t just about cannabis or cuisine — it’s about connection. The Chartreuse Dinner Club is where strangers become friends and flavors spark conversations.
