Before caterer/chef Joe McDonnal opened his own whimsical culinary haven, he helped develop some of the best chefs in town, including Jackie Roberts of The Pink Door and Jim Drohman and Joanne Herron of Le Pichet. In the "Elephant Cage," McDonnal shows off some of the elaborate décor that makes his club unique.

Inside is a veritable wonderland of beautiful things, interesting characters, delectable food and a unique ambiance spun directly from the imagination of Seattle caterer Joe McDonnal. As soon as you enter the warehouse, you seem to be in what feels like the courtyard of some enchanted chateau. A white carousel horse stands sentry.

"I fell in love with that horse when I was just a boy," says McDonnal in a tone both satirical and sincere. It was part of an exhibit at Frederick & Nelson, and the store agreed to sell it only after many years. Farther in, huge floral arrangements in front of gilded mirrors flank a fireplace (Joe spent 10 years as a floral designer in Manhattan), and a grand piano waits for someone to play. The antiques came from McDonnal's longtime partner, Virginia Wyman, whose mother filled their Highlands home with remarkable furnishings.

"That's mother over there," said Wyman one day at lunch. And when I turned, fully expecting to see the woman standing behind me, Wyman laughed. "In the photo on the piano," she said. "She's here every day for lunch."

Members may peruse a rare-cookbook library McDonnal procured from Seattle hostess Jeannette Edris Rockefeller. Undoubtedly the most-talked-about room is the posh "Elephant Cage," where an almost-full-sized elephant (another refugee from Frederick's) raises his trunk now and then to punctuate an evening of merriment.

McDonnal honed his sense of style running Market Place Caterers for nearly 20 years, first at Pike Place Market and later at 30th and Yesler. The parties he catered were legendary. One longtime patron, Anne Gould Hauberg, recalls a reception held in her home to honor Joan Mondale when the vice president's wife was head of the National Crafts Council.

"The table was completely hidden under a layer of clam shells," and the mollusks' insides were packed into pies. "When I had a party at The Ruins the other day, he would hardly even let me see the menu, but I didn't worry. I just said, 'We'll have a couple of drinks and some hors d'oeuvres and some of that wonderful cannelloni on the buffet table.' We ate standing up with forks and napkins."

"Joe talked about opening a supper club for years," says Wyman. "He was attracted by the idea of a dining experience at a place where the members would know each other, a place where they would feel comfortable and where they could entertain." And once he made up his mind the time had come, "he got in his little yellow car and drove around until his gaze fell upon this warehouse and he said . . . "

"This will do just fine," McDonnal adds, finishing her partner's sentence.

When I asked Wyman how she met McDonnal, she turned the question on me: "How could you live in Seattle and NOT know Joe?" The same way I suppose you could live in Seattle and not know about The Ruins: It could happen, but you'd be missing out in a big way.