Supper clubs are going nowhere. They’ve become an outlet for established and budding chefs to showcase their creativity, while giving guests the chance to enjoy a sense of community. As diners seek more unique and intimate experiences, the competition for the city’s next hottest dining club heats up. Yet some chefs are already standing out by taking the intimacy up a notch: these three professional chefs are making things more personal. In fact, they want you to feel so at home, they’re opening their doors and letting you (and a bunch of strangers) dine at their own tables.
Max Posener, Otaku
Max Posener is a chef who has worked in more than one Michelin-starred kitchen, including Shoreditch’s Cycene and Ynyshir in Ceredigion, Wales. Otaku, translating to “obsession with a craft”, showcases his ambition across 18 courses. Posener decided to run the 10-seat pop-up in his Finchley home after leaving his job. “I left Ynyshir and wasn’t quite ready for head chef or senior sous [roles] anywhere at that level.” But the standards he had picked up made him want to push himself further. “A supper club felt like the right way to do that,” he says.
His style is influenced by his previous boss, Ynyshir’s Gareth Ward (along with lashings of experimentation). Posener dishes out tempura scallop katsu appetisers, vibrant smoked eel custard starters, and standout beef fillets with foie gras and shiitake, while wine is poured by sommelier Oliver Baggott (Straker’s). As for dessert? Well, there are five of them – each more inventive than the next. Start with birch syrup crème caramel with Finchley tree sap, and taste a playful evolution of Posener’s childhood snack of Dairy Milk and salt and vinegar crisps.
Posener’s parents make guest appearances between courses – and are perhaps more distractions than sous chefs. “Finding the line between assertive head chef and son/sibling can be a difficult balance,” says Posener. The dream? To open a place with a similar style of menu. “Keep the communal feel. Add live jazz.” As for the cooking? “Aiming for stars is the only option.”
@otakupopup
Sohini Banerjee, Smoke and Lime
“Smoke is the most nostalgic smell I know – [like] rice cooking in Kolkata kitchens – it takes me straight back,” says Sohini Banerjee, founder of Smoke and Lime, a supper club dedicated to keeping the traditions of Bengali matriarchs alive at a communal table. “Lime has been in almost everything I’ve cooked since I was young. It makes everything sing.” The club’s name is a distillation of her cooking style, contrasting the warmth of smoke and the vibrancy of lime. Menus vary, but signature dishes include green pork, while Indo-Chinese spreads deliver flavour and serve as love letters to London’s diverse shops.
Banerjee hosts with husband Rijul Bohra in their Camberwell flat. The cosy space “is the constraint and the magic of it,” she says. “Guests aren’t coming for a transactional dinner. The proximity creates an openness you can’t manufacture in a restaurant.”
Banerjee has worked in fast-paced kitchens and London cafes. She’s influenced by their style. “Dum Biryani House, Bubala and Italo taught me a lot about building big flavours,” yet she creates from “what I can source locally, with minimal waste” and “my mood, the weather and the surroundings”. Though she hosts in her flat, she leverages professional kitchen composure. “You learn to think on your feet, manage service, and cook with precision even when things get chaotic.” Her vision is bigger than the club. Smoke and Lime is about normalising Bengali food. “Our cuisine has a distinct identity; it deserves that recognition.”
sohinibanerjee.com
Paris Rosina, Come to My House and I’ll Make You Fat
“I always wanted to create something I could do consistently without it having to be a residency in someone else’s space,” says ex-Dusty Knuckle head chef Paris Rosina. She hosts monthly dinners in her west London home. The appeal of hosting at home is not only to avoid gallivanting between venues but about giving guests a comfortable experience. “It’s considerate, relaxed and I go at my own pace,” Rosina says. Her menu reflects this while ushering in some gentle maximalism, too. She serves playful classics: pink devilled eggs, jelly with cream poured from a cat-shaped jug. “Each dish usually feeds into the other; humble ingredients are always utilised, so reeling off an array of courses for 10 people feels natural.”
The Come to My House and I'll Make You Fat concept will be retired in 2027. Rosina's final supper clubs under the moniker are in December.
At-home hosting also adds to the interaction. “It’s almost socially experimental, and far more intimate [than a commercial venue],” she tells Broadsheet. “Ten people cosied up together, sometimes strangers meeting for the first time – it’s always been good craic.” And the final benefit? “I get to make all the rules.” She’s coy yet confident about what’s next. “There’s something exciting on the horizon,” she says. “This is not the last you’ve heard from me.”
@parisrosina
