First and foremost, it’s a dinner, The whole single part is an added bonus.”
This is Londoner Edzai Soper, 27, who met his new girlfriend last month at Dinner For 100 (dinnerforonehundred. com), a wild, wacky and literally-named dinner party curated by Jake Bucknall, 26, and Jacob Stuttard, 27,who own a pizza business by the same name. “It’s another way to meet someone and it’s a much better way to do it,” says Soper who, like an increasing number of young Londoners, has grown tired of matching online.
After a decade of Tinder it seems, anecdotally at least, that more and more people are swiping left on dating apps. The demand for IRL experiences has increased so much, in fact, that the London food scene is hurriedly responding with supper clubs, dinner parties and singles events that are selling out across the capital. Take the Dinner For 100 duo, who threw dinners intermittently pre-Covid; now the surge in post-pandemic popularity means they’re hosting parties every two months. The idea is simple: gather 100 people around some delicious food — they partner with some of the best chefs in London — choose a theme and a venue, provide entertainment and keep the party going until at least 2am. And, as their strapline reads: “Oh, and you might meet the love of your life.” Their next dinner party, The Wedding, is on April 14 at the Stanley Arts centre in South Norwood with a menu by MOB’s Sophie Wyburd. People of all ages — attached or not — can attend, though they insist on keeping a singles table.
“Part of the inspiration is still meeting someone. If you saw how someone you fancied treated an older lady, it makes you see them in a different way,” Bucknall explains. “Making sure there’s a mix of ages creates that atmosphere you only get at weddings.”
It’s a unique formula and people are clearly buying into it, given most sell out in somewhere around the 20-minute mark, usually after a flurry of Insta likes. “Each time we do it, we want to do something a little bit crazier,” says Bucknall. At their Christmas instalment, they hired actors to play Father Christmas, who handed out sweets; The Grinch, who ate people’s canapés; and Rudolph, who circulated with packs of Marlboro Reds. “People find [the apps] a bit insincere. It’s a breath of fresh air when you meet someone over something natural like food for the first time,” Stuttard explains.
The founders of the Enrica Rocca Cookery School (enricarocca.com) in Ladbroke Grove couldn’t agree more. After repeated requests from their clients, chef sisters Charlotte and Claire Rocca, 32 and 31, finally threw their first singles cooking club last month. “People are investing in the effort to go to these new things and to meet people,” Charlotte says. “Having that human interaction instead of apps reminds you to just put yourself out there and not be afraid.” Their next dates are April 21 and May 12.
Being another of those Londoners who’ve signed out of the apps, I arrive at their second singles cooking club last week. I bond instantly with Nick, 46, over our attitude towards the apps. “I find dating apps a bit transactional,” he said. “Getting to know people during the course of the night and maybe something clicking suits me more.”
But it was Tom, 26, with whom I spent most of my evening, stirring risotto, rolling pasta, sharing bruschetta. Not that I’m committing myself to the first suitor I find. There’s the promise of a “horny atmosphere” by Maria Georgiou, 32, one half of party-throwers Mam Sham (mamsham. com). The other half is Rhiannon Butler, 31, who says that, although their events don’t target singles, they attract a fun crowd. “A lot of people come by themselves, so accidentally it’s become a bit of a breeding ground,” she explains.
That breeding ground only looks set to grow. Last week’s dinner, “Now That’s What I Call Mam Sham”, was held at Walthamstow’s Big Penny Social and took the format of a three-course dinner with a twist: each course was served after, and inspired by, a different comedy act. The 200 guests sat on two long tables and were served sharing platters to encourage everyone to socialise.
People find[the apps a bit insincere. It’s a breath of fresh air when you meet someone over something natural like food
“We use props to bring our food to life. If you have to use a syringe to put a dressing on a salad it just creates conversation,” Georgiou says. “Their hands met reaching for the lamb platter!” she jokes. For Butler, merely turning up means you already have at least one thing in common with everyone in the room. “If you come to a Mam Sham event, you’re a certain type of person. We don’t reveal the menu until on the night, so you have to be up for going with the flow and seeing what happens,” she says.
The spontaneity and creativity of a Mam Sham dinner is clearly a recipe for success — all tickets for the Friday event sold in an hour and the pair are planning to host them quarterly, so keep an eye on their Insta or sign up to the mailing list to avoid missing out. “The Mam Sham fam is growing,” Butler says.
The same is true for Luce McCallum and Gabi Adams, both 31, co-founders of Gooce (goocesupperclub.com), who over the past two years have found themselves overwhelmed by interest in their supper club. The pair have jobs in PR and TV production but are determined to deliver what they feel Londoners need more than ever.
“They are so, so popular that we’ve had to expand and there are big waiting lists,” McCallum tells me. McCallum and Adams began by hosting in the flat they used to share, and then upgraded to partnering with restaurants to accommodate larger numbers.
“Isn’t the nicest way to meet somebody through your friend’s dinner party and have a lovely social evening?” McCallum asks. The pair trialled their first dinner for 40 to 50-year-olds in February. Their next night will be at Brother Marcus, Spitalfields, in May, this time for those in their late 20s and into their 30s. “The apps really dehumanise the dating experience,” adds Adams. “You can’t quantify chemistry in a room.”
