Inside India’s Invite-Only Supper Clubs: How Secret Dining Experiences Are Redefining Urban Food Culture

In India’s ever-evolving dining scene, a quiet culinary subculture is gaining momentum—one rooted in curation, community, and care. Supper clubs, invite-only or pre-booked communal dining events, are creating spaces that go beyond just food. Whether tucked into city flats or hosted on scenic farms, these intimate dinners offer something restaurants often can’t: a seat at a table where stories matter as much as seasoning.

What started as a niche interest among experimental chefs and hobbyist hosts is now becoming a vibrant alternative to commercial dining. “Supper clubs are becoming very popular now,” says Toonika Guha, who runs Toontooni’s Table in Delhi. “Most major cities have at least one or two regular ones now. It opens up opportunities to build community through food, share our culture and make new friends.”

Discretion, Curation and the Mechanics of Memory

Unlike pop-ups or chef’s tables in restaurants, supper clubs are grounded in personal intention. Each organiser brings their own flavour—literally and metaphorically—to the format. Some, like Toontooni’s Table, focus on highlighting underrepresented cuisines. “Bengali food isn’t a cuisine that gets a lot of limelight,” Guha explains. “It’s my mission to change that. My menu focuses on reintroducing near-lost recipes—some traditional, others with my own spin.”

Her recent supper on April 13th included Bengali roast chicken served with aloo bharta and laal jhol, and a cheesecake topped with nolen gur and sea salt. She doesn’t curate the guest list but instead lets the experience attract its own crowd. “Different experiences attract different sorts of people, but they’re always interesting, well-rounded individuals drawn by their love for food.”

Others, like Paprika Tokri Supper Club in Gurgaon, use the invite-only model to foster a very specific emotional environment. “We look for quiet thinkers, fellow creatives, and people who respect space,” says founder Meher. “This isn’t a restaurant—it’s our home. The goal is to gather people who are open to something slower, softer, and more intentional.”

Her menus range from smoked trout from Himachal to decadent Konkani fare shaped by seasonal ingredients and deep memory. “Sometimes the menu is inspired by a plant growing around us, sometimes by an old family recipe,” she adds. “But it’s always a story I want to tell through flavour.”

This storytelling element is echoed across clubs. Samiksha Chaudhary, co-founder of Seré Supper Club in Gurgaon and Chandigarh, calls their events “a love letter to food and friendship.” Their rotating menus are drawn from Japanese, Mexican, and Italian cuisines, with whimsical flourishes like Thai green curry ice cream and smash-and-eat pavlovas. “We want strangers to walk into a warm, inviting space and leave as friends,” she says.

And while some supper clubs are rooted in nostalgia, others spring from pop culture and personal identity. Zahvi, a Korean supper club based in Mumbai, found its niche among food-curious and K-drama-obsessed diners. “A lot of guests are thrilled to try dishes they’ve only seen on TV,” the host shares. “They’re surprised and delighted when they find out I serve homemade kimchi, or tteokbokki—it feels like a personal connection.”

A Slower Way to Eat, a New Way to Meet

While the food is often exceptional, the bigger draw is the experience—communal, unhurried, and often unpredictable. The intimacy allows for connection, not just between host and guest, but among the diners themselves.

“It’s very different from dining at a restaurant,” says Guha. “At a supper club, you can really interact with the other guests. It feels like you’ve stepped into a dinner party at a friend’s place.” For many supper club organisers, the format is as much about relationship-building as it is about recipes.

Samiksha notes a similar pattern at Seré. “Many of our guests wouldn’t have ordered the dishes we serve if they saw them on a menu. But in a setting like this, it becomes a fun, exploratory experience. We’ve had guests become close friends just from a single evening.”

That kind of casual serendipity is part of the appeal. Without the pressure of fast service or social media documentation, guests can focus on being present. “One person described our supper as a holiday from the ordinary flavours you didn’t know your palate craved,” Meher recounts. “Another called it a sensory memory—a journey down a memory lane you didn’t know existed.”

The Future of the Invite-Only Table

The supper club movement in India is still young but growing fast. Organisers are optimistic about its sustainability—not in terms of massive growth, but in consistency and emotional relevance.

“People are hungry for something meaningful,” says Meher. “They want to feel like the meal was cooked with emotion, not urgency. And that’s what the supper club allows.” For her, the future isn’t in scaling up, but in holding space. “I never want it to get too big. The magic lies in the intimacy.”

Guha echoes the sentiment. “Scaling doesn’t have to mean opening a chain. For me, it’s about whether I can keep hosting month after month. So far, the answer is yes.”

Even Zahvi, who regularly alters her menus and serves rotating groups of curious diners, believes that “as long as you don’t compromise on quality and the experience stays unique, it’s sustainable.”

That said, supper clubs are not without their challenges. Some face space limitations, logistical hurdles, or audience scepticism. “Gurgaon is very experimental, while Chandigarh needs more time to warm up to new cuisines,” Samiksha notes. “But even these differences are part of what makes the journey interesting.”

And then there’s the time crunch. “My biggest challenge is time,” admits Guha, who balances her supper club with a full-time marketing job. “But I’m thoroughly enjoying the journey so far.”

What binds these varied supper clubs together is a shared belief in food as a connection—an ethos not easily replicated in commercial dining. Whether you’re tucking into coastal prawn curry on a farm in Gurgaon, breaking bread with strangers over Mexican tacos in Chandigarh, or trying japchae in Mumbai, the format is grounded in care, curiosity, and community.

At their core, India’s supper clubs are reshaping not just how we eat but why. In an age of hyper-efficiency and algorithm-led recommendations, these intimate gatherings prioritise warmth, attention, and emotion—reminding us that the most memorable meals are rarely the ones with reservations.