They’re drained by the loneliness epidemic, turned off by insanely high restaurant prices — and extremely over the Big Apple’s messy dating scene.
Meet the growing group of in-the-know New Yorkers cleverly saying “check, please!” to the status quo — instead finding sustenance and community at intimate, underground dinner parties.
From cozy Upper East Side penthouse soirées where martinis clink over truffle risotto, to better-weather Bed-Stuy backyard hangs buzzing with laughter among ornate tablescapes, these ticketed meals where strangers sit down to break bread together have become the new way for fashionable city dwellers to go out on the town.
Brooklynite Bernadette King Fitzsimons is just one of the regulars at the cozy Heirloom Supper Club, a monthly dinner soirée hosted by roommates Julian Tineo and Madison Scott inside their alluringly-lit Bushwick brownstone.
“I attended my first Heirloom dinner two years ago without knowing anyone,” the 27-year-old told The Post. “It was a little intimidating at first, but I ended up meeting one of my closest friends that night.”
Paying to eat with a group of people you never met — inside a stranger’s home — might sound like a nightmare to some.
But Fitzsimons can think of far worse ways to spend a weekend night, she said — for her, some crowded downtown Manhattan drinkery, shouting over a loud DJ to make conversation with a date or a friend, is not on the menu.
“With a dinner party like this, you know other folks are open to chatting and making new friends,” Fitzsimons added. “At a bar, it can feel awkward striking up conversation with strangers. This felt cozy and welcoming, particularly because it’s hosted in their actual home.”
Former co-workers turned roommates who love to host, Tineo and Scott, created Heirloom Supper Club in 2023, as a way to bring people together because “As young people who spent their early 20s in New York, we know it can be hard to meet new people outside of school or work,” the duo told The Post.
As word got out, the duo’s small, casual dinner party for friends eventually grew, forcing Tineo, who works for the FDNY, and Scott, who works in fashion, to get a “bit more organized by selling tickets to pay for the food” in addition to creating a social media presence. “It all grew organically from there.”
To stay competitive with other private dinner parties in NYC, Tineo and Scott implemented a pay-what-you-wish sliding scale starting at $65 a ticket because they believe that “everyone deserves a seat at the table.”
“We don’t handpick guests or require demographic info,” Tineo told The Post. “If we recognize a repeat guest, we’ll usually seat them next to someone new to help break the ice but otherwise, it’s a bit of a gamble.”
Nico Mann is one of those repeat guests. While at a recent Heirloom dinner, he explained to The Post how the 20 or so guests who attend “want to make time for others.”
“New York can be really lonely, especially if you’re working all the time. These dinners attract people who actually want to connect,” he said.
“At the end of every dinner, we thank people for choosing to spend their Saturday night with us,” the hosts said. “They could’ve gone to a thousand other bars or restaurants. Coming to a dinner with strangers requires stepping outside your comfort zone and it means a lot when people do.”
It’s no surprise that the dinner party phenomenon has taken over the Big Apple. As of now, there aren’t specific rules or limitations on hosting a dinner party in one’s home.
A city permit from NYC.gov, NYC Parks, or the DOH is only required if a party is hosted in a public park, sells food, or blocks a street.
As a result, Heirloom Supper Club is just one of many private dinners that have New Yorkers refreshing their internet browsers to see when a seat at one will become available.
Shabbat but make it sexy
At Shtick NYC, a candlelit Friday dinner on the Lower East Side where all are welcomed, Jewish tradition meets modernity in a way that feels intentionally sexy and slightly subversive.
Hosted by founder Jacqueline Lobel, a freelance television producer and director, this $150 per ticket Sabbath supper club features a blessing from a rabbi, thoughtful rituals, unlimited wine, and decadent food prepared by Chef Noli on behalf of Chichieats — a far cry from the formal and sometimes stiff evening meal many would expect.
“I wanted to demystify Shabbat,” Lobel told The Post. “Most people think it’s this whole serious thing, when really it’s just a dinner, a couple of blessings at the top, and then eating together.”
Five years later, Shtick is now a bi-weekly event hosted in a two-floor event space on Hester St., with around 32 guests, both Jewish and non-religious folks alike — something Lobel said she “couldn’t find for myself.”
That accessibility is exactly what drew in guests like Cayla Moody, 28.
“I didn’t go in with many expectations,” Moody, a dinner party newbie, told The Post. “I was open to the experience, hoping the food would be good, and mostly excited to try something different.”
Different is exactly what Moody experienced at a recent Shtick NYC event.
“The women I spoke with connected in a way that felt natural, like we’d known each other for years. It wasn’t socially exhausting. I left energized, not drained,” she said.
Frustrated by how she felt the modern NYC food scene downplays Jewish culture, Lobel conceived Shtick NYC during the pandemic. “Jewish history is so embedded in New York history,” she said, “but our food culture is usually reduced to bagels, pastrami, bad lighting, and this very antiquated, old-man vibe.”
Her goal was to flip that narrative by celebrating what she calls the “feminine, sexy, soul-food elements of Jewish hospitality.”
At a Shtick NYC dinner, guests can expect soft lighting, taper candles, moody florals and curated décor — an atmosphere most would expect in an upscale NYC restaurant.
“We like to have sexy parties,” Lobel said, laughing, “but also have rabbis hanging on the wall.”
Theme nights
Sarah Entwistle, a former finance worker who quit her job in 2017 to become a professionally trained chef, jumped on the dinner party train back in 2023, when she created Supper by Sarah.
Today, she welcomes up to 10 guests into her Upper West Side home for monthly themed dinners that feel less like an event and more like a family gathering.
“Post-COVID, people are lonely,” Entwistle told The Post. “Going to a bar and hoping to meet someone doesn’t really work the same way anymore. People want to meet in a more comfortable space, where you can actually hear each other, share bread, and have real conversations.”
For Carlos N. Hernandez Torres, 45, attending a Supper by Sarah dinner on a recent Friday evening with his partner meant eating “good food and meeting new people.”
“Bars, restaurants, and networking events rarely offer the mood for genuine connection,” he told The Post. “Supper clubs don’t guarantee it but there’s less performative behavior, less status obsession. It’s better odds.”
Fed up with the expensive, lackluster NYC dining scene, Torres told The Post that he would rather spend his hard-earned money on a dinner party ticket — which costs between $125-$150 for a seat at Sarah’s table — rather than on a disappointing meal at a trendy restaurant.
“Restaurants are extremely expensive these days for mediocre food,” he said. “These supper clubs are usually curated by pro chefs tired of the rat race and we almost always have amazing experiences food-wise, often for the same price or less.”
A dinner party that combines good food and networking
Working as a TV assistant, frustrated by the difficulty of connecting with others in her industry, Amber Mayfield conceptualized To Be Hosted in 2017, an intimate, carefully curated dinner party where conversation is free to roam far beyond work titles.
“If people sit together for two hours or more, they get to know each other as humans,” she told The Post. “Not just what they do for work, but what they care about, what they like for fun, what connects them.”
More than half of To Be Hosted’s 16 to 20 guests typically attend solo — and that’s by design.
Before each dinner, which is held in a swanky Tribeca apartment, attendees, who paid $175 to $200 per ticket, depending on the menu and food costs for that particular event, fill out a survey covering their interests, background, and preferences. Mayfield uses this information to organize the seating chart and other aspects of the dining experience.
Strong pre-dinner cocktails and a live DJ spinning tunes in the background also help set the mood to get the conversations flowing.
“People talk about work, health, and relationships. Everything that makes you feel fed beyond just what you’re eating,” the host said.
Each of Amber’s events features different chefs. “Top Chef” semi-finalist Lana Lagomarsini was a recent choice whose Puerto Rican and African American roots influenced that party’s menu.
“Food opens people up because it’s disarming,” Chef Deborah L. Jean, who assisted Lagomarsini, told The Post. “It reminds us that even with different stories or backgrounds, we’re all sitting at the same table.”
“In New York especially, I notice people soften when food is shared this way,” Jean said. “When a dinner is rooted in intention and community, it breaks down walls quickly. You can feel when guests stop being spectators and start being part of something.”















