My Bipolar Friend Is Spending 28 Hours Every Weekend Cooking For Strangers At Home - I Will Be Co-Hosting.
An Actual Conversation That Launched Our Well Subscribed Private Dinner Parties With No Room For Toxic Positivity And Almost Everything In Black.
THE FOUR OTHER GUESTS HAD JUST LEFT AFTER A STUNNING HOME-COOKED FIVE-COURSE NEW YEAR’S EVE DINNER PREPARED BY ILI AND HER FRIEND MARIE. I STAYED BEHIND TO HELP CLEAR THE TABLE AND WASH SOME PLATES. THE FIREWORKS WERE RELENTLESS THAT NIGHT, AND THE ECHOES OF A BUSY STREET WITH HECKLING AND HOOLIGANISM GAVE ME A FUZZY FEELING INSIDE. IT WAS FINALLY JANUARY 2025, AND HERE I WAS IN CHERISHED COMPANY WITH A FULL BELLY.
Me: Ili, tonight was so special. I had no clue you could throw down like that.
Ili: Throw down? [GENUINELY PERPLEXED]
Me: Yeah… you know… cook up a storm! Everyone at the table said it! That was delicious.
Ili: What the f**k do you mean ‘no clue’? I’ve been cooking like this for my friends for over ten years. This was nothing.
[AT THIS POINT, I REALIZE THAT IT IS MY SURPRISE AT THE QUALITY OF THE FOOD THAT OFFENDED HER, NOT THE COMPLIMENT ITSELF.]
Me: Really? But the foams, the textures, the flavors—they were all so well balanced. You just cook… like that? Jesus, I know you’re an incredible designer and all, but this is your calling.
Ili: Jesus has nothing to do with it, I assure you. [SHE PAUSES AND SMIRKS.] I’m not sure. I do this basically because it genuinely brings me joy.
Me: Exactly. I’ve noticed you cook with much more care and intention when it’s for other people. Have you seen what your plate looks like when you make breakfast just for yourself?
Ili: [RELUCTANTLY LAUGHS.] I see your point.
Me: Like… today, the food felt healthy but so contextually rich. And I loved the cheese theme. Maybe because you’re pescatarian?
Ili: [BLINKS THROUGH AVANT-GARDE SPECTACLES.] What does that have to do with anything?
Me: As in… you clearly have such an encyclopedic knowledge of natural produce and nutrition in a way I’ve never seen before. It’s so impressive.
Ili: Thanks. You know I care about what I put in my body — I deal with IBS and lots of pain. And I care about making sure I also create a space where my friends can feel safe.
Me: Exactly. But I’m sitting here looking at your gorgeous black handcrafted dining table under your German Ingo Maurer design lights and your world-class kitchen—you should welcome people into your world. A curated refuge where there is no judgment.
Ili: [BEGINS SLOWLY NODDING.] I like the sound of that. We definitely have the space for it. Maybe do eight people on Saturdays and Sundays?
Me: Yeah! And we could definitely host because I’ve blocked most of my weekends for the Last Suppers I’m attending.
Ili: Fuck! That’s actually great. Because I would need the help if we do it. It’s going to be hours and hours of work, Joseph.
Me: When we do it. And we can!
Ili: And I would basically have to create a three-course menu, including a full natural wine pairing, for EUR 150 a head?
Me: Ooh… sounds like a lot.
Ili: Yeah, but the truth is that it isn’t when you think of the quality of our ingredients, the natural wine selection, and the amount of hours we will need to spend making this happen… it almost comes down to minimum wage.
Me: Ah, I see. I was also thinking that we could give something like 17% of that to a mental health charity—Bipolar UK.
Ili: I f**king love that idea. It doesn’t just have to be Bipolar UK; we could definitely cast our net wide and explore others.
Me: Absolutely.
[AN AWKWARD AND EXCITING 20-SECOND SILENCE PRESENTS ITSELF AS WE REALIZE JUST HOW DOABLE WHAT WE HAVE DISCUSSED IS.]
Ili: Okay! Let’s get to work then. Look at you—the hosted has become the host. I really think this could be special. Oh, and what should we call it?
Me: A gathering of Fucked Up Individuals! Just like your brand. [LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY.]
Ili: It works!!!!!! They could even borrow some of the pieces to wear for the dinner too. We only wear black in this house. [SHE SMILES.]
Me: Brilliant.
Bearded Jesus: Let’s go, guys!! [ILI’S SUPPORTIVE HUSBAND PLAYFULLY INTERJECTS, HAVING HEARD THE ENTIRE CONVERSATION.]
Me: Haha. I think about how many interior worlds I have been received into through The Last Supper Project—from dorm rooms in Utrecht to lofts in Pankow. It’ll be nice to welcome people into our world for a change.
Ili: Hahah. It’s quite poetic.
Me: Also, in honor of your love for the word fuck, I know what we can name the first course… "WTF."
Ili: WTF?
Me: Yeah. “What The Fennel.”
Ili: [BURSTS OUT LAUGHING.] You idiot! That’s perfect.
