I didn’t have either the experience or the money to open a restaurant, but then I came up with a radical idea.

With the blessing of my wife Alison, I decided to turn our one-bedroom London flat into a restaurant, advertise it on the internet – and then see if anyone would turn up. And so the Savoy Truffle Supperclub was born.

The biggest challenge was coming up with the menu. I spent days thinking about what I would serve and testing out canapés in our tiny kitchen.

Anything that you find in a restaurant, we needed it. Alison spent the build-up to the big night begging furniture from friends, schlepping to shops in search of shot glasses in which to serve sorbet and buying napkins and glasses.

Transforming our flat into what passes for a restaurant is quite an upheaval. We have to lug our sofa into the bedroom, along with all of the other stuff that takes up space. The same goes for the kitchen. Bottles of vinegar, jars of marmalade and even the toaster are all stuffed into the boot of our old Vauxhall Astra.

As the first evening drew closer, I started to feel the pressure. It suddenly dawned on me that when you’re charging strangers for food, you really have to deliver. This is the big difference from cooking for mates. Strangers won’t feel obliged to be polite.

Continue reading . . .

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