Every single applicant asks some version of the same question: can't you just tell me what's for dinner? And every time, the answer is no — not because we're precious about it, but because the not-knowing is doing actual work.
A menu you've already seen is a menu you've already judged. You've decided if you like it, priced it against what you'd cook at home, maybe even decided you're not that hungry after all. None of that happens at our table. Food arrives, you taste it, and for a few seconds the only thing in the room is the dish in front of you and nine people finding out at the same time you are.
That shared not-knowing turns out to be the fastest icebreaker we've found. Nobody's performing an opinion they read online. Everybody's just reacting — and reacting together is a strange, quick way to stop being strangers. It's food storytelling in real time, not a menu you scan before you decide if you're interested.
We saw it at our very first table, and again at our Goa dinner — the moment a course lands unannounced, the whole table leans in together. That moment is the whole point. We're keeping it.