To this day, one of my favorite ways to eat is a supper club. I love the intimacy of the setting and the intentionality the chefs put in curating their dishes and feeding us. As an adult living away from home, a supper club feels like the closest I can get to a home cooked meal by my mom.
In the heart of New York City’s dynamic food scene, The Sewing Tin is bringing South Asian hospitality and supper club magic to New Yorkers of all kinds. The Sewing Tin is rooted in memory, migration, and meticulous storytelling—blending culinary artistry with cultural reverence. Run by Aditya Mishra, a full-time chef, and Akhil Upad, a medical student, but previous chef, the community has become a beloved space for food, conversation, and community.
To start off, your name obviously evokes nostalgia. Why did the blue cookie box inspire your name and your culinary journey?
Akhil: When we were trying to think of what to call the supper club, we knew we wanted something that would be relatable to almost every South Asian. I went home for a bit and saw the blue Royal Dansk cookie tin and it just clicked. This tin tells our story. We both went to culinary school, worked in fine dining, and we wanted to take that training and contextualize it with the foods we grew up with. The tin symbolizes that kind of nostalgia. That’s why we put it on the table when people are dining.
Aditya: Akhil was the one who came up with the name. We had a bunch of weird ideas before that. But once he suggested it, we built the story around it, and it connected. It started as a South Asian thing, but we realized it resonated with so many people in immigrant communities. Many cultures had that tin filled with sewing supplies in their pantries!
When you set the table, are you putting something in the tins or are they just centerpieces?
Akhil: At first, we used to put cookies in there, but our dinners are six courses with four cocktails, and people would get full. So now, we put in hand wipes, hand sanitizer, and sometimes these icebreaker cards to get people talking. It’s all part of making the experience playful and communal. Food brings people together, and we want to encourage that connection.
Why did you start The Sewing Tin and why did you want to do a supper club?
Akhil: Aditya and I met in 2021, during peak COVID. We were working at Junoon. It was our externship right after culinary school. We had to learn to work together really fast— we were literally thrown into it. Working there taught us discipline and precision, but we were executing someone else’s vision.
Later, I had private gigs come through, and one was a 60th birthday in Boston. I ended up doing the apps, entrees, desserts, and cocktails. I asked Aditya to help prep, and we ended up doing it together. The energy was electric—guests were curious, asking questions, lingering. It broke the fourth wall. That’s when I thought, why not do this every month? It gave us full creative control. The supper club became a space to express our identities and stories without constraint.
Aditya: Akhil had the idea and was looking for spaces to rent. I went to his apartment and said, why not do it here? At first, he brushed it off, but then he came back to it. We hosted 12 people for the first one—all our friends. It was chaotic but amazing. Hosting dinners in restaurants is very different. This is intimate, very special. That’s what keeps us going.
Where do your dishes begin? Are you inspired by a photo, a memory, a place?
Akhil: Our menus are fully seasonal and change every four months. We do a trial run like an episode of Chopped and everyone pitches their dish. The paan crème brûlée always stays—people brûlée it themselves. It’s interactive and engaging.
For me, inspiration comes from what my mom cooked. She’s from Maharashtra. I made my version of poha and curd rice. When my parents came to the supper club and tasted my versions and liked it, it meant so much.
Aditya: We loosely base our courses on a progression: something light like chaat, then seafood, then a heavier third course. We want people to actually feel full. Akhil always says he hates going out and needing a slice afterward.
I’m from Nepal. I came here at 19, went to engineering school, dropped out, and moved to New York to cook. My creative process blends Kathmandu memories with my culinary training here. I’ll get inspired by seeing a fish at work, or smoking and walking around a museum sketching dishes. That’s how it happens.
How do your collaborations (like with Royal Dansk) come about, and do they affect the stories you tell through The Sewing Tin?
Aditya: Everything we do has to align with our story. Akhil is in medical school, and I work at a three-star restaurant. This is our passion project. We’re intentional with every collaboration.
Royal Dansk wanted us to incorporate their cookies, and we thought—how do we do that meaningfully? We ended up finally collaborating with Jesse Koones, a chocolatier we’ve wanted to work with for years. He made bonbons inspired by The Sewing Tin. It was our first time working with him, and that was only possible because of the collab budget.
Akhil: Collaborations let us bring in more voices. We also worked with Kunal Merchant from Indo Warehouse for a sound-to-table dinner. He made a vinyl that progressed from old-school Bollywood to modern music to match our courses. Aditya coordinated a dinner with a street artist who did a live painting during the meal. We see cooking as an art form, so collaborations with other artists make sense.
How do other elements like music, tableware, and venue shape your space and community?
Akhil:“It’s not just about food. We want people to feel like they belong. We use playlists that feel personal to us. The decor matches the season—we’ve worked with a florist, Sanya Lakhani, who styles the space beautifully. We moved from my apartment to a studio space that still feels like home. We tried restaurants, but it felt too industrial. We realized how important the setting is.
How do people find The Sewing Tin, and how do you engage with them beyond the night of the dinner?
Akhil: At first, it was all our friends. But after the first dinner, we posted photos—shoutout to our Junoon friend, who shot them—and it gave us legitimacy. Then strangers started reaching out. Now it’s mostly new people, all through organic traffic.
Aditya: We also have repeat guests who come back every season. We do a teaser before tickets drop, so people can plan. It’s amazing that some folks have come for every menu.
Akhil: We have a social hour during the dinner to get people mingling. And sometimes people who were guests become collaborators—like one person from our first dinner now works with us. These connections just grow.
The Sewing Tin takes up space online beautifully, too. What kind of mindset or strategy do you use when curating your digital space?
Aditya: We’ve definitely gone through some awkward Instagram phases. But now we have a team that weighs in on captions, visuals, everything. It’s collaborative. We joke that our friend Hero is our creative director. Maria, our manager, also helps a lot.
Akhil: We want each post to feel like a moment. It has to tell a story. We ask: does this caption align with our message? We’re not trying to portray a narrative. We’re living it. And I think people can feel that.
You’re also very culture-forward. What does cultural preservation mean to you, and how does food allow for that or reimagine it?
Aditya: I love that word you used—reimagination. That’s what we do. Food has always been touched by travel, culture, mixing. Our dishes may look like fusion, but they’re just a reflection of where we are. In 100 years, this might be what world cuisine looks like. We’re on the front lines.
What is a moment where you felt the most warmth while hosting The Sewing Tin?
Akhil: When people tell us, “I don’t like lamb, but I loved your lamb dish,” it means a lot. When our families came, it was emotional. I got to serve them my versions of the food they used to make for me.
Aditya: I love when people from other cultures try our food and embrace it, even if it’s unfamiliar or spicy. But what really moves me is seeing our team feel proud. They don’t always get the spotlight, but they believe in what we’re building. That’s special.
What’s next for The Sewing Tin?
Aditya: I’d love for it to be a nomadic food studio. I grew up on Anthony Bourdain. I want to travel, cook, and create experiences around the world. But even if we stay in New York, I’m happy.
Akhil: I’m in my third year of med school, and I want to combine medicine and food—maybe through culinary medicine, a teaching kitchen, or research in nutrition. Right now, I keep making drinks and dreaming of dishes for when I have more time again.
Follow @thesewingtin to experience their next supper club or to see the story unfold, one dish at a time.
