What it looks like

Two hundred guests, one table, one very long night.

Notes swapped before the morning talks.

The Saturday supper: steak, squash and greens.

Second year, second night, four courses.

One bottle for every eight guests.

Ten minutes, three hundred flat whites.

The bread for supper, started at seven.

Thirty bottles filled and tasted by hand.

Laughter at table nine.

Two hundred carrots before breakfast.

The morning coffee, roasted down the road.

Fed first, every single day.

The salad leaves were cut that morning.

Some suppers are better small.

Everything passed down the table, twice.

Roasted squash, rocket and feta for the speakers.

Charred radicchio, blood orange and hazelnuts.

Bread, butter and a quiet window seat.