The Experience
 
Before Mielure, I spent over six years inside the machinery of hospitality and non-profit leadership — the kind of work that teaches you how a room actually comes together, not just how it should look once it does.
I've produced weddings and b'nei mitzvah, run galas with celebrity guests, led cooking demonstrations during the holidays, and hosted mega Shabbat dinners for 120 people at a single table. I've done this more times than I can count — long before Mielure's weekly dinners existed. That experience is the quiet infrastructure behind every Mielure evening: the logistics worked out days in advance, the timing of a menu against a room's energy, the instinct for what makes ten strangers feel like old friends by dessert.
Mielure isn't a departure from that career. It's what happens when you take everything event production and non-profit development taught you about people, budgets, and pressure — and point it at something smaller, slower, and entirely your own.

The Style
 
I believe beauty and flavor go hand in hand. Whether I'm styling a Shabbat table, plating a dessert for a private client, or teaching a room how to build a grazing board that actually holds together, every element matters — the textures, the tones, the mood, the menu.
My style blends Mediterranean ease with Caribbean warmth, filtered through years of Jewish practice and Israeli ingredients. It's not a fusion I invented for a menu — it's just how I cook. My holiday latkes, made with cassava and jerk-spiced tofu, are probably the clearest proof: two places I come from, on one plate, at one table, on the same night everyone else is making the traditional version.

The Kitchen

At Mielure, food is the medium and memory is the goal. I craft olive oil cakes, jarred babas, dairy grazing boards, and seasonal sweets — all kosher, all made with care. Ingredients are thoughtfully sourced, often from the shuk, and layered with global flavors that nod to my heritage and travels.
The supper club itself is built the way I'd want to be hosted: ten seats, one table, an evening in my home, by candlelight. Not an open ticket line — an application, a curated guest list, a room I can actually hold. That's a deliberate choice, not a limitation. Intimacy doesn't scale, and I'd rather stay small and specific than big and forgettable.

The Invitation

This is more than a business — it's a lifestyle rooted in taste, tradition, and creativity, built on years of watching what makes people feel truly hosted. Whether you're applying for a seat at the table, ordering a private cake, or bringing me in to teach or produce your own celebration — I'm so glad you're here.
Let's make something beautiful together.