Tomer Botner

I started Florentine Kitchen Knives because I love making things that people use every day.  Our knives are built for cooks, and there’s nothing better than seeing them in action — cutting, chopping and serving food.  A few months ago we cleared space in the workshop, set up a long table where we usually grind blades, and invited a few friends over for dinner.  It felt so good that we kept going. Each Factory Dinner has its own mood, flavours and people, but they all share a simple idea: bring food and craft together in the place where our knives are born.

The very first dinner was all about the sea and the garden. Jack Tonkin and our friend Floris van Straalen planned a six‑course menu built around Mediterranean fish and vegetables.  We poured wines from nearby vineyards and watched the workshop transform into a dining room.  Guests could even buy a limited‑edition set of table knives that we had made just for the night.  Sitting at that long table, passing plates of perfectly cooked fish and salty greens, I remember thinking, “why didn’t we do this sooner?”

For our second dinner we went to Thailand, at least in spirit.  Jack teamed up with Alessandro Franzetti from Convivio to cook a “hot and sticky” six‑course Thai menu.  There was sea‑bream sashimi with lemongrass and kaffir lime, banana flower salad with coconut and chilli jam, sticky pork belly with green mango and fried eggplant with palm‑sugar caramel.  Alessandro poured his favourite natural wines and suddenly our Poblenou workshop smelled like Bangkok.  We plated some dishes and served others family‑style so people could reach across the table and share.  It was loud, messy and completely delicious.

The third dinner felt like a love letter to flavour itself.  Jack invited Marietta Richter of Safo to cook with him, and they called the night “Pura Sabrosura” — pure flavour.  Marietta cooks from memory and curiosity; Jack focuses on hyper‑local ingredients and precision.  Together they created dishes like surf‑and‑turf tartar with Pomme Soufflé, a galette shalotte with 18‑month Comté, red mullet over charcoal with kale and yuzu beurre blanc, a fall salad of fruits and flowers and a duck‑egg ice cream.  We poured Catalan wines and listened to guests tell stories while sparks from the forge cooled in the corner.  These evenings are about slowing down and connecting, and this one nailed it.

For the fourth edition I couldn’t resist bringing a taste of home.  Together with Jack and several of our team members, we cooked dishes inspired by the comfort food I grew up on — lamb that falls off the bone, slow‑cooked pots of grains and legumes, freshly baked breads, herbs by the handful and salads that crunch.  We reinterpreted Middle Eastern flavours using Catalan produce and Jack’s refined technique.  We served everything family‑style with a side of greeting cocktails and invited people to bring their own wine and beer.  It was one of the most joyful nights we’ve had, full of laughter and the aromas of cumin, coriander and charcoal.

In February we welcomed Chef Barnea Shelas to the Factory for the first time.  Barnea has cooked everywhere — San Francisco, New York, Paris, Tel Aviv, Sicily — and brings a deep love of Mediterranean and farm‑to‑table cuisine.  He designed a Middle Eastern feast that was generous, vibrant and meant to be shared.  We told everyone to come hungry and bring friends, and they did.  The table was full of plates and conversation, and the BYO wine flowed until late.

Five dinners in and we’re just getting started.  The Factory Dinners are my favourite thing we do because they remind me that knives are not just tools — they are part of stories, meals, and memories.  We’ll keep inviting chefs we admire, we’ll keep playing with new flavours, and we’ll keep making space in the workshop for long tables and good company.  If you haven’t joined us yet, I hope to see you at the next one.