amsterdam, noord-holland, the netherlands
THE catastrophic anticipation supper club
Facing the unthinkable, one dish at a time.
Amsterdam doesn’t flinch. This city knows how to gather — in streets, on stoops, around long tables in tiny kitchens. And in an age where catastrophe is no longer a maybe, but a neighbour, it’s time to face it together — with open hands, open mouths, and maybe a little garlic.
The Catastrophic Anticipation Supper Club is a neighbourhood-based experiment in edible futures — part ritual, part resistance, part absurdist dinner party. It’s where ordinary people gather not to escape collapse, but to metabolise it. With humour. With heart. With soup.
Food as Grief Work, Joy Work, and Futures Thinking
What happens when we stop pretending it’s all fine? What if instead, we cook like we mean it — like food is how we carry each other through? This is not about perfect solutions or even perfect dishes. It’s about shared vulnerability and speculative nourishment.
Dishes come with conversation starters. Tables are set with questions no one wants to answer alone. Recipes might reflect scarcity, migration, heatwaves, or hope.
Expect laughter. Expect weird ingredients. Expect a spoonful of fear followed by a mouthful of radical care.
>>> The First Pilot: Apocalypse Potluck
In a small Amsterdam neighbourhood centre, locals are invited to bring a dish that reflects a future they fear — or a future they hope for. No culinary skills required. Just a willingness to show up.
The evening includes:
- A short provocation or mini futures prompt
- Shared dinner and rotating table conversations
- Optional “prep stations” for climate, care, and collapse
- A toast to the ones we’ll become
>>>> Call for Brave Cooks
We’re looking for:
- Local neighbours (especially elders, youth, migrants, artists)
- Community kitchens and housing associations
- Social workers, facilitators, theatre makers, amateur cooks
- People who’ve never heard of “futures studies” but know something needs to change
This isn’t the end. It’s the invitation.
Pull up a chair. Bring your fear. We’ll set the table.